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oreoambitions · 1 year

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The thing about Lena, Kara thinks to herself as she strolls down Main Street with her hands shoved in her pockets, is that she wants to seem tough. That's the problem in a nutshell. And anyone else here in Midvale would tell you that it's just a city thing, that all the city kids want to seem tough, that Lena is no exception, but Kara doesn't think that's true. Well, okay, she knows it's true. But with Lena, it's something else. Something deeper. Something maybe related to the way that Lena has withdrawn into herself day by day as Midvale has begun to dress itself up for the holidays.

But Kara can do I'm-so-tough. She can do I-hate-Christmas, and she can do I-don't-believe-in-fun because at this time of the year she can do anything and get through to anyone. A little bit of light, a little bit of magic... maybe a little bit of love. That's how Christmas goes, right? Especially in a place like Midvale.

Kara likes to think of Midvale as a postcard town: the kind of town folks are only ever passing through on their way up and down the coast, a scenic detour, a cozy place to spend the night or just the afternoon before you move along. It's a place where time seems to have come to a standstill or at least a crawl, where it was a big deal when the first (and only) Starbucks opened, where nothing at all is open after 8pm, and you'd be hard pressed to run any errands on a Sunday, and you'd better not let Mrs. Nal catch you doing anything untoward or you can expect you'll be the topic of every conversation in or out of church for the next week or so at least. Kara would know; she's been the talk of the town on more than one occasion.

But these last several weeks the talk of the town has been the young woman who pulled up one evening in a car worth probably more than every vehicle on Main Street put together and strolled into the aforementioned Starbucks in a beat up hoodie sporting red rimmed eyes and trembling hands to ask the barista whether possibly anyone had a spare phone cable. She didn't want to bother anyone, only she'd left Metropolis in a hurry and forgotten hers and without GPS she didn't have any idea where she might stop to purchase one. She'd slid a hundred dollar bill across the counter as payment for the manager's beat up old charger and rolled right back out of town before anyone could tell her just how far from home she was.

Only then she'd rolled back into town some six hours later and booked herself into the bed and breakfast. And then she hadn't left.

The Danvers have assured Kara that in all the years Eliza and Jeremiah have run the bed and breakfast, and all the years Jeremiah's parents ran it before that, stretching back all the dusty decades since Midvale was founded, they have never had a longterm guest, no sir. It has simply never happened before. Kara doubts the veracity of such a statement but it has been delivered to her with all the solemn weight of sacred fact, and so she's taken it in stride - something which Alex seems to have found suspicious. And, true, on another occasion Kara might have been found elbow deep in records on a personal mission to prove that Jeremiah has pulled this particular historical "factoid" from some place the sun don't shine, but, well, she's been a little distracted these past weeks. Distracted by sad green eyes and coy smiles and the overwhelmingly mysterious circumstances that have delivered Lena directly into Kara's home.

Unfortunately Eliza has strictly forbidden Kara from asking the hundred and one questions perpetually on the tip of her tongue, and Kara's objections that she's twenty four now and she'll ask her questions if she so pleases haven't actually outweighed the sense that, at least where Eliza is concerned, she ought to do as she's told. So she's restrained herself. And as the weeks have gone by, she and Lena have fallen into an amicable, if not entirely comfortable, routine.

Kara serves Lena breakfast in the dining room with the other guests at precisely 8:15 every morning: two poached eggs with avocado on a thick slice of Winn's sourdough bread, a cup of coffee (black, diluted with hot water), and a side of roasted vegetables (no potatoes). Every morning Lena invites Kara to join her at the table, though Kara only does so when there are no other guests around to serve. They eat - together or not - in a silence broken only by small talk and the occasional lingering gaze when one catches the other looking until, at precisely 9:15, Lena excuses herself to seek out Eliza and enquire after the availability of another night's lodging. She pays in cash, one day at a time, without fail. She and Kara see one another again on the stairs, Kara on her way out to work a shift at the library and Lena on her way back up to her room. A small smile passes between them, affectionate and familiar, and Kara thinks perhaps... But no, the moment has passed and they've gone their separate ways for another day.

Kara has resolved that this pattern will not repeat itself again. Not now, not when Midvale is draped in heavy golds and greens, when the smell of Christmas pastry is wafting through the streets, when the trickle of seasonal tourists is threatening to become a thunder which will by necessity pry Kara's attention away. Not now when Lena is withdrawing further and further, when those lingering glances at breakfast seem to be few and far between, and it seems the onslaught of Christmas cheer is threatening to drive Lena out of Midvale altogether. If Kara is going to get through to her, today is the day.

She swings into J'onn's diner with a determined expression, sidestepping the younger Arias who has eyes these days only for her iphone and not so much for where she's going. J'onn is predictably behind the counter; Kara isn't sure he's taken a day away from the diner in all the time she's known him.

"I need two to go mugs of Bad Day Danvers Brew," she tells him. "It's urgent."

He plops two large paper cups down onto the counter almost before she's done asking. "I thought your sister was on duty tonight."

"She was. Is. It's not- It's for me."

"I don't suppose this has anything to do with a certain green eyed young lady from out of town."

It's not really a question the way J'onn says it but Kara somehow still feels pressured to answer. She flushes, turns away, scans the room. The dinner rush hasn't quite arrived. J'onn bustles about behind the counter without further comment, though he does arch an accusatory brow when Kara meets his eyes again.

"You do know," he says as he slides the drinks across the counter, "She's going to leave this place. She may not be ready yet, but the day is coming."

Kara frowns at him. "Leave is a four letter word."

"L - e - a -"

"You know what I mean."

"Maybe you should consider it too. Whole world out there waiting for you, Little Danvers. Seems a shame not to go out and see it."

Kara thinks for a moment of this world as she saw it first: a little marble hanging in a black sea, so fragile and small, so far away from home. Midvale is home now, and she'll be damned if she's going to leave it behind. She forces a smile for J'onn's sake.

"I'm right where I'm supposed to be," she says. She tries to pay him for the drinks. As he has a hundred times before, he turns her money away. Kara slips the cash into the tip jar on her way out the door.

When she gets home it's to the smell of apple pies bubbling in the oven and the sound of some old 50's Christmas record playing almost too loud for Jeremiah's battered old bluetooth speaker and hardly loud enough to compete with Jeremiah himself. Kara creeps up the stairs two at a time, one Bad Day Danvers Brew clutched in either hand, quiet quiet quiet. If Eliza catches her she'll try to put her to work and Kara isn't sure she can explain exactly what she means when she says she's too "busy" right now to help out.

She occupies herself with that thought, thinking up excuses for Eliza, each one more improbable than the last, and then she finds herself standing in front of Lena's door. She feels suddenly grimy, foolish, clumsy. What she hasn't considered in all her planning for this moment is that with both hands occupied she can hardly knock on Lena's door, and with her heart pounding an urgent rhythm in her chest and her body trembling with something that is distinctly not fatigue Kara doesn't trust herself to tuck one of the drinks into the crook of her arm.

So she does what any sane person would do: she kicks the door. Gently. As gently as she possibly can, but it still feels brutish and Kara winces as the sound of it tumbles down the hall to clash with Jeremiah's crooning and the roar of the vacuum cleaner in the foyer. Grimy, foolish, clumsy. But then the door swings open and all such thoughts fall from Kara's mind.

She has words picked out for this moment but they don't come to her. Lena stands in the doorway in jeans and a cardigan and socks that have bumble bees on them and Kara feels like she needs just a moment but the moment is already passing. Green eyes search hers, curious, bemused. Kara wants to reach out and tuck that stray lock of hair away, but-

The drinks. Right. "I brought refreshments," she says, proferring the paper cups. "For us," she adds, in case it isn't clear.

Lena reaches out for one of the cups, hesitant, then pries the lid off to take a whiff. "Hot chocolate?"

Kara wants to melt on the spot but she sticks to her guns. "It's special hot chocolate," she clarifies. This is not how this conversation was supposed to go. She had this exchange all planned out, there were contingencies, it was all perfect and here she is muddying it all up. "I was thinking maybe we could go out tonight."

"Like on a date?"

Oh, Rao. Kara's eyes drops to Lena's mouth without her say so and then they travel a little further south to the line of that cardigan and she swallows. "No," she forces out, "like on a walk?"

There's a long pause and then Lena laughs. "You're really very charming, Danvers," she says, and Kara feels an unexpected thrill at the sound of her last name in Lena's mouth. "Let me just get my sweater."

"You're already-" Kara starts, but the door clicks shut before she can finish. "Wearing a sweater," she mumbles to herself.

Lena emerges some minutes later, just when Kara is beginning to get fidgety. She's thrown on a hoodie which is perhaps a size too big and a pair of converse rather the worse for wear and Kara isn't sure what she was expecting but it wasn't this. Which is not to say that she doesn't like it. Lena licks her lips and fixes Kara with a pointed look.

"There is whisky in that hot chocolate," she says.

Kara shrugs. "I did say it was special."

They make it down the stairs and out of the bed and breakfast without Eliza noticing, though Kara is all but certain Jeremiah saw them leave together and will have Questions with a capital Q about it later. The sun is just now sinking below the horizon as the two of them turn down Main Street, ducking around Mr. Schott who is occupying most of the sidewalk with a rickety old ladder in an attempt to install another strand of lights above the toy store window. Already the street lamps bear oversized red bows and long, heavy pine garlands, and it will be only a matter of days now before every storefront from here to the edge of town is bright and warm and magical. Kara takes it all in with a growing smile. Lena takes it in with an expression that borders on an outright scowl.

"So are we going anywhere in particular?" Lena asks. They duck around a knot of visitors asking after a table at the brewery and for an instant Kara is almost certain she feels Lena's fingers brush hers.

"We are," Kara admits. And then, because she doesn't want to give away their destination, she adds, "You don't like Christmas."

Lena grimaces and takes a long sip of the Bad Day Danvers Brew. "I wouldn't say that I don't like Christmas."

"But?"

"But I've never been festive. And this year..."

Kara's mind fills in the words that Lena doesn't say: This year it's hard. Hard to see the joy and the magic and the laughter all around when you're alone and far from home. Well, Kara knows a thing or two about that. She takes a sip of her own drink and, resolutely, carefully, looking straight ahead, she reaches out to touch Lena's hand, so gentle it could have been an accident.

"This year you have me," Kara says. She's shocked the line comes out of her mouth as smoothly as it does. Her heart is so far up her throat she almost fears she'll choke on it.

Lena steps in closer until Kara swears she can feel the heat radiating between them even through both of Lena's sweaters and her own Christmas flannel. They walk in silence for a block or so, shoulders bumping once in a while, before Lena asks, "Do you have any favorite holiday traditions?"

Kara shrugs. "I like the carols. Jeremiah and I always go out caroling on Christmas eve. Oh! And the cookies. Pie for breakfast on Christmas morning."

Lena laughs at that. "Pie for breakfast? Lilian - my step mother - she'd have a fit."

"Well you can have pie with us this year if you want; I promise not to tell Lilian a thing. If you're still hanging around."

Lena looks at her sharply and then looks away, leaving Kara to feel silent and small and a little rejected. But Lena touches Kara's wrist as they move through the crowd and then, when Kara doesn't pull away, she takes her hand.

"Christmas is always an important social event for my family," Lena says. She glances at Kara as if to check that she's listening and then away again so quickly that Kara almost wonders if she imagined it. "Everything has to be perfect. The food, the decorations, the music. The family. And it's beautiful, really. Imagine a pine tree towering up to the very rafters, all the ornaments carefully curated and arranged, and a cellist flown in from Italy perches in the corner playing O Come Emmanuel while the city's elite pass through pretending to enjoy bite sized Christmas pastries prepared overnight by a team flown in from France. I suspect it would feel magical if it weren't so much work. It's hard to enjoy the magic when you're a part of it. Especially as a child."

Kara frowns. Her fingers tighten around Lena's, tugging her ever forward towards the Christmas tree in the center of town. She's thinking of Krpyton, of a perfect family, a perfect people, and a perfect world crumbling under the veneer. But she can't say that to Lena, so she flashes her a bright smile instead and says, "In Midvale, everyone who wants to gets to put an ornament on the town tree."

"Everyone? That doesn't seem practical. There have to be, what, at least a thousand people living here."

Kara nods. "Yeah. Not everyone participates, but most people. And of course that means the tree isn't curated like your family's, but it's got a special kind of magic to it. The kind you get when you aren't trying to make magic follow the rules."

There is a sort of comedic timing, as this is the moment Kara steps over the low fence with the sign that reads "do not walk on the grass" and tugs a protesting Lena after into the shade - or, in this case, the light - of the Midvale tree.

"Rules," Lena is saying, "Generally exist for a reason, and when you break them willy nilly you don't get magic, you get chaos. It's important to- Wait, is this your Christmas tree?"

"Yep," Kara says. She reaches out to press a hand to the trunk and then stares up at the tiny golden lights wound among the branches with care, ornaments dangling here and there, some homemade and some not. She's definitely not supposed to get this close to it but, well, it's Alex on duty tonight and she doubts her sister is about to arrest her for trying to make a move on a pretty girl. "This is the one."

"But it's an oak tree," Lena observes. She steps up beside Kara to touch the trunk.

"Couple hundred years old, or so they told us in middle school," Kara says. "She's a gorgeous tree, isn't she? Not a pine and not perfect, but. Our own kind of magic." Then she grimaces. "Sorry; I'm being terribly cheesy right-"

"Did you know that mistletoe often grows in the California oak?" Lena interrupts.

Kara falters. She did know that, but this tree is carefully tended. No mistletoe here. She opens her mouth to say so when Lena holds up a finger to stop her again.

"To be perfectly clear I'm suggesting that we kiss here under this tree. Because you're charming and a little over the top and I hate that I love your Christmas flannel and I would very much like to have pie with you on Christmas morning. So if you'd like we can pretend there's mistletoe in the Midvale Christmas tree. It would be a very reasonable mistake; mistletoe really does grow on-"

Kara kisses her. The surprised gasp that falls from Lena's lips almost makes her laugh, but this is a serious moment so she tries to keep it in. She's got only one hand to work with - the other is still holding her Bad Day Danvers Brew - so she slides it around Lena's waist to pull her closer, and it's her turn to gasp when Lena tilts her head to slide her tongue along Kara's bottom lip.

Someone on the sidewalk cheers, and that is when Lena drops her drink. And then they do laugh together there under the tree, spiked hot chocolate splattered over the bottom of Lena's pants, Kara pressing her own drink into Lena's hands, and the sound of Mrs. Nal nearby screeching about public indecency while James tells her to go suck an egg. The two of them will be the talk of the town for weeks. Certainly through New Years. Kara doesn't think she minds.

#this is a repost #but I can't find my original post to repost it #so #here you go #xmas #ficlet #supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #xmas au

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freneticfloetry · 2 months

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from the bottom of my heart

So it turns out the presentation was so extra it was too large to upload to Slides, and the best I could do was export it as a video. His ass literally wouldn't fit on Google.

Either way, please enjoy this visual ode to TK Strand (and yes, his bottom).

And please note that this was created for shits, giggles, and @hoko-onchi-writes, and is in no way intended to praise or condemn any pitching or catching preference. All opinions are my own. In other words, don't @ me, it's not that serious.

#tk strand #911 lone star #this is a repost #I credited an artist incorrectly in the original and absolutely had to fix it (sorry may!)#and tumblr broke the old post #(if you reblogged the first one feel free to do this one instead!)#(also huge thanks to the talented gif artists who made this possible — sorry i mined everything saved on my phone and had no names to list)#and yes i know i forgot the mri scene #arguably the finest tk ass of the series so far #frankly this is an outrage #shame on me #bottoms up

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gojot-t · 2 months

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You remember the first time that you brushed Suguru's hair was during a film marathon on your doom.

Satoru and Shoko are already sleeping and the film was long forgotten. He had taken his hair out of its usual bun, the strands falling down his shoulders in such a pretty way that you almost thought it was unfair, before looking at you and giving you the kindest smile you had ever seen in your life. "Want to do it?", was all he needed to ask.

At that time, you thought your heart would come out of your mouth. Face hot with embarrassment and hands shaking, every time your fingers ran through the soft strands, the smell of his shampoo entered your nose.

At the end of the night, as he laid his face on your shoulder, soft breaths on your neck making your skin shiver, he chuckled lightly at how quickly your heart was beating before whispering a soft "Goodnight." Just for you, with the intimacy of two lovers. You knew you were lost in love with the man.

After that, It became common for you to exchange touches and glances while no one was looking, like two silly teenagers in love.

But you think the most memorable one was during the summer of the second year. The boys had just arrived from a mission and something was off. You didn't know the details of what had happened, only that the vessel that was going to merge with Master Tengen had been murdered before that could happen.

“Riko.” Was all Suguru said when he came back, bruised and with dried blood clinging on him. “Her name was Riko.”

You don't know how to describe it, but at that moment, with eyes so dark and out of shine, he seemed to have lost something that would never come back to him.

Since then he is no longer your usual Suguru. Even though his presence was right there, you know that his mind was somewhere else far away, drowning in a spiral that you weren't sure you could save him from.

You realized things couldn't stay like this anymore when you found him sitting on one of the benches at Jujutsu High, looking down and wet hair dripping onto his white t-shirt. So distracted that he didn't even notice you until you sat down next to him, knees lightly brushing his.

“Suguru… Are you fine?” You already know what he's going to answer.

“Yes, just thinking a bit, that's all.”

You try to meet his eyes, but he avert his gaze away, the same hair you loved so much now served as a curtain over his eyes, distancing the two of you. Your heart breaks at the thought.

“Suguru…” you had thought a lot about how to comfort him, what to say, but now all the words seemed to escape you. Tongue stuck between your teeth, you wanted to scream at him, that you were here, to share his pains and sufferings with you, that he should never be afraid of being judged by you because you would love and kiss even the ugliest parts of him.

“...Your hair is still wet." Is what you tell him.

You stand up and your hand finds his, leading him to your room. He doesn't say a word the entire way, not even when you comb and dry his hair, with the delicacy of something fragile, as if he would break at the slightest touch.

He kissed your forehead when you finished.

That night you slept together for the first time, clinging to each other like it was all you had, his fingers marking your skin where they held, as if you were his rescue anchor and he would be lost far away if you let go. Not once did either of you complain or move.

So when days later you receive the news that he has disappeared after murdering his parents and an entire village, you're not quite sure how to react. It's as if the ground beneath your feet has disappeared, falling into an endless fall. Your stomach turns and your head feels like it's going to explode, with so many thoughts but at the same time completely empty.

You almost told Yaga to stop lying, that it's not funny, but then he looks at you with so much pity that you feel like you're going to vomit. Satoru, next to you, slams his fist on the table so hard that the wood breaks. He looks almost sterile as he screams that he refuses to believe it, that Suguru would never do that. You've never seen him so vulnerable, raw emotions on his skin for all to see. Shoko leaves the room without saying a word.

Your suguru is a gentle soul, too gentle for this world and you know that better than anyone. He exchanged letters and bought flowers for his parents when he visited them, he gave up his seat on the subway to the pregnant lady no matter how tired he was, he smiled for you even when the taste of curses was so bitter in his mouth that it seemed to burn. He always gave his all to others, never asking for anything in return.

you know that's the problem, hell might freeze over before you can hate Suguru. Instead, you blame the world for not being fair to him, the superiors for treating everyone like soldiers just waiting to be slaughtered, and especially yourself.

No matter how much you wish you had done differently, insisted more that time, demonstrated more, asked more, the damage was already done and things would never be the same again. These thoughts were nothing more than “what ifs” now.

That night, Suguru's warmth in your bed seemed to haunt you and beneath all the anger and sadness, as much as you wanted to deny yourself, you felt disappointed, betrayed that he had left without you.

To stain every part of your life with his presence only to leave abruptly without even looking back or saying goodbye. He really is a cruel man, you think bitterly to yourself.

You wonder how you can get over the loss of someone who was still alive, if things would be easier if Suguru was dead. Because then there would be some explanation for why his classroom chair remained empty, why Shoko kept forgetting her lighter (he always carried one with him because he knows she always forgets), why Satoru still got his favorite soda from the vending machine. Because then wouldn't you have this hope that he would come back to you.

Because then, two weeks after he left you so selfishly, when you finished a mission in the most desolate part of the city and he appeared in front of you with his hand outstretched, you would have hesitated a little more, no matter how much your mind screamed at you to not do something you would regret, that nothing good could come of it, your heart had already made a decision long time ago.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader #this is a repost #bc tumblr turned off the reblogs

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pityslash · 1 year

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TW: villain deku, reader is called pretty + doll, enemies to lovers but not really, attempted murder (right?), obsession.

WHEN IS A MONSTER NOT A MONSTER?

you weren’t supposed to be here, he wasn’t supposed to be here. your blood went cold the second you heard the heavy footsteps from behind— you knew the reason he sought you out, he must have seen the news.

it was before midnight, dark clouds blocked the moon but you saw the glint in his eyes. before you could even think of running, he was already in front of you, arms wide open.

“ah-ah-ah, why do you wear such a face, doll, not excited to see me?” he cooed, noticing the way you avoid his gaze as you stumble over your words. “izuku, i—“

“this isn’t the way to make people love you.” he said, a hint of frustration in his voice. izuku had the most violent, uncontrolled temper that sent him insane when he was annoyed.

he had blood on his hands; now on yours, forcing you to look up as he towered over. “if you loved me then you wouldn’t have tried to betray me... you love me? say it.”

you flinch when he yanks on your wrist, rough as if you’ll pull away, fingers ran through your hair and your cheek fits right in the palm of his hand. “i.. love you, izuku.”

“and you want me to love you so bad, it makes you look stupid.” izuku says, leaning forward until you feel his breath. “how pathetic.”

you didn’t want to give up heroics but god, he was right. high off the smell of rain but you knew this had to end, you’d have to continue patrol like normal and he would disappear again without a trace.. just like promised.

“please,” you plead. there was a flicker of a smile, and his gaze never wavered. “please? oh, i love it when you say that.” izuku tipped your head upward.

your heart beat to the tune of don’t do it again do it again don’t do it again do it again as izuku made you look him in the eye before giving you what you wanted.

the kiss was anything but chaste, everything you’ve craved. he stole your breath away and left you desperate for more. izuku held you up when your knees wobbled, grabbing onto his shoulders.

“you’re mine,” he left trails of fire with every brush of skin and you wonder if he felt the sparks too, scared to ask so soon. “right?”

he was your enemy, so capable of breaking your heart and only you were to blame for it. he finally pulled away, deep marks on skin and your chest heaved, searching izuku’s face for something and it dawned on you.

“then say you’ll never lie to me again.” it was like something snapped, his voice was full of anger and frustration.

strong, murderous fingers were around your neck in a second, nails digging in and you couldn’t even catch a deep breath before it was forced out of your lungs.

izuku’s jaw clenched when you continue to struggle, tears in your eyes. it was a trick to make you stay, and it worked. your feet almost leave the ground as he oh-so easily held you over the edge. with city lights and traffic down below, you panic.

“i’m begging you—“ “are you?” izuku laughed at that, fondly even, and you tried to turn your face away but he loosened his grip as a warning. “but if you were begging, you’d be on your knees.”

you choked, shaking from the adrenaline and claw at his wrist as if your life depended on it. because it did. a chuckle escaped his lips, breaking his hard demeanor.

izuku midoriya was a mess of gorgeous chaos and you finally see it. “you look so pretty when you have that look in your eyes, doll.”

his hands were scarred with murder, but you still trusted them completely. even as they threatened to throw you off this building, to be a red mark on the pavement forgotten by tomorrow’s paper. you made him do this..“i love you! swear, i- i won’t lie to you ever again!”

izuku was silent for a moment. “i love you, too. i love you so, so much.” his voice was softer, slapping your tear stained cheek before throwing you back to safety.

“but remember, i’ll kill you if i have to.”

you continue to cough, sobbing, moving away from the villain you won’t ever be able to escape until you die by his hands.

WHEN YOU START TO LOVE IT.

#this is a repost #villain deku #izuku midoriya x reader #villain deku x reader #izuku x reader #reader x deku #deku x reader #mha x reader #bnha x you #my writing #tw dark content #izuku midoria x reader

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