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vesperstalksclones · 4 years

Text

What will you do after Mandalore?

Rated teen

Ingredients: kissy kissy, pining, angst, oogling, heavy petting, Rex likes using the F word a lot and thinks plenty about his tool

Sketch by @i-got-no-bones

He spotted her across the sky plaza that they had commandeered as a landing platform. Arms crossed, feet spread, back arched into her posture; every inch of her shining with pride as she watched her men tend to their business.

Rex was content to merely stand and observe for a moment. Ahsoka Tano had disappeared over a year ago, radio silent. Furious and hurting, no doubt, after the Jedi council, men and women she had called family, had handed her over to the republic judiciary system to be tried on circumstantial evidence for a crime she didn't commit. Her name had been cleared and the culprit caught, but when the council invited her back sheepishly, after her humiliating excommunication, she graciously told them to shit in their hat, turned heel and walked away. He respected her for that, also envied her the freedom to be able to do so. If he stuck his birds to the GAR and turned his back, his parting gift would, at best, be a blaster shot to the shebs. Property didn't get to make choices like that.

He could have tracked her down, but she hadn't left him so much as a scribble in parting. He had not taken it well. First came panic - she was alone, who would have her back? Then anger - the 501st and Torrent squadron weren't good enough to stay for? Fuck her!!! The pain of abandonment - didn't the years fighting side by side mean anything, the men who had died protecting her life? Blind fury at the council that had driven her away - he had demolished several training druids to cope with that. Jealousy; that perhaps she had retreated somewhere… to someone… someone male... to lick her wounds and seek comfort. Like that litte Bonterri fuck stick.

"No, old man, you turned yourself pretty inside out over Ahsoka's nonexistent good bye", Rex mused, a wry smile spreading over his lips. After about four weeks of stewing in his own volatile pit of self-pity and rage, during a particularly long night of insomnia spiced with bourbon whiskey, he realized why he was so angry. Fuck the Jedi, they didn't return the loyalty she had always offered. Fuck the GAR. They would carry on fighting and killing and invading and dying with or without her.

Rex had realized, in those oppressive pre-dawn hours, that he agonized because she had left him. They had been companions for more than three years! She had grown from a bratty youngling, to a capable warrior, to a leader almost without match. They loved her, the 501st. Torrent, the battering ram of the esteemed legion, especially worshipped her. If General Skywalker was the spearpoint of the forces, the Troopers were the rigid staff,, and Ahsoka was the sinews and lead and nails that held the two together. They had adopted her as their blood sister, named her Vod'ika, and taught her their words. The squadron had cracked a little from their loss. The center of the chasm had been their CO. Rex was drowning in despair when he had heard his own voice quietly wimper…

"Why did you leave me?"

It hurt, to hear it out loud. It made the pain more real somehow. He had curled inward on himself, hating that he desperately needed his friend to help him cope, and yet she was the one he was mourning.

By the time he had crawled from his bunk, all vestiges of anger had burned away. Left behind was only depression, and empty bitterness. Everything became harder after that. Skywalker also suffered her loss, and he and Rex began to severely grate on each other's nerves. Rex flung himself into work and training for the distraction, earning a multitude of grumbles from his Vod as he expected them to keep up his grueling pace.

And then… Skywalker commed him. The General spoke as nonchalantly as if he was discussing the soy loaf at dinner. There was a mission to be had, to Mandalore. Bo Katan Kryze was in need of assistance, unseating the Sith lord Maul who had claimed the planet for his own. She would be meeting them in roughly 72 hours, with her comrade at arms. A certain Lady Tano.

Rex had leapt from his desk, pacing a circle for nearly an hour. Skywalker said that they would accompany her, Rex in command of as many men as she needed. His stomach was clawing inside him like a trapped loth cat, with anticipation, excitement, and anxiety.

He needed to tell his boys. Her boys. Their girl was coming home. He had stood there smiling like an idiot, loving the feel of those words in his weary brain.

He called Torrent to attention in their barracks, briefly explaining the mission. They were going to fight for their father's home. Serve the warrior people that had created all that the Vode held dear. He could see the energy beginning to rise from them, the promise of a fight that really did belong to them in some way.

He savored a pause, keeping her his precious secret for a second longer, before he flung her name to his troops like fresh meat to hungry dogs. The resulting roar was deafening, with a string of particularly loud expletives from Jesse, who had become his de-facto Captain, as Rex had taken on the Command of the 501st in purpose if not in official name. It warmed his tired heart to the core.

Excusing himself he strode away to his quarters. The energy that the mere mention of her name generated had put the spring back in his strut. He didn't sleep that night either, for the boyish excitement inside.

By the following evening, several hundred men were sporting orange blazes on their helmets, and the indoctrinated eye would recognize the white jagged stripes that swept down over their visors. The men had shined every inch of their armor, oiled and cleaned every gun, sharpened every blade. He allowed them to fight it out for their spots at review. A few black eyes were given over the choicest front row positions.

Then came the day of her arrival . General skywalker commed him for assembly. The men jogged to the meeting point, a large liaison space on the 3rd level. He had counted the length of his breaths carefully, willing himself to be calm and composed, as if this was really any other inspection. He was screaming inside. He felt like his stomach was trying to fall out of his ass.

The door chimed and slid open. And there she was. But she wasn't the girl he remembered. She seemed to have grown over the past year. Taller yes, he noted the distinct curve taking shape in her Montrails. Not just vertical growth either; she had expanded in all directions. Her hips were no longer angular, but smoothly bowed outward. Her waist tapered in and climbed upward to... what used to be pert little breasts - polite things that barely moved when she vaulted across the training mats. Now… well… they weren't polite anymore. In her absence Little'un had become a woman. How the hell did all this happen in a year?

He called the men to attention, unable to suppress the absolute shit eating grin of joy that had plastered itself there. She had traded the skirts and tights of her padawan youth for the dignified garb of a warrior. Smart armored combat boots covered tight breeches, and disappeared under a slim fitting, high collared shirt which proved both modest and profoundly flattering at the same time. Having discarded her Akul tooth headdress when she left the temple, Ahsoka now wore a variety of tiara that looked like hand hammered durasteel. Numerous arm bands and leg holsters carried her various kit. Best of all, he noticed, she had outfitted herself almost entirely in the cobalt blue of the 501st.

Ahsoka stepped towards him. Hesitantly, uncertain of her place in the scheme of things, her eyes searching his face for a cue. He was positively giddy at her approach, glad that his full body armour could dampen the sight of the tremors that ran through him.

"Beautiful, fierce, brave girl… don't look at me like that. You'll always belong with us" he didn't say the words, they shone from his eyes. Her gaze landed on the helmet clutched in his hand, and he was certain they moistened as the orange and white design drove its message home. They were hers and she was theirs.

Moments later, things got complicated, as they were wont to do when Skywalker was involved. He had loaded about three thousand odd men on to another venator. Anakin had named him official CO of the 501st (could've done that a fucking year ago) and they left with their Lady. A jedi no longer, now only a civilian advisor. Whatever, she was still their angel.

Now, about 48 hours later, they had Maul's forces on the run, and had taken a few hours to regroup, gather sit-reps, and organize the city wide hunt for the criminal. His duties were tended for the moment so Rex had gone on the search, hungry to see her face again. He spied her by the transports, wearing her pride of possession, as she watched her Vod do what they did best.

He jogged across the pavement and slowed to a swaggering stroll as he neared her. She beamed at him, blue eyes reflecting the city lights.

"All right there, Lil?"

"Rex, this has gone off smoother than I had hoped. The citizens are disgusted, but at least things didn't de-evolve in to violence."

Gah, her voice! It was like a cool breeze on a shitty hot day.

She retreated a little way between the LAATs

and retrieved a canteen of water, drinking deeply. He took the opportunity to appreciate what nature had wrought upon the Togrutan.

He couldn't pretend to be an expert on her race's anatomy, but he could definitely see that the physical changes in her had stopped being about adding physical size, and began to be about physical allure. The hard muscles of her youthful form had gained some softness via artistically placed plump cushions. Her rump… hips… bosom. Her face had exchanged youthful roundness for a pointed chin and angled jaw, and instead focused the fullness in to her plum colored lips.

It wasn't until after the initial excitement of the reunion when they were en route to Mandalore that he could privately reflect upon her changes. As she bent over to adjust her boot straps he was certain the thirty or so Vod in the room must have heard his cock slam against his cod piece as he reacted to the sight of her peach shaped rear offered up like a feast before him. Since that moment he had remained at nothing less than half mast, his member ready and waiting for the off chance that he might need it, while his brain begged it to behave itself and not act a fool..

How the hell had he come to this? His sweet friend had become a veritable sex pot, her body shedding the trappings of youth and preparing her to recieve a male. The notion that had began to grow in his mind that night in his lonely bed so many months ago, had born fruit and ripened in that moment.

He Loved her and not as a lad should love his dear friend.. He had pined away for months, struggling to function through the void created by her absence. Moments of privacy had tormented him either with loneliness for her presence or aching for her touch. Often his mind wandered too far in her direction and he was forced to take matters in to his own hands… well hand…. And release brought guilt as well as relief.

When he closed the gap between them she offered the drink, and he happily chugged some just to taste her on the rim. He was so desperate, he thought. So fucking pathetic, but he couldn't help himself… and frankly didn't want to. As he regarded her, Ahsoka fidgeted nervously and her face fell, a mask of anxiety appearing. He knit his brow at the change, capping the canteen and setting it aside.

"Rex… I'm sorry."

He frowned. This was happening now, she was ready to explain to him her actions. In the middle of a mission. Fucking hell. He continued to watch her, his face calm and professional.

"Im sorry I didn't say goodbye. It was a shitty thing to do to you. It was cowardly and I was wrong, and I've regretted it every single day." Her sapphire gems stared in to his amber ones, searching them for his reply.

Rex sighed heavily. He had a few things to tell her, and he'd be damned if she was going to run away this time before he heard each and every one of them clearly.

"Ahsoka…" he reached for her, and with only a little hesitation she snaked her arms around his waist and leaned against his armored chest. Resting her cheek near his pauldron. He wrapped her up in his embrace and stole a moment to sniff deeply of her scent. Spice, and something herbal - like tea. Leather. And her own subtle musk, which reminded him of the sun warmed straw field he had walked through on Naboo. How he had missed that smell.

"I wont lie Lil. I hated you for about a week. When I got over that, I stayed pissed off for at least another month."

She trembled a little, her face hidden from view.

"Then, during my fifth week of insomnia and self loathing, I realized why I was so angry, and that it definitely wasn't because I hated you."

He tilted his head down, seeking her eyes, but she was still hiding them on his shoulder.

He nudged her lekk with his nose, gently demanding her attention. She shyly met his gaze, the blazing blue stars beginning to blur behind tears. Stop this at once Lil, you're not the crying type, and especially not over me.

He dipped his face to hers, capturing her lips. She was rigid with shock for a moment, but then relaxed against his touch. He barely broke away, only to come back for a second helping, kissing her with more force in order to drive his message home. She tasted like honey, hints of cinnamon, and the poor quality caf they all survived off of on the Venators. The feel of her petal soft lips against his was enough to make his knees shake, and his heart pound, and, thinking back on every fantasy he had entertained about her, he would come to realize what a poor imagination he had.

Pulling away, she dashed at her eyes with the heels of her hands.

"The truth is that… I didn't dare come to see you that day. I knew that it would upset you and I couldn't cope with that. I wouldn't have been able to go make myself leave, even though it was the right thing for me. Its ok that you hated me for a while.. I hated myself."

She sucked in a shaky breath, regarding him silently for a moment as if she was trying to choose her next words carefully. Apparently, her voice had left her, so she framed his face with her sienna colored hands and returned to his kiss almost violently. He spanned her waist with his hands, pulling her closer to him, all the while cursing his protective armor that denied him the pressure of her firm body.

"I wouldn't have let you go" he growled, biting at her lip for punctuation. With a breathy whimper she opened her mouth to his caress. He tasted her lips, and her tongue, twisting his head for a better angle. His gloved hands groped their way blindly up her back, and then back downward to her waist, one daring to sneak to her rump, palming the cheek boldly, but hell she could shatter his bones with her mind if she objected and he wouldn't be upset. She answered by chasing his tongue with hers, uttering a low moan of approval.

Rex pushed her backward against the cold side of the transport, pinning her there with his bodyweight. His mind spun with surprise and delight that not only had she not broken his face, but was mouthing and pawing at him with equal desire. He sucked in a quick breath and claimed her mouth again, leading the charge with a velvet tongue. He was determined to display for her every ounce of frustration she had left him in for the past year. To convince her that she should not leave him again.

He nipped at her chin, scraped his teeth along her jawline, and caught a hitch in his breath as he tasted the salty skin at her neck. She rolled her head away, crooning gently, and he surprised himself at how quickly he one handed the top few frogs of her shirt. Bearing her neck down to the shoulder, he sucked and kissed at her offering, cherishing her closeness, his mind racing at the willingness with which she came to him. His right hand had found its way to her breast, caressing the sleek fabric covered mound and searching the telltale hardened peak he found there. She was arched backward over his opposite arm, her legs astride his armoured thigh, all the while he was inwardly cursing the confines of his pelvic armor; his member had sprung to full solute at the attentions of his Lady Commander. When she rolled her hips he dared to arch to his boot toe, giving her a hard surface to press herself against.

She stiffened under his touch, suddenly going quiet and still.

"Kriff." she whispered.

His eyes snapped open, alarmed by the sudden change in her demeanor. He was about to speak when…

"OORAH! COMMANDER!"

A chorus of hoots and howls joined the first voice, and Rex dropped his forehead to Ahsoka's shoulder, hand still splayed across her chest, thigh pressed to her besh… his index finger tracing the crease of her perfect ass….

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jesse. Kriffing Jesse, and about fifty of his men. Standing there watching him grind on Ahsoka like they were a live action porn holo.

"Fuck my life" he growled in disgust.

"GET SOME VOD! OWWWWW!!!"

Dammit Jesse.

The fondling hand shot to his hip and raised the blaster just in time for his head to snap up and choose his target. The bolt screamed by Jesse, missing his temple by the length of a finger.

Wide eyed, he screamed and cackled and ducked, the other troops reacting similarly.

Rex contemplated shooting them all, and was choosing his next target when….

"FUCKING JESSE! QUIT COCK BLOCKING ME, YOU STUPID PENIS WRINKLE!" Ahsoka roared at the clone, and with a violent sweep of her arm she flung the entire corps out of sight further down the plaza. Rex couldn't help but grin at the satisfying shouts of pain and the clatter of armored bodies bouncing on the cement.

They both sighed as he returned his DC to its home, and met each other's gaze.

"Is that what he was doing, Commander? Cock-blocking you?" He teased.

Ahsoka's blue chevrons darkened in the Togrutan equivalent of a blush.

"Im not your Commander, Rex, not GAR, nor am I a Jedi. I'd prefer if you'd address me properly."

"And how's that?" He cocked his head, smirking at her.

"Anything but. You decide, cyare."

She pushed her forehead against his. He flushed from the thrill. She had used his "native" tongue, never before had anyone called him "beloved", and the forehead "kiss" was a touch of the purest loving affection among Vod.

"Do you mean that? "Cyare"? Rex's head was spinning. The delicious heavy petting could have allowed him to die happily, but she had done something far more wonderful to him. Cyare was not a name for a piece of meat used to scratch an itch with.. did she understand that? "Are you sure, Lil?"

"Yes, I mean that. I want you, Rex. I think I have for a long time, but I was afraid to call it what it was. I didn't think you'd ever look at me the same way."

"What? Why wouldn't I?"

"Because your a grown man!... Who happens to be younger than me… and I've always just been this idiot kid." She frowned, the dusky colored pout did terrible things to him.

"I don't think you've been a kid for a while now Sokka." To emphasize his statement, he kissed her like she was a woman. His woman. "What happens…" he didn't know if he dared to hope… "What will you do after we are done here?"

"I haven't really thought about it. I guess it depends on our success."

They heard shouts. Troopers were gathering on the plaza, getting ready to depart for their search.

"Than let's find the hut'uun quickly."

He gave her a final kiss and a squeeze, and backed away step by step until her hand dropped away.

#rexsoka #captainrex #captainaccidentlysexy #ahsokatano #seige of mandalore #clone wars fanfic

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vidimillion · 4 years

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Hc of jason and nico meeting pre HoO?

thank you for asking this. i hope you wanted something really long, because not only is this really long but it’s also only half coherent.

jason was freshly eleven when he met the ten-year-old nico di angelo. it was early in the morning when he'd heard a centurion of the third cohort mention a disturbance in the forest. it wasn't exactly eavesdropping, he swears. he was just passing by them, when he knew he should've been asleep.

years later, he didn't know why exactly he did it, but he supposed he was young. he wanted to prove himself.

or maybe more accurately, he wanted to break his unearned reputation of being a golden boy. what better way to do that then to do something he wasn't supposed to?

being the dumbass kid he was, he went out alone to the forest, bringing his sword and nothing else. he didn't know what to expect but when he saw a black mass in the forest, sucking up the light like death itself, he was expecting a monster.

then the mass turned around, eyes afraid and hands shaking as they gripped a long black sword. and jason saw that he was just a kid.

before jason could do anything, the boy turned away and disappeared into shadows. freaking out about whether or not he'd just seen a ghost, he ran into the barracks and told the first person he saw. whispers go around fast, and by that afternoon jason hears the theories of who he saw in the forest— a son of pluto.

jason convinces the senate not to send patrols to look for the boy. "You didn't see him, he looked so scared." he'd say. "A patrol would scare him away! I'll look for him myself, every day, I promise!"

he keeps the promise, even when the boy doesn't show up for weeks after that. he keeps it because he knows what it's like to be left confused and alone, forced to fight things you didn't know were real. and he knows it's normal, he knows that's just what happens to demigods, but it doesn't change how much he remembered wanting someone to save him.

he sees the boy again weeks later. and before the boy can run away again he yells after him, "We know what you are!"

the boy freezes, and it looks like jason made it even worse but at least he bought himself time. "No, I mean— you're a demigod right? I am too, we all are here."

jason smiles at him, "do you want me to show you in?"

(actual headcanons following)

jason decides this guy, who's name is nico di angelo, is his best friend now. before bringing him into camp, he felt weird about possibly having another child of the big three around. but when nico confirms the fact three days later, all jason feels is relief.

nico bunks next to jason in the fifth cohort but says he can't pick one to join. he says it's because he can't stay for long, and jason asks why but nico doesn't give him a straight answer. so instead, he takes nico shopping for bedsheets. jason wants to make sure the bunk nico's claimed as his stays his, even when he's gone.

the reputation they build for themselves is incredible. as the only kids of the big three in camp, they're powerful separated but unstoppable together. (this proves for fantastic entertainment when they spar, and a very tough fight for whoever they're going up against if they're a team.)

it's also a worthy mention that not only do they become more powerful when they're fighting together, when they're off the battlegrounds they also get a whole lot stupider. they've got wild spirits, and though they reign it in when they're on their own, they cause shitstorms of trouble when they're together.

(more under the cut)

nico's gone for weeks at a time but every time he comes back jason never gets less excited. he greets him when he arrives and waves him off when he leaves again. that becomes the norm soon— whenever nico's here, you can find jason right next to him.

the senate said nico couldn't stay unless he picked a cohort, and if he picked a cohort he couldn't leave. when he one day comes back with a report from pluto himself explaining why nico has to come and go sometimes, they find a way for him to stay. (they won't hesitate to admit the boy's grown on the community. they wouldn't wanna say goodbye to him either.) and thus, nico was freshly eleven when he's made the ambassador of pluto.

jason isn't allowed to leave camp jupiter, so sometimes nico sneaks him out with shadow travel. the first time they did it, jason actually puked because his twelve-year-old system is a little weak. it was worth it though, because nico bought him his first mcdonalds. jason doesn't think he could ever go back.

that's also how he found out that nico's dad gives him unlimited money to spend on whatever. he realizes nico has zero budgeting skills when he was nearly persuaded to buy a twenty dollar ice cream

when they were both thirteen years old, they were both officially allowed to go on minor quests. on the first one they take, it goes haywire but they meet a little puerto rican girl their age. after a little bit of explaining (and also a little bit of de-escalating, because wow this new demigod is good with a dagger), they find her name is reyna, and they take her back to camp jupiter

jason adopts her immediately, and thus so does nico, because they're a two-in-one deal. they become an iconic trio immediately— some people throw around rumours about love triangles between them, but none of them are ever the same. some say nico and jason argue over reyna's love, some say nico and reyna are fighting for jason's, some say jason and reyna are fighting for nico's.

reyna gets phantom crushes on both of them, mostly out of feeling like she needed to have a crush on them. they're the two people she loves most in the world, so it felt like proper procedure. it fades fast once she realizes they're very clearly in love with each other. she doesn't say anything about it, wanting them to realize on their own. she just hopes it's soon.

by the time nico comes back to camp with a curly-haired daughter of pluto, he's already told jason and reyna of who bianca was. he doesn't answer their looks of concerns for a long time. (but they fucking love hazel. new adoptee)

nico comes back from the war with kronos to be told jason lead the roman army and defeated krios by himself. he flips his shit.

(but he still congratulates jason on the praetorship by taking him on a small trip to gold coast, australia. after battling a monster in public, they appear in the news for allegedly fighting six feral red kangaroos in the street)

jason is diagnosed with ptsd soon after the war. nico finds that he can't bring himself to leave, not when he's one of the only people who know how to calm jason down from a panic attack. he can't leave him, not when jason has never left him.

one of the ways his ptsd manifests is through night terrors. and he doesn't want to ask for help. he's always telling people "there's no shame in asking for help" or "you can ask for help when you need it, we won't judge". yet he can't bring himself to follow his own advice. it's different for him, he often thinks. it's just different.

one day, he gets an especially bad one. it's so bad he almost can't breathe, and it takes him nearly two and a half hours until he's even able to move. when he can feel his legs again, he walks to nico's private quarters.

jason doesn't even have to say anything, and nico is pulling him inside and settling him in his white sheets. the same ones they bought together when they were little, relocated after they'd both moved from barrack bunks.

they don't say anything, but jason quietly asks if nico will hold him. there's something unreadable in his dark brown eyes, but he says yes with such certainty that jason knows he means it.

a few weeks later, jason wakes up in the back of a school bus, holding a pretty girl's hand but not knowing her name. the only thing he remembers is the name nico di angelo.

#jasico #nico di angelo #jason grace #percy jackson #PJO #percy jackson headcanon #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #pre-hoo #my writing

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unaccomplishedwriter · 4 years

Text

THE HERO YOU NEED

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Prologue here

Chapter One

Decisively locking herself into her compartment alone, (y/n) sunk down into her seat with a loud plop. Clutching her wand, she rolled the violet amethyst handle between her fingers, a habit she’d adopted ever since her first year at Ilvermorny. She could feel the tears starting to cloud her vision as she stared out the window to her parents standing on the platform. Though she wanted to cry, she refused to let them fall. Her parents wouldn’t care anyway. This was the most determined they’d been to have her do something in her entire life.

To (y/n)‘ s bitter frustration, she hadn’t even been able to say goodbye to her friends and beloved professors. Her parents sprung the frightful news merely a few days before she was due for the new school year in America; gave her a few days to get come to terms with starting a new life elsewhere. She’d never resented their job more, even when it had them disappearing for months on end.

And even more frustratingly, they refused to tell her why. But the cold conviction in her father’s eyes and the shadows of something darker and more uncertain — in her mother’s, (y/n) couldn’t find it in herself to disobey them either.

So yet here she sat, on some godforsaken train in some godforsaken robes making sure not to spill these godforsaken tears.

Life couldn’t be worse for her right now.

And as if to mock her, the loud sound of the door handle rattling startled her from her melancholy staring contest with her parents. To top it off, the train had finally jerked into motion, her heart along with it. Shaking from sheer surprise, the blood rushed to her ears, nearly drowning out the arrogant alohamora from the other side of the door.

A tall blonde boy sauntered into the compartment, a sneer on his face.

“How dare you take my compartment, you filthy—,”

The words died in his throat as his eyes landed on the girl in the corner. Her eyes were glassy and her nose was red, giving her (s/c) skin a flushed glow. Normally he’d take the opportunity to mock them further, but his jaw refused to move. Not liking being gawked at, (y/n)’s voice filled the silence.

“You were saying?” She snapped.

Whatever it was, it was going to be rude. A glare made its way to her face as she angrily blinked her tears away. Using this time to take in the boy’s features, (y/n) couldn’t help but be pleasantly surprised. He was rather handsome, with fine blonde strands of hair falling into his face. He had clear grey eyes that reminded her of her overcast skies, which she rather liked. The green and silver Slytherin crest was proudly displayed on his chest, and her preconceived notions about Hogwarts’ houses set in just a bit more.

“I—I—Um, are you new?” He stuttered dumbly. The stupid look on his face was enough to wash some of her irritation away, and she relaxed her shoulders a bit. Furrowing her brows, she stared at the door until the boy got the hint and closed it behind him. It wasn’t until he was sat across from her and their eyes were locked again before she bothered to answer his question.

“I’m not a little first year, if that’s what you’re asking. But... yes, I am new. I’m a fourth year.”

He nodded his head, continuing to stare at her. She started to feel a bit put off before he opened his mouth again.

“Not from here, either. You an American? What’s your name?”

“I am American. I’m (F/n) Hightower.”

His eyes bugged out of his head, and (Y/n) couldn’t help but giggle. He was rather entertaining...and cute, if she’d had to admit.

“Hightower as in one of the oldest American Wizarding families? Your family practically helped pioneer the entire setup of the American Wizarding World,”

He exclaimed. A throb of annoyance fell upon her, but (y/n) brushed it off. Her family name meant she had a fuckton of expectations placed on her shoulders, and she didn’t particularly want them to carry over to her new life at Hogwarts.

“And your name?” She asked. He sat back proudly, a smug smile gracing his face. A smirk soon mirrored it on (y/n)‘s; she’d always liked seeing self-assurance on others.

It made her wish she had some for herself.

“I’m a Malfoy, of course. Draco Malfoy,” he reached out with his hand, before freezing and pulling it back quickly. The embarrassed laugh that followed made (y/n) laugh as well. She’d heard of the Malfoys, and so far this Draco boy aligned with most of what she’d learned. Perhaps a bit more charm, though.

They talked animatedly about their families for a while, finding familiarity in the pressure of a high-profile background.

“So which house do you recommend?”

Perhaps it was a stupid question, but she enjoyed the way his eyes lit up following it regardless.

“Slytherin, obviously! We’re the best at everything and have the most house cups under our belt,” he bragged. “The other houses are full of losers, but if there were a house I’d definitely stay away from it would be Gryffindor. They’re a bunch of self-righteous freaks,” Draco huffed, crossing his arms. His childish comment and posture eliciting an eye roll.

“Forget I asked,” she joked. (Y/n) explained a bit of how Ilvermorny’s sorting process went about, hers in particular. The subject seemed very interesting to the blonde haired boy and she found herself gradually reddening from the attention.

But she’s (Y/n) freaking Hightower, and she does not get flustered by boys.

“I knew the moment I saw you that you were different,” he boasted. “I’d have remembered seeing a girl like you around before—,”

“A girl like me?” She cut in, making him falter. As if just realizing what he’d said, Draco’s face turned red, and he recoiled back into his seat.

“I meant— you— you’re from a good family, is all.” He stammered. With a raised brow, (y/n) leaned forward, invading some of his space.

“Family isn’t everything you know. You’re only what you make of yourself... not to mention, outside of the Wizarding World, we’re not much. The muggles have accomplished loads without magic, I’d say that’s something to applaud on its own.”

He gaped at her for a moment, jaw hanging. Feeling self-conscious, she drew back a bit. She suddenly remembered the clear division between muggles and wizards here in Europe, and felt stupid for bringing it up.

“Who cares about muggles? They’re even worse than the mudbloods — at least they can do magic, no matter how poorly,” he sniggered, a glimpse of the initial nastiness she saw when he’d first entered her compartment.

A scowl now adorning her face, (y/n) stood up abruptly.

“I grew up alongside muggles, you know. Their technology can make life very convenient,” she hissed. Muggles were a sore subject for (y/n) amongst her magical friends; though not as bad as Europe, the American Wizarding world still practiced some degree of separation from muggles, which fostered some less-than-kind mentalities amongst some of her peers back in America. She assumed it would be worse here, but coming face to face with it from a boy who’s company she otherwise enjoyed was decidedly unpleasant.

Draco stared up at her, taken aback. “Well, they—they just don’t belong with us,” he exclaimed, standing up as well.

Her face officially hot, (y/n) marched past him and threw open the doors of the compartment.

“If that’s what you think,” she hissed, “you can leave.”

For what seemed like the thousandth time since they met, Draco once again gaped at her. Face twisting, he strode past her.

“Didn’t take a Hightower for a blood traitor,” he spat, slamming the door behind him.

Furious, (y/n) slammed herself back into her seat before promptly shutting the blinds in her window, darkness encasing her cabinet.

Welcome to Hogwarts, she moaned.

As she gazed glumly at the gaggle of first-years in front of her, (y/n) couldn’t help but curse her parents to the high heavens for the millionth time that day. Going through the bated torture of just one house sorting three years ago was quite enough, thank you. She never thought she’d be here again, experiencing this again. Hogwarts and Ilvermorny unfortunately did not have some sort of house equivalency, thus her recent move meant she was forced to be sorted once again like some sort of anxiety-ridden eleven year old.

Well, she wasn’t. She was an anxiety-ridden fourth year, and for Merlin’s sake, this stupid hat was by far the most tedious being she’d ever bore witness to existing!

It spent a good twenty minutes on some students, and heavens knows how long this event would actually last. She didn’t even want to be here anyway.

But as another child was sorted, the thunderous applause of Ravenclaw house deafened her ears yet again and she couldn’t resist the small smile that crept along her face. At the very least, Ilvermorny and Hogwarts had one thing in common: comraderie. She’d heard gossip about how intense the house rivalry of Hogwarts was, but for now, it was nice to see a bit of community shown in order to drown out her lonely anxieties.

It was another thirty minutes before her name was called, and the Great Hall descending into a suffocating silence. A good two heads taller than the first-years, she stood out like a sore thumb. But if (y/n) was to be deemed as anything, she wanted it to be confident, so she sauntered up to the platform without delay. Her face was the picture of calm, but she couldn’t resist tightening her grip on her wand as she felt the inumerable amount of eyes on her. She’d thought about which house she’d prefer to get sorted into beforehand, but had doubts.

(Y/n) was 100% sure her personality aligned best with Slytherin, but the house’s propensity for dark magic and prejudice didn’t bode well with the kind of wizard she wished to be. Gryffindor seemed the next best choice, but the tact and levelheadedness of Ravenclaw house was something she’d surely advantage from.

She considered all of these options, but when the hat descended on her head, there was only one house actually in her mind.

“Oh-ho-ho! A Pukwudgie! A special one at that! Looks like we have future Wizarding royalty in our presence. Though, you lot’s preferred way of sorting is quite boring though, innit? Well, I’d say at least. Of course, a Pukwudgie there makes for anything you’d like here, special or not. You’d do particularly well in Slytherin, it seems... but it looks like you’ve made up your mind? Careful love, it isn’t too good to believe everything you hear. You’d be proud to be in any of our houses, I’d reckon! But, still? Are you sure? Well, okay —

Hufflepuff for the yankee!”

Maybe it was because she was clearly not a first-year and therefore more interesting, but (y/n) could have sworn Hufflepuff’s cheers were a bit louder than for those before her. Either way, she couldn’t help the wide smile that bloomed on her face as she rose from her seat. As she stood, her gaze landed squarely on two piercing grey eyes staring directly at her. Across from her was the Slytherin house, the house that she’d might have been part of in another life. Time seemed to have stood still in this split second, and she felt something stir in her chest. A small twang of regret? Or, guilt even?

But that was impossible, what would she be guilty of? And as her gaze landed on the lips underneath those eyes, which were now twisted into a familiar sneer, (y/n) promptly turned away and pranced over to her new home away from home.

Even if Slytherin had that handsome, rude boy, she was sure Hufflepuff had better in store for her.

Author’s Note: Leave a comment or an ask in order to be added to the tag list ☺️

#Harry Potter #Draco Malfoy x Reader #Draco x reader #Harry Potter x reader #hp x reader #HP #Slytherin #Gryffindor #Hufflepuff #Ravenclaw #x reader #fanfiction #romance #angst

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9worldstales · 3 years

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MCU: Is Loki a serial betrayal or not?

So one of the things I see often discussed in the MCU is the long, long history of deceit and betrayal that goes on between Thor and Loki that got mentioned in “Thor – Ragnarok”.

As various MCU movies and comics get mentioned, I made a list of the sources referenced so you’ll know if they might end up spoiling you. Consider yourself warned (or feel free to skip the list if it bores you).

SOURCES MENTIONED:

Movies: “Thor” (2011), “The Avengers” (2012), “Thor – The Dark World” (2013), “Avengers: Age of Ultron” (2015), “Thor – Ragnark” (2017), “The Avengers – Infinity War” (2018), “The Avengers – Endgame” (2019), “WandaVision” (2021)

Comics: “Thor: Son of Asgard” (2004) “Marvel's The Avengers Prelude: Fury's Big Week” (2012)

Direct-to-video animated film: “Thor - Tales of Asgard” (2011)

Motion comics: None mentioned

Books: “Thor: heroes and villains” (2011), “Marvel Studios The first 10 years” (2018)

Novels: “Marvel Cinematic Universe Phase One: Thor” by Alex Irvine (2015), “Thor: The Dark World Junior Novelization” by Michael Siglain (2013), “Loki – Where mischief lies” by Mackenzi Lee (2019), “The pirate angel, the talking tree and captain rabbit” by Steve Behling (2019)

Webs: None mentioned

Others: Interview “A Talk With THOR: RAGNAROK’s Eric Pearson”, interview “Joss Whedon told Comic-Con the question he doesn’t want us to ask ever again”, Interview “Chris Hemsworth (Thor: The Dark World)”, Interview “Tom Hiddleston Talks the Love-Hate of Loki and ‘Thor’”, Interview “Chris Hemsworth Talks Expanding Beyond Asgard, Interview “Building to THE AVENGERS 2, and More on the Set of THOR: THE DARK WORLD”, Interview “Chris Hemsworth ‘Thor: Ragnarok’, Embracing the Comedy, the Thor/Loki Relationship and More”, Interview “Avengers 4 Endgame: Is Loki ALIVE? Chris Hemsworth gave a massive hint at London fan event”, Interview “Avengers stars reveal one big downside to the job”, “How Taika Waititi Made Thor: Ragnarok So Damn Funny”, Interview “How 'Thor: Ragnarok' Honors & Deviates from Its Comics Foundation”, Interview “Empire Podcast Spoiler Special: Thor: Ragnarok with Taika Waititi”, interview “Kevin Fiege Talks Iron Man 2, The Avengers and More”

So now, let’s start with a quote from Eric Pearson, one of the guys responsible for the script of “Thor - Ragnarok”.

“Thor and Loki have had so many interactions, and alliances, and betrayals. They’ve been each others’ nemesis for so long that even they’re a little exhausted by themselves. It’s almost like the fatigue of dealing with each other allows this terminator like force of Hela to just walk in. They’re divided so she conquers.” [A Talk With THOR: RAGNAROK’s Eric Pearson]

So, since math is an awesome thing and “Marvel Studios The first 10 years” gave us an official timeline let’s do some math.

For start the official timeline.

965: Odin adopts Loki

2011: Thor

2012: The Avengers

2013: Thor: The Dark World

2015: Avengers: Age of Ultron

2017: Thor: Ragnarok, Avengers: Infinity War

2022: Avengers: Endgame (actually not mentioned in the timeline but it takes place 5 years after “Avengers: Infinity War”)

Loki is adopted in 965 so he and Thor are adopted brothers by 1052 years in “Thor - Ragnarok”.

So… “Thor” takes place in 2011 and overall covers three days and, in 2 of them, Thor and Loki are on opposing sides. At the end of “Thor” Loki is believed to be dead.

In 2012 Loki shows up again in “Avengers”. Thor arrives on Earth by night and spend there what, a day? before going back to Asgard with Loki, who then spends a year in jail with Thor never visiting him before he is freed in “Thor: The Dark World”, which takes place in 2013.

It’s worth to mention in “Thor: The Dark World” Thor and Loki are allied against Malekit before Loki is believed dead again and instead rules Asgard up until 2017, when “Thor – Ragnarok” takes place.

Anyway this means that in those 1052 years they spent together Loki and Thor had been on opposing sides for 6 years… during which only 1 year was spent with Thor knowing Loki was alive and only 4 days were spent with them actively fighting each other.

But maybe those days were days of intense betrayal… so let’s sum them up.

For start let’s remember everyone that betrayal is a deliberate break of trust, of faith.

“Thor” is the one which contain most betrayal, even though some things weren’t meant to be as such at the time in which it was filmed but whatever, let’s be strict.

- Loki ruined Thor’s coronation

- Loki had Odin warned they were going to Jotunheim so that Odin came saving their lives

- Loki lied about Odin being dead and Frigga not wanting Thor back.

- After making clear he was Thor’s enemy (I mean he sent the Destroyer to ‘Ensure his brother does not return’, could he have been more explicit?) he tricked him into helping him making him believe he was dangling on the edge of the Bifrost and needed his help.

Okay, that’s a total of 4, one of which done to save everyone’s live (and it saved everyone’s life but, as I said, I’ll be strict and still count 4).

“The Avengers” despite painting Loki as the villain, has no betrayal. Loki doesn’t make any attempt to paint himself as Thor’s friend, he doesn’t even call Thor ‘brother’, he makes clear he wants Earth’s crown and he has made clear in “Thor” he wouldn’t hesitate to kill him. Yes, he lies to him about sending the Tesseract away, uses an illusion to trick Thor into ending up in the cage and drop the cage on the ground and stabs Thor on surprise as they’re fighting. He however never let Thor believe they’re on the same side, I’ll say with dropping the cage he remarked how he wasn’t on Thor’s side since he wondered if the fall could kill Thor. If Thor didn’t want to get the message, this was not Loki betraying him, this was Thor refusing to listen. As for Loki surviving to a fall into the void and not warning Thor about it, that’s not betrayal either. When Loki let himself fall in the void it was a suicide attempt. His survival is a plot hole for whom Whedon didn’t really bother making up an explanation.

“Well, I can’t tell you exactly what went on because it’s this dark, dark secret that I didn’t make up yet. But, the other day, I had trouble with that because he had this very passionate Shakespearean tragedy thing going on in Thor and then I needed a villain who’s not only capable, but ready and willing and anxious to take on all these heroes. For me, he just basically went on some horrible walkabout… That was pretty much as far as I got.” [Joss Whedon told Comic-Con the question he doesn’t want us to ask ever again ]

“Avengers: Infinity War” suggested Thanos resurrected him, how is up to speculation. I wonder if it has to do with the mind stone, which somehow resurrected his mind in a way similar to how Wanda resurrected Vision. But I’m not sure Marvel really tried to figure this out beyond ‘it just happened’. Anyway Loki didn’t plan to fake his death, his survival/resurrection was accidental and he didn’t own to his family to send them a note saying ‘I’m alive’.

So we’ve a total of 0.

“Thor: The Dark World” has merely the fact that Loki again didn’t die when he was supposed to. Mind you, he was supposed to die (or if he were to survive this was meant to be a secret as the movie’s ending was meant to be very different), but then they decided to keep him alive and on the throne of Asgard for “Thor: Ragnarok”. So, he clearly was stabbed and let Thor believe the wound was fatal, then went back to Asgard, took Odin’s place, offered Thor the throne and when the latter refused, took it for himself. We can’t count the fact he told Kurse ‘You might want to take the stairs to the left’ as betrayal because, again, being jailed, he’s clearly not on Thor’s same side nor trusted. Betrayal is a break of trust from someone you believed on your side. An enemy doesn’t betray you, a friend does, and Thor stated he doesn’t view anymore Loki as his brother. We also know the action was a miscalculation on his part, he thought Kurse was merely a Marauder, a pirate, not a Dark Elf part of a Dark Elves’ invasion, and he didn’t think it would end up causing Frigga’s death, just some troubles for his father and brother who cast him in that cell and, according to the novelization, he was meant to end up regretting it short after doing it.

“The east stairs lead to the barraks. You’ll find them mostly unguarded.” Loki said and Kurse nodded, then continued on, glad for the inside information. Loki wanted revenge against Thor and Odin – he just hoped that he wasn’t getting more than he hoped for. [“Thor: The Dark World Junior Novelization”]

More explosions occurred aboveground and Loki glanced upward. “Don’t you think you ought to look into that?” he said. Thor scowled at his brother, then strode off toward the stairs. Loki watched his brother leave, a hint of guilt in his eyes. What had he done? [“Thor: The Dark World Junior Novelization”]

So okay, if we count the fact he let Thor believe him he died, and that he was Odin, we’ve a total of 2.

Which leads us to the amazing number of 6.

Now okay, betraying 1 time is 1 time too much but this is not a pattern that pervaded his whole life, this is 2 days in which Loki was not in his right mind due to pain (“Thor”) and a day in which he wanted to avoid being jailed for life as Thor has promised him he would be once they were to get back (“Thor: The Dark World”).

But, but, but, didn’t Loki betrayed and attempted to murder Thor PRIOR to “Thor”? And why aren’t I considering “Thor: Ragnarok” at all?

I mean, in addition to Loki betraying Thor for money, there’s this bit in “Thor: Ragnarok”:

Banner: Okay, can I just... A quick FYI, I was just talking to him just a couple minutes ago and he was totally ready to kill any of us.

Valkyrie: He did try to kill me.

Thor: Yes, me too. On many, many occasions. There was one time when we were children, he transformed himself into a snake, and he knows that I love snakes. So, I went to pick up the snake to admire it and he transformed back into himself and he was like, "Yeah, it's me!" And he stabbed me. We were eight at the time. [“Thor – Ragnarok”]

But the problem is to quote Wanda in“WandaVision” when her ‘brother’ talks about their shared childhood, this sort of relationship, well, ‘That’s not exactly how I remember it.’ From the previous movies, interviews, books, novels and extra material, I mean.

But let’s start with order.

So “Thor: Ragnarok”.

Remember Eric Pearson, the guy whose quote I used to start all this?

For start this guy never worked on a script with Thor and Loki previously.

The most he did was to be involved in the “Marvel's The Avengers Prelude: Fury's Big Week” in which Thor and Loki have some cameo appearances.

So let’s hear what he has to say about Thor and Loki’s relation.

“For introductions, working on Thor’s voice was really great just because Hemsworth is great with the script. He actually pulled me aside one morning to talk to me about the Thor and Loki scenes. He pointed out, correctly so, that what I had was retreading a bit of what had already happened in Thor, Thor: The Dark World and The Avengers. We needed to have their relationship exhibit the amount of awareness that it should have after the audience spent so much time with them on screen. So, the Thor and Loki stuff is also some of my favorite.” [A Talk With THOR: RAGNAROK’s Eric Pearson]

So Hemsworth informed his opinion and which opinion has Chris Hemsworth of the whole matter?

Well, his opinion on Thor’s relationship with Loki evolved as time went by… but FIRST let’s focus on how he believed it was their relationship during or prior the “Thor” movie.

“In the very first film Loki and Thor as brothers had a friendship where there was less hatred involved.” [Chris Hemsworth (Thor: The Dark World)]

It’s not terribly explicative but let’s say that they were more or less friends? So his brother wasn’t trying to murder him from childhood? He wasn’t betraying him from childhood?

According to Thom Hiddleston definitely not.

“I think Loki grows up with an older brother who he loves and respects. They play, they banter and they bash each other about, but there is a latent jealousy. Craig Kyle ‐ one of our producers ‐ always used to talk about the analogy of the quarterback and the artist. Thor is the quarterback. He’s a chip off the old block and he’s just like his dad. Loki’s problem is, maybe not his problem, but [that] he’s more drawn to the powers of intellect, magic, and the dark arts. He’s not going to be out in the fields throwing a hammer around. That’s just not where his passion lies. There’s a disconnect with Odin and there’s a disconnect with Thor. He loves them very much, but he’s not just made of the same stalk. In the course of the film there’s a big reveal both for Loki and the audience about the truth of Loki’s true lineage and who his real parents are. I think that begets any jealous that was within him towards Thor develops into a dark, cancerous rage that then becomes a destructive rage.” [“Tom Hiddleston Talks the Love-Hate of Loki and ‘Thor’”]

And the ruining of the coronation? As the movie itself said it was done because he didn’t believe his brother was ready to rule… but let’s also read this bit always from Tom Hiddleston.

“He’s certainly not an anarchist who wants to burn the house down. I think he has an inner conviction. He loves a practical joke, he loves mischief and he loves playing around. He loves starting a bonfire in the next room and hearing people scream, but nobody would be killed.” [“Tom Hiddleston Talks the Love-Hate of Loki and ‘Thor’”]

In short it wasn’t meant to cause any serious harm... same as warning his father was meant to save them. Of the 4 times in “Thor” in which Loki betrays Thor, 2 are not done with evil intentions in mind.

But maybe it’s just Tom Hiddleston?

Nope, we’ve the booklet “Thor: heroes and villains” agree with this.

“Loki is often the voice of reason to Thor’s impulsiveness and is usually relied on to talk his older brother out of sticky situation.” [“Thor: heroes and villains”]

“As Odin’s younger son, Loki has always known the throne of Asgard will never belong to him. He has, however, tried his best to be a good brother to Thor and a son Odin could be proud of.” [“Thor: heroes and villains”]

Then we’ve this in the “Thor” movie:

Sif: He may speak of the good of Asgard, but he's always been jealous of Thor.

Volstagg: We should be grateful to him, he saved our lives.

Hogun: Laufey said there were traitors in the House of Odin. A master of magic could bring three Jotuns into Asgard.

Fandral: Loki's always been one for mischief, but you're talking about something else entirely. [“Thor”]

The group suspects Loki wants to hand Asgard to the Jotuns, but up till the end of the movie Loki will have Asgard’s best interests in mind. His way to pursue them though, by destroying the Jotuns, is beyond ruthless but it’s not traitorous toward Asgard.

Also they’ve nothing against him beyond the fact he was jealous of Thor. They mention no stabbing episode, no murdering attempt no previous betrayal. Loki was jealous and they fear this had caused him to do something extreme. NOW. They’ve nothing they can use against him from the past, their suspects are based on Loki’s jealousy, the fact he’s a wizard and Laufey’s words.

Even the “Thor” novelization, which discusses their relation, doesn’t mention murder attempts prior to the Destroyer thing.

From Thor’s point of view:

“His younger brother has always been something of a mystery to him. While Thor had been eager to spread his wings, fight in battles, and go off on grand adventures, Loki had always been more hesitant. True, he had Thor’s back, but it was often only out of necessity.” [“Marvel Cinematic Universe Phase One: Thor”]

From Loki’s point of view:

“Why did he always seem to get into trouble because of his older brother? Wasn’t he supposed to be the wiser one? Odin has expressly forbidden that they enter Jotunheim. Yet it wasn’t the first time Thor had done something reckless. And it wouldn’t be the first time Loki was powerless to stop him.” [“Marvel Cinematic Universe Phase One: Thor”]

Loki had Thor’s back, albeit he wasn’t happy about it, Thor is the one who causes troubles, everyone knows and in the novel Loki is regularly sent by Sif and the Warriors Three to calm Thor down and make him think.

Long story short Thor and Loki seemed to be originally planned to have a relationship similar to the one they had in “Thor - Tales of Asgard” direct-to-video animated superhero film which came out in the same year as “Thor”.

So, why somehow in “Thor: Ragnarok” it morphed into the one they have in the comics “Thor: Son of Asgard” (2004) if not worse?

Well, somehow Hemsworth’s feelings shifted along the way between “Thor: The Dark World” and “Thor: Ragnarok”. He was aware of how Loki and Thor’s relationship was portrayed in the comics and this bits fits with how in “Thor: Ragnarok” he just wants to tell Loki he didn’t care anymore.

I mean I can’t say too much but I think in the comic books, you kind of roll your eyes sometimes at the amount of times that they’re back to being best friends so we wanted to keep in mind that he did just try to kill you for the seventh time, and Earth and millions of people and what have you, so… [Chris Hemsworth Talks Expanding Beyond Asgard, Building to THE AVENGERS 2, and More on the Set of THOR: THE DARK WORLD]

Without giving too much away, I didn't want to repeat that relationship either. And Tom felt the same. All of us were like, ‘What can we do again here?’ There’s a bit of reversal as far as... In the first films, a lot of the time you’re seeing Thor going, 'Come back Loki, and da-da-da-da.' [But now] there’s a feeling from Thor that’s just like, 'You know what, kid? Do what you want. You’re a screw up. So whatever. Do your thing.' [Chris Hemsworth ‘Thor: Ragnarok’, Embracing the Comedy, the Thor/Loki Relationship and More]

"Ahhh, he's like the girlfriend you break up with and they don't get the message. Like, 'You're dead, sorry, it's over,' and they're coming round to hang the new drapes. "The most poignant moments (of Thor's movies) have been with Loki." [Avengers 4 Endgame: Is Loki ALIVE? Chris Hemsworth gave a massive hint at London fan event]

Until we get to “Avengers: Infinity War” in which he makes clear he believes Loki fooled him time and time again so that he doesn’t want him back…

While the cast share an obvious camaraderie, a void remains after Tom Hiddleston’s Loki died in Infinity War. Would Hemsworth bring back his troublesome onscreen brother if he could? “No. Why would I do that?” he answers, blankly. “He fooled me time and time again. But on the personal side, I was with Tom since the beginning of this journey and I learned a lot from him.” Hemsworth pauses. “If you’re asking if Thor would bring him back, I think if he could have done he would have. But for me, I don’t know.” [Avengers stars reveal one big downside to the job]

…even if Thor would have (and of course he would have if we’ve to believe Thor’s tears in “Avengers: Infinity War” and his depression in “Avengers: Endgame” are due to Loki’s death and it’s not merely due to how ‘fun’ it is to have a depressed Thor who ends up neglecting his health by drinking too much and getting fat… because being a source of amusement isn’t really a reason why you should introduce a depressed character in a story).

So yes, maybe Pearson didn’t go to the right source of info for Thor and Loki’s relationship.

However, credits when it’s due, the scene about Loki wanting to kill Thor from childhood is not so much due to Pearson or Hemsworth but due to Waititi.

Hewitt: You know, there’s another moment I love, when they have the little huddle about Loki, and he tells the story about how Loki turned into a snake.

Waititi: Yeah, yeah.

Hewitt: And that felt improv’d.

Waititi: Yeah, there was basically- what we did about six different versions of that story, and that was just us standing around, while the cameras are rolling, while I would just feed them lines, and feed Chris ideas for some stories. I was, “Oh, do one, this one, um, say, “I was walking through a field, and I saw a lovely Turkish rug in the middle of the grass, and I love Turkish rugs, so I went to stand on it, and it was Loki, and he turned back into Loki, and it was a hole, and I fell through the hole, and was impaled in the hole, full of spikes”.”

Hewitt: *laughs*

Waititi: As I did all versions of that and I just kept going with- Yeah, the one with the snake just turned out to be the one we used. [Taika Waititi On Screenwriting: An Empire 30th Anniversary Special]

And so how did Waititi envisioned the Thor-Loki dynamics? This is how Waititi describes Thor’s live:

“To be perfectly honest, he’s a rich kid who lives in a castle in outer space. I don’t know any of those people, but I do know people who come from dysfunctional families. He barely talks to his parents — well, his mom’s dead now — his brother is trying to kill him his entire life, and he’s supposed to be king, and he doesn’t want to be a king. A lot of it is also this father-son relationship stuff of him trying to prove himself, or trying to find his own identity, and I really relate to that. My dad was a very big personality in New Zealand and in our area, and I’ve always been trying to do my own thing to separate from him, while at the same time trying to impress him. Which is the story of pretty much all guys, and probably most girls, who are choosing a parent to impress. That was my way in with him.” [“How Taika Waititi Made Thor: Ragnarok So Damn Funny”]

Why Waititi came up with such an idea for their dynamics is up to everyone’s speculation because in itself it’s not important if he actually got told about it by Hemsworth, Pearson or by Brad Winderbaum, who admitted taking inspiration from the comics for “Thor – Ragnarok”…

“I'll tell you the three things we looked at the most. We're pulling a lot stylistically from Kirby [but] we're also looking at the Walt Simonson Ragnarok arc [and]… God of Thunder, the Jason Aaron book.” [How 'Thor: Ragnarok' Honors & Deviates from Its Comics Foundation]

… if this is the result of that 1 short comic he read…

“That’s a thing about me, guys, I did not do my research.” … “I read one issue of Thor as my research. Not even a graphic novel, it was one of the thin-thin ones.” … “And by the end of it, “Hm, well, we’re not doing that”. [Empire Podcast Spoiler Special: Thor: Ragnarok with Taika Waititi]

Waititi wanted to do his own story, not a continuation of the previous movies.

“I was lucky enough they didn’t force me to acknowledge things- there were certain things in the film, like the play, which makes fun of the scene in The Dark World where Loki dies, but there’s a point to that play, sort of to recap what happened, but also to tell the audience, “This is not what you think it’s going to be, this film is not going to be a continuation of that. It’s its own thing, and what you think you expect from this film ends at this play.”” [Empire Podcast Spoiler Special: Thor: Ragnarok with Taika Waititi]

This is not the point where I discuss what I think of this idea of stepping all over the previous movies to create a ‘new Thor’ that the Russo brothers proceeded to dismantle in the next movie.

In 2010 Feige was already on board with the idea ‘the movie comes first’ and the ‘connective tissue’ is fun and very important if you want it to be.

“It's never been done before and that's kind of the spirit everybody's taking it in. The other filmmakers aren't used to getting actors from other movies that other filmmakers have cast, certain plot lines that are connected or certain locations that are connected but I think for the most part, in fact, entirely everyone was on board for it and thinks that its fun. Primarily because we've always remained consistent saying that the movie that we are making comes first. All of the connective tissue, all of that stuff is fun and is going to be very important if you want it to be. If the fans want to look further and find connections than they're there. There are a few big ones obviously, that hopefully the mainstream audience will able to follow as well. But the most important thing and I think the reason that all the filmmakers are on board is that their movies need to stand on their own. They need to have a fresh vision, a unique tone and the fact that they can interconnect if you want to follow those breadcrumbs is a bonus.” [Kevin Fiege Talks Iron Man 2, The Avengers and More]

“Thor – Ragnarok” merely took it to an extreme, retconning a lot from the original to the point some feel “Thor – Ragnarok” is a parallel universe compared to the previous 4 movies, with its own canon.

So when they needed a joke they didn’t bother checking the previous canon, they just needed a joke and so they added that scene, and it somehow got so popular it got referenced in two novels, sorta, even if in both gets ‘adapted’.

Once he was in the room, the servant girl would likely go unnoticed enough to eavesdrop – certainly less noticed than a snake, which had been his initial plan, and which was easier to imitate than an Asgardian. But snakes tended to gather attention – Thor would pick up any serpent to admire it. [“Loki- Where mischief lies”]

In “Loki – Where mischief lies” by Mackenzi Lee the stabbing isn’t included, the book only keep Thor’s fascination for snakes and his habit to pick them up… but the scene couldn’t have happened when they were children as Loki is a teen in the book and has learnt only recently to use shapeshifting magic.

In “The pirate angel, the talking tree and captain rabbit” by Steve Behling the scene is partially retconned as well.

Where in the movie is played as a clear murder attempt in the book we’ve the same story but in a different contest.

“Hey, what did I tell you about insulting our guest?” Rocket scolded, shaking his head. “If anyone’s gonna do any insulting around here, it’s gonna be me.”

Groot looked at Rocket, and enacted an impressive-albeit obnoxious-imitation of the same sneet that Rocket used on Thor just few second earlier.

“I am-“

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Rocket warned.

“Gr-“

“I mean it! You wanna have tablet privileges revocked for a week, you go right ahead and finish that though.”

If Groot had pockets, he would have showed his limbs stubbornly into them, turned around grumbling, and walked away. As it was, he didn’t, so after a moment’s stare-off with Rocket he simply muttered, “I am Groot,” then ambled away.

“He’s in an awkward phase,” Rocket said to Thor by way of explanation, turning his attention to the master control panel.

“Adolescence is never easy,” Thor said looking over Rocket’s shoulder. “I remember when Loki and I were children. Loki transformed himself into a snake, and because I really, really love snake, I went to pick it up. But the moment I did, the snake transformed back into Loki, and then he stabbed me.”

It was at least ten second before Rocket spoke. And when he finally did, he sighed and said, “Why do I have the feeling you tell this story a lot? Like, A LOT.”

Thor smiled wanly. “Maybe a few times,” he acknowledged.

“I bet this Loki gets a big kick out of it every time you tell it,” Rocket said, chuckling.

The thin smile on Thor’s face quickly fell.

“Not anymore,” were the only words Thor could manage before he turned away. [“The pirate angel, the talking tree and captain rabbit”]

While in “Thor: Ragnarok” this story seems to be a proof Loki is an homicidal maniac because it’s compared to him wanting to kill Banner and Valkyrie and therefore, despite the idea this is a joke, make the whole matter a serious business, here Loki’s actions are compared to the ones of a teenager tree wanting to insult someone else and being told not to. It seems one of those stupid things little kids do in anger, or thinking it’s just a game, without really understanding the consequences they could have (=killing someone). Thor seems to almost brag about it, as if it was a funny childhood tale about the idiotic things they did as kids, not a cautious tale against his brother and the risks of trusting him.

It’s still a story that’s clearly out of character for how Loki was meant to be PRIOR to “Thor”, but at least now it’s better inserted in the contest and can fit vaguely more with the previous canon.

But whatever, that’s it.

So, in a way, we’ve two universes, one is the Pre-Ragnarok one, in which Loki prior to Thor loved his brother and had a good relation with him, and the other is the Ragnarok one, in which Loki wanted him dead from childhood.

Both exist.

It’s something a part of the fandom is well aware of, but also something another part of the fandom is ABSOLUTELY unaware of.

I’m not going to tell you which universe you’ve to favour, if the one in which Loki loved Thor or the one in which he wanted him dead, that’s up to your personal preference.

But if you’re among the many who’re still confused about why the fandom has split opinions about the relationship between the brothers… well, that’s a summary of the history behind it all.

Honestly, with the incoming “Thor – Love and Thunder” and “Loki” series, I’ve no idea what will be the future of it all. Waititi will probably want to go back to his “Thor – Ragnarok” continuity… unless he wants to reinvent Thor all over again so we’ll get another additional universe for Strange to enjoy in his upcoming “Doctor Strange in the multiverse of madness”… in addition to the universes created in “Avengers – Endgame” when the characters changed the past and the ones Loki will be creating in “Loki”.

Sorry, Doctor Strange, I guess you’ll have your hands full.

#thor #loki odinson #thor odinson #mcu #loki #9 worlds study

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along-came-atsushi · 4 years

Text

About Dazai being the (possible) son of the former mafia boss

It has already been mentioned by some people in the fandom that Dazai could have a blood relationship with the former Mafia boss. I don’t know if anyone ever wrote a detailed analysis about this, so I read several scenes with that theory in mind and there are actually some scenes throughout the story where this could have been hinted at and where some things make way more sense.

For this analysis I want to stick with the theory that the former Mafia boss is Dazai’s biological father. But there is also the possibility that he’s any other relative of Dazai (e.g. his uncle or grandfather) or that Dazai is not related to him by blood and he is adopted.

Please keep in mind, that there are many speculations, especially in the first part of this analysis! Should there be any further hints to this theory in future chapters, then either this post will get an update or I’ll write another one.

Quotes from the Fifteen novel are from @looking-for-stray-dogs translations!

Beware: Some spoilers for some of the novels and the latest manga chapters!

What we know so far:

- Dazai had been in the Port Mafia since he was 14 (the time where he witnessed Mori killing the former boss). But it is possible that he was in the Port Mafia even before that, because he knew about Kouyou’s plan to escape with the man she admired (where Kouyou was around 14, so Dazai would’ve been around 11).

- It’s not explained until now what exactly was the reason for the former Mafia boss to start a wide underground war that involved many causalities to Yokohama and within the Port Mafia. It’s also not explained what exactly this “illness” was he supposedly suffered from.

He could’ve simply just gotten delusional, craving more and more power over the years. But it’s been stated by Hirotsu that he wasn’t like this from the very beginning, and puts the blame on the former boss’s “illness”.

Possible past:

A motive for the former Mafia boss to start this war is that something happened to a person dear to him, and he did due to sadness and to avenge this person. In this case, maybe something happened to his wife, who would’ve been Dazai’s mother. Yes, I know this origin would be pretty cliché, but there are several reasons why this theory could be true:

1.) There are several characters whose deaths / fates serve as a motive for another character’s actions -> Fitzgerald’s daughter (who died) and his wife (who became mentally ill due to her sadness over their daughter’s death) are the reasons why he’s searching for The Book™; Margaret’s sacrifice for Nathaniel, which then drives Nathaniel to follow Fyodor; Odasaku’s death is the reason why Dazai leaves the Port Mafia; Tachihara’s brother dying is the reason why he seeks vengeance at first; and so on.

2.) ‘Sacrifice for the sake of loved ones’ is a big theme explored throughout BSD -> Odasaku’s sacrifice due to his children dying; the death of Kyouka’s parents in order to protect Kyouka; Margaret sacrificing herself for Nathaniel; and so on.

3.) ‘Going to extreme lengths for the sake of / to avenge / to protect / to claim loved ones’ is another big theme explored throughout BSD -> Odasaku seeking death and vengeance after he witnessed his children die; Tanizaki vowing that he would see the whole world burn for Naomi; John saying something similar about his sister; Fitzgerald playing the big bad guy for his family; Nathaniel leaving the Guild and joining Fyodor because of Margaret; Mori’s creepy obsession with Yosano; Akutagawa’s obsession about Dazai’s approval; Tachihara deceiving everyone to avenge his brother; and so on.

In his last moments the former Mafia boss still wasn’t able to let go of whatever he was seeking, and it just seems as if he was seething with rage and vengeance about something.

[Side note: His mother’s death could’ve been the reason for Dazai to get to know about The Book™ in the first place. Maybe because he himself was looking for a way to bring his mother back, or because his father was searching for the book.]

Mori becoming the new boss:

We don’t know the exact reason why Mori chose Dazai of all people as a witness. But I highly doubt it was just because of a coincidence, or because Dazai was (conveniently for Mori) suicidal. It doesn’t make much sense and Mori himself is too much of a strategist to just go with coincidences. What makes more sense are these reasons Mori has:

“What Mori needed was an assistant. A secretary, a confidant, an outstanding right-hand man.”

“And more than that, as a town doctor turned traitor who usurped power, what he needed were subordinates he could trust. Subordinates he didn’t need to harbour secrets with. Subordinates who could understand him, even while he continued waving a solitary flag at the tip of an iceberg.”

“He couldn’t let Dazai die.

If he did so—if that happened, the people loyal to the predecessor, still firmly rooted within the organisation, would certainly say ‘as expected, the change of bosses was a conspiracy’ and create an uproar.”

It’s been stated that Mori worked as the former boss’s personal doctor. But maybe Mori also worked as the personal doctor for the former boss’s whole family, which would be the reason how he and Dazai got to know each other in the first place (with Dazai being the boss’s son):

“Dazai is not Mori’s subordinate. He isn’t even in the mafia. And he certainly isn’t an illegitimate child, or an orphan he picked up, or a medical assistant. There does not exist a word to correctly express what Dazai and Mori’s relationship is. If one had to use words close to its reality—they were in the same boat.”

This is the only very vague information we got about this so far. But it seems that not everyone in the Port Mafia knows about the former boss’s son, or of him having his own family. The reason for this could be simply to protect them. It’s possible that Dazai was kept hidden from Port Mafia members and he wasn’t an official member himself yet. But once he had reached a certain age, he would have become an official member, and then later he would have inherited his father’s legacy. It’s also possible that only a few certain loyal people, who earned the former boss’s trust knew about his family. One of these people being Mori, as he was the family’s personal doctor.

We know that the war the former boss started contained a lot of causalities in Yokohama and the Port Mafia alone. When Mori took over, he already was confronted with several problems inside the Port Mafia due to this (but more on that later).

Dazai more than anyone else would know that his father couldn’t be convinced to stop the war in his state of mind. So, the only solution to this would be that his father needed to die in order to stop it and with someone else sitting on the throne. Maybe Dazai wasn’t able to kill his father himself (for obvious reasons), so he asked Mori to do it. Or it was the other way around and Mori convinced Dazai to do this together with him. It’s possible that they made a deal: Mori would kill Dazai’s father in place of Dazai, and in return Dazai would relinquish his right as the new boss and give the position to Mori:

“The two of them have shared a common destiny since a year ago. The two of them—Mori as the boss’s private doctor and Dazai, brought into this, no more than a patient who had attempted suicide—colluded, and they carried out a certain secret plan.”

Choosing Dazai as a witness, if he actually was just a random kid brought in by Mori doesn’t really secure his position. But if Dazai is related to the former boss, then choosing him as witness would be a further backup should it ever come out that Mori really killed and usurped the former boss. It also serves as a ‘mind-lock’ for Dazai; in other words: Mori successfully manipulated and subdued Dazai from taking any further steps in betraying him or breaking their deal in any way.

Why Mori kept Dazai in the Port Mafia and wants him back:

After Mori took over, he was met with several problems:

“It has already been two weeks since the deadline for the supply of contraband guns to arrive. At this rate, soon all my subordinates will be reduced to fighting enemies with kitchen knives. And not only that. There have already been three cases this month where the city police were dispatched. Seems like I’m losing control over the members far down the hierarchy.” - Mori

“Cancellations of contracts in the protection business. Intensification of disputes with other organizations. Shrinking of territory. How troubling……a year after becoming boss, and there’s a mountain of problems. For it to be so terrible standing in the top position of the organization……could it be I’m not suited for this? What do you think, Dazai-kun. Were you listening to me?” - Mori

“No money, no information, no trust from subordinates. Even though you’ve known all these from the start.” - Dazai

“Liar! You say that and you keep making me work hard, gave me awful memories a year back, and in the end you didn’t teach me! If this goes on I’ll betray you and join an enemy organization!�� - Dazai

“Already, this year he had stopped two cases of members from the “predecessor faction” planning to assassinate Mori. The traitors had certainly been executed, but below the surface Mori was still not approved of. He couldn’t imagine how many of the “predecessor faction” remained.”

It’s strange that Mori is seeking advice from a 14-year-old kid who just recently got into the Mafia. At this point Dazai isn’t even an official member and is only now becoming one. It doesn’t make much sense why Mori would keep a mere “patient who had attempted suicide” and was somehow “brought into this” by his side and choose as a witness, when it’s also made clear at the same time that Dazai “isn’t an orphan Mori picked up”, or why Dazai would willingly decide to stay by Mori’s side.

Of course, it could just be due to Dazai’s intelligence that he is a valuable advisor by nature. But if he is somehow related to the former boss, then he probably must have received some sort of training in how to properly lead a major organization like the Port Mafia. A training which Mori didn’t receive as a random usurper, so now he’s dealing with the problems and is in need of someone who has more insight than him. At least, in the beginning of his take over.

This point of view changed within Mori as Dazai climbed up the ranks as an executive with his own subordinates (who highly respected and / or feared Dazai). Therefore, Mori was constantly torn between seeing Dazai as a valuable advisor and weapon in battle and a possible rival / usurper.

Which then was one of the reasons why Mori kinda initiated Odasaku’s death, in order to break Dazai and make him leave Port Mafia. But during the fight with the Guild he regretted having lost Dazai as a member.

Possible hints:

Stepping away from mere speculations to theories with more canon facts. The following quotes could serve as hints for Dazai’s possible origin (in chronological order):

- Odasaku about Dazai:

“He was practically born for this job.”

The context of this quote is about Dazai’s cruel and effective methods as a Port Mafia executive. Of course, Odasaku doesn’t know about Dazai’s possible past, but it emphasizes just how natural and thoroughly Dazai fits in the Port Mafia. It could serve as a hint from a narrative POV.

- Dazai and Odasaku:

“Odasaku, I know what you’re thinking, but don’t. Doing that isn’t going to−” “Isn’t going to bring the kids back?” I asked. […]

“Odasaku…,” Dazai said softly. “Forgive me for the absurd wording, but−−don’t go. Find something to rely on. Expect good things to happen from here on out. There’s gotta be something… Hey Odasaku, do you know why I joined the Mafia?” […] I joined the Mafia because of an expectation I had. I thought if I was close to death and violence−−close to people giving in to their urges and desires, then I would be able to see the inner nature of humankind up close. I thought if I did that, I would be able to find something−−a reason to live.”

Interestingly, Dazai says this right after Odasaku witnessed his children dying right in front of his eyes. Dazai knew exactly how Odasaku felt after his loss. And he knew that grief over the loss of loved ones can make a person choose decisions that will have bad consequences (the former boss starting a war, not caring about who dies, which maybe stems because he lost a loved one). And Odasaku sadly really chooses to sacrifice himself, because he had lost all meaning in his life.

- Higuchi to Dazai:

Higuchi says this after she lists some of the things Dazai did during his Port Mafia time, which she claims to have read in some records. It could be that she just wants to express how cruel he was, even for a Port Mafia member. But the fact that she emphasizes “your blood” could maybe not only refer symbolically to his actions, but as him having actual Mafia blood, and she subtly informs him that she now knows about his possible past.

It would explain why he looks so shocked at first, because I doubt that Dazai’s actions are an actual secret in the Port Mafia. Higuchi could’ve simply asked pretty much anyone if she wanted to know more about that. And it’s also weird that Dazai is shocked just because a Port Mafia member tells him about the things he had done back then.

It’s still uncertain though, how exactly she found out about this, or if it was her doing all alone. And if anyone told her, then the question remains why it was necessary that she should know about this.

- Dazai, Mori and Hirotsu:

This whole scene and conversation just look very suspicious to me. And it also seems that Hirotsu knows a lot more than he lets on. It’s clear that Mori thought of Dazai as usurper and so he needed him out of his way.

Dazai also seems to take the former boss’s death pretty personal, as if he’s still holding grudges against Mori for killing him. Which would be strange, if Dazai really is just some random kid who got into the Port Mafia by Mori and not somehow related to the former boss. And in that case, it’s also weird that Hirotsu especially emphasizes that he believes that Dazai understands what Mori had to do. It could be that Dazai’s goal back in the Port Mafia was to gain enough subordinates / followers to take over as the new boss (like he threatens Mori with), in other words: to take back what was taken from him. But then the whole Odasaku thing happened and so he left and found a new purpose for himself.

Hirotsu either could have been one of the few people who knew about the former boss’s family and just keeps quiet about it, or he later found out about it somehow (and that maybe could be the reason how Higuchi knows, too).

It’s also notable that Dazai and Hirotsu seem to get along very well, which could be because Hirotsu just respects Dazai as a person, but maybe also because he knows that Dazai is the true heir.

#this was in my drafts for months #Bungou Stray Dogs #Osamu Dazai #Ougai Mori #Sakunosuke Oda #Ichiyo Higuchi #Ryuro Hirotsu #Port Mafia #meta #analysis #theories #speculation #BSD #bsd meta

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captainjimothycarter · 3 years

Note

can u do another peggy is tony’s birth mom but from a 1 night stand w/ Howard (maybe she’s wasted or up 2 u, resulting n a late n life pregnancy. Howard and Maria adopt him b/c of reasons (up 2 u)

Hopefully, this is what you imagined! Just a warning, abortion is mentioned several times

Things just happened.

Peggy isn’t sure how point A and point B ended up together to make this triangle sort of events, but here they are. Here she is, sitting on the bathroom floor of her new office in DC, staring at the positive pregnancy test.

She was filled with some complex emotions that she didn’t know where to start with first. Frustration for herself? Angry at herself for letting her guard drop? For not thinking at the moment, no excuse of alcohol in her system despite it was a reason to celebrate. How could she be so stupid?

A pregnancy was dangerous to her in general, the doctors had told her when she had the distant thought of wanting to start a family. Shrapnel from an explosive had cut through her lower stomach, tearing through several important organs. She told me she had almost died on the table twice during surgery and pregnancy was out of her future if she wanted to see the ripe age of at least fifty.

That reality had hurt, the idea that she couldn’t get pregnant without risking her health, but Peggy had packed away the pain as she always did to visit on a rainy day. She made peace with this reality. She threw herself into her work. She focused on the tasks at hand with the SSR, Howard, Leviathan, Howard, Whitney Frost, Michael, Howard, Shield, and Howard.

It’s not that Peggy didn’t want kids, she loved kids. She just never found herself the mothering type, even as a child. She would rather roll around in the dirt, get her dress dirty, and play pirate than to learn how to take care of a baby doll or even sew [even if that skill would come in hand at a much later date in her life]. Her mother had frowned upon the idea, told her that she would never get a husband, that no man would want her, and even as a child, a teenager, she shrugged it off.

She lived for no man.

The problem wasn’t the pregnancy so much, she could deal with the pregnancy if she was to keep the child. Was it even too late? Too dangerous to abort? Surely her medics at SHIELD could think of something. The main problem lied in her job. A pregnancy meant things on hold because of the danger of the situation. A pregnancy meant no more field missions, a pregnancy meant she was exposing herself as a weakness to the world by carrying a child. Especially this late in life.

Then there was the fact of actually birthing this child. Of raising it. Could she even do it? Did she even want to?

She felt guilty for even thinking no. Not that she wouldn’t love the child, she was sure she would, but looking in his face? Seeing who the father was made her sick. How could she do that to Maria?

It wasn’t just that. It was exposing a child to the daily life of leading Shield would result in the child being in danger, expanses she wasn’t sure they could afford to be stretched to protect the child too.

No, she couldn’t go through with this. For the better good of herself, of the world. The best she could do was get an abortion and move on, put it all behind her, and tuck this into the nice little box to visit on a rainy day.

“I’m afraid no,” the doctor with gray eyes and a mole on his cheek sighed at her, tapping the clipboard on his arm. “Going by your lab results and your history, it’s far too late to do as you ask. If there’s an emergency, then yes, we can risk it, but given your age and your medical history, there are ways around the main risks with constant monitoring.”

That’s not what Peggy wanted to hear. She expected it was far too late. How long had she been sick and put it off as just stress? Nausea, vomiting, heartburn. She just chucked it up to the lack of self-care. Now, it was coming to bite her in the ass.

She could press if she wanted to, she knew that. There would be some doctor in some part of this city to say yes, but part of her was relieved. She didn’t want to. She wanted some excuse, to put reasoning behind this budding guilt in her that she had to do it for her health.

Now she had to carry to term for her health too.

And maybe there’s a chance she lied on the forms, on the questions, her subconscious told her. Her period had been far earlier, the date of conception had been different. In reality, she wanted to keep this child that was now growing inside of her and had been for some time.

So pregnancy was dangerous in both her late age and her war-torn body, but it was doable. She should be upset, raging, storming off to find another doctor. So why did she feel so relieved?

And where in the hell was Howard Stark?

The answer was her office. Helping himself to a tall whiskey, a sour look on his face that had nothing to do with the glass in hand. She rolled her eyes as she marched inside, snatching the bottle and glass from him to put it out of his reach. The smell made her stomach roll.

“Tastes like shit anyway, all watered down,” Howard grumbled, scrubbing a hand over his salt and peppered hair. He set Peggy with a hard look, eyes dropping instantly down to her belly and back up to her. “So, when were you gonna tell me? Why did I have to find out through Shield gossip that you’re pregnant?”

This is not how she wanted to do this.

Peggy sighed as she shut the door, instructing her secretary Rose to please push her meetings back by an hour. She sat behind the desk and slipped her heels off, feet already starting to swell in them.

“I only found out today.” At Howard’s look, the brunette sighed and leaned back in her chair. “I’m serious, Howard. It’s not like I would keep this from you! I only found out today and took that pregnancy test on a complete whim. I already went to medical and I’m too far along to consider...anything but carrying it to term.”

Howard was still giving her a funny look, turning the information over in his head.

“Whose the father?”

The silence stretched between them as she stared at him, turning that night over in her head. Plenty of drinks. Celebration. He had kissed her.

“You are.”

Howard’s face paled of all color, making the dark strands in his hair and mustache stand out. He’d aged as they all had, carrying SHIELD and Stark Industries on his back. More recently he’s been talking about diving into weapon trade, and designing weapons for more than just SHIELD to create a steady income and a good source to fall back on. She’d voiced her displeasure but until she saw the proof, there was nothing she could do.

“You’re serious,” he sighed, dropping his face into his hands. “I thought...I thought…”

“We did.” It had been a wild night. She’d just made Director. Phillips had officially passed the mantle on to her and she’d just moved to the office in DC. It had been a private celebration between them, to honor the falling as well. Her thoughts had faded back to Steve when he kissed her. And maybe it was the loneliness that had crowded in on her at night, or the illusion that she was drunk, or the fact that Howard, despite all her reserve to admit it, he was a good kisser. Regardless, it had happened.

She’d woken up to Howard gone from her bed, the memory of that night filling her mind. He’d left shortly after looking smug as he used to in his young age when he’d bed someone. Not just smug, he looked...relieved, almost longing in those eyes. She had fooled herself to think so, too desperate for human contact she denied herself.

“And,” Peggy continued. “We need to tell Maria.” Howard looked just as panicked as she felt but she shook her head, continuing firm. “I will not lie to my friend about this, Howard. She deserves to know how we both screwed up.”

Maria was a beautiful woman and quick to wit, never afraid to put Howard in his place. It was one of the many reasons Peggy had liked her from the start. She helped them out plenty of times, no matter if it was three in the morning, she stumbled in with a bleeding shoulder from a stray bullet or just to gossip about her day. She could pick up the signs that no one else noticed or well ignored.

Peggy liked her, loved how good she was for Howard, and hated this reality.

“You’re pregnant,” Maria said the second the pair had sat down for their earlier-than-usual afternoon tea. She held the cup in hand, looking at Peggy over the steaming rim. “And it’s Howard’s.”

Peggy blinked, feeling her body run cold. Feeling sick to her stomach from more than just the smell of coffee wafting from the kitchen. All she could do was nod, eyes dropping down to her steaming cup. Maria had purposely fixed her ginger tea.

“How did you know?” She finally asked when she found her voice.

The woman shrugged, a smile curling on her lips was the last thing Peggy had expected. She should be angry, she had every right to be. Not only did her husband cheat on her, but he cheated on her with her friend.

“You’ve been sick for a few weeks now, complaining of lack of sleep, but a lady knows.” Her hand moved to cover the back of Peggy’s, giving a gentle squeeze. “As for how I know it’s Howard’s… He told me. I know underneath it, he’s sorry. He’s sorry for putting your life at risk, our marriage. I’m not angry, I should be but… You were always the exception to him. He loves you, Peggy, to a degree that is not the same as he loves me. There’s nothing wrong with that. There’s no competition between you and me for his love, but it’s there. And I’m not mad about it. I’m glad that you’re okay.”

Peggy was not a crier. She’s never broken into tears, hysterically sobbed before. Yes, maybe in times of stress. Maybe during the war a time or two or when she forced herself to say goodbye to Steve far before she was ready, but never now. Yet she did cry, holding onto Maria who, bless this woman, was calming her down.

Nine months later, Anthony Micheal Stark was born.

The pregnancy had been an easy one to Peggy’s relief. She had managed to hide the pregnancy for as long as she could. She took maternity leave straight away, working from home when the pregnancy abled her. When it came time to give birth, she opted for a c-section to avoid the unnecessary process, even if that meant another scar on her body.

He was beautiful. Brown eyes. Black hair. Screaming on top of his lungs. Her heart ached for him. Yet, as Peggy looked at this bundle of joy in her arms, the way he held onto her finger and smiled, her life was not meant for him.

She could provide, yes but, she couldn’t trust herself to be there for him as a mother should. It’s why she made the difficult decision to give Anthony up for option - to entrust him to be cared for by Howard and Maria.

It might be a reminder of what happened, as will the scar that will always be on her body, but Peggy could keep a secret. She’d know they would love him in the same manner that she did.

“Are you sure?” Maria asked one night, a hand over Peggy’s belly. “You don’t have to say yes, just because Howard-”

“I’m sure, Maria. You and Howard will give Anthony a loving home. I couldn’t entrust him with anyone better,” Peggy sighed, feeling Anthony’s foot collide with the underside of her hand.

It seemed like Anthony agreed.

This was the best choice she could make for all of them, the difficult choice, but the best one to ensure Anthony had the future he deserved.

#HowardPeggy #Pregnant Peggy Carter #Nonny Prompt #Writing Prompt #Peggy Carter Prompt #Peggy is Tony's bio mother

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c-optimistic · 4 years

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brave

They met as wide-eyed, sticky fingered, mess inclined, and chatty third graders. And Kara had known it was a love story from the start.

Well, all right. No, she didn’t know at eight years old, per se. She certainly had figured it out by the time they were seniors in high school, but in third grade, watching some short, grubby, sniffling boy attempt to shove Lena off the swing set made Kara see red, not hearts, ending up with a fistful of the boy’s shirt, making threats there was no way she could’ve backed up. (That bully hadn’t seemed to realize that; she found out he’d transferred schools not a week later, teachers citing he had ‘irreconcilable issues’ with the other students—namely, Kara.)

The point, of course, was that it wasn’t exactly the beginning of some romantic love story. Rather, it turned into Lena’s favorite thing to talk about when they met new people, an icebreaker of sorts when she met with investors and board members and random strangers on the street, the lot of them chuckling over Lena Luthor’s childhood best friend.

(“She was barely three feet tall, I swear. But she scared him with nothing but narrowed eyes and a gritted voice and honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more impressive. My best friend was, and I guess still is, a badass.”

Not that she’d admit it, but Kara always blushed at the story and at Lena’s added comment at the end.)

And the thing was, she knew she screwed up. Because Lena was more than just a best friend to her—most times, Lena felt a little bit like everything. Lena was her rock, her anchor, her grounding point. When everything was going wrong in her life, it had been Lena that she turned to, Lena who held her hand, Lena who allowed her to sob on her shoulder.

Falling in love with her best friend wasn’t a part of their story. Until, well, it was. And once it happened, it felt pretty damn inevitable. (Like the sun rising. Like the stars shining. Like the rising and falling tides. Like the changing of seasons and the blooming of flowers and the fresh scent of an afternoon breeze.)

Yet, when Kara shared these thoughts with the others in her life, she wasn’t exactly met with a response that inspired much confidence. Alex just laughed at the use of the word inevitable, Winn questioned her sanity more than once, and James had pulled her into a silent hug. And yes, their support would’ve been nice, but it’d gotten to the point that Kara didn’t care what they thought, because they hadn’t been there the day she met Lena. Her sister and friends weren’t there when Kara turned to Lena, her chest heaving in anger, horrified that anyone would dare hurt someone over a swing set, and Lena had smiled at her, stuck out her hand (already practicing her future career, already charming and clever and confident), and leaned forward.

“Hi,” she’d said, “I’m Lena. Thanks for helping me.”

And Kara (clumsy, cheerful, and carefree) promptly fell in love.

It just took her ten more years recognize it for what it was, then another ten before she did anything about it.

Lena was her best friend.

She didn’t come to such a conclusion lightly. No, at nine years old and precocious to boot, Kara took great care in the way she labeled the people in her life. Alex was her sister in all but blood—their families close, spending most free evenings and weekends with Alex, Eliza, and Jeremiah—and Clark, her actual blood relative, was a continual disappointment, making promises he seemed never able to keep.

And Lena, Lena was her best friend.

“Is that why you talk about her so much?” her mother asked one afternoon, home early from work, an exhausted but pleased expression on her face. “Because she’s your best friend?” Kara didn’t understand the wry smile, the funny expression. It didn’t seem to matter at the time.

“Yes!” she answered cheerfully, bounding over to her mother and ignoring her aunt’s snort from where she sat in the kitchen, head buried in a book, hands preoccupied with a mug of hot chocolate (the one she made for Kara long finished, burnt tongue forgotten in the repeated—and rejected—requests for more). “Like you and father! Or Aunt Astra and Uncle Non!”

Astra looked up at the sound of her name, brows furrowed in the way that Kara worked so hard to mimic, and she put her mug aside, lips quirking into something resembling a smile.

“Oh little one,” she began slowly, shaking her head as she clearly steeled herself to say something, her eyes soft in the way she only ever looked at Kara. “That’s not—”

“—it’s fine, Astra,” Kara’s mother interrupted, her own smile still in place. “I’m sure she’ll figure it out eventually without our help. Kara’s a smart girl.”

Astra laughed and agreed, neither her nor Kara’s mother deigning to answer Kara’s repeated questions as to what was so funny.

(Later, Kara will find solace in the fact that though she was too young and too naïve to put her feelings into words, her aunt and mother had understood anyway. Even years later, it felt important that her family had known about what she felt for Lena—it was a big thing in her life, and she was glad she somehow shared it with her family.)

Lena did not get along with her adoptive mother.

Kara wasn’t sure why, Lena never quite explained or even acknowledged it except with soft sighs and resigned expressions. Alex told Kara that the Luthors were an old family—Kara didn’t really understand what that meant and Alex assured her once she was a teenager it’d make sense—and that Lillian Luthor was a stickler for tradition.

(The truth was that Eliza and Jeremiah had worriedly discussed a bruise Kara had mentioned to her parents offhandedly when telling them every detail about her day with Lena, and Alex had merely repeated phrases she’d heard her parents utter.

The truth was that ‘did not get along’ was an understatement, not at all an accurate description of what Lena dealt with everyday, and yet those in any position to offer help were rendered powerless against a name like Luthor and everything that entailed.)

Kara wasn’t a teenager like Alex, she wasn’t wise like Lena, but the same protective instinct she’d felt in elementary school made a raging comeback in middle school when Lena confided to her that she was afraid to go home, afraid to disappoint her mother somehow. And it was so different from Kara’s own experiences—her own desire to spend as much time as she could with her busy mother, looking forward to the days she wasn’t buried in cases, unbuttoning the top two buttons of her shirt as she finally walked through the door late at night, forcing the exhaustion from her face and smiling wide at Kara—that she took Lena by the hand and told her quite firmly that she didn’t have to go home at all.

When Lionel Luthor himself came by their home several hours later, he frowned at the protective way Kara stood in front of Lena, listened carefully to what Kara’s mother had to say, then knelt down and placed a hand on Kara’s shoulder.

“I’m very glad Lena has a friend like you, Kara,” he said, using his free hand to rub his bald head unconsciously, weariness tingeing his actions and words. “Do you mind if she spends more of her time here?”

“Of course not,” Kara answered, almost offended that he even felt the need to ask. Lena was her best friend. She didn’t think there was anything she wasn’t willing to do for Lena.

“I’ll take care of it,” Lionel Luthor said as he got back to his feet, looked over to Kara’s parents now. “Thank you for bringing it to my attention. Thank you for your daughter.” He grinned over at Kara, holding out a hand for Lena, seemingly unsurprised that Lena took great care to first squeeze Kara’s hand in thanks before reaching out for her father.

(When she was tucked in that night, Kara’s mother told her she was proud of her, that she did the right thing bringing Lena home with her.

And many years later, Lena will squeeze her hand much like she had that day, smiling as she said, “You saved me from the day I met you. But it wasn’t till that afternoon that I realized you were my hero.”)

She was thirteen when her parents died in that fire and her aunt and uncle were jailed for it.

Clark and the Danvers called it an explosion, the papers called it an attack by those who disagreed with her parents’ work, but Kara always referred to it as ‘that fire’ both in her head and out loud. It was ‘that fire that killed her parents,’ ‘that fire that ruined her life,’ ‘that fire that took everything from her.’ She didn’t want to give that fire legitimacy by giving it a proper name, a proper description. It was cruel and senseless and quick, and Kara could do nothing but hate that fire in the only way she knew how: by never dwelling on it, by never giving it a name.

(Calling it that fire rather than ‘murder’ or ‘crime’ or ‘loss of everything she once held sacred’ made her feel better, made her think that maybe one day she would hear the name Astra and not want to throw up, that she could think of her parents and not imagine the horror they must have felt when their own family stabbed them in the back.

Calling it that fire gave Kara distance and separation, two things she desperately needed unless she wanted images of a bright red flame tearing everything she held dear apart seared into the back of her eyelids, visible every time she closed her eyes.)

Only Lena had ever seemed to understand. Only Lena had never once brought it up, merely following Kara’s lead and referring to the explosion, the attack, the death of her parents, as nothing more than that fire.

And Kara was thirteen, she was heartbroken and alone, and Clark—the one her parents had named as her guardian in the event anything went wrong—packed his things and disappeared, leaving her with the Danvers.

(“I’m too young to be a parent,” he’d said, hugging her tightly. “I’m not good for you, Kara, please understand that.”

She didn’t, of course.)

And Kara was thirteen and she had Alex’s warm hugs at night, promising her that they were officially sisters and she’d always be there, and she had Lena’s tight grip on her hand at school, silently swearing she’d always lend her strength, the two of them spending every free moment together.

But Kara was thirteen, and she mistook the love she felt for Lena with the sort of love she felt for Alex, and that seemed enough at the time.

“What’re you doing?” Alex asked, chin on Kara’s shoulder, eye on the sketchbook placed on the desk in front of her. She grimaced a little when she noticed the graphite coating Kara’s fingers, and she reached out, plucking each individual digit, prying them from the pencil in Kara’s hand, rolling her eyes when Kara merely huffed and hunched her shoulders, attempting to ward off Alex’s lanky limbs.

“None of your business.”

“You’re in the middle of the living room, it’s my business when you’re in my line of sight.”

“How about I use that argument when you’re chatting with whatever her name is on the phone until three in the morning?”

As if the words were a jolt of electricity, Alex’s arms pulled away from Kara, her entire body floundering as she stumbled backwards, managing nothing more coherent than a series of half-hearted monosyllabic protests.

“That was a low blow, Kara,” Alex hissed once she got her head on straight, looking decidedly annoyed. “You promised not to bring it up if I bought you ice cream after school.”

“You got me a Popsicle, it wasn’t the same and the deal is off.”

“What’re you hiding?” Alex asked, eyes suddenly narrowing, much more interested in the sketchbook than Kara felt comfortable with. “You’re always more snarky when you’re hiding something.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, now if you don’t mind, I’ve got a lot of homework and I promised Eliza I’d help with dinner so—” She attempted to pick up the sketchbook and get up from her seat at the table, but Alex pushed her back down, tugging the sketchbook towards herself with only one finger, her movements exaggeratedly slow, as if daring Kara to stop her.

“Rambling and attempting to hide away?” She whistled, flipping the cover of the sketchbook open agonizingly slowly, one finger thumbing the bottom of the first page, drawing out the moment she’d finally turn it over. “It must be a big deal if you’re acting like this.”

“It’s really just a sketch, it’s nothing—”

Alex turned the page, and there, in graceful pencil strokes, was a sketch of their neighbor’s dog.

“Are you kidding? You were hiding this?” Alex demanded, sounding more disappointed than she had any right to.

“I told you it’s nothing, you didn’t believe me.” Kara held her breath, not daring to look away from Alex’s gaze, hoping that her adoptive sister saw nothing but sincerity and honesty. Unfortunately, Alex knew her better than Kara had imagined, because a moment later a wicked grin appeared on her face, and she flipped through the sketchbook, pausing when she reached the pages about halfway through, her eyes widening as she took in the drawings.

“This is so gross,” Alex finally commented, shutting the book and pushing it towards Kara. “You’re gross.”

“It’s not gross.”

“It is. It’s sappy and sickly sweet and it’s just gross.”

“Stop saying that, it’s not gross—”

“—you drew pictures of your best friend like a sap, Kara. Puppies and Lena. That’s what you spend your time drawing.”

“I like puppies and I like Lena. Maybe if you were nicer, I’d draw you too.”

“And be subjected to that cavity inducing mess? No way.” She huffed, collapsing over Kara, arms and legs splayed wide and their position terribly uncomfortable—both because Kara felt crushed and because she was sure the way Alex had thrown herself over Kara couldn’t have been good for her back. “When are you going to do things I can hold over your head for years to come? I mean, besides the getting caught on the roof thing.”

“I do things!” Kara insisted, shoving Alex to the floor when her adoptive sister’s only response was to laugh uproariously at the lie. It proved to be less of a fib much later in the week, after she tossed her paints at Alex, learning through a call from Lena that Alex had torn out one of the drawings and gifted it to the Luthor.

Alex fondly dubbed it the ‘Paint Incident’ and she brought it up every chance she got.

“Wait. Wait,” Kara said, holding up a hand and staring at Lena in confusion. “You want to…break into the art room…why exactly?”

“Look, taking art was your fault in the first place, Kara,” Lena said, wringing her hands together and staring determinedly at the floor as she paced feverishly up and down the length of Kara’s bedroom. “You said things like ‘oh take it it’ll be fun, we’ll be in class together’ fat load of fun it’s been to fail—”

“—you’re failing art? I didn’t realize that was even a thing—”

“—so the very least you can do is help me break in to steal back my final piece so that I can fix it before Mrs. Grendson grades it,” Lena continued, ignoring Kara entirely and looking terribly pleased about that fact. She ceased her pacing and turned to Kara desperately, hands now clenched at her sides. “Please, Kara. I can’t fail. Especially not in art.”

Kara stared at her best friend, open-mouthed, trying to think of a response other than flat out laughing at the distress on Lena’s face, the certainty that Mrs. Grendson was capable of failing anyone, let alone a Luthor.

(Lex was long gone, making a name for himself in every corner of the scientific community, but their high school still thought fondly of him—and all the trophies and awards he brought for them.

Sometimes, Kara wondered if it was hard for Lena to grow up with Lex towering over her as he did, casting a rather large shadow.)

“How do you know if your redone work will be better? Apparently you’re terrible at art.”

At this, Lena smirked.

(It did funny things to Kara’s chest.)

“Because you’re going to do it for me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you owe me,” Lena murmured, stepping over to where Kara sat on her bed, advancing rather slowly.

(It made Kara feel like her heart was attempting to pound straight out of her chest.)

“I don’t know if that’s true…” Kara said weakly, trailing off when Lena’s smirk just widened and she was standing so close to Kara that her legs brushed Kara’s knees, the heat of her skin practically burning Kara.

“Please, Kara?”

(She wasn’t sure if it was the please, the proximity, the heavy pulse, or even the pathetic groan she hoped that Lena hadn’t heard, but it didn’t matter. One minute Lena was looking down at her, asking her to break nearly a dozen school rules—and Kara was rather generally fond of rules—and the next Kara was nodding dumbly, unable to say no.

Later she’ll think about this moment, the look in Lena’s eyes as she stared down at Kara, and it’ll give her hope.)

For the most part, Kara was remarkably good at pretending she was fine. It’d been a little over three years since she lost her entire family in one fell swoop, and it was easy to fake a smile, to push away the sadness that threatened to creep up and envelop her whole, to take each day as it came and never allow anything to bog her down for long. There was something…easy…about the way she lost her family. It was clean and quick, a surgical cut, and while the pain and emptiness remained, she knew she’d manage to heal somewhat—hobble on despite the scars, keep moving despite the ache that shadowed her every movement.

(She had Alex and Eliza and Jeremiah to lean on too, analgesics during a time she felt overwhelmed by pain, soothing her and calming her, turning the angry, red wound into a neat scar that served as a constant reminder, with a twinge of pain she came to expect on rainy days.

Lena only had her.)

Lionel Luthor’s death was slow and cruel. Lena’s cuts were jagged and deep, never quite given the chance to heal, left festering and infected, scar tissue never forming. There was nothing to soothe her, nothing to do to take away the pain, because each time she even drifted close to the process of beginning to heal, her father’s health began to deteriorate—or even worse, would improve, giving her hope only to have that hope come crashing down.

Lex disappeared on her, unable to witness the slow pace with which the illness took his father, and Lillian…Lillian was never much of a mother anyway, and hoping she’d offer comfort to a teenage girl was too much to ask.

Kara, who’d experienced loss and everything that entailed (the memories that kept her awake at night, the lingering anger at the unfairness of the universe, the regret that she’d never share her artwork with her parents, never excitedly tell them about her day or her passions or her love), wasn’t quite sure how to stitch Lena together. After all, when Kara lost everything, she found herself still loved and still cared for, sure that at the end of the day she could get a hug and a chance to forget her pain. But Lena? Lena had shattered and putting her back together was too big a task for Kara alone. She shied away from hugs, refused to accept comfort, and it took weeks before Kara realized the best she could do was merely offer her presence, the silent promise that she would stay—something solid and real and permanent amongst everything that had changed in Lena’s life.

Because after Lionel Luthor died, Kara learned that sometimes love just wasn’t enough to help people heal.

It was two weeks before graduation that Kara…figured it out.

(It being her feelings for Lena, the very feelings her mother and aunt understood before her, feelings she was rather sure Lionel understood before her, feelings Alex understood before Kara even bothered to put a name to them.)

Then again, ‘figuring it out’ was putting it simply, as if she woke up one morning and the knots tangled in her chest somehow unwound and realization came crashing down. It wasn’t like that at all, though. It was slow and arduous, a long time coming and yet somehow mysteriously shocking and life-changing.

She figured that the unraveling of that knot in her chest began with Lionel’s death, when her heart would hammer away in her chest just at the sight of Lena’s smile, which came rarely and disappeared quickly. Or maybe it was when they went to their senior prom together, neither quite willing to put up with boys wearing too much of their father’s cologne and ill-fitting suits. Maybe even it was when Lena held her hand as they laid together in her bed watching a movie Kara had picked out and Lena quietly confided that she didn’t think she was very much into boys at all.

(Most likely, however, it was on a playground in third grade, after threatening a boy she didn’t know and getting the most dazzling smile in reward, a smile Kara would swear shone brighter than any star she spent hours gazing at with Alex.)

It was two weeks before graduation and she felt so stupid for not seeing it before, for not paying more attention, for mistaking the flutter and the swoop and the sense of rightness with the same sort of love she felt for Alex or the boy in her chemistry class who always managed to make her laugh with his antics. She’d allowed herself to pretend, to overlook, to be blissfully ignorant, and all the while her heart had been busy breaking apart piece by piece and reforming somewhere in the palm of Lena’s hands.

She was in love with Lena Luthor. It was such a relief to think, like her lungs had finally managed to fill with air for the first time in her life—as if a weight she hadn’t even been aware of finally was lifted off her shoulders, giving her a chance to stand up straight and tall.

(Every smile that took her breath away, every touch that made her heart race, every comment that had her feeling warm suddenly made sense. And she felt so…blind. How could she have looked Lena in the eye and thought anything other than god I love you and mistaken the promises to always be there and always protect her for anything other than proud declarations of her feelings?

How had she spent ten years around Lena and not realized that she’d fallen head over heels for her best friend?)

It was two weeks before graduation and Lena was lounging on the couch, arguing with Alex over advances in biomedical engineering, the movie Alex had put on long forgotten. At first, Kara had been content to follow along silently, not adding to the debate even when Alex scoffed at Lena’s mentions of Lex’s work, but then her focus had shifted from the words to the way Lena waved her hands around as she tried to get her point across, the way her eyes lit up, the way she impatiently tossed her hair over one shoulder. It was the animation in her voice and the grin on her lips and goddid Kara love her.

As soon as she thought it, she panicked, jumping a little and sending popcorn toppling over the edge of her bowl and onto the ground.

(The thought came so easily, as if it’d always been there in the back of her mind, biding its time until Kara was too distracted or too tired to tack on the just a friend as she tended to do mechanically.

Because of course Kara knew she loved Lena—she just hadn’t been brave enough or smart enough or just old enough to realize all loves weren’t the same.)

“Kara?” Alex asked, staring at her oddly, one eyebrow raised, her argument with Lena forgotten for a moment. “Are you okay?”

“Kara?” Lena prodded when Kara was silent a beat too long.

(And she was so beautiful. Kara wondered how she hadn’t noticed before—the smooth skin and dark hair and vivid eyes that seemed to change color—how she’d never been struck dumb when faced with Lena when she was least expecting it.)

“I—I’m fine. For a second I thought I forgot to do homework but then I realized hey! It’s graduation soon! What does it matter, right? Ignore me, honestly, I think it’s just that I haven’t been sleeping—”

“Up talking all night with Daniel again?” Alex asked with raised eyebrows, looking like she was about to approach Kara, about to attempt to needle information out of her, but Kara could only stare at Lena, watching as her best friend turned to look at the ground.

(It’s not what it sounds like, Kara wanted to yell. She didn’t like Daniel—not like that. But he was helping her with Lena’s surprise for graduation, something that had taken longer than Kara had expected.

But Lena wasn’t meeting her eyes and Alex was waggling her eyebrows suggestively and oh this was bad time for a life-altering realization.)

“Daniel’s helping me with something,” Kara said quickly, getting to her feet and crossing her arms, not at all amused by the way Alex kept grinning. “Besides you know I don’t like him.”

Alex laughed, shaking her head.

“Um no,” she said, turning to Lena as if to ask for support, eyebrows furrowing just slightly when she noticed Lena’s pinched expression and downcast eyes, “you’ve been super secretive these past few weeks. What’re you up to?”

“Can we just watch the movie please?” Kara begged, and something must’ve shown on her face because Alex’s eyes shifted from Lena (who was still staring rather determinedly at the floor) to Kara and then back, her mouth falling open in shock or excitement or confusion—or maybe a little of all three.

“You know what, the movie sounds nice,” Alex murmured, shooting Kara a look that screamed they’d be spending that night talking on the roof like they did when Kara was first taken in by the Danvers and everything was still so raw.

(Kara thought to just tell Lena right after graduation, blurt out the truth just like ripping off a Band-Aid. But when the day finally arrived, Kara could barely breathe when she looked out into the sea of parents and suddenly found herself longing for her family, an ache that wasn’t made easier even though Alex was screaming in the stands and Eliza and Jeremiah were clapping as loudly as they could.

And if Kara was struggling, how did Lena feel when no one showed up for her at all?

So instead Kara shoved her feelings down and gave Lena the bracelet she’d gone to Daniel and his family for help to make, deciding then and there she could wait.

She just ended up waiting a little longer than she expected.)

She always found an excuse to remain silent, utterly convinced by the lies she told herself, the I’ll tell her tomorrow and the it’s not a good time and the she looks so busy right now.

She stayed silent the entire summer before they went off to college (“Come on, Alex,” she’d defended when Alex gave her knowing looks and made pointed comments, “she’s not even here, she’s on vacation in France with Lex”) and then bit her tongue during the first several months of their first semester, nodding and forcing a smile whenever Lena spoke of her first real girlfriend (“She’s beautiful, Kara, and so smart, god I could listen to her talk all day”), shamefully relieved the day she learned that long-distance had been too much to handle for the other girl. In fact, the first time Kara came even close to admitting the truth was their first Christmas away from home, the two of them deciding to spend it with Alex and a girl she’d only introduce as ‘Sawyer’ with a strange expression on her face.

She came close to admitting the truth when Lena brushed by her and whispered that it was so easy to tell when someone was in love, grinning over at Alex and winking playfully, and Kara wanted to ask, if it truly was so easy, why Lena still hadn’t been able to tell Kara was in love.

She didn’t of course.

Lena looked terribly busy as she chatted away with Maggie, a smile gracing her lips.

It took Alex and Maggie another month to get their shit together and admit their feelings.

A month after that they went on their first date.

Near the end of Kara’s freshman year Alex had rushed over to Kara’s dorm, gushing about how she just admitted she loved Maggie and how great it felt and how Kara had to tell Lena now, she just had to.

And Kara…well, she tried.

“I think it’s beautiful,” Kara said with a grin, just finishing off her story about Alex for Lena, the two of them laying out on the grass outside the building where they had their last exam. She leaned back, staring up at the blue sky, hands pillowed behind her head. “It’s romantic and sweet and just…new love. How beautiful.” She was about to say more, wax poetic about how happy Alex was, maybe segue into her own feelings if she felt an opening, but Lena snorted slightly and Kara found herself turning to her best friend, shocked to see the distaste coloring Lena’s expression. “What?” Kara asked, rolling her eyes a little. “Is this too saccharine for you?”

“No, I’m happy for Alex.” When Kara just raised an eyebrow in response, Lena sighed and elaborated. “I am happy for Alex. It’s just…come on, Kara. Let’s be real. Love doesn’t exist.”

(If there was anything that could break Kara’s heart, it was that.

And god it was said so easily, so terribly sure and matter of fact, and Kara didn’t know why it was so hard to breathe suddenly.)

“W-what do you mean? Love is real. You’re my best friend and I love you.” (This was the closest she’d ever get to admitting the depth of her feelings for another nine years.)

“That’s not the same,” Lena answered, pink dusting her cheeks suddenly, looking awfully interested in the grass. “Love is…it’s a series of chemical reactions. And it’s temporary and fleeting and finicky.”

(Temporary? Fleeting? That wasn’t Kara’s experience. She’d been in love since she was eight, before she could recognize it for what it was, before she knew the feeling had a name.

But if Lena was right, which she often was, did that mean what Kara felt wasn’t love, was something different, something stronger and more lasting?)

“Lena, you can’t mean that. Love is, you know, love. It’s why we’re here. It’s why anyone does anything. Even if you don’t feel romantic love—”

“I don’t mean I don’t feel it, Kara. I mean it doesn’t last.” She swallowed hard, clenched and unclenched her hands, turning to Kara warily. “Look, can we just talk about something else?”

“Well no, now we can’t, now I want to know why you’re so anti-love.”

Lena stared at her, expression hard and lips pressed into a thin and angry line, then she turned away. Kara didn’t think she’d answer until she did, Lena seeming more surprised by her honesty than Kara felt.

“Because I asked my mother if she loved my father,” Lena admitted in a soft voice. “And she said love had nothing to do with it.”

“Your mom isn’t exactly the picture of—”

“I really don’t want to talk about it, Kara. Okay? I’m happy for Alex. I hope things work out for her.”

Kara wanted to argue, but Lena’s shoulders were tense and she knew if she said one more word on the topic, Lena would up and leave. So she just sighed.

“So. About the writing class I want to take…when do you think you can fit it into your schedule?”

(She didn’t need Lena’s relieved smile to know she’d made the right choice.)

She met Mike through Winn at the end of her junior year, and she cursed him everyday for it.

“For the tenth time, no Mike, I don’t want to go out with you,” Kara hissed the moment Mike stepped into her space, his eyes widening slightly behind his glasses. He looked surprised by her anger, which only served to piss her off more.

She came out to drink with her sister and friends, not spend an hour trying to shrug off Mike.

“Whoa, I wasn’t going to ask you out,” he defended, holding up his hands. He smiled at her and she hated—hated—that he seemed vaguely charming in that moment. Then he opened his mouth. “Look, I’m a prick. I know it. You know it. But I’m a prick that knows a lost cause when I see one. I give up.”

“It took you ten tries to realize it was a lost cause?” she huffed out sarcastically.

“Nope,” he told her, drawing out the pop. “It took meeting Lena Luthor once. So?”

“So what?”

“Ah, avoidance strategies. I know them well.” He grinned and motioned at the seat next to her, actually waiting until she made a vague sign that he could sit. “I know all about unrequited love Kara Danvers, and if that’s what’s holding you back, you shouldn’t worry.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kara bit out, not at all in the mood to carry on a conversation anymore. Mike didn’t seem at all bothered by her annoyance. If anything, he seemed strangely…fond? Endeared at the very least, something that made Kara’s stomach churn uncomfortably.

“I’m not going to sit here and tell you what you already know,” he began, giving her a look and a wink when Kara couldn’t help but briefly glance at where she knew Lena was standing, deep in conversation with Winn about one of their classes. “But I do want to offer my help.”

“Your help? Why would I need your help?”

“I know a few things about love,” Mike said, wiggling his eyebrows and making Kara want to gag. “And I know for a fact that nothing makes you more attractive than when people think you’re…forbidden fruit, shall I say.”

“That sounds stupid,” Kara said flatly, rolling her eyes and refocusing on her drink. Mike, however, didn’t seem to recognize her body language as the dismissal it was.

“Trust me, Kara. Make her jealous, make her think she can’t have you, and she’ll be running right into the palm of your hands.”

“And let me guess, you volunteer to pretend to date me.”

Mike missed her deadpan.

“It would be my honor, Kara,” he said, aiming for gallant and charming but coming off as more than a little creepy.

Kara sighed, shifting in her seat to face Mike and motioning for him to lean closer.

“Mike,” she began slowly, watching as the beginnings of a smile formed on Mike’s lips, “that is absolutely, undeniably the worst idea I’ve ever heard. It also sounds predatory.” Her hands clenched and she knew her eyes had hardened because Mike’s smile was gone, replaced by a wide-eyed look, as if he couldn’t understand her anger. “Lena’s my best friend, not some prey to be baited into dating me. So if you don’t mind, keep yourself and your lousy ideas away from me and Lena.” She gave him a harsh smile, watching in satisfaction as he nearly stumbled in his rush to get away.

It was only a minute later when Alex took the seat Mike had abandoned, a questioning look on her face.

“You look like you’re ready to punch someone,” Alex said cheerfully, attempting to defuse the tension, make Kara smile. It worked.

“He says he’s given up, that’s something.”

“Oh? Finally realized it was a lost cause?”

“Apparently Lena is too much competition for him.” It was the first time Kara ever tacitly admitted her feelings for Lena, the first time she acknowledged it aloud, and admitting it now to her sister felt a little like a rush of fresh air, clean and crisp and carefree. Alex smiled, thankfully not making a big deal of it, reaching out to squeeze Kara’s shoulder gently.

“Come on,” she said. “Maggie beat me once at pool and she’s become insufferable. You have to beat her, deflate a bit of that ego.”

“You can’t beat your own girlfriend?”

“Honestly? I think the competitiveness is cute. And she looks so happy.”

“But you want me to beat her?”

“If you do it, she won’t be upset with me.”

Kara stared at her sister for a moment, grateful and a little jealous all at once, then laughed, not for the first time, ridiculously glad for Alex Danvers.

Amongst their friends it was a well-known fact that Kara and Lena did not fight.

This was strange for several reasons. For one, not fighting did not mean there was any shortage of disagreements. In fact, Kara and Lena disagreed on a great deal (“No, Lena, you can’t just write off someone because of something he’s done in the past. People can change, they can choose to be better”) and were often seen in the middle of quiet, measured, and passionate debates (“I understand your position, Kara, but I can’t just ask my brother to give someone a job, it’s unethical and she’s not even in a STEM field”). For another, as their majors and hobbies and interests drew them further apart, it was always assumed that distance would crop up in their relationship, adding pressure to an already precarious situation (“Come on, Kara, how long are you just going to pine after Lena before you realize something’s got to give?”).

And yet they did not fight.

Their disagreements were just that: disagreements. More than once, Maggie commented on how easy it was for Lena and Kara to resolve their conflicts, talking through their issues within the hour it cropped up, nipping it in the bud expertly and efficiently.

(When Winn asked for their secret, Kara had laughed. “It’s simple,” she’d said, patting Winn on the shoulder. “There’s two rules: never lie and never allow issues to fester.”

“Kara, you make it sound like that’s easy,” he’d said, rolling his eyes. Lena, who was arguing with Maggie over the choice in wine—not quite willing to go another night with the cheap brand Maggie bought from the supermarket, ignoring Maggie’s protests that they all tasted the same anyway—took the time to grin over at Winn and Kara, shaking her head fondly.

“It’s not easy,” she’d informed Winn. “But it’s worth it.”

“Totally worth it,” Kara had echoed, not hearing Maggie’s mumbled get a room.)

Thus, no one was more surprised by their fight the week before Christmas than Kara and Lena.

“What do you mean you go home for Christmas?” Kara demanded, arms crossed over her chest, unable to help the hitch in her voice.

(She was angry. Never lie, she’d told Winn, turning out to be a joke.

Except no, she was hurt, and she wasn’t used to that when it came to Lena, had never looked at her and thought, ouch.)

“Come on, Kara. It’s not that big of a deal—”

“—you’ve been going home these past two years, to your mom, and you’ve been telling me you spend Christmas with Lex. Why would you lie?” Kara’s interruption didn’t go over well. Rather than respond, Lena’s lips twisted, her eyes narrowed. Kara hadn’t seen her this displeased since she’d made a B in an inorganic chemistry class.

“I don’t have to discuss every single little thing I do with you, Kara,” she finally said, and by the way her eyes widened—the way she immediately stepped forward, as if to take what she said back—she regretted her words as soon as they came out of her mouth.

(Later, Kara will wonder why the comment felt like something piercing her between the ribs, why it felt like a blow to the middle, leaving her breathless and heaving for air. She’ll wonder why it hurt so much when logically she understood that Lena didn’t need to share every detail of her life—Kara certainly didn’t, hadn’t told Lena about that balloon of emotion in her chest every time she even looked at Lena.

Later, Kara will wonder if this was what being heartbroken felt like.)

“I see,” she muttered, raising her chin and stepping back when Lena looked like she was about to reach out. “You’re right.” (She was. After all, Kara hadn’t told Lena about her feelings, feelings she shoved away, torn between it never being the right time to confess and the certainty that a confession would only serve to break them apart.) “I shouldn’t have pried.”

“Kara—”

But for the first time, Kara didn’t listen.

They didn’t talk again until they both returned to campus, at which point they both pretended the argument never happened.

(Never allow issues to fester, she’d told Winn.

Well that turned out to be a joke too.)

“As far as electives go, it’s not the worst,” Lena graciously conceded, attempting and failing to wink over at Kara from across the table. Alex—visiting for the weekend—snickered before pretending to choke on a potsticker when Kara glared at her. “I’ve actually learned a lot.”

“The humanities are boring, Luthor, admit it. You crave labs and the thrill of discovery and late nights with nothing but coffee, microscopes, and Jack’s suffocating cologne.”

(Kara turned her head, suddenly overly interested in the baseball game on the television, not wanting Lena—or worse, Alex—seeing her grimace.

Pfft Jack. He was…annoyingly decent and frustratingly kind. Jack was Jack and Kara didn’t question it when Lena said he’d asked her out on a date after long months spent working in the same lab, didn’t mention her late night confession back in high school, didn’t ask Lena if she was sure when she said she wanted to give him a chance.

Because Jack…he made Lena smile.)

“Go back to your formaldehyde soaked apartment, Alex,” Kara scoffed when she realized she’d been silent too long—long enough that Alex was looking at her knowingly and Lena seemed a little bit concerned. “Don’t you have slides to study?”

“I take a break from studying for you and this is how I’m treated?” Alex said in mock offense, leaning back exaggeratedly and placing a hand over her heart. “I’ll have you know, medical school is no joke.”

“Then go back, I’m sure all your professors are missing you,” Kara muttered, dragging her finger through the condensation that had gathered on her glass. She flicked the water over at Alex, narrowing her eyes when it just made her sister grin.

“You could’ve stuck with physics, you know. No one forced you to change your major.” Except, judging from Alex’s eyes and the uptick of her right eyebrow, that wasn’t what she was saying at all. It was more like you could tell Lena and put yourself out of your misery or maybe something like stop moping already and eat the last potsticker.

“I like my major,” Kara said, leaning back in her chair. And judging from Alex’s resigned expression, she’d read that to mean stop meddling in my life.

“I hate it when the two of you have your silent conversations,” Lena said suddenly, pulling Kara and Alex out of their stare off. “You’re not as sneaky as you like to think. There’s too much eyebrow wiggling and sighing.”

“You sound jealous, Luthor,” Alex said cheerfully. “Don’t worry, Kara likes you too.”

“That wasn’t what I—”

“—speaking of electives,” Kara interrupted, already tired of Lena and Alex’s faux arguing, a habit they’d formed since Alex went off to medical school and Lena asked Lex to push LuthorCorp towards investing more in biomedical engineering. “I have to go rewrite my story.”

“Yeah, I still don’t get that. Why are you rewriting your assignment?”

“Kara decided our professor was wrong in assigning the prompt in the first place. But with the threat of a failing grade looming over her head, she’s finally willing to see reason,” Lena explained, smiling over at Kara fondly, apparently terribly amused by Kara’s show of protest.

Alex, clearly deciding that today was the day she wanted to settle once and for all who knew Kara best, just raised an eyebrow and looked steadily at Kara.

“What was the prompt?” she asked softly, like she knew, without having any of the details, exactly what was twisting in Kara’s chest and why she was willing to nearly fail—why she’d rather fail.

“We’re supposed to write something that ends tragically. It’s supposed to be a homage to naturalism.”

“That’s not quite the prompt, Kara, you’re—”

“—so we weren’t supposed to have a unhappy ending for our characters?” Kara said, cutting Lena off more harshly than she intended. She turned away from Lena’s hurt expression and focused on Alex, unable to meet her sister’s eyes.

“Oh, Kara,” she said after a moment. “It’s just a story.”

“That’s not the point, Alex,” Kara said, arms crossed over her chest. She knew Alex was getting so much more from that one comment, reading in-between the lines and understanding just how deep it went.

“I know,” Alex said, and it broke Kara’s heart because Lena just seemed confused—when normally, she was the first to notice something was wrong.

James Olsen was…gosh, he was James Olsen.

He was kind and generous and brave and he dragged Clark right back into her life, and when he spoke Kara thought her knees would give way because gosh he was James Olsen.

He was sweet and passionate and could make her laugh with ease, and he was late for work the day they met because apparently she made the bestcoffee he’d ever had and he couldn’t believe his best friend’s cousin worked at the café down the street for nearly a month without his knowing.

“It’s fate,” he said, grinning as he tossed several twenties into the tip jar, much to the glee of Kara’s coworkers. “I’ll see you later, Kara,” he added and made it sound charming and not creepy like Kara was used to (because it was a question, a request, made confidently and kindly, with all the promise of respecting her wishes and boundaries).

(And Clark was grinning next to him, his eyes sad as he looked at her but the hint of a promise on his lips, a whisper of things changing as he murmured a quick and awkward goodbye.

Clark, who left her. Clark, who was back again thanks to James Olsen.)

James Olsen…James Olsen made her heart flutter, made her stomach fill with butterflies, made her feel heard and respected and important. He took her around Metropolis, on his daily attempts to snap a quick picture of whatever caught his interest, telling her all about what it was like working with Clark and Lois and Perry White—telling her about the Daily Planet and finding a home behind the lens of his camera. He spoke of his father, of his admiration for all those who gave everything to help others, his hope that one day he could do the same.

And Kara…she told him about Alex, about missing Clark sometimes even if she was still furious that he left her behind, she told him about her parents and the lab her father worked in, the cases her mother poured over at nights pausing long enough only to make sure to tuck her in. She told him about how she’d wanted to follow her parents’ footsteps, wanted to help people, wanted to do something important with her life.

She told him about her Aunt Astra—how she wanted to see her again, wanted to find out why she did what she did, if she regretted her actions, if she felt guilty that she ruined Kara’s life.

She told him about Eliza and Jeremiah and how much she loved them.

She told him about moving to Metropolis and how she’d imagined it would be the next big adventure, that coming here would change everything—help her find her place.

She did not tell him about Lena.

She couldn’t. She couldn’t admit that Lena had a permanent place next to Alex in her heart, couldn’t tell James that Lena was a constant before and after her parents—a grounding point, an anchor. She couldn’t confess that Lena held her hand throughout all her anger at Clark, all her mixed feelings over her Aunt Astra, didn’t even know how to say that Lena was her family as much as Eliza and Jeremiah.

She didn’t even say that the move to Metropolis was for Lena, for them to remain together in some way even while she was off rising in the ranks in her brother’s company. She…she couldn’t even begin to verbalize what it felt like to watch Lena slip away, for their daily lunches and texts to dwindle down to nothing in weeks, for Kara to hear Lena apologetically say she just didn’t have the time to come to game night, even if Alex had gone out of her way to visit.

Kara told James about every big thing in her life, but she couldn’t talk about the biggest, and when she kissed him for the first time—the night he brought her Chinese and ice cream to cheer her up after she’d texted him to say that she hadn’t gotten the job at the Daily Planet like she wanted—she couldn’t help but think that it wouldn’t be right if she fell for him because she was rather sure Lena’s shadow would always hang over her.

But James was James, and when he kissed her back, she fell anyway.

It took months before Lena met James.

(It wasn’t weird that her best friend didn’t seem all that interested in meeting her boyfriend. It wasn’t strange that Winn took more interest in her love life than Lena, her best friend. It didn’t bother Kara at all that Alex flew in and spent a day with Kara and James before Lena even acknowledged that Kara had a boyfriend.

She was busy. Kara understood.)

Her tiny apartment—that she was barely able to afford with her meager salary from the café and the few random freelance articles she’d written—was full to the brim with only a handful of people. James was busy grabbing plates and glasses from the cupboard, chatting with Winn as he did so, discussing an article Clark had written with Lois. Lena and Alex were on the couch, arguing over bioethics concerns coupled with the rapid advancement in medicine. Kara leaned against the doorway, watching them for a moment, smiling at Alex’s impassioned speech for more regulation as well as Lena’s counterpoints that innovation could never be curbed.

It was nice, this moment. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten to witness Lena and Alex’s arguing, both of them throwing around words that eventually went over Kara’s head—even if she’d studied the sciences in college. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten to see Lena’s wide smile.

Kara stiffened at the thought, at the longing she felt, and with a guilty glance back at James, she shuffled over to the window, opening it as far as it would go, and climbing through it, dropping down onto the metal fire escape. The cool night air calmed her somewhat, but not as much as the sounds of honking cars and indecipherable voices, the rattle of a train somewhere in the distance, the sound of music coming from one of the lower apartments.

“Oh, there you are,” James said, sticking his head out of the window and smiling. It was charming and cute and he was so perfect for her. She loved him so much. “I was wondering where you went off to, and there aren’t a lot of hiding placing in your apartment.” He smiled wider at his little joke, joining her on the fire escape, looking down at her like he always did: like she was the most important thing he’d ever seen. And Kara wondered if she was somehow broken, because she deserved this, she did. She deserved someone who would always be with her and always take her needs and wants into account. And yet…yet all she could think about was how James deserved better than her—that he offered more than she ever could, and she’d dragged him far enough behind her for it to be cruel and wrong.

“James, I—” She stopped when he shook his head, still smiling and still looking at her like she was the most important thing he’d ever seen, even as his eyes filled with understanding and his shoulders slumped with resignation.

“It’s Lena, isn’t it?” he asked, no real bitterness in his tone, just quiet acceptance. “I guessed, you know? From the start,” he explained, chuckling mirthlessly at her look of shock, leaning against the railing and turning to look up at the sky. “You avoided talking about her so much I knew you either hated her or loved her, and I don’t think you’re capable of hate. But I was sure when I saw you look at her tonight.”

“She’s my best friend,” Kara said haltingly, wanting to hug James or lean into his warmth or use his shoulder to steady herself, knowing that none of those things were appropriate anymore. “I thought I just needed—I thought if I…I don’t know what I thought.” She was quiet for a moment, choosing to look through the window and watch Winn join Alex and Lena’s debate, Winn saying something that made them all laugh. “Is it really so obvious?”

“For someone who’s looking for it? Yeah, it’s pretty obvious,” James told her, knocking his shoulder lightly with hers, prompting her to look at him. “You know, she feels the same way.”

No, Kara didn’t know, barely considered the possibility. But her heart thumped at the very thought.

“Even if she did, she’s…I don’t think she has the time for a relationship.”

“She’s your best friend, Kara,” James said, accepting her point easily. “If anyone knows her it’s you.”

She nodded, but boy, Kara didn’t think that was true anymore.

“Do you think that job in National City is still open?” she asked suddenly, avoiding his eyes when she noticed concern begin to flood his features.

“Kara,” he began, “I don’t know if running away is the answer.”

“It’s not running away. I’m—I thought I’d find something here. I thought being closer to Clark, being in Metropolis would help me find what I’m looking for. But it wasn’t. And Alex is in National City,” she tacked on at the end, as if it would settle the issue. In many ways it did though, and James knew it.

“It’s still running away,” he told her softly, not really arguing but just pointing out a truth. “If she’s your best friend, what are you so afraid of?”

(And oh leave it to James to get to the heart of the issue, to look at her and understand and not let her get away with deflections and excuses like Alex tended to. She was afraid. Of what, Kara wasn’t quite sure. Maybe that Lena wouldn’t feel the same way. Maybe that it would change something between them. Maybe that it would be the straw that broke the camel’s back and Lena’s flimsy presence in her life would disappear entirely.

Maybe it was just that every time Kara wanted to confess, she thought about how Lena didn’t believe in love at all and it broke her heart.)

“Are you upset with me?” Kara asked weakly instead of answering James, and though he gave her a look that clearly said he knew what she was doing, he indulged her anyway.

“No,” he answered, having paused long enough that Kara knew he’d put real thought into it, had searched his feelings for any hint of anger or bitterness, a slight tinge of surprise in his voice when he found none. “No, I knew what I was getting into, even if I hoped I was wrong. So it’s not like you led me on or anything.”

“I’m so sorry, James.”

“Don’t be,” he said, waving her off, his voice slightly gruff—like he was holding back some sort of emotion. “Can I just—would it be weird to ask one thing?” When she shook her head, James cleared his throat and averted his eyes. “If you met me before her, if you’d never met her at all—” He stopped, crossed his arms over his chest, and gave a firm shake of his head. “It doesn’t matter,” he said after a moment. “What ifs don’t matter.”

Kara studied him sadly, from the stiffness of his shoulders to the fixed smile on his lips, and she felt something in her break.

“Can we—can we just stay out here for a while?” she asked in a low voice, knowing that returning inside would make this all real, all permanent, would mean that there would never be any going back. And James—soft, kind, generous, and gentle—gave her a real smile before wrapping and arm around her shoulders and tugging her closer to him, his warmth shielding her from the nip of the night air, his presence as sturdy and strong as ever.

“However long you need, Kara,” he whispered into her hair.

And they stayed out there for what felt like ages before Alex came to collect them, brows furrowed and expression concerned.

She was still on her phone as she sat down across from Kara at the café she’d chosen—a fancy place Kara normally would never have stepped in under her own volition—but before Kara had the chance to feel annoyed, she shoved the phone away and smiled brilliantly at her, and things were fine again.

Until she spoke, at least.

“Kara! It’s been so long, I am so sorry, things at work just got—”

“I know, Lena. Lex put you in charge of R&D, that’s huge.”

(She tried not to sound bitter, but she was rather sure she mostly failed because Lena was looking at her oddly, hurt at Kara’s tone. But the thing was, Kara was furious. She only found out about Lena’s promotion through Clark and an article he’d written about LuthorCorp. Even worse, when he’d asked if she could get into contact with Lena and see if she would be willing to sit down for an interview—something that might’ve made Perry White see reason and give her another chance for an entry-level job at the Daily Planet—she’d gotten nothing in reply. Not even a text back.

She remembered a time when they couldn’t go two days without talking. Now they were going months without a single word between them.)

“Kara, are you—”

“I have news of my own,” Kara interrupted, smiling wide and knowing it likely seemed forced, knowing because it felt forced. “It’s why I was so insistent we get coffee.”

“Oh?” Lena asked, giving Kara that smirk she loved so much. “Did you get that job at the Tribune you wanted?”

Kara blinked.

“No. No, they turned me down nearly a year ago.” It had been one of the first jobs she’d applied to upon arriving at Metropolis. And though she’d thought Lena had been the one to bring her potstickers to cheer her up, she now realized that had been Clark and Lois, the two of them cheerfully tearing down everyone at the Tribune just to make her laugh.

(Had she just inserted Lena into her memory? Imagined her there to offer comfort because Lena had always been there before? Was she sick? She was rather sure there was an entire season of Grey’s Anatomy devoted to Izzie seeing things.)

“Oh,” Lena muttered, looking as shocked as Kara felt.

“It’s not a big deal,” Kara hastened to say, both not liking the look on Lena’s face or the dark path her thoughts were winding down.

“Isn’t it though? The next thing you’ll tell me is you married James.”

She was going for a joke, Kara knew that. But boy, did the comment hit her like a truck. For a moment, she could barely breathe.

“Actually,” she struggled to say, “we broke up a few months ago.”

“Kara,” Lena said, eyes now so wide that it was comical. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Kara let out a loud and undignified laugh, but it was better than letting out the sob that threatened to break free.

“Alex said she thought you weren’t listening to your voicemails. Guess she was right.”

“I-I’ve been in the lab,” Lena stuttered through her shock. “I didn’t realize—I’ve been—Kara, I’m so—”

“It’s fine,” Kara stressed, waving off Lena’s pleas and smiling at her. “That’s not why I asked you to coffee either. You see, I did get a better job—”

“—that’s amazing, Kara, I had every confidence you would, you’ll make a wonderful reporter—”

“—as Cat Grant’s personal assistant,” Kara finished, speaking over Lena.

“Sorry, what?”

“Apparently Ms. Grant has gone through four assistants in four months. Clark and James think that if I can hold the job for a few years, I could move up. Get a job as a writer for Ms. Grant’s magazine.”

“That’s hardly hard-hitting journalism, Kara, it’s not what you wanted—”

“—no, but I have to be realistic. Perry White was never going to give me a job. CatCo might.”

“It’s in National City,” Lena pointed out suddenly, as if this would put an end to whatever argument they were having.

“I know. That was my second bit of news, actually.” She paused for effect. “I’m moving!”

Lena didn’t look as thrilled as Kara hoped she’d be.

“You’re what? When?”

“I’m moving,” Kara repeated, checking her watch surreptitiously. “Alex and I are making a road trip out of it. She flew in last night and we’re leaving in a few hours. She likes to drive at night.”

“You’re leaving? Tonight?” She looked hurt by that and Kara felt guilty for only a moment before her anger and frustration returned. (Never lie, never let issues fester—that was how they managed to never fight, for their arguments to get settled quickly and efficiently, without much hurt on either side. But Lena was lying and Kara was allowing issues to fester and she was rather sure the resulting implosion was inevitable. Needed, even.) “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“Why don’t you ever call me back?” Kara returned flatly, getting to her feet. “You’re my best friend, Lena. You always will be. But I’m unhappy here, moving to National City is a good choice for me.”

(It felt like they were breaking up. But that was ridiculous. They hadn’t been dating in the first place.

She idly wondered why no one had ever mentioned that losing your best friend hurt worse than losing a boyfriend.

She idly wondered if her position was unique because she was losing Lena.)

Lena got to her feet as well, and for a glorious moment Kara imagined a scenario in which Lena kissed her senseless, in which she grabbed Kara’s hands and fought to make her stay, in which she swore she’d stop being so distant, so faraway even in the moments they were together. But the moment passed quickly and Kara crashed down to reality when Lena only offered her a weak smile.

“Don’t lose touch, okay?” Lena said, playing with her watch and staring at the table. She made an awkward movement, almost like she wanted to pull Kara into a hug, but stopped halfway and just remained motionless. It would almost be funny if it wasn’t just so sad.

Kara ignored the question, gathered all her courage, and placed a soft and brief kiss on Lena’s cheek.

“Bye, Lena.”

(Lena didn’t chase her down as she left the coffee shop, didn’t find her huddled in an alleyway, wiping her cheeks furiously, didn’t even come by hours later, as Kara found every excuse to delay their trip National City and Alex continued to give her pitying looks.

And by the time they were on the highway, Kara staring out her window without speaking, that goodbye felt rather permanent.)

She rather thought that National City was good for the soul.

It was sunny in National City, the people seemed livelier, kinder, warmer. And even if Cat Grant was in one of her terrible moods—which she was in at least once a day, usually because someone from photography and layout had messed something up—Kara could always count on sticky buns from Noonan’s to cheer her right up. (Not Cat, obviously. Cat wouldn’t touch one of those buns with a ten-foot pole. No, the sweet was for Kara.)

She had Sister Night in National City, a job she usually adored and a goal she was determined to reach, an apartment she loved, and wonderful new friends.

Kara was happy.

Really.

“Kara, I’m watching that. Stop changing the channel.”

“Why do you need to watch the news, don’t you get enough of it from Maggie?”

(Another thing National City had? A chance for Kara to witness her sister’s happiness. She’d broken things off with Maggie sometime during medical school, but had run into the newly minted detective and things had apparently just…worked out. Alex was smiling all the time, and it was beautiful.)

“Just because you avoid everything that has to do with Lena—”

“—I don’t do that,” Kara denied, shaking her head quickly and vehemently.

“—doesn’t mean I shouldn’t do my research so that I can destroy her when she visits. She’s got to know her brother’s company does more harm than good.”

“Do you talk to her?” Kara found herself asking despite herself. It was stupid. She knew it would just hurt if Alex said yes and bum her out if Alex said no. It was a no-win situation and she hated herself for it.

“Only when she visits. And you know she always wants to see you too, but you keep acting surly.”

“Sorry if I expect my best friend to care about me more often than only when she’s in National City to oversee something at a branch of LuthorCorp.”

“You’re both ridiculous, I hope you know that,” Alex said happily, turning the television off once she noticed Kara’s grimace. “She’s your best friend.”

“She didn’t come after me.”

“You know she can’t run in heels,” Alex joked, and Kara struggled to keep her impassive expression, “that’s not her fault.”

“She hasn’t tried reaching out.”

“Because you’ve shut her out,” Alex countered, referring to the almost weekly trips Lena made to National City the first month after Kara moved. Each time, Kara had said she was busy with work and couldn’t get away, and Lena would leave with only a text goodbye.

And then those had stopped too, the visits. The calls and the texts became rare enough that it was almost as if they had stopped.

At times, Kara thought if it weren’t for the occasional press conferences Lena gave in her brother’s place, she wouldn’t have even known Lena was healthy and happy.

“Come on, Kara,” Alex continued, “you’re older than her, you’ve got to be the mature one.”

“I’m only older by three months!” Kara huffed, throwing herself onto the couch and staring hard at the ceiling. “Besides, distance is good. Great, even. More than necessary. We were too dependent on each other.”

“Right, and my hair is green,” Alex deadpanned, leaning over Kara and shaking her hair in Kara’s face, as if to show off her auburn locks. “For two smart people, you’re both being really stupid.”

“You’re being really mean. Like Ms. Grant mean, and that’s just sad, Alex.”

“Shut up and move over, if you’re not going to let me watch the news, you might as well put on a movie.”

Kara did as she was told, only half-heartedly listening to Alex’s running commentary on the film she’d put on, finally breaking after half an hour—much to Alex’s very obvious amusement.

“I miss her,” Kara admitted in a soft voice.

Alex’s expression fell, and she pulled Kara into a hug.

“Yeah, I know,” she said, voice full of something Kara couldn’t quite pinpoint. “Have you tried drawing her and puppies to feel better?”

“No ice cream for you,” Kara muttered while Alex apologized for her joke, but she was hiding a smile in Alex’s shoulder, so she supposed her sister wasn’t very sorry at all.

She’d begun to think something might be wrong when the name ‘Luthor’ appeared in the news more often than normal.

The family was always in some way making news. Whether it was funding research for a cure to a rare disease or a shady business deal with a foreign company, LuthorCorp and by extension the three Luthors in charge, was consistently in the public eye. It wasn’t always good, but it was never obviously bad, either.

Until, however, Lex seemed to go off the rails entirely.

It started slow, slow enough that at first Kara didn’t even notice in between watching news clips while waiting for Ms. Grant’s coffee. There was an odd article about abnormal contracts with weapon manufacturers. Then, there was a report or two about odd—if not outright strange—transactions with certain individuals that any wise businessman wouldn’t touch.

About a year after Kara moved to National City, the Daily Planet published an explosive article that LuthorCorp was secretly funding a weapon production program and selling said weapons to various third parties.

Six months after that, Lex was arrested on a vast array of charges, Lillian Luthor stepped away from the company, and Lena was named CEO and took on the brunt of the backlash as LuthorCorp basically went up in flames.

And for the first time in about eight months, Kara heard from Lena:

Clark did all the legwork for the article.

And well, Kara was quite familiar with the sensation of her family members destroying things she loved, and it didn’t come as a shock at all.

Kara eyed her new office apprehensively, leaning against the far wall and staring at her empty desk with her arms crossed tightly against her chest. She was thrilled, she was, she’d been eyeing a job like this since she arrived in National City, but now that she had it….

It was a little anticlimactic. She’d called Alex and her sister had been appropriately overjoyed for her, as were Eliza and Jeremiah, and yet something felt missing. Something felt wrong.

(She stared at her phone, at the news notifications about LuthorCorp’s move to National City and their planned rebranding, and she tried to pretend that had nothing to do with how she felt at this moment.

She tried and she failed.)

“Ready for lunch?” Alex asked from behind her, eyes kindly averted, choosing to stare at her nails instead of the look of panic that quickly took over Kara’s expression when she continued scrolling through the articles and stopped at what must have been the most recent photo of Lena, looked ragged and annoyed as she shoved her way past reporters to get into her building here in National City.

The caption below the photo wasn’t flattering.

“Have you seen her yet?” Kara asked, knowing Maggie was waiting for them at some vegan restaurant, wanting to celebrate Kara’s promotion. Alex continued to stare at her nails and Kara continued to think that was rather kind of her.

“Why? Will my answer change what you plan on doing?”

“What do you think I’m planning on doing?”

“Honestly?” Alex asked, finally looking up and eyeing Kara critically. “I think you’re going to keep pretending you’re not missing her.” She hooked her arm through Kara’s and dragged her out of the empty office, pulling her towards the elevators. “When you wanted to leave Metropolis, I was glad. I hated seeing you waste your life away in a coffee shop just because you wanted to be near Lena.” As the elevator doors slid shut, Alex leaned heavily into Kara’s side, head resting on her shoulder. “You were right. You did need to learn to live your own separate life from Lena, but now that you have, just go see your best friend. She needs you.”

“What about the vegan restaurant? Maggie is waiting,” Kara protested, resisting weakly when Alex tugged her into CatCo’s lobby and then out into the street. “We were going to celebrate.”

“Don’t act like you’re not excited to miss out on this restaurant,” Alex said with a laugh, pressing a quick kiss to Kara’s cheek, a halfhearted attempt to make sure there were no hard feelings between them. “Go home, Kara. Think about what you’re planning. Then go see Lena.” Then, without giving Kara a chance to argue, Alex shoved her lightly in the direction of her apartment and then turned on her heel, walking briskly away in the opposite direction.

And Kara went home, fully intending to drown all her doubts and sorrows in a pint (or two) of ice cream.

Or at least, what was what she intended. She never really got the chance; by the time she’d changed into her comfort pajamas, a thick blanket thrown over her shoulders, and was digging through her freezer for that ‘rainy day’ ice cream, there was a knock on her door. Grumbling and annoyed, because of course Alex wouldn’t trust her enough to believe she would actually listen to her sister’s advice (for good reason, she supposed, considering her current state), Kara practically stalked towards her door, throwing it open with more force than necessary, eyes pressed tightly shut.

“Alex, you need to let me have my night to mope, can’t your lecture wait until tomorrow?”

“I’m sorry,” said someone with a voice that decidedly didn’t belong to Alex. “It’s a bad time, this was a bad idea, I shouldn’t have come.”

Kara’s eyes flew open, and before her visitor had the chance to step back, Kara had reached out for a hug—it was instinct, it was habit, it was just what she did. And when she got her hug back, mismatched edges seemed to finally slot into place, and Kara felt like she could breathe again.

“It’s always a good time for you,” Kara said into Lena’s ear, unable to help her wide grin.

“Come on, Lena. Feel the burn! Enjoy the burn! If it hurts, that’s how you know it’s working!” Kara called over to Lena, watching her struggle with mild amusement. She’d suggested morning jogs as a joke initially, but Lena had taken to the idea with surprising eagerness, something Kara was rather sure she regretted now, in between all the heaving breaths and the sweaty hair. She wondered if Lena still thought it was a good way for them to rebuild their friendship.

“I…can’t…believe…” Lena managed to say between gasps, bending over with her hands on her knees and head practically in her chest. “…people…do this for…fun.”

“I could carry you on the way back if you like.”

“This isn’t a joke, Kara,” Lena said, looking over at her with narrowed eyes. “You killed me. I’m dead. Say goodbye to the last sane Luthor, please don’t let my obituary be too embarrassing.” She straightened as she spoke, stretching out her back and arms and Kara was a little bit distracted to immediately respond.

“Don’t say that,” she finally found the voice to admonish. “Of course your obituary will be embarrassing. I’ll write about the time we snuck into the art room to fix an assignment you’d already made a perfect on.”

“I didn’t know it’d already been graded, Kara,” Lena said, not looking particularly glad that this had been brought up. Kara wondered if she remembered the way they’d giggled as they escaped the school building, tangling pinkies and swearing they’d never bring it up again. “It was ugly, what sort of person gives perfect marks on something so ugly?”

“Well, I thought you were adorable,” Kara said without thinking, grimacing as she registered her own words, “I mean—not adorable, but um, adorably criminal.”

“It was my Luthor genes shining through,” Lena joked, winking when Kara rolled her eyes. “I’m ready to go now, you don’t have to go so slow because of me,” she added when Kara jogged in place, staring out into the park—looking at the couple walking their dog and the old woman sitting on a bench reading the newspaper. Kara laughed, listening to Lena’s heavy breathing, and shook her head.

“Oh shucks, look at that, my shoes are untied,” Kara said in mock surprise, leaning down and untying her shoelaces before taking her time to tie them up again. She took extra care in making sure everything was tight, going as far as to untie and retie her right shoe—just in case. And when she looked back up, Lena was staring at her with a mix of fondness and confusion.

“Back in Metropolis,” she began.

“Lena, I don’t—”

“—I avoided you. I wasn’t working all the time, I could’ve seen you more often but I…” she trailed off, frowning. “And I didn’t realize how much that could hurt until you avoided me. When you left. And I’m sorry.”

“Why were you avoiding me?”

Lena blinked, looking like she hadn’t expected the question, but surely she should have. She’d brought it up, she made it a point to apologize. Of course Kara would want more explanation.

“How about a race?” Lena suggested, ignoring Kara’s question completely. “First one to the gate gets to choose breakfast?”

Kara’s grin was her only reply.

(Needless to say, she won the race. They ended up with sticky buns and coffee from Noonan’s, Kara regaling Lena with horror stories about needing pick-me-ups at all hours, depending on Cat Grant’s mood.

And the entire time her thoughts were a million miles away, wondering what would make Lena avoid her in the first place.)

“You know,” Lena said in between mouthfuls of pizza, “I never thought I’d say this, but reporters aren’t so bad.” She took a sip of her wine—the charm and sophistication of the action lost on Kara as Lena was drinking her wine out of a plastic cup—and smiled benignly. “There’s even one reporter I’d go as far as to say I like.”

“Oh really? Let me guess. She’s a dazzling cub reporter at CatCo. Golden hair, dazzling blue eyes, impeccable fashion taste?” Kara asked, grinning and pointing at herself exaggeratedly, not quite appreciating Alex’s snort or Maggie’s not-so-subtle shake of her head. She opened her mouth to tell off her sister and her sister’s girlfriend, but before she could, Lena smiled softly and derailed all of Kara’s thought processes.

“Well, I was going to say Lois Lane, but yes, you’re a close second.”

“A—a close second? To Lois?” Kara spluttered indignantly, mouth falling open in offense. “Was she the one to write stories about the phoenix-like rebirth of L-Corp and the CEO that spearheaded its rise? No. That was me. All me.”

“But that corruption article—” Lena said, not even bothering to hide her laughter as Kara stared at her in betrayal. “I’m joking,” she said when Kara went as far as to push her plate of pizza away, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest. Alex snorted again. “Your articles are wonderful, I’m so grateful for them, Kara.”

“I didn’t write them as a favor,” Kara mumbled, turning her head and glaring at Alex, daring her to let out another snort. “I wrote them because it’s the truth. You rebuilt LuthorCorp from the ground up. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Ugh,” Alex cried, throwing her hands up in the air. “Come on, Maggie, that’s our cue to leave. They’re going to be gross again. Compliments thrown back and forth, no you hang up first,” she tacked on in an affected voice.

“You don’t give me any compliments,” Maggie said, almost petulantly, while Kara found herself unable to do much more than open and close her mouth repeatedly, no response ready on her lips.

“Shh, Maggie, it’s okay. It’s their foreplay.” Alex grabbed her girlfriend’s hand and dragged her out of the apartment, leaving Kara and Lena alone at the table.

“So,” Lena said, sipping calmly from her plastic cup of wine, “when do you think Alex will remember this is her apartment?”

“Doesn’t matter, I’m going to steal all her vinyls.” She paused her plotting and stared at Lena thoughtfully. “Is Lois really your favorite reporter?”

“Of course not,” Lena scoffed, waving a hand, as charming, clever, and confident at twenty-eight as she’d been at eight years old, merely amplified by the years that had passed, still managing to leave Kara in awe with nothing but a smile. “You’re always my favorite, Kara. In everything.” The words brought her heart to a thudding stop. Her eyes were fixed on Lena’s lips.

(She was going to do it. She was going to stand and lean in, she was going to settle that voice in her head and that thrumming in her chest once and for all. She would know, know for sure how Lena felt, all she had to do was be brave in this single moment—gather all her courage and ask onesimple question, hope to whatever was out there that Lena would nod, would say yes, would dispel of words entirely and close the distance between them.

She was going to do it, she was going to do it.)

The door swung back open and Kara was rooted to her seat.

“Can you believe Alex forgot this was her apartment?” Maggie laughed as she approached the table, frowning as she took in Kara’s face and then Lena’s. “Are you two okay? You both look like you saw a ghost.”

“F-fine,” Kara stammered, tearing her eyes away from Lena’s lips and forcing a smile. “I just said I was going to steal all of Alex’s vinyls.”

“I heard that!” Alex called from the door, letting it swing shut behind her. “But you know, if you do manage to pull it off, it might even outdo the roof thing. But nothing can top the Paint Incident,” she tacked on dreamily.

Maggie and Lena laughed, familiar with both stories, and Kara sighed, unable to help it when her gaze flicked briefly over to Lena.

She felt her courage fade, felt the moment slip past her fingertips, and she couldn’t help but sigh. But when she did, it wasn’t Alex who looked at her quizzically and in worry. She was too busy rolling her eyes at something Maggie was saying. Instead, it was Lena who looked at her in concern, eyes wide and pleading—wordlessly asking if she was okay, back in sync for the first time in years.

(At the very thought, Kara felt much of that courage race right back.)

It was very late or very early, Kara wasn’t quite sure which, and she and Lena were lounging on the couch in Lena’s office, leaning heavily on each other, Lena’s work long forgotten. It’d been quite some time that they’d had nights (mornings?) like this, Lena calling her because she felt her world spiraling, and Kara the only one who could stop the spinning for even a moment. Sometimes there were tears, more often there was total silence, Lena tightly grasping her hand until Kara couldn’t feel her fingers anymore.

This morning (last night?), Lena had just buried her face in Kara’s shoulder, not saying a word for hours as Kara rubbed her back and muttered nonsense under her breath just hoping to ease whatever Lena was dealing with this time.

“Do you remember Jack?” Lena asked suddenly, bringing up her ill-fated whirlwind romance from their last year in college without prompting. Kara nodded hesitantly, wincing a little internally as she thought about all the anger she’d directed towards such a perfectly decent guy, wondering if she should call him up one day and apologize—admit she’d been jealous and she’d really had nothing against him. Then again, to admit that to Jack would mean she’d first have to admit those feelings to Lena, and she wasn’t quite sure if that would ever happen—at least, if her track record was any indication. “I really wanted things to work out with him. Thought if I could focus on him and my studies, I could forget about everything else.”

Kara’s breath hitched and she swallowed hard. Admittedly, it hurt to hear Lena say something like that. Because around that same time, Kara was feeling lost, had needed her best friend, and had been left unmoored and aimlessly floating away from shore in Lena’s absence. It hurt to hear that Lena’s distance had been intentional.

“Okay.”

“Are you going to ask why?”

“Would you answer?”

“I don’t know,” Lena admitted softly, tucking her head more comfortably under Kara’s chin.

“Why did you lie about where you were going for Christmas?” Kara asked instead, voice barely a whisper, unsure even now if she should bring it up. Lena stiffened slightly, then inhaled deeply, relaxing just as suddenly.

“My mother told me she wanted to make up, start over. She told me she knew she strained our relationship and wanted to fix it.”

“Did she?”

“No. As it turned out, she just wanted me to spy on Lex for her.” Lena cleared her throat and pulled away from Kara, shifting so that she was sitting on the very edge of the couch. “Besides, after working at LuthorCorp for a few months after graduation, it was obvious Lex was up to something, and it was obvious she was trying to hide his mess for him. She was just trying to use me as a pawn—I was disposable, you see.”

“You’re not disposable,” Kara immediately argued, not sure if she liked the way Lena laughed in response—like she found the comment inherently flawed, but couldn’t bring herself to explain just how wrong Kara was.

“I’m not sad, Kara,” Lena explained gently, shrugging when Kara looked at her in disbelief. “I’m not.” She shrugged again, seemingly not caring that Kara had been rendered speechless. “I’ve known what my mother is my whole life.” Her head tilted to the side, and she studied Kara so intently for a moment that Kara was sure she was reading every single secret Kara had buried away deep in her heart for safekeeping. “But then you just waltzed in one afternoon and forced my dad to take a stand.” She reached out and took Kara’s hand, squeezing tightly, eyes showing no hint of melancholy. And it was a beautiful sight. “I’m not sad, because whatever my mom has done, I’ve always known I had you.” She smiled then, something changing in her expression, something Kara sometimes saw in her own reflection. “You saved me from the day I met you. But it wasn’t till that afternoon that I realized you were my hero.”

“I’m not a hero. I’m just…me.”

“You’re my hero,” Lena said, grinning when Kara gave her another disbelieving look, finding it difficult to ignore the pounding of her heart, though she was giving it a valiant attempt. “Can I ask a question now?”

“Of course.”

“Why did you leave Metropolis?”

(And oh Kara felt her courage fail her at this critical moment. She felt it escape her in a flood, a mass exodus of bravery in the face of such overwhelmingly terrifying prospects. Because an admission could lead to reciprocation. It could lead to a moment she’d imagined again and again and again. Or it could lead to horrifying and awkward rejection, a friendship she treasured and missed dearly when it was out of reach—when it felt shattered beyond repair—becoming lost forever.

And oh Kara stared at Lena and she found she’d brave any enemy, any storm, any short, grubby, sniffling bully if only it meant she’d have a chance to keep Lena in her life.)

“It’s hard to get over someone when they’re in the same city as you,” she found herself saying, a non-answer that she thought said entirely too much. (Be brave, she thought. Be brave.)

“You and James were really good for each other,” Lena nodded, and it was the way she looked at the ground, the way she released Kara’s hand, the way she swallowed, the way her eyes grew sad that Kara finally, finally, saw what Alex had seen, what James had seen, what even gross Mike had seen. “It makes sense that he’s hard to get over,” Lena added, a pinched expression on her face, one that Kara caught even if most of Lena head was turned away.

(Be brave, she thought. Be brave.)

“Actually, Lena,” Kara began slowly, heart racing, “I wasn’t talking about James.” Lena turned to her in shock, eyes wide, and of course Kara began to ramble, stomach swooping up and down and feeling as if the blood rushing through her veins was on fire. “He was wonderful. He is wonderful, I mean. But he’s not wonderful for me. Does that make sense? I mean, he’s perfect. But it’s really hard to love someone the right way when you’re in love with someone else and I—”

“I was jealous of James!” Lena blurted, apparently quite surprised by her own interruption. “I couldn’t—I didn’t want to hear about him. I’d be jealous of anyone you were with. So I avoided you, because I didn’t know what else to do, I didn’t know if I could hide how I felt—”

“—I hated Jack,” Kara confessed. “And that girl from France, the one you met before we started college, I hated her on principle, and James told me I’m not capable of hate, but they had you and I hated them and—”

Lena interrupted her again, this time by grabbing her face and pulling her forward, her lips on Kara’s making it quite difficult to talk at all. It was awkward and needy and full of a pent-up sort of want and it made Kara’s head spin, it fried all her nerves, it left her permanently incapable of any sort of rational thought. Because Lena—her best friend, Lena—was kissing her.

“Wait, wait,” Kara said suddenly, pulling away from Lena’s kisses, unable to help her smile at Lena’s groan, “so are you anti-love?” Lena’s eyes, which had been closed, opened lazily, and she blinked at Kara in confusion, seemingly unsure what they were talking about. “You said you didn’t believe in love,” Kara elaborated, feeling her ears heat up because as far as she knew, she’d admitted she loved Lena, but Lena had just admitted feelings, and what if she was making a fool of herself, reading too much into one kiss—even if said kiss was as singularly mind-blowing as Lena’s?

“I was nineteen,” Lena admitted softly, and she reached out with a hesitant hand, brushing a stray lock of hair out of Kara’s face and then cupping her cheek, thumb rubbing idle patterns into her skin. Kara felt rather than directed her eyes to flutter shut, felt rather than directed her head to lean into Lena’s hand. “I was bitter because I’d fallen for my best friend and I didn’t think she’d ever feel the same way.”

“So not temporary and finicky?”

“Not in my experience, no.”

“You know, if you hadn’t said that, if you’d just waited ten seconds, I was going to tell you how I felt that day.”

Lena didn’t answer for so long that Kara opened her eyes, only to be met with impossibly soft eyes.

“That’s okay,” Lena said finally, leaning forward to press her forehead against Kara’s. “I sort of like how our story ended up anyway.” And when Lena closed the last of the distance between them, pulling Kara into another kiss (being brave never felt so good), Kara couldn’t help but agree.

The next time they all got together, Kara and Lena were holding hands and sneaking not-so-sneaky kisses and gazing adoringly at each other, and upon seeing it, Alex first pretended to gag before she laughed uproariously, demanded champagne in celebration, and told anyone who’d listen that she’d called it from the day she found out that Kara alternated her time between drawing puppies and Lena.

#supergirl #supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #old

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nothingeverlost · 3 years

Text

On the Wings of an Owl (1/?)

A single moment in time altered, two lives spared, and four lives changed forever. What would have happened if Euphemia and Fleamont Potter had lived?

Slow burn Remus/Sirius. Sirius raising Harry.

Some drinking and language. Rating T for now, will possibly change later.

This was my Nano for November so there's currently over 50,000 words. Did I mention slow burn?

Prologue

In the winter of 1978, five months after the Marauders graduated from Hogwarts and eight months before Lily and James married, the Dhawan family owl died. The death of an owl is not a very important thing, in the grand scheme. The family mourns, as they would any pet, but other than an inability to send letters until a new owl is adopted, very little is affected. Usually.

By the time Janya Dhawan’s husband brought home a new owl she was close to delivering her first child, and the letter she had intended to send to her aunt about attending the birth never got written. Her aunt never made plans to visit the home of her youngest sister’s youngest daughter. She and her husband instead stayed in England where a particularly cold winter was paired with a particularly vicious strain of dragon pox. Euphemia and Fleamont Potter both caught the pox from a friend’s grandson and died within hours of each other less than two weeks later.

But what if the owl had lived even a few weeks longer? What if a letter had arrived and Euphemia had made plans to visit her niece? She and her husband would have stayed for a few weeks, visiting family. When they returned to England the epidemic of dragon pox would have subsided and the winter, though still just as cold, wouldn’t have been as wet. Lily and James would have hosted a welcome back dinner. A few months later it would have been the elder Potter’s turn to host an engagement dinner, and eventually a wedding.

The death of an owl can not change a great many things. The war had been set in motion years ago. Battles still happened, people still died. A prophecy was still spoken and on one horrible day in Godric’s Hollow He Who Mush Not Be Named still tried to kill a baby. Lily and James Potter were still the final two victims in the last battle of the war.

Here is what did change. The blood oath needed to protect Harry Potter came from his grandparents and not an aunt who had no interest in his welfare. The family on Privet Drive never woke up to a baby on the front steps. Dudley Dursley was forever an only child both in name and spirit and never learned to share. Whether their lives were better or worse for it we can only speculate. It’s of little consequence to the people that make up our story.

On that terrible night when James and Lily were killed and their son was rescued he was taken to an estate in Weybridge rather than a muggle suburb. Monty Potter was the one to break down, brought to his knees by the death of his only child. Euphemia pushed her grief away for long enough to take her grandson in hand and see to the practicalities of a clean diaper and a warm bottle. This was the first life that is irrevocably changed, a boy who will grow up in a loving home instead of a cupboard under the stairs. It is the first ripple from a small pebble tossed into the river of time.

The second ripple changed three lives dramatically, two for the better.

Sirius Black was under arrest for suspicion of being a Death Eater and responsible for the deaths of Lily and James Potter. In another time there was no one to defend him or believe him, no one but a guilty man who had no interest in helping an innocent man he pushed away long ago. In another time he did not have Euphemia Potter in his corner. He would have sat in a cell until it was decided that there was no point in a trial, not when the Potters were dead and not even Albus Dumbledore would speak up for him. After a week it would have been a cold boat ride to Azkaban and then a cell from which he was never expected to return.

Sirius Black had spent most of his summers and holidays with the Potter family from the time he was thirteen. Euphemia and Monty worried about the lad and tried to fuss over him and look out for him as much as they could, knowing something about his home life. And then came the winter of sixth year when he showed up with a bruised arm, a haunted look in his eye, and a trunk full of everything he owned. From that moment he was their son every bit as much as James. Euphemia knew that her son would not betray his brother, just as she knew that James would have given his very life to keep Sirius safe. Her Sirius was not a Death Eater and she would do whatever necessary to prove it.

It took two days of pulling the right strings and crossing a few palms with galleons to get in to see Sirius. Fleamont stayed home with the baby, leaving her to sit alone in a drab grey room in the bowels of the Department of Ministry.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Euphemia’s first thought when Sirius spoke was that his voice sounded as if it had broken and only been half put together again. Her second was that he was too thin; it had been a few months since she’d seen him and he clearly needed some feeding up. She started a mental list of meals she needs to make for him and the sweets she would need to bake. He’d always been fond of her butter chicken and her mysore pak.

“Monty is taking care of Harry. I would have been here yesterday but there was paperwork.” There was a table between them, but it was not quite wide enough to keep her from reaching out. He jerked away as if he’d been burned.

“James is dead.” Someone who didn’t know Sirius might think his emotionless statement of facts meant he didn’t care. Euphemia knew that he cared too much. He’d learned at a young age that showing emotion meant more pain, a lesson she daily cursed the Black family for teaching him. “And it’s my fault.”

“Did you kill him?” She could barely say the words and can never believe the answer would be affirmative. Sirius would never hurt her son and Lily.

“If it weren’t for me they would still be alive.” There was a circle of sigils on his right wrist, slowly moving. She remembered when he’d come home with the tattoo months ago before she’d heard of the prophecy and the plan to protect her son’s family.

“Because you were their secret keeper?”

“Because I wasn’t.” The whole story came out then, fresh and painful. She grieved again for one son as she grieved with the other, and when he was done she assured him that going to Azkaban would not bring James and Lily back. It won’t make anything better. He had to tell the truth instead of the stone silence he has been giving the Aurors.

“Besides,” she reminded him, “Harry needs his godfather and Monty and I need our son.”

It took almost a week to get him released, but he never had to go to Azkaban. By the time he was free there were wanted posters for Peter Pettigrew posted. He was not found, which troubled Sirius in the middle of the night, but during the day he was busy with Harry. The difference between playing godfather when the whim suited him and raising a child was overwhelming, and for his sanity as well as Harry’s protection he moved back into the bedroom that had become his long before he officially moved into the Potter home at the age of 16.

Three lives, other than Harry’s, dramatically changed because of one owl. Sirius was home once more, escaping the fate of Azkaban and Dementors. Peter, hunted by the Aurors, never to know a moment’s rest. And the third? At the moment Remus Lupin was in the basement of his old family home in Wales, recovering from the full moon. In another time he was destined to spend the next 127 full moons alone, certain that two of his best friends were dead, the third was a murderer, and that the safest thing for Harry Potter was to stay as far away as he could. His fate in this time was less certain than the others and rests in the hands of Sirius Black.

#wolfstar #wolfstar fic #remus x sirius #remus lupin x sirius black #sirius x lupin #sirius black x remus lupin #euphemia potter #fleamont potter #my fic #harry potter fic #sirius raises harry #harry potter

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veliseraptor · 4 years

Note

Hey I was watching Thor 1 again last night and when I got to the part where Odin found Loki for the first time on Jotunheim I just thought of you since the canon we got was so short I was like, “you know what, I think Lise could actually describe this in a more detailed description,” so I was wondering if you could maybe give us a short baby! Loki and Odin headcanon where Odin found him as a frost giant baby in that temple, decided to take him in and how Frigga reacted when she first met Loki?

Foundling, 3.1k, odin pov, pre-canon, content warning for infant death, not sure if this is my definitive headcanon or not but it was fun to write, thanks to this fic for breaking up at least a little of the writing block I’ve been fighting for the last month, this is almost completely unedited just throwing it out there

The Jotun babe stopped crying almost immediately when Odin lifted him. He blinked, wide eyed, and went quiet. Blue skin changed to Aesir pink, and Odin almost dropped him.

He did not, and several things occurred to him at once.

Firstly, Odin did not know why Laufey would have abandoned his own son to die, but in doing so he had handed Odin an heir to Jotunheim.

Secondly, he was an heir who was a natural shapeshifter and, unless Odin was greatly mistaken, had the makings of a mage as well.

Thirdly, Odin had received word not two weeks past that Frigga had lost the baby she had been carrying and was suffering under the weight of her grief. Their unnamed child could not be replaced, but perhaps...

Fourthly, left alone, this babe would die, either of exposure - so young, he was not made to endure the cold of his native land for too long - or of hunger, or even at the hand of one of Odin’s own soldiers who would not care for his youth, only his blood.

And finally: Odin was, after this long and grueling war, very tired of death.

The decision was made.

“There you have it,” Odin murmured to the baby in his arms. “You are returning home with me.”

The baby closed his eyes and went to sleep. His empty eye socket throbbed, but a small smile tugged at the corner of Odin’s mouth.

It was possible, he considered ruefully, that he had made his decision the moment he’d lifted a crying baby from the ice, and worked backwards from there. But he could live with that.

Odin wrestled for a while over how to bring the babe back to Asgard unnoticed. There was no question that it needed to be unnoticed. Asking his people to accept their king adopting a Jotun child before a formal peace was even made would be too much.

In the end, he swaddled the babe (Loki, he already had a name unspoken in Odin’s mind) in some scraps of a banner, tucked him in a knapsack, and called the Bifrost to bring them home. The young watchman’s eyebrows twitched slightly as he watched Odin pass, but he said nothing. Good lad, Odin thought, and made a note to ensure that he was clear on the need to say nothing in the future, either.

It wasn’t until he had reached the palace and was standing outside the door to the room where Frigga was lying in that it occurred to him that Frigga might not accept a new baby so readily, even - or perhaps especially - after losing her own. What would he do if she rejected him? There were too few he could trust to care for a Jotun baby, and it was imperative for his future plans that he be kept close by.

Odin grimaced. He would just have to find some way to convince her. This would only work with her assent.

He tapped lightly on the door and waited until it opened. It was the new chief healer, who looked awfully young in comparison with Gudrun her predecessor, but by all accounts she was capable. Eir, he thought he remembered.

She seemed surprised to see him. “All-Father,” she said. “I did not hear word of your return. Your eye-”

“I have not returned, officially,” Odin said. “I wished to see Frigga with some privacy, first.” He paused, then lowered his voice and asked, “how is she?”

Eir pressed her lips together, then said, “physically, she is recovering well. But her heart is sore grieved.”

“And Thor?”

“Is well,” Eir said. “With his nurses, since Frigga took to her bed. She has been...reluctant to see him.”

That did not seem to bode well. Odin hesitated, wondering if there was some way of waiting to introduce the baby until Frigga was better.

With a truly spectacular sense of timing, Loki let out a gurgle and began to cry.

Eir’s eyes widened, going to the knapsack he was carefully cradling, and Odin cursed, shoving past her and into the room, pulling her in before closing the door firmly.

“What,” Eir began.

“You must say nothing of what you see here,” Odin interrupted. “Swear secrecy to me.”

“I swear,” she said immediately, without hesitation. Odin did not relax, waiting, and she added, “on the World Tree itself. Is there a baby in your bag, All-Father?”

Odin saw the knob on the inner door turn and could have cursed again. It opened and Frigga stood there in her dressing-gown, pale with dark-circles around her eyes, their usual brightness dulled. “Eir, I thought I heard…”

She trailed off, looking at him. He could see her taking in his eye, still swathed only in a field dressing, and then the knapsack cradled in his arms

“My husband,” she said, and did not sound entirely pleased. Odin glanced at Eir, who looked back at him with an expression of helpless confusion. Loki was still crying.

Odin set the bag down and drew out Loki, who, apparently now awake and indignant at having been transported thus, howled his displeasure. Eir gasped, and Frigga took a step back, her eyes widening as though he held a serpent.

“I found him abandoned on Jotunheim,” Odin said, before either of them could speak. “He would have died if I left him there.”

“So you…” Frigga trailed off, her eyes still fixed on the crying baby.

“Why was he there to begin with?” Eir asked. “An Aesir baby on Jotunheim-”

“He isn’t,” Odin said, trying to rock Loki as he’d rocked Thor, to soothe him. When both women looked at him, frowning, he said, “he isn’t Aesir. He is a shapeshifter. And Laufey’s son.”

Frigga continued to stare, though her blankness was rapidly turning toward something else. Toward anger. “And you want us - want me - to raise him as ours?”

“There is no one else,” Odin said, deciding that mention of his more political thoughts could wait until later.

“Our daughter is scarcely buried,” Frigga hissed, tears springing to her eyes, and green fire twisted around her clenched fists. “Did you know she was a daughter? She will never even receive her name. And you bring this, this foundling to me, as though she was a bauble to be replaced-”

“No,” Odin said. “I didn’t think-”

“Frigga turned her head away. “I hear her,” she said. “I hear her crying when I am half-asleep, somewhere close by. That is what I thought I heard when you came in.”

Odin cringed. “My love-”

“No,” she said. “No. Do not try to-” She took in a gulping breath, and turned on her heel, fleeing back into the room she had just emerged from and slamming the door. And Loki was still crying.

“Let me take him,” Eir said after a few moments of silence. Odin handed him wordlessly over and in her hands he settled, though not entirely. He still seemed agitated, anxious - or perhaps it was just Odin who was agitated and anxious.

“You will need that eye seen to,” Eir said, when he said nothing. “I will look after the babe-”

“Loki,” Odin said automatically, and did not react to Eir’s glance in his direction.

“After Loki,” she said smoothly. “For now.”

Odin sighed. “Thank you,” he said. It was not a permanent solution. Not even close. But until he could work out something more permanent...it was what he had.

He let the healers tend to his eye, covering it with a modest black patch for now, though he would have to have something more grand made to match his armor. He washed, changed his clothes, and went to find his son.

Thor seemed bigger than when Odin had last seen him even a few months before. He was on his feet and toddling toward Odin the moment he saw him with an enthusiastic “Pabbi!” and Odin knelt to lift him up into his arms.

“Have you been good to your nurses, my boy?” he asked.

“I have!” Thor said, and then reached out toward Odin’s face. “What happened to your eye? Did you hurt it?”

“Yes,” Odin said. “I’m afraid so.” Thor frowned, and Odin added, “A Frost Giant took it.” Thor’s eyes went wide, and Odin added, “he can have it! I only need one, anyway.”

Thor didn’t look wholly mollified, but his attention moved on quickly. “Can I see Amma now? And my baby brother?”

So he hadn’t been told, Odin thought unhappily. “Thor,” he began, and then stopped. If Frigga changed her mind - and she still might, he told himself insistently, she still might - Thor needed to believe that Loki was his natural born brother. A child his age would not be able to keep such a secret - and might be less likely to accept him knowing the truth. “Not yet,” he said. “Soon.”

Thor sulked, but not seriously, and not for long. He was young, and resilient, and his exuberance did Odin’s heart good. This war had brought back too many memories, none of them fond.

Thor tugged on his arm. “Did we win?” he asked, bright blue eyes wide. “Did we beat the Frost Giants?”

“Yes,” Odin said. “The fighting’s over. I’m home for good, now.”

Thor beamed. “Did you kill all of them?” he asked brightly, and Odin stopped dead for a moment. His thoughts flashed to the baby and he cleared his throat.

“No,” he said. “That wasn’t what we were trying to do. We just wanted them to go back to their Realm and stop attacking Midgard. And we did that. They’ve learned their lesson, and won’t do it again.”

Thor seemed a bit disappointed. “Oh,” he said. “All right.”

“Tell me what you’ve been up to,” Odin said as he set Thor down, eager to change the subject. “I’ve missed you, my boy.”

As Thor began to chatter, Odin imagined leaving Thor out in the cold, exposed to the elements, and felt a flash of anger. Laufey was a father undeserving of his son. Loki would be better off in Asgard.

When Thor began to flag, Odin turned him over to his nurse and went to find Eir. She had deposited Loki in a cradle in one of the birthing rooms, where he appeared to be asleep.

“How is he,” Odin asked, keeping his voice low.

“To all intents and purposes he appears to be Aesir, albeit with a temperature lower than normal for us,” she said. “But he won’t take formula, and I can’t exactly request a wet-nurse without raising questions.” She paused. “He is weak, and getting weaker.”

Odin blinked. “He seemed fine.”

“It may be the exposure catching up with him,” Eir said, “or the shock of a journey between worlds. Or simply hunger; we have no way of knowing how long he had been left there.” Odin moved over to the cradle and frowned down at him.

“What can be done?”

Eir shrugged. “I know nothing about Jotun infants, and however he appears, I fear that treating him like an Aesir baby might do more harm than good. I would say the most pressing issue right now is nutrition. We could force him to take it, but that has its own risks, and if he is refusing it might be for a reason.”

Odin rubbed his eyepatch where the socket was beginning to ache. “Could you try ordinary breastmilk? Make some excuse…”

Eir pressed her lips together and said, “I’ll see what I can do.” She went out, leaving Odin alone with Loki. After a moment, Odin picked him up, frowning down at him. He stirred with a small, sleepy noise.

“What’s to be done with you,” Odin asked him. “What do you need of us?”

Loki, naturally, didn’t reply. He really did look just like any Aesir baby. If Odin had to give him up to some other family...perhaps he wouldn’t have to tell them anything. Could simply claim that he was a war orphan, and…

No. The entire point of taking the baby in was to provide for a future in which Asgard and Jotunheim need not be at war. That wouldn’t work if he gave him over to be raised as an ordinary, anonymous Asgardian. And besides, Odin did not really want to give him up. He had brought Loki home; that made him Odin’s responsibility.

Of course, none of this would be relevant if he didn’t survive.

He sighed out and set Loki carefully back down. There wasn’t much he could do here. For now, he would just have to trust Eir to manage what could be managed. He set a light spell before leaving, though, that would alert him if anything changed. Just in case.

Odin went back to speak to Frigga, apprehension bubbling in his gut. He knocked softly on her door and waited for her to come and open it. His queen looked far from her usually composed self, and her expression was cool.

“Frigga,” he said. “I must apologize. I was tactless-”

“Is that what you would call it?”

Odin managed to contain his wince. “I didn’t think.”

“That much was obvious.” Frigga moved away from him, her usual grace diminished. “Our daughter is dead, and your first thought is to offer me another’s son?”

Odin faltered. “That wasn’t…” He’d thought it, though, hadn’t he? ‘Tactless’ was the kindest word he could have used. “I am sorry.” Norns, but he hated saying that. Especially when he knew he needed to.

Frigga regarded him. “Do you grieve for her at all?” she asked.

Odin bowed his head. “Of course I do,” he said. “I grieve for a daughter I will never know. But-”

“But,” Frigga hissed. “You grieve, but. I carried her. She lived with me, and I with her, for most of a year. And before she took her first breath, she was gone. And now - and now-” Her voice broke and she took an unsteady breath. Odin reached out and she pulled away. “You do not understand. You cannot. And you were not here.”

“I would have been,” Odin said. “If I could have-”

“But you could not,” Frigga said, “because you were busy fighting for another Realm and plucking strange babies from the ice.”

“That is unfair,” Odin objected.

“Is it? What of it is untrue?” She turned away from him, her hands twisting together.

“My love, I am only asking you to consider - this is a baby. Alone, and abandoned, and helpless. He needs a family. A mother.”

“And that must be me?”

“I…”

“Go,” Frigga said, gesturing toward the door. “Get out. If you will not respect my grief, then leave me to it.”

“Frigga.”

“Go.”

Odin knew when it was not wise to disobey. He left, though he stood outside the door a moment, hearing her start to cry, and wondered if he shouldn’t go back in. In the end, he decided against it, and retreated into the easier world of governance.

Odin fell asleep in his office and woke to the soft chime of the spell he’d set on Loki’s cradle. He sat up, groaned at his protesting back muscles (Norns, when had he gotten old) and hurried toward the room where Odin had left him sleeping. Already preparing himself for the worst. Telling himself that if Loki died - well, better here than abandoned on the ice, surely.

He took a breath before letting himself in. He expected Eir to be there, but she was not.

“Frigga,” he said.

“I sent Eir away,” she said, her back to him where she stood in front of the cradle. “I did notice your spell. Keeping an eye on your investment?”

Odin grimaced. “I wanted to know if anything changed.”

“Changed,” Frigga said. “Do you mean, if he died? Eir said he was weak.” While Odin was still figuring out how to answer, she turned, and Odin realized that she was holding him. Holding Loki, her expression difficult to read. “I wanted to see him. This baby you plucked from another Realm and brought into our house.”

“And?” Odin said cautiously.

“He is what I might have expected: small, and helpless, and innocent of all that you or I would place on him.”

“That is so,” Odin said carefully.

Frigga looked down at Loki in her arms, her expression solemn. “You said he was left there,” she said. “Just...left.”

“Yes,” Odin said. “Abandoned. Because of his size, I imagine. It is also possible he is half-blooded on his mother’s side, whoever she was. Vanir, perhaps.”

“Who would just throw away a baby to die,” Frigga murmured, eyebrows knitting together.

“I cannot explain it,” Odin said.

Frigga swayed back and forth. “There is no one else, is there,” she said. “He has no one else.”

“No,” Odin said. “He hasn’t.”

Frigga sighed, something aching in her expression. At long last, she sighed. “You would claim, then, that I didn’t - lose the baby after all,” she said, sounding nothing so much as resigned. “That it was a rumor, and a difficult birth, but the child survived. You would use our tragedy to mask your lie.”

Odin winced. “They will not accept him with the truth,” he said. “The outcry...frost giants are not well thought of, here. Especially not now. He would be hated just for being what he is, even if he doesn’t look it.”

“I understand,” Frigga said. “It is convenient timing, I suppose.” The bitterness in her voice was thick enough to cut.

“My love…”

“I know.” Frigga sighed and stopped swaying, shifting her hold on Loki. “Fine. I’ll do it. But not for you, husband. For him. An unintended casualty of this war. And I will try to love him for what he is, and not hate him for what he is not.”

Odin bowed his head. “Thank you.”

“And will you?” Frigga asked. Odin looked up, and she said, “love him for what he is? I know you, my husband. You do nothing for only sentimental reasons.”

“Not only,” Odin said after a brief pause, “but partially.”

“And for the rest? No, I can guess.” Frigga was still looking down at Loki, brushing a finger against his cheek. “A father is not the same thing as a tactician, Odin. You should remember that.”

Odin frowned at what felt like a rebuke, but said only, “I understand.”

Loki roused with a faint and fragile cry. Frigga turned away from Odin, though he saw her face soften. “He hasn’t eaten,” Odin volunteered. “Not since I brought him back.”

Frigga sighed. “Well,” she said, “let’s start with that. Has he a name?”

“Loki,” Odin said.

Frigga made a bit of a ‘hm’ sound. “Loki,” she repeated. “It’ll do.”

#anonymous #the family odinson #frigga is hbic #odin's mediocre parenting #a wild fic appeared #i actually...feel okay about this one

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onewfantaesy · 3 years

Text

Found Father AU

(tw mentions of abuse)

It’s just before Christmas during a rare but wholly welcomed visit with Taemin that he learns more about Taemin’s situation and what landed him in the the group home he hates so much. Taemin is sipping at a hot chocolate and eyeing the carefully wrapped Christmas gift Jinki had given him just a couple minutes earlier (with strict instructions to not open until Christmas morning) when he tells Jinki in almost a nonchalant manner:

“My mom died when I was super little. Like three or four or somethin’, I dunno. I don’t remember her really.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jinki says softly, worried that Taemin would be upset.

“It’s okay. I don’t even really remember what she looked like.”

It breaks Jinki’s heart.

“Then my dad died a few years after that, and now I’m here.”

Taemin just seems like he doesn’t really care, and something about it doesn’t sit right with Jinki. But he doesn’t press it, and he lets Taemin quickly change the subject to, as he describes it, “A super annoying group project for my math class, and why do they even do group projects in math, it’s math! There shouldn’t be group projects for math!”

Jinki lets him ramble about it, lets him complain all he wants, and gives bits of advice when he thinks Taemin wants it. Jinki was more surprised Taemin was able to just go right back into school despite missing probably a month of class. Jinki doesn’t question it. He decides to focus on the more important things, like how excited Taemin looks to have a special Christmas gift from Jinki, and how he smiles so big when Jinki praises him for reporting a 100% on a spelling test.

It isn’t until right before the adoption is finalized that Jinki learns the truth. It’s during a meeting with Taemin’s social worker, and Jinki had mentioned without really thinking about it how sad it was that Taemin’s parents both died when he was so young, and how he was happy to be giving the kid a home again. The social worker just looks confused.

“Who told you his father was dead?” she asks.

“Taemin did,” he says, looking just as confused as she is. “Said his mom died when he was maybe three and that his dad died a few years after that.”

The woman sighs and looks upset then, and she taps a pen on her desk like she’s debating whether or not to elaborate.

“Well his father isn’t dead,” she says, her voice tight. “His father is the entire reason he’s here in the first place.”

“I don’t understand.”

“His mother did die when he was very young,” she says. “Breast cancer. Taemin was three-years-old when she died.”

Jinki shakes his head a bit, more upset now that he knows what Taemin’s mother actually passed away from. But he knows the other shoe hasn’t dropped yet, that whatever is wrong with his father has yet to come.

“And his father?” Jinki asks, not wanting to wait any longer.

“I don’t know why he would tell you he died,” she admits, sighing again. “He’s still alive as far as I know.”

She pauses for a moment, and Jinki raises his eyebrows to try and get her to just spit it out.

“We’re not entirely sure when the abuse started,” she says, and Jinki holds his breath as she continues talking, “whether it was before or after the mother died, but it wasn’t until Taemin was in second grade that a teacher ever reported anything. He was seven when I took on his case.”

Jinki doesn’t even know what to say. Sure, he’d assumed Taemin’s life wasn’t exactly sunshine and rainbows, but to have it confirmed like this was like a punch in the gut. He gets more information than he really wanted, more details than he wanted, and it kills him that Taemin has had to live through all of this. But even after he leaves and goes home, goes to get a drink with Kibum, he can’t wrap his mind around one particular detail.

“Why would he lie that his dad is dead?” Jinki asks, gripping his beer.

“Maybe it’s easier for him that way,” Kibum sighs, looking just as distraught with the information as Jinki feels. When Jinki gives him a funny look, Kibum elaborates, “Maybe it’s like a defense mechanism. If his dad is dead, then he can’t come back and hurt him again. Maybe it’s just easier for him to believe his dad can’t come back.”

“That can’t be healthy,” Jinki sighs, and he scrubs a hand over his face. “Shit, Kibum, what am I getting myself into?”

“This is why we don’t chase after strange children on the streets,” Kibum teases him, sipping at his own beer.

“He’s not some strange child,” Jinki snaps. Then he sighs again and takes a long drink. “Once you meet him, you’ll see. There’s just something about him.”

“You have such a dad complex.”

“I do not!”

“Do too,” Kibum teases. “You’ve always been like that, for as long as I’ve known you. You’re the dad friend. Now you’re going to be an actual dad. You’ve come full circle.”

“Shut up.”

“I just think you shouldn’t feel bad that he lied to you,” Kibum says suddenly, but in a gentle tone. “It might be a lie he’s told himself so long, even he believes it.”

That just makes Jinki feel worse about the whole thing.

But by the time Taemin gets to finally come home with him, is finally and officially his son, Jinki realizes he’s content just to see Taemin happy and well taken care of. To see the big smile on Taemin’s face as he realizes that this is home, that this is his bedroom, that this is his family (no matter how small it is).

“Hey,” Jinki says softly that first night as he sits on the couch with Taemin. When Taemin looks up, Jinki smiles. “You know I’ll always protect you, right? Always keep you safe? You’re my kid now, you know, so it’s kinda my job.”

Taemin laughs a little bit, and he snuggles the side of his head into Jinki’s shoulder as he mumbles, “I know.”

Jinki may not be able to change what happened in Taemin’s past, but he can sure as hell make his future as bright as possible.

#taemin #onew #key #shinee #minho #even tho minho isn't in this one lmao oops #found father au

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gilbirda · 4 years

Text

Of bats, dreams and human connections. Chapter 1

SebastianxF!Player

Maybe, in retrospective, moving to the middle of nowhere and become a farmer wasn't Liz's smartest idea. The worst part wasn't getting up early or doing housework or meeting new people, no - the worst part was having to bathe in sun cream every morning and pray no one noticed she didn't age or got tired or hurt no matter what.

Did I mention that Liz vas a vampire? Well, she was. And even if for some she was the stupidest vampire alive, in her defense she just wanted to make new friends. Fortunately for her, the local goth boy of the town may be available.

Based on @beansthatscream ‘s answer

[Read on AO3][Read on FF.net]

Next Chapter >>

Moving to Stardew Valley wasn’t exactly at first in Liz’s plans. Who in their right mind came to a sunny village in the middle of nowhere? I mean, if I were to tell you that she inherited her grandfather's farm and she felt like not going anywhere and blah blah blah…

Well, the thing is, Liz wasn’t exactly your city-girl-goes-farming story. Because she is, in fact, a vampire.

The grandfather’s farm part is true, though.

He was human, a man her coven adopted when he was a lonely kid orphaned in a war. She remembered thinking how absurd it was that vampire like them would adopt such weak creatures, but it wasn’t like she cared much about it. With time, she stopped finding her new immortal life so fascinating and started following the strange and humble old man that chose to call her family despite knowing what he did about her world.

When he died, he left her everything he owned. Including a run down farm in the middle of nowhere, sunny-ville.

Liz breathed deeply, enjoying the cold spring night’s air, one hand scratching her new cat’s chin (maybe she was being cheesy by calling him Lestat, but sue her), looking at the few sprouts growing in the cleared patch she made early in the season.

A farmer vampire. Who would have thought.

At least she didn’t have to eat, so that’s money she saved. Everything she earned would go to the next crop.

It has been around a week since she settled there and getting used to the slow pace everything seemed to go by there was… difficult. She had wanted to leave coven drama behind and try her hand at going solo for a while. Who knows? Maybe she could start a coven of her own-

A family. What she wanted was a family. A real connection, like what she had with grandpa. After so many decades she had forgotten what it felt, how human connections struck deeper than convenient alliances of vampire covens.

That’s why she wanted this to work. She wanted to feel what grandpa felt for so long, she wanted to make memories like those he shared with her before passing.

An uncomfortable sensation in her mouth reminded her that she needed to feed soon. Her fangs were getting out of control the longer she let herself starve, and the last few days she got away with not appearing around town, but people were going to notice if she let it go too far.

She looked up at the moon and sighed. Lestat jumped out of her lap and meowed softly before going inside to sleep. She should too, but the idea of turning and tossing around, hungry, wasn’t exactly in her top list of things to do all night. This “daytime” vampire thing was hard to get used to, but it was a needed evil.

She got up and decided to go for a walk to see if she could get a bit tired and sleep another night with an empty stomach. Tomorrow she would go to the city and feed, there were many people there and no one would notice a little wound here and there. In a small place like this? Someone would definitely would.

And when they did, every hope of forming a real human connection would go out of the window.

***

Sebastian didn’t know what to think about the new farmer. Sure, he had seen her walking around all dressed in black and with an enormous black parasol, saying something about sensitive skin, and he immediately respected the aesthetic.

The woman herself? Not so much. She was a mystery, she didn’t seem like she wanted to settle there at all.

Not that I blame her, he thought as he took another drag of his cigarette. I would leave this place as soon as I could. If I could.

He looked back at his house from his position by the lake, the moon shining down on his mother’s fine work on the exterior of the building. Sometimes, when he felt weak and vulnerable, he didn’t want to leave his mother there with Demetrius. He feared what would happen in his absence, what kind of arguments he would use to drag Robin to his side. Would he make her forget about him? About his father?

Would he matter at all?

Sebastian shook his head, knowing it was silly. If he stayed or left shouldn’t depend on his mother, but his own sanity.

Finishing his cig, he threw it down and smashed it with his foot, ready to head back in and finish his last project. Another sleepless night it seems, he sighed.

He turned and was about to take a step forward when a sharp pain bloomed in his hand.

“Shit.”

He looked down at his hand, and there it was, a fresh new cut in the otherwise clean skin. Damn these trees and their unexpected sharp barks. Whatever, he could find some band-aids before going back to the computer.

He looked up and she was there. The farmer.

He frowned. He hadn’t heard her approach, and it was a rather quiet night.

“Hello?” He tentatively called. She just stood there in silence, eyes fixed on his bleeding hand. “Are you alright?”

The farmer blinked slowly as if waking from a deep sleep, looking up to his eyes. Somehow he expected hers to be a weird color, like red or purple, but they were just plain old dark brown, almost black under the moonlight.

She licked her chapped lips. “Uh, sorry, I heard someone here and thought it was… Uh… I mean, it’s pretty late.”

Sebastian watched silently as she took a step back. “You are not making any sense.”

“I don’t, right?” she chuckled. “This is awkward. Um, I’m Liz, the new farmer, but I guess you already know that.” She offered her hand to shake, but he looked down at his still very much bleeding hand. “Oh, fuck, yes, sorry. You need any help with that?”

“It’s a small cut. I’ll live.” He took a paper tissue from his hoodie pocket and cleaned some of the blood with it, revealing an already closing wound. “See? Everything’s fine.”

The face she made was as if someone had kicked a puppy, her eyes following each one of his movements.

Sebastian shuffled for a second, visibly uncomfortable with the situation. “Are you ok?” he asked again, noticing how her face had morphed into a painful grimace.

“Yeah. It’s just I… I- I just remembered that I haven’t had dinner yet. And, um, yeah. I should go. Nice meeting you!”

Liz ran away without waiting for a response, leaving a very confused man by the lake.

“But it’s like three in the morning,” Sebastian thought out loud.

***

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Liz ran and ran, hoping that leaving the lake, the town and the valley behind could erase the last fifteen minutes of her life.

She almost slipped. The one thing she swore not to, she almost did. And by stopping herself from doing so, she acted like a total freak in front of an innocent villager. Oh, damn, he was going to tell his friends and they will tell their families and then…

Well, the thing with pitchforks and torches may be outdated, but she would be ostracised. Vampires were a myth nowadays, but still, they will treat her like a freak and won’t try to be nice anymore.

Aw man, I don’t want to leave so soon!

She hoped a least a few decades before people started noticing her not aging.

“More like a few weeks, now,” she grumbled, stopping to calm her breathing. She was fast, some of the faster of her coven, but in her starving state she was weaker than a baby vampire.

Great, she was in the middle of more nowhere now. Trees, trees, and more trees. Somewhere, a car was passing through a road by the mountain; but apart from that, not a sound. And she was hungry. Very, very hungry.

Liz glanced up at the darkness trying to find a lonely creature that could satiate her at least until she could reach the city. Then, wash away the awful taste of animal blood with some random drunk human enjoying the city at night.

A tree branch creaked at her side. She looked up, finding a mountain lion crouching, watching her with distrust.

“Sorry, buddy.” She smiled at the animal and jumped.

***

Sebastian was going to kill Sam. It was official. I mean, how could he not when he was dragged from bed after barely getting a few hours of sleep, forced to look alive under the sunlight and be conscious enough to listen to his friends rambling about the incoming egg festival like it was a big deal. Who the hell cares??

“Right, Seb?” Abigail prompted, expecting his answer as if he was listening.

“Huh?”

“We were saying,” Sam tried to help, “that we could ask the mayor if we could play a few songs at the festival.”

He blinked slowly, letting it know his overall opinion of the matter. It’s just a stupid festival about eggs. He couldn't care less.

What he wanted was to get out of the sun and go back to sleep. It wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t get any sleep even after finishing his work, really; the dull pain of the small cut in his hand reminded him of the weirdest night of his life.

I wasn’t like he had any real opinion of the farmer (Liz, she said her name was Liz) before; but now he couldn’t help but keep his eyes on the road that led towards her farm from Sam’s house, as if expecting her to emerge any moment now. What would he even say to her? Last night he uttered barely a word before she bolted away. Did he expect this time to be different?

Suddenly, as if summoned, she appeared. All dressed in black and with her big parasol, looking down at her feet as she approached them. Was she ignoring him? Them?

“Oh, hey, Liz!” Sam, always bright and cheery, motioned her to join them. It wasn’t the first time he did, but it was the first time the mysterious woman obeyed.

“Hey.” Her smile was tiny, but welcoming. Even some pink gathered in her cheeks, clearly embarrassed with the situation. “What’s up.”

Sebastian wouldn’t say it out loud, but was glad of her parasol as it blocked some light for his tired eyes.

"Duuuude, you look half dead!" The blond commented, real concern in his face.

"Uh, I couldn't sleep last night," Liz smiled, shifting her parasol to cover her better. If she noticed Sebastian moving accordingly to receive some shade, she didn't say anything.

“Woah, it seems like we have a contender for the role of Pelican Town’s resident vampire, Seb!”

He rolled his eyes. “Just because I wear black hoodies and don’t like people doesn’t make me a vampire, Sam. And I already told you that last night I was finishing a commision.”

“Whatever you say, emo boy,” Abigail arched an eyebrow and turned to the newcomer. “What’s your excuse, not-vampire?” She made a gesture to her whole gothic get-up.

“Um, I’m allergic to sunlight. For real!” she laughed at the disbelieving faces. “It’s a real thing, look it up!”

“Then why become a farmer?”

This time Liz rolled her eyes. “I should have expected the question. It isn’t like Robin and Lewis asked that already.” She sighed. “It seemed like the right thing to do, you know? I was tired of being a nobody, of being lonely around so many people, and wanted a real human connection.”

“That’s deep, tho.”

“But if you are allergic to the sun, how do you do farmer stuff? At night?” the blond asked, one eye fixed on his best friend getting closer and closer to Liz, drinking up the shade from the parasol like a starving man.

“There’s this new invention called “sunblock”. Don’t know if you heard of it?” Liz smirked. “And my problem is direct sunlight. I burn if it touches me, but for the rest…” she shrugged.

Sebastian yawned, feeling his eyes close. Why was he even awake? Ah, yeah, Sam wanted to practise in case the Mayor let them play at the festival.

“If we aren’t going to get any practising today then I’m going home. I need my beauty sleep.”

“Oh, sorry. I must get going too. I had some business to attend,” Liz smiled. “Nice talking with you guys.” She walked away, waving with one hand.

Sebastian didn’t whine when the sun hit his face. Uh-huh. He didn’t miss her calming and fresh presence and very wide and very convenient parasol.

Okay, maybe a little. The hoodie was starting to feel a bit too hot for the sunny spring day.

“She’s perfect,” the blond said watching the farmer go.

“Huh?”

“For you dude! You guys make a super cute goth couple! Ask her out already!”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Liz! The farmer! You were making heart eyes at her all this time! Don’t deny it, I saw everything.”

“I saw it too,” Abigail nodded, “and the goth gods are smiling at you today, dude.”

He narrowed his eyes. It was way too early for this bullshit.

“I didn’t make heart eyes. And she is weird, that’s all.”

“Yeah right,” both friends snorted. “Whatever you say.” Sam shook his head.

“Look, we can practise or I can go home. Last chance.”

“Ok! Ok! Calm down Romeo, we’ll practise. And then you can go back to your coffin and sleep some more.”

***

Had he told them something? Didn’t he? He did, he totally did. That question didn’t come from nowhere. It couldn’t.

She was prepared to tell some bullshit about an allergy to sunlight, she had looked up the name for it (something very latin-sounding and technical that for the life of her she couldn’t remember); but it wasn’t a coincidence to be asked that barely hours after slipping like that. Or was it?

Sebastian didn’t look half alive either, and his interactions were rather minimal. She heard something about him not getting any sleep. Liz assumed it had to do with how awkward she had been. Oh my.

Calm down! She told herself. Panicking wouldn’t solve anything, no.

She had to go buy new seeds, for sure. That’s why she had went through all the trouble of covering her skin with sunblock, after all.

Pierre’s was small and it barely had any variety of products, but she preferred the homey sensation and the small town friendliness over the cold treatment at Joja’s. Since learning about the store in town she avoided it like the plague.

She fetched her seeds and approached the counter, adding a last-minute sandwich to help the illusion of being a normal human being. One was never too cautious about that.

***

Sebastian was ready to drop dead in his bed and sleep until tomorrow, for real. After a heated argument with Lewis they were allowed “only a few songs, but nothing inappropriate!” for the egg festival, and then Sam insisted on sitting down and choose which songs to play and then start practising on them.

The sun was starting to set by the time he got home, his mind focused on his cold basement and his bed, heaven on Earth.

What he didn’t expect was finding her sleeping in his house. Well, she was more like dozing on the sofa at the entrance, by his mother’s desk, but here she was - looking as dead as he felt. Bags under her eyes, the purple so dark it looked like it was tattooed on her skin.

Not knowing what to do, he postponed his escape to sacred grounds and looked for his mother at the kitchen, who was calmly drinking her tea as she prepared dinner.

“Why is the farmer sleeping in our house?”

“Huh?” Robin turned slightly, a small smile in her face. “We were talking about expanding the cottage and she fell asleep waiting while I checked something. I thought she looked cute so I let her.”

Cute? More like a walking corpse.

He must said so out loud, because his mother chuckled as she kept stirring something in the pot. “She reminds me of you, actually. You both work so hard at the cost of your health.”

“Don’t know what you are talking about.” He huffed, crossing his arms. First his friends and now his mother? They barely knew her, how could they know what was she like?

“Whatever,” he could practically hear her rolling her eyes. “Could you wake her up? I’m almost done here.”

“She’s staying for dinner?”

“She will, when you invite her to.”

Sebastian rose his arms to the sky, wondering why he got the short stick in life. “Sure.”

Liz was sleeping in the same position he left her in, and he wondered how to wake her. He didn’t want to be rude, for real, but he didn’t know her enough to be comfortable touching her without her knowing. He sighed, not really wanting to be caught looking at the sleeping woman and seem like a creep.

“Hey,” he shook her shoulder. She didn’t move. “Hey, you.” He shook harder. Nothing.

Why? he asked the heavens, getting closer to her, deciding how to make his next move, when the farmer inhaled deeply.

“Hmm,” he heard her murmur before her unexpectedly strong arms seized his shoulders. Her face got closer, and he could barely see her eyes still shut as her head positioned somewhere between his neck and his shoulder. “Smells nice.”

He shivered, feeling her warm breath caress his uncovered skin, wondering what the hell was going on. Then, something hot and wet touched him. A tongue. He knew what it was.

Oh hell, no!

“Hey!” he tried to get free, but her grasp was like iron. “Let me go!” he hissed.

“Yummy, yummy…”

He closed his eyes, dreading whatever was going to happen. His heart raced with adrenaline, but his body was frozen in place, knowing it was useless to try escaping her hands. Her breath hit his wet skin, and then something sharp and solid touched it -

“Sebby, what’s going on in there?” Robin’s voice cut through the haze like a knife, stopping his racing mind as well as the woman assaulting him in her sleep.

Fingers that one second ago felt like claws gripping his shoulders let him go. He heard a gasp and opened his eyes, finding her dark eyes of the farmer looking back at him. For a split second they were like -

“Sebby?”

Both turned to look at Robin, Sebastian taking a step back, his heart beating louder than Abby’s drums.

“Everything alright?” His mom asked, a small smirk in her lips indicating that she thought something of the situation way different than what really happened. “Did you ask her?”

“Ask me what?” Liz’s voice was rough, but sounded calmer than she looked.

“If you want to stay for dinner!”

The farmer stood up abruptly. “I’m afraid I can’t. I have… I have some fish at home I don’t want to go bad. You know?” She took her closed parasol and went for the door. “Thanks for letting me rest here, Robin. Have a nice evening!”

The sound of the door closing was loud on Sebastian’s ears. He blinked, looking back at his mother.

“I’m not hungry. Save my plate and I’ll eat later, please.” And he run away to his basement, more confused than ever.

***

Stupid, stupid, and a thousand times stupid!

She had slipped again! In less than a day? Definitely not paying attention to her body had most certainly cost her only chance at happiness.

How could she? That poor boy! She almost bit him in broad daylight! In his own house! Oh yeah, she was utterly fucked.

Liz wanted to cry by the time she got home.

She looked at her few belongings, wondering if she should start packing up now or wait until people accused her of whatever and asked her “nicely” to leave the town. She had just started to gain some profits and she had to let it go so soon… Who would take care of her grandpa’s lands? The people were really nice, someone would-

Lestat meowed at her feet, unleashing a whole new wave of waterworks. Who would take care of her cat? Was his even “her” cat if she only had him less than a week? She hoped that whoever adopted him kept the name. Or not.

“Ugh,” she let her body collapse at the door, pulling up her legs to rest her head on her knees. “I should have slept in today.” It was a bad idea to go out today, the seeds could have waited one day more or she could have talked with Robin another day. She knew that she only pushed herself so far because she didn’t want to go through practically bathing in sunblock again so soon.

How silly it seemed now. Her own stubbornness and overconfidence put her in this position. Crying in fetal position against her door, waiting for the pitchforks and torches, real or figurative.

A knock at her door brought her back to reality. Showtime.

She got up and cleaned her face as best as she could. One wasn’t chased out of a town looking like a mess.

Once she felt like she could face an angry mob, she opened her door and… Sebastian was there? Liz looked around waiting for the rest of the group to appear, but it was dark and silent. A normal Stardew Valley night.

“Um, hello?” the boy in front of her said. She looked back at him, frowning.

“Where’s the rest?”

“The rest of what?”

Liz blinked slowly. “The rest of the people who knows I almost attacked an innocent man? And is here to ask me to leave?” her voice went higher with each word.

Sebastian snorted. “I haven’t told anyone that you are not human, don’t worry. Can I come in now?”

“Oh, I see, that’s nice- Wait what?”

He got tired of waiting and walked around her to get inside. Once in the small cottage, he approached the tiny table and put a container on it.

“Mom made you dinner anyway. She asked me to deliver it to you. But I guess you won’t eat it because you are a vampire.”

Liz turned, her mouth wide open. “How do you know that?”

“You just confirmed it,” his smile was tired, but brilliant.

“Oh, fuck.”

Sebastian flopped down on the only chair by the table, and rested his head on his hand, watching the farmer with a knowing smile.

“So, what is a vampire doing in Stardew Valley?”

“Farmer stuff, I guess.”

“And was that old man really your grandfather?”

“Not by blood, but we were close friends.”

“I see. Do you really burn in the sun?”

“As I told your friend, I can’t be under direct sunlight. And I use sun cream.” She blinked at the quasi-normal interview. “Excuse me, when is the moment you start to freak out?”

“I already did some of that. An hour ago. When you almost bit me. Because that’s what happened, right?” he gulped. “You almost bit me.”

She took a deep breath.

“Yeah. I, uh… I couldn’t sleep last night, you know?” she looked down, a bit ashamed. “And I guess you were really close and um, human blood is really tasty, not like animal, that’s just, ugh, and then I was dreaming about something nice and-”

“Do vampires sleep?”

“This isn’t Twilight. Please. And I don’t sparkle either.” She narrowed her eyes.

They both looked at each other for a few awkward seconds before starting to laugh. It was silly, Liz thought, to be talking normally like that after having a mental breakdown because of this same boy.

Oh, well.

“So… not freaking out? We good?” maybe she showed a bit of her fangs in her smile. Maybe.

“Yeah, we good. Surprisingly enough, it helps knowing that you aren’t just some weirdo.” He blushed and looked down, his face partially blocked by his hair. “And I guess it is pretty hot.”

Of course you would, you emo fuck

***

That night, once Sebastian got home, ate dinner and collapsed on his bed, he felt like waking up from a dream.

The farmer. She was… nicer than he thought. Once they cleared the stupid but necessary questions out of the way (no coffin, no aversion to garlic, yes to needing blood, no to killing people, a “you don’t ask a lady her age” and a “rude” to asking about religion) they simply chilled at her home, talking about everything and anything. It turned out that she liked the same branch of fantasy than him, even if she sometimes succumbed to cheesy romance novels full of porn; she had played some D&D before, but had heard about Solarion Chronicles (he invited her to the next session nonetheless); and she had tried her hand at piano for a while until she got bored a few decades ago.

He inhaled, remembering her dark eyes and her shiny black hair, how the light got caught in weird angles making it look like it had silver highlights sometimes. How she smiled when he confessed about his obsession with vampirism in his teenage years, how her laugh was contagious when she told the tale of how to get an annoying neighbour to move out by making her believe her house was haunted.

Oh, my. He had caught feelings.

Sebastian put a hand over his eyes, unable to stop the thoughts coming to his brain. How soft and huggable she looked. How she could fit perfectly in his arms, if he dared. How her soft hair would feel between his fingers. How her breasts bounced when she plopped down by the bed, complaining about not having enough chairs.

Yes, he had looked. Respectfully, though.

Who was he kidding? He was totally looking at her chest.

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