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A big thank you to @iwishicoulddrawheatherforaliving for bringing to life a little section of âThe Couchâ
If you havenât already, I highly recommend checking out her work!
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Also have another âfirst words spoken to you are on your skinâ soulmate AU idea where Kara is a journalist assigned to shadow the controversial CEO of L-Corp for the day. Itâs a big deal for her to get this assignment, so of course she trips the second sheâs near the other woman and tries awkwardly to redeem herself.
The CEO stares at her almost in shock, and then says nothing. At all. Ever, for the entire day.
Kara spends hours following Lena Luthor around trying to fill the silence, but no amount of questions get her to talk. Lena almost seems to be running away at some points - like sheâs trying to lose her? - and the few times sheâs managed to catch her actually talking to someone she goes silent the second she sees Kara.
She asks around if Miss Luthor is usually like this and everyone looks at her like sheâs crazy. Apparently sheâs the only one who gets the silent treatment. By the end of her first day shadowing sheâs walking away with half a page of observations and not a single quote. Miss Grant is going to kill her.
But thatâs okay. Itâs fine, this isnât over. She has four days of shadowing ahead of her and sheâll be damned if she doesnât finish this with a quote from the woman herself. Itâs only a matter of time.
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Yâall remember the high of watching the supergirl series finale and genuinely believing in your heart that they were gonna kiss in those last few minutes???
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my dumb? founded. my flabbers? gasted. my gob??? smacked
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gotta balance out the angst with some fluffđ
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Forget about top or bottom, which one of you has a god complex and is heading to a downfall engineered by your own self mythology, and which one of you is the pious woman who holds onto the faith and duty with both hands?
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Kara has always dreaded the day sheâd meet her soulmate.Â
Thereâs relief in knowing she has one, of course. The person meant for her didnât die with Krypton. Thatâs something! Even still, itâs hard to feel excited for the moment they meet, because thatâs the moment Kara will hurt them. Sheâs had their exclamation of pain inked into her skin for as long as sheâs been on Earth. In some ways itâs better. Most people have phrases like âgood morningâ or âhold the door pleaseâ as their soulmateâs first words. They have to endure hundreds of almosts, breath held just in case that stranger really is the one. Kara wonât have to do that. Her words are far too distinct.
It's agony, thinking about how their meeting will go. She spends years imagining every possible scenario, each one more painful than the last, yet the day it happens she barely even registers it. The words wash right over her, drowned out by the loud crack as her hand makes sudden contact with a stranger's face. The telltale crunch of contact shocks her. She hadn't registered anyone was there during her dramatic retelling, otherwise she would have kept her gestures small. She wouldn't have flung her hand out with such force.
The woman she's hit is hunched over, clutching at her face. She gasped loud and sharp when it hit, and now she's just wheezily breathing in shock. Kara can see blood starting to drip down her wrist.
âDid you," the woman gasps, and her voice sounds wet. "Did you just break my nose?â Kara wants to die.
âIâm so sorry! Are you okay? I am so sorry!â
People are looking at them and the woman keeps cursing under her breath and Kara really, really doesnât know what to do. Her hands hover uselessly over the hunched figure, desperate to soothe but scared to touch in a moment like this. âI didnât mean to â I was telling a story and I got too excited with my hands I guess, I didnât see you there. Are you- can I-â
She looks to Alex for guidance, but sheâs just staring at the interaction with a wide-eyed wonder. Typically her sister knows what to do in a scary situation, but now sheâs looking just as clueless. Theyâre both barely awake at this point â itâs six in the morning and theyâve been at this airport terminal since midnight, miserably watching their red eye flight push into a mid-day departure. Theyâre both half-delirious, which is fun when youâre goofing off but less so when youâve just broken a strangerâs nose.Â
And then it hits her. The words sheâs carried on her arm for so many years are tingling, she realizes, and theyâve been tingling from the second her skin met the girlâs.Â
Did you did you just break my nose?
âOh wow,â Kara says, dumbfounded. âItâs you.â The woman falls silent. She must be realizing too Kara thinks as she fumbles with her sleeve, pushing it up enough to show her inked arm. The woman's eyes drop to the tattoo that's brought such shame to Kara for so long. She feels her eyes like a touch. âI â Iâm so happy to meet you! Iâm so sorry it happened like this.â She laughs and it sounds strained. Her hands are shaking. The woman doesn't look up from her arm.
Even hunched over in pain, it's clear the woman is beautiful. Important, even, considering how she's dressed. She's dressed like she's en route to lead a business conference, her tight black skirt and matching blazer scream business professional. Though the effects are tampered a bit by the splattering of blood thatâs dripped down her white blouse. Kara wonders how old she is to be dressed like that. She must be older to look like that. At nearly nineteen, Kara has never had anything more than a graduation to dress nicely for, and even then she wore her stained dress pants. This woman - her soulmate - must be much older than her, which feels strange to think. She looks Kara's age, maybe even younger. If not for how clearly tailored to her body her clothes are, she'd almost look like she was playing dress up.
Kara feels self-conscious then, sharply aware of how she must look to her soulmate. As smart as it felt to come to the airport in pajamas for her all-night flight, standing in rubber duck pajama pants while trying to have a conversation with her goddess of a soulmate did little for Kara's confidence.
When Karaâs eyes finally track back up to her face, she finds sharp green ones staring back. They're the prettiest eyes she's ever seen, and they don't seem interested in looking away. That's fine with her - she's more than content to stare right back.
It's only the soft plop of blood hitting tile that draws her attention back to her crime, and she can see the way the woman's hands have become covered in blood. "Oh gosh, here - let meâŚâ  Kara fumbles in her backpack for a moment with no clear plan. All she knows is she has to do something to fix this. She fumbles about before pulling out a clean t-shirt. âHere. For the-â She holds it out to the girl and gestures at her own face. Slowly, like sheâs scared Kara might grab her or something, the woman takes the offered shirt. She wipes the blood from her face and hands, dabbing beneath her nose. The bleeding seems to have stopped, at least, and the shirt helps contain what's escaped. Watching a stranger wipe blood on her high school band t-shirt shouldnât thrill Kara as much as it does, and yet.
Kara laughs again, the sound nervous and high-pitched, before taking a step towards her. Her soulmateâs eyes go wide, tracking her movements, and Kara's heart clenches when she steps away. The rapid race of her soulmate's heart beats into Kara's ear - she can literally hear her fear. She holds her hands up in surrender, stepping back to where sheâd been before. The last thing she wants is for her to be afraid. âDoes it hurt?â she asks, and her soulmate shakes her head no. âThatâs good. Thatâs good. I- uh." She has nothing more to say, and her soulmate's certainly not contributing. Karaâs palms are sweating. She hasnât sweat since she was thirteen, but one look from this person has her rubbing her hands on her pajama pants like a middle schooler at a dance.
The woman finishes wiping up and lets her arms fall, blessing Kara with her first real look at her face. Bloodied and skittish, sheâs beautiful in a way Kara can hardly comprehend, in a way she could never imagine. Kara's pretty sure she's blushing now for some reason, and she has to flex her toes to be sure sheâs still touching the ground. âMy nameâs Kara,â she says, and then gestures over her shoulder. âThatâs my sister Alex. Weâre flying home for winter break. Midvale - Midvale is home for us. Where- where are you flying to?â
The woman stares and stares, and Kara's starting to panic thinking she'd given her soulmate a head injury that's muted her somehow, when at last the woman speaks just barely above a whisper.
âHome,â she says. It feels like her heart might burst just from hearing that one stilted word. Kara wants to hear a thousand more, wants to hear nothing else for the rest of her life.
âThatâs awesome. W-whereâs home for you?â The woman's lip trembles as she opens her mouth, closes it, and then opens it again.
 âIâm sorry,â she says, and then throws the t-shirt at Karaâs face.Â
Kara fumbles catching it, distracted by the shock and gross factor of having a blood-soaked shirt hurled at her face, and it takes her far too many precious seconds to realize her soulmate is gone. Bewildered, Kara looks around before just catching sight of her vanishing around the corner, high heels and racing heart clattering away. She looks at Alex. Alex waves at her, frantic. âGo!â Alex yells, and Kara takes off.
Pretending to be a human has never been harder than it is while chasing after her soulmate. Normal human pace - especially what's acceptable at an airport - is not fast enough for this, not when the woman has already gotten so far ahead. Kara must look ridiculous, bursting into sprints only to trip suddenly into a walk over and over again, her ears locked on to the thudding heartbeat and faint whispers of her soulmate mumbling, âcrap crap crap crap,â ahead.
Karaâs thankful theyâre in an airport, at least. Her soulmate canât just run outside, and Kara is fine embracing the romcom trope of following her love onto the plane. Her soulmate stops moving ahead and Kara speeds up, nearly wiping out twice tripping over luggage and small children. Her heart is in her throat as she clears the corner her soulmate is behind and pushes her way into the door she's passed through. All the wind knocks out of her lungs then when she sees her again. The woman looks up at her in shock, as if she didn't think Kara would chase her. As if Kara would just let her go. With a visible gulp, her soulmate flees around a corner and disappears out of sight. Kara manages a single step forward before a body blocks her way, and she looks up to see a massive security guard staring down at her.
âMembership card, please.â
Kara tries to peer around him. He steps in her way, cutting her vision off. Her soulmate led her into some private place you can't just walk into, she realizes, glancing around at the sleek appearance and exclusive atmosphere. âI- uh, left my card in my other bag,â she says, gesturing back over her shoulder. She can hear her soulmateâs breathing and it's all she can focus on. Sheâs right there. Just out of sight. Kara is so close. âIâm afraid you need your card to enter the fly lounge,â he says sternly. He starts pushing gently at her, trying to nudge her back out of the sliding glass door sheâs come in. Kara almost forgets to let him move her. âI- Iâm sorry, someone I need to talk to just went in there and I-â She stops in the doorway, hand firm on the wall. She can hear the way the guard huffs against her solid pressure. Sheâs not acting very human right now and she knows it.
âIâm gonna have to ask you to leave, maâam," he says, pushing more forcefully against her. Forceful enough that she knows she has to move even as all her instincts war against it. âCan- can I buy a membership? Like a day pass or something?â
The guard looks over at the front desk, making eye contact with a woman who looks like she would rather watch Kara be flayed alive than allowed another step inside.
âA day membership is $189 plus tax,â she whines out in a nasally voice, tone making clear she already knows Kara wonât be affording that. Which is accurate. Kara barely has enough to buy a meal.Â
Looks like her soulmate is rich, then.
The man nudges her back again and a flash of panic echoes through her chest. For a moment, she envisions herself throwing him out the open door, tossing aside anything or anyone that tries to keep her from her future. But sheâs already scared her soulmate enough for one day, so she smiles with forced bashfulness and allows herself to be walked back out of the lounge.
The frosted glass door marked High Flyers Club Lounge shuts her out mockingly. But itâs fine! Eventually her soulmateâs flight time will be here and sheâll have no choice but to come out and face her. Kara just has to be patient. (Kara hates being patient.)
She takes a seat against the wall across from the lounge entrance. Her glasses rest low on her nose as she stares her soulmate, soaking in every inch of her as she paces in the luxurious lounge. Her heart is racing, she seems on the edge of a panic attack, and Kara wants desperately to be in there with her talking her down. But she canât, so sheâs left to watch â at least until the girl steps into the private restroom. She stops watching after that. Instead, she settles down to listen to the comforting beat of her soulmateâs heart, closer now than itâs ever been.
Her mind wanders as she waits, mentally reviewing every moment of their interaction. Considering where she failed, where she succeeded. Making lists about what to say to her next. She never got her name, for one thing, and she still doesnât know where her home is. Thereâs so much for her to learn.
Her mental meandering is so consuming that it takes her a bit to realize the heartbeat has moved farther away. At first she thinks her soulmate is just moving around the club, but no- sheâs moving away from the airport.  A quick glance through walls shows her that her soulmate isnât in the club anymore. The heartbeat is elevating, she realizes, and Kara runs to the glass wall just in time to see the plane - small, private, with an apparent access point from within the lounge â take off.Â
Horror and confusion overwhelm her, bringing tears to her eyes. This doesn't make sense. Why would she just leave without saying a word? Why would her soulmate do that? It's almost unbearable, the pain of it. She doesnât know how long she stands there, face pressed to the glass, listening as the heartbeat grows quieter and quieter before vanishing all together.
Kara learns a lot about grief after that.Â
She knew a lot already â far more than any one person should ever know â but that grief carried a different weight. The loss of her people wasn't a choice by them. They didn't want to die. The loss of her soulmate is its own beast, sharp and cruel in her heart, because this time the person she mourns chose to abandon her. Her soulmate chose to leave. She saw Kara that morning and decided that one look was enough, that Kara wasn't worth any more of her time. She left her there with nothing but a bloody t-shirt and a thousand questions. Kara never even learned her name.
She goes through the stages â she feels her anger burning out in her eyes, feels the sorrow take hold. She denies it, she bargains with everyone, anyone. She calls the Flyerâs Club, tries calling the FAA. She tracks flight logs and makes cold calls and still finds nothing at all. She writes about it on soulmate websites and Medium articles, casting a wide net so that someday when â if, her mind reminds her. if if if - her soulmate ever looks sheâll be able to find her. Â
Time dulls the sharpness, though, and the years shift that rejected feeling into a more muted anger. Kara doesn't care about the love lost. She doesn't care if the person is her other half. All she cares about is the anger. Finding her feels more like a hunt than a quest for love â sheâs got a lot to say to the other woman when they finally meet again. She just wants one more meeting, thatâs all. Just enough time to tell her exactly where she can go. Kara doesnât need a soulmate, after all. Her life is full of love and joy and adventure, and she doesnât need another person to complete her. She graduates college with a degree in English, minor in Journalism â her attempts to track down her soulmate really ignite the journalistic bug in her, and with Clarkâs constant encouragement it feels inevitable. She moves to a big city despite her small-town fears and she gets a job almost no one survives. Kara is thriving.
It almost shocks her, then, the way her heart trips over itself when she sees her again.
Theyâre watching the trial, her and Alex, and Alex is halfway through a lecture on how sheâd always known Lex Luthor was evil by the way he wore his pants â (âGood guys donât wear their pants that high, Kara, itâs common sense.â) â when Kara's nerves jolt like a lightning bolt has rushed through her. Her gasp is so sharp Alex screams almost in sympathy.Â
âWhat? What is it?â Alex yells at her, looking around for some danger lurking nearby. Kara tumbles to the floor practically crawling to the television screen. Someone new has taken the stand, someone she'd recognize anywhere.
âAlex,â she says, jamming her finger against the somewhat grainy image projected on her television. âIt's her.â âWhat!â âMy soulmate!" Kara knows it like she knows herself, even after all this time. She looks different. Six years of struggle sit clear in her hard gaze, her mouth twisted into solemn resignation. She looks almost casual on the stand, sitting comfortably despite the eyes of the world on her. Like it's just a regular conversation. Like sheâs not about to help send her brother to prison for life. âLena Luthor, sister of the defendantâ reads the helpful banner beneath her grim face. Even after everything, Kara is struck by her. She's breathtaking. Kara kind of hates her for it. âHold on, thatâs- you barely even saw her when you met! You donât know for sure.â Alex sounds desperate, which is fair. The younger sister of the man who tried to kill Superman is certainly not an ideal soulmate for someone like Kara, but it doesn't matter. It's her. âIâm sure,â she says, and feels the truth of it deep in her bones.
A giggle hits her then that's so inappropriate for the moment it makes her feel crazy, but she can't help it. As Lena Luthor begins to explain the piles of evidence sheâs gathered against her brother, Kara giggles away. She feels almost drunk on it, smug and satisfied. âFound you,â she says, almost like a taunt. She drags her finger over the screen, feeling the static of her ancient television biting back at her as she caresses Lena Luthor's face. The anger thatâs long settled inside of her seems to reignite with every charged word Lena speaks against her brother, with every glance she makes at the camera. She can feel Alexâs nervous energy behind her but she doesnât care. The politics of this, the implications - none of it matters to Kara. What matters is she has a name, and she has a general location. She's so close she can practically taste it. âSee you soon, soulmate,â Kara whispers, and for a second it feels almost like Lena is staring right back.
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