when will maggie's feelings be validated

anonymous asked:

So...Can we please have a demisexual Maggie who's never been close enough to any of her girlfriends to develop sexual feelings for them but she's actually opening up with Alex and stuff and eventually realizes that she's actually reached that point for the first time in her life which leads to her and Alex sleeping together for the first time and it's all super emotional and shit. (My grandmother told me she wants me to see a therapist so I can "get over" being demi and I kinda need validation.)

She doesn’t panic when it’s just kissing.

Kissing is nice.

And kissing Alex Danvers is spectacular.

So she doesn’t panic when it’s just kissing.

She loves when it’s just kissing.

And Alex is aggressive in the way she starts things, the way she pulls Maggie into her body – at the bar, in her living room – and puts her lips on hers, but Alex always freezes, like she doesn’t quite know what to do next, like she’s on overload.

Like maybe, she’s like Maggie. Like maybe, she doesn’t know Maggie well enough yet to want to do anything more with her.

Anything more sexually, that is. Because god, does Maggie want to do everything else with Alex.

Late night pizza and Netflix, rainy morning yoga, kissing and cuddling until they fall asleep, shooting pool until Maggie finally can win, movies and books and science and the job.

Saving the world.

Together.

Maggie wants all of it, and apparently – to her perpetual disbelief, because how could someone so powerful, so gorgeous, want her? – Alex wants all that with her, too.

And it’s gradual.

It’s gradual, the way Maggie starts wanting different kinds of intimacy. With Alex.

Gradual, the way she realizes that she’s kissing her deeper, that her hands are slipping under Alex’s shirt, that Alex’s body is arching in response to her touch and her own body catches fire at the sound of Alex’s soft moans.

That she’s breathing her own moans into Alex’s parted lips.

And that’s when Maggie panics.

Because Alex is going to leave.

Maggie’s sure of it.

Because Alex has been teasing – a lot – about how inexperienced she is, about how much experience Maggie must have, how Maggie should feel free to give her kissing tips, touching tips, ladies-loving-ladies flash cards, whenever she wants.

But Alex has slept with men. Not that she loved it, or even liked it.

But Maggie? Maggie hasn’t slept with anyone.

She’s never… wanted to. She’s never felt close enough to anyone, never known someone enough to feel for someone else what she does to herself with her own hands, alone, when she needs to cum before falling asleep.

She’s never wanted to, not with anyone else, but with Alex?

God, with Alex, she’s starting to… to want everything.

But when Alex finds out? That Maggie’s just as inexperienced as Alex is, in some ways moreso, that she’ll probably be an emotional mess – not to mention a physical one – if they keep going in this direction, if they keep taking off each other’s shirts and touching each other over bras and panting at grinding their thighs between each other’s legs?

She’ll leave for sure.

Right? Because everyone leaves. Because Maggie drives everyone away.

“Whoa, whoa, hey, you alright? Did I hurt you?” Alex is asking, jolting her out of their kiss, her thoughts, her terrors, her fears. And, apparently, her shaking.

Alex’s eyes are wide, concerned, and Maggie knows, knows, that even though Alex is amazing, she’s going to think Maggie’s broken. Going to think Maggie needs to get over it. Going to think Maggie’s weird and unworthy and too much, and she should have her coming out affair with someone who can have sex with whomever, whenever.

“I want you,” Maggie chokes out in a whisper, and it’s the first time she’s ever said it to anyone, because getting herself off at night is one thing, but sleeping with another person is completely, completely another.

They’re the scariest three words she’s ever said, and Alex? Alex just smiles, strokes her hair, kisses her forehead.

“You have me,” she tells her, her voice at once a reassurance and a question.

Reassurance because she’s there, she’s there, she’s not going anywhere; a question because yes, yes, she wants her too, but why is that making her this scared?

“I want to have sex with you,” Maggie clarifies, tears in her eyes and her body on fire and her lungs barely working, and Alex’s breath hitches.

“Yeah? Good, because I um… I’ve been thinking about it. Wanting it. A lot. And I’ve been… researching a little, and I… I want to have sex with you, too. I… if you want. I mean, I know I’ve never done this with a woman, but – ”

“I’ve never done it at all.”

There’s silence and Maggie braces herself for goodbye, braces herself for laughter, braces herself for mockery and judgment and all the things that part of her brain, her heart – the parts that have let herself fall in love with Alex Danvers, the parts that have let herself want Alex Danvers – know Alex would never do. But she’s terrified, anyway.

Alex just cocks her head and squints and freezes slightly, but she blinks and she swallows and when she speaks, her voice is soft and her lips are twitching up into the same supportive smile Maggie wore when Alex stumbled her way out of the closet.

“God, you must think I’m such a jerk.”

Maggie blinks. If she was expecting any reaction, it wasn’t that. “What?”

“I’ve been teasing you this whole time about being so experienced, and I… I’m sorry, that must have made you so uncomfortable, I didn’t… I just assumed. I shouldn’t have. Maggie, I’m so sorry. But… can I ask you something?”

Maggie nods because something in her throat might be broken.

“Do you really want me, or do you just… are you just trying to give me something you think I want? And I mean I do. Want it. Want you. But only if you do.”

“No, I… I want… I want you. Alex. I… I’ve never… I don’t get attracted to people. Sexually. If I don’t… know them, if I don’t feel a certain way for them, I…”

She stammers off, because what kind of loser tells someone they love them before sleeping with them? How pathetic can she get?

But Alex’s eyes are light, are happiness, are reciprocal, and Alex’s touch is gentle, and Alex’s lips press against her own so slightly, so carefully, it’s like they’ve never kissed before but she wants to for the rest of her life.

“So you’re saying you like me? Enough to want me.”

“Danvers – ”

“Cause that works perfectly for me. Because I like you, too, Maggie Sawyer. Enough to want you.” Her eyes drag down Maggie’s body, slow and steady and hungry, but also… reverent, somehow. Maggie’s heart contorts into fireworks. “All of you.”

Maggie forgets what breathing is, and her heart’s never raced like this before, but Alex’s hands are warm and comforting on her cheeks, and god, does she want those hands all over her body.

“So take me. All of me.”

Alex grins like it’s Christmas morning – or maybe Chanukah, Maggie’s not sure what the equivalent would be, and makes a mental note to ask her later – and then all thought exhales out of Maggie’s body because Alex is up and Alex is tugging her up, too, and Alex is carrying her to bed, all the while kissing her, kissing her, kissing her like she’s oxygen, and she is, god, she is.

“Alex,” Maggie breathes as Alex lays her down, careful to put a pillow under her head, careful to not put all her weight on top of her, and Alex stops immediately, concern back in her eyes.

“Too much? I’m sorry, we can stop, or slow down, I’m sorry, I just… I’ve been wanting to do this,” she husks, her eyes again raking down Maggie’s body, like they did after she first kissed her in the bar, and the path of her eyes ignites heat in Maggie’s core that no one’s ever made her feel before and no, no, no, it’s not too fast.

Because it’s not fast enough.

“Kiss me,” she begs, and Alex grins again, and Alex complies, and Maggie shifts so her thigh is between Alex’s legs, and Alex tosses her head back and she moans and she looks down into Maggie’s eyes like she’s the entire universe, because she is.

“You are so beautiful,” she says, and one of her hands traces up Maggie’s shirt. “I want… I want to feel your skin. On mine.”

Maggie nods and Alex slips off her, shucking off her own shirt and watching as Maggie does the same, watching as Maggie arches her hips off the bed and tugs down her jeans as Alex kneels and mirrors the action.

“Wait,” Maggie asks as Alex reaches for her own bra clasp, eyes still on Maggie’s. “May I?”

“Yeah.” Alex voice is ragged and wrecked and Maggie imagines hers sounds about the same.

She gasps softly when Alex’s bra slips down her shoulders, and Alex bites her lip.

“Don’t be nervous, you… you’re perfect, Alex. You are so fucking gorgeous.”

“Can I?” is all Alex says in response, nodding at Maggie’s chest, and it’s Maggie’s turn to bite her own lip, because her heart is slamming so damn hard but she nods because yes, yes, yes, please.

Alex smirks when she unhooks Maggie’s bra in one try, and Maggie scowls but gives a laugh that turns into an excited gasp when Alex leans back down on top of her, both now wearing nothing but their underwear, Maggie in boxers, Alex in boyshorts.

The difference in the heat between their legs without their jeans; the difference between being shirtless and topless; the difference between being nearly naked and mostly clothed, makes both of them freeze, makes both of them stare, makes both of them shake.

“I love you,” Maggie breathes at the same moment that Alex says the same, and Alex drops her forehead to Maggie’s as they both giggle, as they both exhale in shaky relief, as tears prick both of their eyes.

“May I… I want to make love to you, Alex.”

“Yeah, same.”

“Good then.”

They have to stop every few moments, every few touches, to catch their breath. To avoid hyperventilating with excitement, with nerves, with new sensations, with overwhelming need. And each time they do, they kiss; each time they do, they stare into each other’s eyes; each time they do, they ask if the other needs to stop;  each time they do, they giggle slightly with relief, with shared nerves, shared excitement, shared exhilaration; each time they do, they press their foreheads together and breathe. Just breathe.

When their need to have skin on skin outweighs their fears, outweighs their nerves, so that they’re completely naked, Alex freezes, and Maggie freezes, and Alex holds most of her weight up on her left arm while interlacing her right hand through Maggie’s fingers.

“All good?”

“This feels perfect. You?”

“I want you so bad.”

“So do something about it instead of talking about it, Danvers.”

They both giggle at that, but Alex swallows their soft laughter in the ferocity of her next kiss, her eagerness to live up to Maggie’s teasing challenge.

Her teeth graze Maggie’s throat, her tongue traces her collarbone, her lips claim one of her nipples. Maggie screams and Alex pauses, and a tear streams down Maggie’s cheek and Alex crawls up to kiss it, to kiss her, before Maggie shakes her head and pushes her head back down.

“Please don’t get all soft on me now, Danvers,” she teases, and Alex grins wickedly instead of pointing out that Maggie’s crying – it would be a useless argument, because she’s got tears in her own eyes, too – and she occupies herself again with Maggie’s breasts, knowing that yep, yep, yep, she’s definitely gay, and she’s definitely gone completely soft on this woman.

She slips one of her thighs between Maggie’s legs tentatively, and when Maggie lets out a gasp that’s more of a scream, she freezes again, but Maggie just raises one of her own legs so Alex has pressure between hers, too. And it’s Alex’s turn to gasp, to scream, and they keep their eyes locked as Maggie arches her hips up, as Alex arches her hips down, each riding the other’s thigh slow, soft, frictionless.

Frictionless, because, “Damn Danvers, you’re so wet,” and “Never for anyone but you, Sawyer,” and “Same, Alex. Same.”

They arch their hips harder, faster, both of Alex’s hands now holding Maggie’s down against the mattress, fingers interlaced, Maggie nodding constantly to let Alex know yes, yes, yes, and when the muscles in Alex’s back tense with her orgasm, she screams Maggie’s name and her eyes squeeze shut and that image, that sound, that feeling of how wet Alex is all over Maggie’s thigh, that feeling of Alex’s body hot and sweating and firm on top of her, of Alex’s leg between hers, giving her all the pressure in all the right places, sends Maggie over her own edge, with Alex’s name on her own lips, but softly, softly, softly, sending up a perfect harmony with Alex’s louder screams.

“Maggie,” Alex whispers as they both come back down, as she untangles their fingers and lifts her body to make sure she doesn’t collapse her entire weight onto Maggie’s, resting her forehead on Maggie’s collarbone, breathing, breathing, breathing.

“Was that okay?” she asks, and it’s tears, not just sweat, on Maggie’s face.

And, she realizes with a start, on her own, too.

“More than okay, Danvers. You?”

“Yeah. Definitely yeah. Uh… was that something you’d… wanna do again?”

“With you, Alex? Definitely yeah.”

Don’t ever thinking about Alex Danvers listening to Sleepover by Hayley Kiyoko now and realizing that’s the representation she needed when she was a teenager.

Don’t you ever thinking about Maggie getting home and finding Alex crying over a music video. But when she asks what happened, Alex says she’s crying of happiness because, even if she already accepted she’s gay, this was the final piece for her puzzle, the validation she needed to accept all those repressed feelings for her former best friend as something real.

anonymous asked:

Would you write NB Alex having sex with Maggie for the first time since coming out?

They haven’t had sex since Alex came out.

Not that Maggie hasn’t wanted to. God, has she wanted to.

And not that Alex hasn’t wanted to. God, have they wanted to.

But their fear’s been outweighing their need, and Maggie reminds them every day that she’s here, that she’s not going anywhere, that Alex is the one she wants, the only one, no matter what – “ride or die doesn’t exclude pronouns, Danvers” – but every time they kiss, Alex feels Maggie holding back.

So every time they kiss, Alex feels like Maggie’s just being nice to them, just sticking around until Alex is secure enough with this whole coming out part two thing to be fine on their own.

“Do you not want me?” they splutter on the couch one night, a week or so into binding – only on some days, only in some moods – a few weeks or so after the haircut, a month or so after starting to come out.

“I… what? Al, what are you – yes, of course I want you, I – ”

“You’ve been holding back. You’ve been… I don’t know, Maggie, I just feel like you’re not into me… physically… since…”

Their jaw sets and they look away and Maggie gasps softly and Maggie curses internally because of course, of course she’s fucked everything up again, of course she has.

“Alex, babe, no, that’s not… I’m sorry. Alex, look at me. Please? Al, I want you. I do. More than I ever have, I’m just… you are going through so much right now, with yourself, with your body, and I wanted to let you take the lead, I wanted to let show me what you want, in case what you want is different now, and it’s okay if it is, but I can’t know unless you tell me, unless you show me, so I held back and when you didn’t go forward, I just thought… I thought you weren’t ready. That you didn’t want to start having sex again yet, that… that you were still figuring things out.”

“So… so you do. Want me.” Their eyes are soft and vulnerable and hopeful, and god, yes, yes, yes, does Maggie want them.

“Alex Danvers, I can’t imagine myself ever not wanting you.”

Alex gulps and runs a hand through their newly shortened hair and takes a deep, long breath, eyes locked into Maggie’s.

“Then let me take you to bed.”

Maggie’s breath hitches and she nods and accepts Alex’s hand and chews on her lip watching Alex walk, watching Alex’s thumb caress the pad of her hand, watching Alex turn at the bed and look at her like they’ve never been quite this starving for anything before.

“Kiss me, Al?” Maggie asks, her voice so small, and Alex obliges with a sureness, a steadiness, that reminds Maggie of their very first kiss; with a sureness, a steadiness, that makes Maggie swoon in a way she wouldn’t allow herself to that first time in the bar.

Alex’s strong arms keep her standing and turn her around, even as they keep kissing her, even as their tongue slips past her open lips and they groan their relief into Maggie’s mouth.

“You wanna lay down for me?” they ask, their voice ragged and needy and everything Maggie wants to hear.

“Yeah,” she breathes and lays back on the bed, smiling when Alex, as always, rushes to make sure her head rests on the softest pillow.

“I missed your body,” Alex whispers, straddling her and staring down at her like she’s got nothing on even though she’s still in her henley and jeans.

“I’ve missed yours,” Maggie answers, and Alex stiffens.

“Al. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I meant… You tell me what you want, you show me. I’m not gonna ask to touch you wherever or however you don’t wanna be touched. And if you wanna be touched somewhere and then you change your mind, that’s okay. And if what we do tonight is different from what we do tomorrow night, that’s okay, too. I just want you, Alex. I want all of you, whatever you want to give me. And if you’re not sure, we’ll figure it out together. Okay?”

Alex swallows their relieved tears into a searing kiss that has Maggie whining and writhing underneath them, and Alex moans into her mouth, their hands pausing at the hem of Maggie’s shirt.

“Yes, please, please, please,” Maggie begs, and Alex grins as they lean back and tug Maggie into a sitting position, tugging her henley above her head and bringing their fingers to rest on the back of Maggie’s bra.

“Can I?” they ask, and the wrecked raggedness in their voice almost destroys Maggie, and she decides she never wants to be anything but ruined underneath Alex again.

“Yeah,” she husks, and Alex unhooks Maggie’s bra in one go, a shit-eating grin forming on their face.

“Proud of yourself there, Danvers?” Maggie flirts, and Alex pffts.

“I… No. That’s ridiculous, I can diffuse bombs, I’m not proud of myself for… yeah. Yeah, I’m pretty proud of myself.”

“Good, you should be,” Maggie rasps into their ear, and Alex groans and pushes Maggie back down on the bed.

“Okay?”

“Oh yeah.”

Alex grins and kisses their way down Maggie’s collarbone, pausing above her whimpering form to ask with their eyes if they can take her nipple into their mouth. Maggie nods wordlessly, because words won’t form right now, and Alex’s mouth is warm and wet and hot and Alex’s mouth is absolutely perfect.

Maggie grabs at Alex’s short hair and Alex moans and Maggie grabs harder.

“Fuck,” Alex swears into her chest, and it’s Maggie’s turn to be proud of herself, even as she lays writhing under Alex’s tongue, Alex’s teeth, Alex’s lips.

“I want… Al, I… do you want my mouth on you?”

Alex stills and looks up, a combination of lust and confusion in their eyes.

“What do you have in mind?”

“Well, I um… I love what you’re doing to me, and I just kind of… wanted to know if I could return the favor. Maybe… suck you off? If you wanted?”

Alex’s eyes roll into the back of their head and they moan deep from the back of their throat. “Maggie, how – I haven’t gotten a strap-on I like yet – ”

“And I can’t wait for when you do. But um… there’s other ways to suck you off. Sit up. If you want.”

Alex furrows their brow, but they’re curious and god, god, god do they want what Maggie’s suggesting, and god, god, god do they trust the woman licking her lips and looking at Alex – boy haircut and boy tank top and marks from their binder still on their skin under that tank top – like she’s never seen anyone more attractive. More beautiful or more handsome. More desirable.

So Alex sits and Maggie gestures them to the edge of the bed, and Maggie slips off the bed and Maggie kneels and Maggie looks up at them with swollen lips and raw passion in her eyes and Alex nearly passes out because fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Do you trust me?” she asks, and Alex nods because yes, of course, yes, of course they do.

“Do you want to take off your shirt for me? You don’t have to.”

Alex’s heart races and Alex gulps but Maggie’s been helping them with their binder and Maggie’s been perfect and it’s nothing Maggie hasn’t seen and it’s Maggie, it’s Maggie, so yes, Alex slips off their shirt and Maggie grins softly and kisses a trail along the small marks left from the binder they took off when they got home.

And then Alex’s heart really starts racing, because then Maggie leans up from kneeling and runs her tongue along one of Alex’s nipples, and Alex hisses and Maggie stops and Alex shakes their head because they think they know what Maggie’s doing and god, god, god, Maggie is perfect.

And sure enough, she takes Alex into her mouth like she’s going down on them, and her eyes are glued on Alex’s as her lips close around Alex’s nipple, around their chest, and Alex looks down and Maggie’s kneeling for them and Maggie’s respecting them and Maggie’s sucking them off because Maggie doesn’t care what pronouns Alex uses, she just wants to make Alex happy, make Alex feel validated, make Alex feel connected to their body, make Alex feel fucking incredible, and god, fuck, dammit, they do.

“You like it, Al?” she pauses to ask, and Alex doesn’t remember words, so they tangle their fingers into Maggie’s hair and bring her head back toward their body, and Maggie moans happily, eagerly, and continues with her tongue, with her mouth, with her lips, with her eyes.

When Alex can’t take anymore – when the visual, the feeling of pure validation, of Maggie giving them a blowjob on a part of their body that they’d been feeling so confused about and suddenly felt so fucking alive with, but in their own way, is too much, is going to make them pass out from relief, from desire, from intensity – they pull back and offer Maggie their hands, pulling her off of her knees and back onto the bed.

“Can I take your pants off?” they ask clumsily, because right now, all they need is Maggie, and words are getting in the way of that.

Maggie chuckles and brings her pants down herself, her eyes on Alex’s face the entire time.

“Something you want to do to me, Danvers?”

Alex shakes their head, their lust, their need, paused for a moment, because god, Maggie is gorgeous. And they tell her so, and Maggie bites her lip and smiles, suddenly shy, and that shyness makes Alex love her even more somehow.

They slip their tank top back on and Maggie nods softly, making a note in her head, and shrug their jeans off but leave their boxers on, something else that Maggie smiles at faintly and nods softly about.

Alex loves being paid this much attention to, being this heard, but right now? Right now, they want to give all that attention to Maggie.

“Spread your legs for me?” they ask, and Maggie gasps harshly, loudly, and Alex grins as they kiss their way up Maggie’s open thighs, Maggie whimpering and starting to thrash her hips and twist her fingers into the bedsheets to try, in vain, to control her need.

“Al,” she pants, and Alex smiles up at her.

“I’ve missed the way you taste,” they tell her, and Maggie tosses her head back in ecstasy, and it’s all the permission Alex needs to seal their lips over Maggie’s clit and lick slow, hard, solid, steady, until Maggie comes completely undone, until Maggie begs please, please, Al, I need you inside me, Alex, please baby, please, and god, does Alex love fulfilling Maggie’s requests.

They slip their fingers one at a time into Maggie’s soaked opening and Maggie whimpers and screams and keeps begging for more, and Alex gives more, takes more, does more, bringing their lips back down onto Maggie’s clit until she cums, hard and chaotic and loud and perfect, all over Alex’s fingers, all over their eager tongue.

“Alex,” Maggie sighs as she comes down from her high, as Alex crawls back up her body and wraps her up with theirs.

“I got you, babe,” they tell her, and she curls contentedly into their shoulder.

“I wanna get you too,” she tells them, but Alex just grins and kisses her forehead.

“Next time, Maggie. Right now? Right now I wanna hold you.”

Maggie nods and tosses one of her legs over Alex, burrowing onto them completely.

“Don’t let go?” she asks, and Alex kisses her hair for a long moment.

“Never,” they tell her, and they mean it as a promise.

anonymous asked:

Director sanvers Lucy and Alex pampering Maggie bc she needs to be treated like the queen she is 😭

Okay, so like, I absolutely meant for this to be porn. But apparently Maggie needed some therapy and all the hugs last night so hopefully this isn’t too disappointing. It’s long. And a one way ticket to hard core emotion porn with some soft core actual porn to round it out.


It starts with flowers at the precinct. Alex would never do that, but Lucy would.

Lucy would wait until the day after she left for Washington for a weeklong trip of arguing black ops budgets with men who thought like her father, Lucy whose days were hard and lonely and 5,000 miles away from the arms of her lovers, Lucy would hear the cracks in their voices through tinny phone calls and FaceTime, and Lucy would think of them, of Alex and Maggie who had each other. On the rare occasions that Alex was away at a conference it was much the same, although the style was usually food delivered via caped superheroines. Maggie, well Maggie could get so caught up in a case that she could barely breathe, thoughts and theories and facts and witness statements swirling around in her mind like a hurricane, Maggie as the eye of the storm and all else beyond the storm wall.

Selfish. Pig headed. Obsessed with work.

She tried not to be. Alex brought light into the darkness, shining hope and happiness and all the things Maggie never thought she’d deserve. And then Lucy, steady and sure, dragging her out when the darkness crept in to try to extinguish the light. They were perfect, and so much more than she deserved, and sometimes Maggie really couldn’t see how she fit in the lives of such perfect women. They could have each other without the mess she brought, the baggage weighing down every breath she took, an anchor around their necks.

And Alex, who could get wrapped up in work herself, lost in the science and protecting her sister and proving her mother wrong, Alex would pick up on these moments and call her on it, but sometimes that was too much too soon, and Maggie would say something she regretted instantly, taking herself away before she did something worse. Alex would let her go, but call Lucy or Kara or James or Winn or anyone really, because she had friends she could count on to pull her useless girlfriend out of the gutter before something went wrong.

But Lucy, sometimes she had a sixth sense. Sometimes she could tell through a text, through a pause just a beat too long that it was all too much for Maggie, too many doubts, too many insecurities, too many memories weighing, dragging at her, pulling her away from them. And then Lucy would do something about it.

Like send flowers to the precinct on a day Maggie knows she’s stuck in meetings and can’t be called to be yelled at for wasting money buying her dead things that brighten up the room and smell like Lucy’s perfume, light and floral and almost like she’s right there leaning on Maggie’s desk in her dress blues and shooting down the assholes that Maggie works with. Almost.

And Lucy would clue Alex in early, caution her about pushing too much, too soon, too fast, stop her default Agent mode and flip the switch to concerned girlfriend. So Alex would get off of work early on the tough days, she’d convince Calloway to keep an eye on her and text Alex with any changes to her schedule, to let her know if Maggie would be staying late or leaving early (and one day Maggie would find out what Alex had on him, swear to god) so that she could be waiting outside, gorgeous and confident astride her bike. Waiting to take Maggie back to the apartment that was quickly becoming less Alex’s and more theirs, all three of them, not letting Maggie slink back to her quickly emptying apartment with the one sad little tree that didn’t do well with change and the double bed with rougher sheets and an Ikea couch. Alex would and did take her home, where food was staying warm in the oven from wherever Kara had gotten it (because Alex loved Lucy and Maggie, she didn’t want them dead from food poisoning), the lights on low, not for mood but for calm, fire raging no matter the season and the thermostat set for comfort. Alex would undress her slowly and help her change into soft cottons that didn’t belong to her, would drag her to the table to eat, the couch to cuddle, the large bath to soak in lavender bubbles. And Alex wouldn’t push, not if Lucy tells her not to.

So it starts with flowers at the precinct and a quiet dinner at home.

And the next day it’s the vegan chocolates that Maggie mentioned once to Alex in passing and there’s no card but it’s sitting on her desk and while the boys in blue are eyeing it, she knows they’ve been threatened with bodily harm not to touch them, because she opens the box and they’re all there, all accounted for, not a single one missing even though the bullpen is full and she works with a bunch of assholes. Maggie eats them, one by one, savoring each bite, sitting at her desk, right where the assholes can see her. Because while she sometimes doesn’t know where she fits or what god had mercy on her to bring Alex and Lucy into her life, she knows she is loved, and some days she lets herself believe it.

And after work Alex might not be waiting but James is, and he has his bike and his camera, and she rides bitch for her new brother. She might talk, she might not, but he’s there with a smile and a full-bodied hug, giving her a piggyback ride along whatever trail he wanted to try this week to whatever clearing had the least light pollution and a ride home to the arms of Maggie’s girlfriend.

So it starts with flowers at the precinct and a quiet dinner at home.

And sometimes there wouldn’t be flowers or chocolates, but there’d be coffee delivered by a junior reporter with a sunny smile, apologetic because there were donuts but she was hungry and Maggie knows how many calories that particular appetite needs to be satiated. And Kara wouldn’t touch, wouldn’t hug, but she’d stand close enough for the heat of an alien furnace to start to thaw the cold that surrounded her. And Kara would leave with a wink and a smile, and Calloway would ask how the hell Sawyer knew so many beautiful women. Maggie would say she was lucky that way, because she was and it might be a day she understood why, but it also might not.

         And after work Alex might be waiting again, but this time to catch a quick dinner before heading back to the lab, a lingering kiss and a hug tinged with the scent of ozone and citrus and leather all Alex. Instead of Alex it might be Winn on the Xbox, shouting obscenities through the internet as Maggie kills him once again after teaming up to defeat everyone else (cheaters) in the free for all. One day he might learn that Maggie’s nice but she’s not that nice, and she loves the way Alex picks on her little brother, loves the way he lights up and pretends to hate it, and Maggie wants to play along and fit in so she does the same.

So it starts with flowers at the precinct and a quiet dinner at home.

And still Lucy keeps it light on the phone, complaining about the rigid men with no experience dictating to those who should know better, and Alex isn’t pushing because it’s still too much, too soon. And Maggie isn’t getting better but she isn’t getting worse, and sometimes she smiles enough that the dimples are deep and her eyes sparkle just a bit of feeling. And she still has the two best girlfriends in the world, and no idea why they keep her, and she’s still terrified she’s going to do something to lose them, to push them away.

And it’s a morning with her therapist, the first in months, but she needed it and she needed to let go of the words overflowing her chest and choking her lungs but she didn’t want to taint Alex’s light, to be the moon casting shadows and overtaking the giant life-giving force. And the doc is kind, and patient, and pushy and mean. And Maggie doesn’t mind the yelling and the cursing because it’s aimed at the doctor, not Alex, not Lucy. And the tears that are real, pouring down her face, those are the fears and the fights she wants to pick and the reasons she gives herself to leave, those all come pouring out where it’s safe and controlled and she can’t hurt those she loves the most. And oh, how she loves them.

And maybe today she takes herself home, not to her home, but to Alex’s, to theirs. And she lets herself in with her key (hers, not the spare) and she eats another double toasted bagel, plain, washed down with a beer. Maybe Maggie collapses face first into a pillow that smells of flowers, hands grasping to pull another closer, this one of citrus, while Maggie’s own pillow lays forgotten to the side.

So it starts with flowers at the precinct and a quiet dinner at home..

And sometimes the days repeat in different orders, sometimes she’s confused and feeling lost when gifts continue to be bared and visits paid, but there’s never nothing and no one, even on the days Maggie needs to be alone she has just what she needs and love permeates every breath of every day, as Lucy and Alex work to show they love her and won’t let her go, and the doc tells her they mean it, that the voices given power by self-doubt and denial, voices that sound so much like her father in quiet simmering anger on the day her world came crashing down, they are valid in that she hears them not in what they say.

So it starts with flowers at the precinct and a quiet dinner at home.

And then it’s not just Alex, but Lucy is home, Lucy is early and home and here and not just a voice on the phone. Lucy is there and gorgeous, not a hair out of place, standing tall and strong next to a smiling Alex, her eyes still concerned but they’ve been happier too, in direct relation to Maggie. And Lucy watches, Lucy waits, Lucy lets Maggie direct her next move.

Maggie walks to Lucy and falls to her knees, her face buried in Lucy’s stomach. A manicured hand sinks into her hair, the scent of flowers surrounding her, buffered by ozone and leather and all things Alex as she too drops to her knees, leaning in to kiss Maggie’s head and receive a caress of her own.

It’s Lucy who guides them back to their feet with a gentle tug, Lucy who leads them to the bed.

But it’s Alex who slides the jacket from Maggie’s shoulders. It’s Alex who undoes the belt at her hips, who tucks the gun away safely and returns to strip Maggie bare before the eyes of her lovers, slowly, tenderly, and with great care while Lucy and Alex remain clothed.

It’s Lucy who kisses her first, demanding entrance, nipping and biting and it’s Maggie who melts into Alex at her back, a solid warmth whose arms are the only thing keeping her standing.

It’s Lucy who commands without words, and Maggie who climbs bare onto soft sheets in the wake of softer eyes.

It’s Alex who joins her first, still clothed, who kisses her next, soft and slow, caressing her very soul with love and affection. It’s Alex’s hands who touch her now, grazing skin softly in sweeps and gentle whispers.

And then Lucy. Lucy leads with her lips, with her teeth, with her tongue. Biting and soothing, sucking welts into Maggie’s skin where not even the scars of her darkness dare trespass.

Where Alex is soft, Lucy is hard, and the contrast leaves Maggie spinning, spinning, spinning, spinning, spinning like a top, winding tighter and tighter and tighter and tighter, soul filled to the bursting, skin painted with the promises of eternity by the mouths of her lovers, Maggie spins and winds tighter until like a coil set loose she springs free.

So it starts with flowers at the precinct but it ends with home.

i just read someone say that seeing everyone so happy with sanvers has brought them to tears. this was the biggest night not just for sanvers but for the whole lgbtq+ community in general because we are so used to seeing f/f couples being killed off or portrayed as cruel. Alex and Maggie are just the opposite. Alex and Maggie respect each other, listen to each other, care for one another, and love one another in such a deep way that it gives off such an intense wave of power. power to us. Chyler and Floriana have been saying they want to get this right and it’s nerve wracking because they know how underrepresented we are. guess what? they’re smashing it. they are doing it more than right. watching Alex and Maggie interact in the workplace, at the bar, at home, in front of friends…I see the truth. I see the reality. I see happiness. and without Chyler and Floriana we would not have this representation. We would not be in the position we are in today because I’ve read so many stories from a countless number of people thanking them for everything they’re doing just simply by showing up to work and using their talent for something bigger than all of us. They are using their passion as a platform to help, to reach out, to make us feel heard, to validate us, to make us feel real. they are doing that for us because we matter and we are important. All I have to say is Chyler and Floriana are two of the most exemplary human beings for doing this. For stepping up when no one else will. For holding their heads high and lending out a hand because they know we need it. we don’t deserve them but we need them.

anonymous asked:

People always say if Danvarias were to get married, it'd be Sam who proposed because Alex has "bad experience" with it. But I believe Alex WOULD actually propose (just not as soon as with Sawyer) to her. She knows Sam is not Maggie, they already have Ruby & I think Sam would be too afraid to propose to Alex, simply because she's scared her previous engagement left a deep scar and doesn't want to lose Alex.

You had me in the first half, I’m not gonna lie…

Alex overcoming her past and proposing to Sam is 110% valid (and its what I prefer). However, in theory I don’t see Sam being too afraid to propose either. Given Alex’s prior engagement falling through, perhaps Sam wants Alex be the one to propose so that she can do it when she feels she’s ready. But the whole not proposing for fear of losing her? Um…no???

Sam would understand and respect Maggie’s impact on Alex’s life, no doubt, but it’s not like she’d rush things with Alex, especially given both of their pasts. I just can’t see the possibility of Sam “Heart Eyes for Alex Danvers” Arias never proposing ever. When they get to a point where they’re serious (and it hadn’t already been established that Alex has to be the one to pop the question), Sam would realize that she’s not Maggie either…she’d want to be married to the woman she loves and she’d want Ruby to officially have another parent, among a whole host of Agentreign feels that I’m not going to get into… 

In any event, regardless of who proposes, they 1000% involve Ruby in their plans and it’s awesome. 

canadianwheatpirates  asked:

[small nudge] if you're out of stuff to do i left you a reply on a requests post a couple days back asking for fic of Alex healing and growing after cutting Eliza out of her life ('cause of the emotional abuse). no pressure or anything i just. yeah. mother's day was last weekend and yesterday was the 1yr of me not talking to my own mother for the same reasons, and I doubt I'm the only person who's having Feelings about all this rn lmao. still think you're awesome btw.

She never recognized the pattern.

Never recognized the pattern, and J’onn waited patiently for her to figure it out on her own, not wanting to violate her privacy by sharing the insights he got by how damn loudly his Earth daughter thinks.

Because she thinks very loudly, on the mornings after her phone calls with Eliza.

She thinks very loudly, and her thinking is about how inadequate she is. How imperfect. How disappointing.

And she never recognized the pattern, but she would bruise her knuckles in training, and she would work the new DEO recruits harder, and she would work herself so hard she nearly vomited.

Always on the days that followed the nights she talked to her mother.

She never noticed the pattern, but Maggie does.

Maggie notices and Maggie cleans up the glass when Alex throws her bourbon at the opposite wall, and Maggie makes a note to bring up her drinking after they process this latest call with her mother, this latest fight, this latest abuse.

Maggie holds her when she sobs apologies and Maggie holds her when she begs forgiveness and Maggie knows that it’s not only Maggie she’s seeking forgiveness from.

It’s Eliza, yes, but it’s Kara, and it’s Jeremiah.

Because in Alex’s eyes – after she talks to Eliza, anyway – she reliably believes that she’s failed them both.

So Maggie holds her and Maggie gently refuses to make love to her even when Alex begs for it, begs hard and begs long; refuses because Alex has liquor on her breath and tears in her eyes, and Maggie won’t, ever, take advantage of that.

Even with Alex begging her to fuck away her inadequacy. To make her feel worthwhile. To make her feel good enough.

Maggie focuses on making her feel good enough in other ways. 

Whispered words and soft kisses all over her face, strong arms and gentle touches.

And when it’s morning and Alex wakes up with distant eyes and a vacant voice, Maggie asks her.

Asks her, in a small voice – terrified that Alex will be furious with her, will leave her, will think she’s accusing Alex of being a bad daughter, a bad person – if she’s ever considered cutting Eliza out of her life. At least for a little while.

Alex doesn’t yell and Alex doesn’t snap at her. She doesn’t reach for bourbon. Instead, she collapses back down onto the bed and she reaches for Maggie’s hand.

“But wouldn’t I be a terrible daughter if I did that? I mean, my mom, she’s not… she… she hugged me when I came out, Maggie, she… she’s so good to you, and she loves me, and she paid for college, and med school, and she loves me, she really does, she would be crushed if I stopped talking to her. Wouldn’t it be mean? Wouldn’t it just make things worse? I mean, I only get upset when we talk because I overreact and I’m oversensitive – ”

“Alex Danvers. You are not oversensitive and you don’t overreact to your mom. You respond to her. Rationally. It’s rational for you to feel like you have to be perfect – to hold yourself to impossible and unhealthy standards – because of everything she expects from you. You respond to her telling you that you’re not good enough, that everything that happens with Kara is your fault. Alex, your mom… you’re right. She probably loves you. Fine. But that doesn’t make her a great parent, or even a good one. Her loving you doesn’t make her good at loving you: it doesn’t make you two have a healthy relationship.”

“But I can’t just cut her off, Maggie. Then everything would be my fault.”

“No. Nothing would be your fault, Ally. You’d just be asserting what you need. You’d be doing what’s right for you. And you’d be setting a new standard for how your mom has to treat you.”

Alex bites the inside of her cheek and she thinks and she listens and she argues and she thinks some more.

She tells Eliza that she needs to take some time away from their relationship a couple of weeks later. Tells her that she doesn’t know how long it’s going to take, but to please leave their contact in her control. 

She stops training so hard she throws up right away; but at first, she doesn’t understand why.

It’s easier for her to stick to one beer, once in a while, socially, rather than half a bottle of bourbon, often, on her own; but at first, she doesn’t understand why.

She also doesn’t understand, at least not at first, why she stops – slowly, slowly – blaming herself when Kara has a bad day. She doesn’t stop caring, and she doesn’t stop trying to make her little sister feel better, but the pit in her stomach, gnawing, ripping, that Kara’s bad day – whatever the reason – is her fault, her fault, her fault, starts diminishing. She barely notices when it disappears almost completely, the healing is so gradual.

She surrounds herself with a little sister who adores her and a girlfriend who supports her and a father who is unfailingly proud of her and brothers who tease her but always, always, always love her.

She surrounds herself with affirmation and she surrounds herself with validation, and after a while, she realizes that she’s not waking up with such burning loathing for herself anymore.

It takes time – it takes years – but eventually, when she’s laying awake with Maggie sleeping in her arms, she realizes that she really loves the person she is.

It feels strange and it feels unfamiliar, but god, god, god, does it feel good.

Pre Director Sanvers - Maggie & Lucy

So this is a bit of a continuation from my headcanon on Maggie’s past. Basically Maggie meets Lucy shortly after she moves out from her aunt’s house, and right before Lucy is about to start basic training. So I’m going with Lucy is slightly older than Maggie, probably not more than a couple years for the purposes of this. Now Lucy has been raised with a military Father, big on the Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, and well that somewhat applies at home also. Lucy is out, and proud of who she is, but it’s never talked about at home, or really in any of the circles her father is in. Last night before training starts she’s out for one last hurrah for a while. Now Lucy has had relationships, but to this point it’s predominantly been with guys, the whole DADT thing is a little hard to work around with the ladies. So her relationships with women have been of the less than long term variety. She doesn’t let herself get close, or invested.


Lucy can tell straight away when she see’s Maggie at the bar she’s new to the whole scene, but she’s young as well. Now while Lucy is all keen for a last fling before enlistment she can tell that’s not quite what Maggie needs right now. So they talk. Maggie still isn’t quite comfortable with herself, and while things with her aunt are ok, her aunt still doesn’t get it, get why being gay is such a big deal to Maggie, how it impacts on every aspect of her identity. Lucy does though, and Lucy tells Maggie that what she feels is real and valid, even if Maggie isn’t exactly 100% sure or on board with that herself yet. That it’s ok to not be sure. Life is about learning and growing and it’s not a race to the end, there are no bonus points for figuring herself out sooner than everyone else. 


So Lucy and Maggie exchange emails, initially so Maggie had someone to talk to who understood the family troubles, to talk to about girls, to just talk to without expectations. But Lucy found herself in need of a friend as well, a friend separate for everything else. To talk to about her Dad, her sister, boyfriend troubles, the “omg how do I know so many stunning women?”. But they never talked careers, and for some reason they never actually mentioned last names. This is what Maggie will claim is to fault for not realising the girl she’d been harbouring a child like crush on for years is the same girl Alex talks about regularly, the girl Alex realised after coming out, and after falling for Maggie, that maybe, maybe she’d had a small (huge) amount of less than platonic feelings for.

things that actually happened in chapter 39 of the raven king:

-ronan goes outside onto the porch and looks at fireflies

-adam walks out onto the porch. his facial expression suggests to ronan that he’s thinking very hard about something

-three deer walk by

-ronan is unable to take it anymore and says “adam?”

-adam kisses ronan, which is described to include: ronan’s hands on adam’s ribs, adam’s mouth on ronan’s mouth “again and again and again,” stubble on lips, ronan having to stop to catch his breath and restart his heart, and a feeling compared to street racing

-they’re inside again and they “pretend they would dream but they did not”

-they spread out on the couch

-adam “studies ronan’s tattoo”

-adam says “unguibus et rostro”

-ronan “puts adam’s hands to his mouth”

-it’s said that ronan is never sleeping again

-(not said in chapter 39 but based on a later chapter, we can infer that adam eventually goes to declan’s room to sleep)

this can be interpreted a lot of ways. if you’re interpreting this as “they definitely had sex,” that’s not the book’s fault. like yes the subtext suggests that the kiss was pretty intense based on ronan having to catch his breath, but also that could be because ronan is easily overwhelmed. yes ronan obviously takes off his shirt if adam is studying his tattoo, but he’s looking at the tattoo, that isn’t necessarily some big sexual thing. if anyone’s oversexualizing this, it’s the readers.

this chapter very easily can be interpreted as “they have a kiss on the porch for a couple of minutes, they decide to go inside and dream, they’re too tired so they just chill on the couch, adam says he wants to look at the tattoo, ronan takes his shirt off and adam just looks at the tattoo, he says unguibus et rostro and ronan gives him a gentle kiss on his hands” it’s not even a stretch to interpret it that way, which is very sweet and gentle and romantic. and god forbid they also aggressively make out… they’re teenagers… they’re touch starved… they’ve been in love for a while without doing anything about it…

and in regards to bluesey: listen. i hate to break it to you, but the reason why gansey and blue were so “innocent” was because if they even touched lips for one second, gansey would have DIED! he would have been DEAD! holy fuck! listen blue is Thirsty As All Hell; if she hadn’t had a curse i can tell you those late night drive chapters would have been a lot less “innocent”… does nobody remember the iconic line “she wanted to be best friends with Gansey forever and ALSO HAVE CARNAL KNOWLEDGE OF HIM” like whew… that’s literally directly sexual right there… like what do you want? should we put true-love’s-kiss curses on all ya characters to keep it even across the board?

this is so weird to me like OK i understand wanting to be critical of gay representation; trust me i’m the MOST annoyingly critical person in this dumb ass trash fandom but like…… why can’t the gay characters do a got dam thing without it being turned into but!!! they are gay and this means that this is a BAD thing!!! they can’t have sex otherwise they’re oversexualized; they can’t be gentle otherwise what are they just some ‘cute gays’; they can’t get married because that’s ‘‘‘heteronormative’‘‘ somehow; they can’t be political because not all gay people are political my gosh; they can’t NOT care about politics because what are you saying that gay people don’t care about their own issues; they can’t be cute or romantic or sad or happy or sexual or not sexual or anything

i’m not trying to say to stop criticizing when it DOES get fetishize-y or trope-y or lowkey homophobic. PLEASE keep criticizing these things. but maybe realize when it’s a valid criticism and when it’s you just feeling like if it’s about gay characters, it’s somehow wrong