#The Commander (Supergirl)

[urdreamydoodles]

DC Comics Characters x Fem!OC

You hurt yourself doing home renovations

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Kal-El (Clark Kent), Barry Allen, Diana of Themyscira, Arthur Curry, Hal Jordan, Oliver Queen, John Constantine, Roy Harper, Koriand'r (Starfire), Kara Zor-El (Supergirl), Slade Wilson, Kent Nelson (Dr. Fate), Rachel Roth, Zatanna Zatara & Wally West

Bruce Wayne aka. Batman

- Bruce notices the injury immediately; his sharp, calculating eyes miss nothing. “You’re hurt,” he says, his tone low but with an edge of worry that only someone close to him might detect. He takes your hand gently but firmly, examining the bandage with the practiced ease of someone who’s patched himself up countless times. “What happened?” he asks, his voice even, though his jaw tightens. You explain it was a minor accident during your renovation project, but he doesn’t look convinced.

- Without a word, Bruce retrieves a medical kit and kneels in front of you. His movements are efficient, his touch steady but surprisingly gentle. “This could’ve been worse,” he says as he rewraps the bandage, his voice tinged with a seriousness that makes your heart ache. “You need to be more careful.” It’s not just a suggestion—it’s a command born of a deep fear he rarely voices.

- “I’m helping you finish this,” he declares, standing and rolling up his sleeves. His presence is commanding, as always, and there’s no room for argument. Watching Bruce work is like watching a master strategist; every movement is calculated, every decision deliberate. Despite his seriousness, he pauses occasionally to ask if you’re okay, his concern manifesting in small but meaningful ways.

- As you work together, Bruce’s reserved demeanor softens slightly. He shares stories from his own mishaps at Wayne Manor, a rare glimpse into the man behind the mask. “Alfred still teases me about the time I tried to fix a chandelier,” he says, a faint smile tugging at his lips. It’s in these moments that you see the man behind the Bat—the man who loves you fiercely, even if he struggles to show it.

- That evening, as you sit in the newly completed space, Bruce wraps an arm around your shoulders. “You mean everything to me,” he says quietly, his voice filled with a rare vulnerability. “I can’t lose you.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips warm and firm against your skin. Bruce’s love is steadfast, protective, and unyielding—a shield against the darkness that surrounds him.

Kal-El (Clark Kent) aka. Superman

- Clark’s face falls the moment he notices your injury. “What happened?” he asks, his voice filled with concern. His large, gentle hands take yours, his thumb brushing softly against the bandage. When you explain it was just a small accident during your renovation, his brow furrows in worry. “You should’ve called me,” he says, his voice warm but firm. “I would’ve been here in seconds.”

- He insists on checking your hand, his touch impossibly gentle. “I know it’s not serious, but even small injuries can hurt,” he says, his blue eyes meeting yours with a tenderness that makes your heart swell. As he examines the wound, his movements are deliberate, careful—a reflection of the restraint he always practices to keep his immense strength in check.

- “I’m not letting you finish this alone,” Clark declares, his easy smile returning. Watching him work is a sight to behold—his strength and speed make quick work of the tasks, but he’s careful to include you in the process. “You know, you’re pretty amazing for taking this on yourself,” he says, his admiration clear. “But maybe next time, let me do the heavy lifting.”

- Clark fills the room with his presence, his laughter ringing out as he shares stories of his childhood on the farm. “Pa used to say I could fix anything, but I don’t think he meant it literally,” he jokes, his grin infectious. His positivity is contagious, turning the task into a joyful experience rather than a chore.

- As the day winds down, Clark pulls you into his arms, holding you close as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. “You scared me today,” he admits, his voice soft. “You’re my world, and I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt.” His love is vast and unwavering, a force of nature as steady and comforting as the sun.

Barry Allen aka. Flash

- Barry is at your side before you even realize he’s noticed your injury. “Hey, what’s this?” he asks, his voice tinged with concern as he gently lifts your hand. His blue eyes dart to the bandage, then back to your face. “You’ve been holding out on me, haven’t you?” he teases, but his worry is evident. “How’d this happen?”

- In a blur, he’s retrieved the first aid kit, his hands moving at super-speed to clean and rewrap your wound. “Don’t worry, you’re in good hands,” he says with a wink, though his focus is absolute. Barry’s always been quick—literally and emotionally—but when it comes to you, he takes his time, ensuring every detail is perfect. “You’ve got to let me know when you need help,” he says, his tone soft but sincere.

- “Alright, you’re officially benched,” Barry announces with a grin. “I’m finishing this for you.” He’s a whirlwind of energy as he tackles the project, moving so fast that you can barely keep track. But he makes sure to slow down just enough to include you, cracking jokes and asking your opinion at every step.

- Barry’s lighthearted nature turns the renovation into a fun adventure. “You know, if this whole superhero thing doesn’t work out, I might have a future in carpentry,” he says, laughing as he perfectly aligns a frame in a fraction of a second. His joy is infectious, and you find yourself smiling despite the day’s earlier chaos.

- At the end of the day, Barry pulls you into his arms, his touch warm and reassuring. “You’re my lightning rod,” he says softly, his words carrying the weight of his feelings. “I need you safe, always.” His love is fast and electrifying, but it’s also deeply grounding—a steady current that ties him to you, no matter how quickly the world moves around him.

Diana of Themyscira aka. Wonder Woman

- Diana’s gaze sharpens the moment she sees your bandaged hand. “What happened?” she asks, her voice steady but filled with concern. She moves closer, taking your hand in hers with a warrior’s precision and a lover’s tenderness. When you explain the accident, she frowns, her lips pressing into a determined line. “You should have called for me,” she says, her voice soft but firm.

- She kneels before you, her hands strong yet gentle as she examines your injury. “Even the smallest wounds must be treated with care,” she says, her tone carrying the wisdom of centuries. As she cleans and rewraps the bandage, her movements are deliberate, each one filled with a quiet reverence for your well-being. “Your safety matters to me,” she adds, her eyes meeting yours with unwavering sincerity.

- “Come,” Diana says, rising gracefully to her feet. “We will finish this together.” She takes the lead with effortless strength and grace, her presence commanding yet reassuring. Watching her work is mesmerizing; every movement is precise, every decision thoughtful. “This is good work you’ve started,” she says, her voice warm with pride. “But let me ease your burden.”

- Diana shares stories of Themyscira as you work, her voice rich with history and passion. “On my island, we build with our hands and our hearts,” she says, her smile radiant. “Each task is an opportunity to honor the strength within us.” Her words inspire you, her belief in your capabilities unwavering.

- That evening, Diana draws you into a gentle embrace, her arms strong and protective. “You are precious to me,” she says, her voice a soft melody. “I cannot bear the thought of you in pain.” She presses a kiss to your forehead, her lips lingering as if to seal her vow. Diana’s love is fierce and enduring, a flame that burns brightly and warmly, illuminating every corner of your heart.

Arthur Curry aka. Aquaman

- Arthur notices the bandage on your hand the moment he walks through the door, his sharp, sea-green eyes narrowing in concern. “What happened, love?” he asks, his deep voice steady but tinged with worry. When you explain the accident, he shakes his head with a low chuckle. “You’re as stubborn as the tides, you know that?” he says, though his expression softens as he takes your hand in his rough but gentle grip.

- “Let me see,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. He inspects your injury carefully, his calloused fingers brushing against your skin. “It’s not bad, but you’ve got to be more careful,” he mutters, his voice filled with a protective edge. Arthur’s care is practical, but there’s an underlying tenderness that speaks volumes about how deeply he feels for you.

- “Alright, you’re done for the day,” he declares, folding his arms across his broad chest. “I’ll handle the rest.” Despite your protests, Arthur’s determination is unyielding. Watching him work is a marvel; his strength makes heavy tasks look effortless, but he’s surprisingly meticulous, his movements precise and deliberate. “This is easy compared to wrangling sea monsters,” he teases, flashing you a grin.

- As he works, Arthur regales you with tales of Atlantis, his deep voice resonating like the waves. “Did I ever tell you about the time Mera and I rebuilt the coral spires after a storm?” he asks, his laughter rumbling like distant thunder. His stories are vivid and captivating, his love for his home—and for you—evident in every word.

- That evening, Arthur pulls you into his arms, his embrace as warm and encompassing as the ocean itself. “You scared me,” he admits, his voice low and serious. “You’re my anchor, and I can’t bear to see you hurt.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering as if to soothe away all your worries. Arthur’s love is as vast and enduring as the sea, a force of nature that surrounds and protects you.

Hal Jordan aka. Green Lantern

- Hal’s easygoing demeanor shifts the moment he notices the bandage on your hand. “What’s this?” he asks, his voice filled with concern as he takes your hand gently. His green eyes scan the wound, his expression a mix of worry and amusement. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to play with sharp objects?” he teases, though his grip tightens protectively.

- “Alright, let me play doctor,” he says with a wink, summoning a glowing green construct of a first aid kit. Hal’s touch is careful as he rewraps your bandage, his usual bravado giving way to surprising precision. “You’ve got to be more careful,” he says softly, his tone carrying a weight that shows how much he cares.

- “Looks like I’m your personal handyman today,” Hal declares, conjuring a glowing hammer with a flourish. He tackles the project with his trademark confidence, his constructs turning the mundane task into something almost magical. “See? Easy,” he says, flashing you a cocky grin. “You’ve got the best in the business on your side.”

- As he works, Hal keeps you entertained with his endless banter and larger-than-life stories. “There was this one time on Oa…” he begins, spinning a tale that’s equal parts unbelievable and hilarious. His humor lightens the atmosphere, and his laughter is infectious, making even the simplest moments feel special.

- Later, as you sit together under the soft glow of his ring, Hal wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. “You know, you’re my reason to keep coming back to Earth,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “I don’t want anything happening to you.” His love is like his willpower—unshakable, glowing brightly and guiding you through even the darkest times.

Oliver Queen aka. Green Arrow

- “Whoa, hold up—what happened to your hand?” Oliver asks, his sharp gaze landing on your bandaged injury. Before you can brush it off, he’s already by your side, gently taking your hand in his. “You didn’t think to call me?” he teases, though his voice carries a hint of genuine worry. “I could’ve handled this in no time.”

- He grabs the first aid kit, his hands surprisingly deft as he unwraps and rebandages your wound. “You’ve got to be more careful, beautiful,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “I can’t have you sidelined—you’re my best partner, after all.” His touch is light, but the protective edge in his tone makes it clear how much he cares.

- “Alright, step aside. The Green Arrow is on the job,” Oliver says, flashing you a trademark smirk. Watching him work is an experience in itself—he’s efficient and surprisingly skilled, despite his playful demeanor. “Bet you didn’t know I was handy with a hammer, huh?” he jokes, his grin lighting up the room.

- Oliver keeps the mood light with his constant humor and quick wit. “You know, I once tried to fix a broken bowstring and ended up snapping three more,” he says, laughing at the memory. His charm is irresistible, and he has a way of making even the most tedious tasks feel fun and exciting.

- As the evening winds down, Oliver pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you. “You scared me today,” he admits, his voice low and serious. “I’ve lost enough people in my life—I’m not losing you too.” He kisses your forehead, his lips warm and lingering. Oliver’s love is bold, passionate, and unwavering, a constant in your life that leaves you feeling cherished and protected.

John Constantine aka. Hellblazer

- John notices the injury immediately, his sharp eyes narrowing as he takes a long drag from his cigarette. “What’s this, then?” he asks, his voice a mix of concern and irritation. He steps closer, taking your hand in his surprisingly gentle grip. “Bloody hell, love, you’ve got to take better care of yourself,” he mutters, his usual sarcasm tempered by genuine worry.

- He doesn’t bother with a first aid kit—instead, he mutters a few words in Latin, and a faint glow surrounds your hand. “There, good as new,” he says with a smirk, though his eyes linger on you with a rare softness. “Don’t make me have to fix you up like this again, yeah?” he adds, his tone light but edged with seriousness.

- “Right, let’s see what mess you’ve gotten yourself into,” John says, surveying the unfinished renovation. He rolls up his sleeves and gets to work, grumbling under his breath but surprisingly competent. “Don’t look so shocked—I’m full of surprises,” he says with a wink.

- As he works, John keeps up a steady stream of sardonic commentary and darkly humorous anecdotes. “This reminds me of the time I tried to patch up a hole in my flat’s wall. Ended up summoning a demon instead,” he quips, his dry humor making you laugh despite yourself. His presence, though chaotic, is oddly reassuring.

- Later, as you both sit in the dim light, John lights another cigarette, his gaze softening as he looks at you. “You’ve got to be more careful, love,” he says quietly. “I’ve got enough demons to fight—I don’t need to be worrying about losing you too.” His love is raw, messy, and laced with his own brand of charm, but it’s as real and unshakable as the man himself.

Roy Harper aka. Arsenal

- Roy notices your bandaged hand the moment he steps in. “What the hell happened?” he asks, his voice laced with concern, though his trademark smirk softens the words. He takes your hand gently, his calloused fingers brushing against yours. “You didn’t think to call me? I’m literally a pro at making bad decisions—and patching them up after.”

- “Alright, sit tight,” he says, pulling out a first aid kit with a flourish. His movements are surprisingly precise, honed from years of taking care of himself and others. “This isn’t bad, but next time, maybe call me before you go all DIY warrior,” he jokes, though the worry in his eyes betrays his casual tone.

- Roy insists on helping you finish the project, despite your protests. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you do this alone?” he says, grabbing a hammer with an exaggerated show of confidence. His work is a mix of skill and chaos—he’s good at what he does, but his playful energy keeps things unpredictable.

- As you work together, Roy’s humor keeps you laughing. “You know, I once tried to fix a broken bow. Ended up breaking three more,” he says, grinning at the memory. He’s full of stories, each one more absurd than the last, but they’re all delivered with a charm that makes you forget about the mess around you.

- Later, as you both sit back to admire the (somewhat chaotic) results, Roy pulls you close, his arm slung around your shoulders. “You mean the world to me, you know that?” he says, his voice softer than usual. “Don’t scare me like that again, alright?” His love is messy but wholehearted, a constant reminder that you’re his anchor in a turbulent world.

Koriand’r aka. Starfire

- Kori’s luminous green eyes widen in concern when she sees your bandaged hand. “Oh no, my love, what has happened?” she asks, taking your hand delicately in hers. Her warmth radiates through her touch as she examines the wound. “Does it pain you? Please, tell me how I can help.”

- She gently kisses your hand, her lips soft and glowing faintly. “On Tamaran, we believe healing begins with love,” she says, her voice filled with sincerity. She insists on tending to the injury herself, her movements careful and deliberate. Her concern is almost palpable, her love for you evident in every action.

- Kori is eager to assist with your project, her strength and enthusiasm turning what could have been a chore into an exciting adventure. “Let us work together,” she says, her smile bright enough to light up the room. Watching her lift heavy beams effortlessly and handle tools with childlike curiosity is both impressive and endearing.

- As you work side by side, Kori shares stories of her home planet. “On Tamaran, we build homes with our families, singing songs of unity and joy,” she says, her voice rich with nostalgia. Her passion for her culture and her desire to share it with you make the task feel meaningful and connected.

- At the end of the day, Kori pulls you into her embrace, her warmth enveloping you like sunlight. “You are my heart,” she says softly, her glowing eyes meeting yours. “I cannot bear the thought of you in pain.” She kisses your forehead tenderly, her love as radiant and boundless as the stars she comes from.

Kara Zor-El aka. Supergirl

- Kara’s superhuman senses catch your injury before you even try to hide it. “Wait—what happened to your hand?” she asks, her tone a mix of concern and mild panic. She’s by your side in an instant, her blue eyes scanning your bandage with laser-like focus. “You didn’t think to call me? I could’ve been here in a second!”

- She insists on checking your injury, her touch gentle despite her immense strength. “It’s not too bad, but I’m still worried,” she admits, biting her lip as she adjusts the bandage. “Next time, promise me you’ll let me help, okay?” Her voice is firm but filled with a tenderness that makes your heart melt.

- Kara takes over the renovation project with her usual enthusiasm, zipping around at super-speed to get things done. “This is so much easier than stopping meteors,” she jokes, flashing you a bright smile. Despite her incredible abilities, she makes sure to include you, asking for your input and slowing down to let you participate.

- As you work, Kara shares stories of Krypton, her voice filled with a mixture of sadness and pride. “Back home, we had machines to do most of this,” she says, a wistful smile crossing her face. “But I think there’s something special about doing it with your own hands—especially when it’s for someone you love.”

- Later, Kara wraps you in a warm hug, her strength carefully restrained but her affection boundless. “You’re my connection to this world,” she says softly, resting her forehead against yours. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Her love is like sunlight—pure, strong, and life-giving, a constant source of warmth and light in your life.

Slade Wilson aka. Deathstroke

- Slade notices your injury immediately, his single eye narrowing as he steps closer. “What happened?” he asks, his voice low and commanding. He takes your hand in his gloved one, his touch surprisingly gentle as he examines the bandage. “You’ve been careless,” he says, though his tone carries more concern than reprimand.

- Without a word, Slade pulls out a compact medical kit, his movements precise and efficient. “You should have called me,” he mutters, his focus entirely on your wound. “I don’t like seeing you hurt.” His care is methodical, almost clinical, but the way his fingers linger just slightly on your skin betrays his deeper feelings.

- Slade insists on taking over the renovation, his natural leadership coming through as he assesses the task. “Stand back,” he says, rolling up his sleeves. Watching him work is like watching a soldier in action—every movement calculated, every decision deliberate. “This isn’t my first time fixing something broken,” he quips, his dry humor catching you off guard.

- As he works, Slade shares fragments of his past, his gravelly voice tinged with a rare vulnerability. “This reminds me of when I used to build things with my son,” he says, his expression briefly softening. The glimpses of his humanity remind you of the man beneath the hardened exterior, the man who loves you in his own quiet, fierce way.

- Later, Slade pulls you close, his arm heavy and protective around your shoulders. “You’ve got to be more careful,” he says, his voice a low growl. “I’ve lost too much already—I’m not losing you.” He kisses your forehead briefly but firmly, his love intense and unyielding, like the man himself—a force that shields you from the world’s dangers, even as he battles his own demons.

Kent Nelson aka. Doctor Fate

- Kent’s piercing eyes behind the shimmering Helmet of Fate immediately fixate on your injured hand. “What have you done, my love?” he asks, his voice a blend of the mystical and the concerned. Without hesitation, he removes the helmet, his human side taking precedence. His hands, warm and steady, gently cradle yours as he inspects the wound.

- “This is a simple injury,” he murmurs, his voice calm but resolute. “But even the smallest wounds can lead to chaos if left untended.” A golden light surrounds his hand as he softly incants an ancient spell. The pain fades, replaced by a soothing warmth, though Kent remains watchful. “You must remember, you are precious to me beyond measure.”

- When he sees the half-finished renovation, Kent sighs softly. “It seems I have another task to tend to,” he says with a faint smile. With a wave of his hand, the room begins to shift and transform, guided by his mystical prowess. “Though I prefer to use magic sparingly, I believe this situation calls for a touch of Fate,” he teases lightly.

- As the room repairs itself under his guidance, Kent tells you stories of the endless mystic realms he has traversed. “In the realm of Amathur, they build their homes from living crystal, attuned to their souls,” he says, his voice carrying the weight of eons. His stories are mesmerizing, painting a picture of a universe far beyond your imagination.

- That evening, as the golden glow of his magic fades, Kent pulls you close, his mortal and immortal selves blending seamlessly in his affection for you. “You ground me, even amidst the chaos of the cosmos,” he whispers. “Do not let harm come to you, for you are my anchor to this world.” His love is profound and eternal, like the ancient forces he commands.

Rachel Roth aka. Raven

- Rachel notices the bandage immediately, her dark, violet eyes narrowing. “What happened?” she asks, her voice calm but laced with quiet concern. She steps closer, her fingers brushing against yours lightly. “You didn’t think to tell me?” she adds, her tone carrying just a hint of exasperation masked by worry.

- A soft, dark aura emanates from her hands as she murmurs a healing spell. “Let me take away the pain,” she says softly, her magic soothing the injury. “But next time, be more careful.” Her words are firm, but the tenderness in her actions speaks volumes about her love for you.

- Rachel insists on helping with the renovation, though her approach is unconventional. Using her magic, she levitates tools and materials, fixing everything with an eerie precision. “Why struggle when there’s an easier way?” she quips, a rare hint of humor gracing her usually serious demeanor.

- As she works, Rachel shares pieces of her past, her voice quiet but steady. “I used to dream of having a home like this—something stable, something real,” she admits. Her vulnerability in those moments is a reminder of the strength it takes for her to let you in, to allow herself to love and be loved.

- Later, as the room takes on a serene, almost otherworldly perfection, Rachel sits with you in the quiet. “I’m not used to caring this much,” she confesses, her voice barely above a whisper. “But you… you’ve shown me that it’s okay to let someone in.” Her love is deep and shadowed, like the magic she wields—powerful, transformative, and utterly consuming.

Zatanna Zatara aka. Zatanna

- “What’s this?” Zatanna asks, her sharp blue eyes immediately noticing your bandaged hand. She sets down her wand and takes your hand in hers, her touch warm and gentle. “You’ve been playing with tools without supervision, haven’t you?” she teases, though her concern is clear.

- “Let me fix this,” she says with a wink. She waves her hand, her words spoken backward as a soft, golden light surrounds your injury. “Esael ruoy niaP,” she says, and the pain dissipates. “Much better,” she adds with a playful smile. “But seriously, call me next time.”

- Zatanna insists on finishing the renovation with you, though her methods are far from ordinary. “Why use a hammer when you have magic?” she says, summoning tools and materials with a flick of her wrist. The room transforms under her guidance, every detail touched with a bit of theatrical flair.

- As she works, Zatanna keeps you entertained with stories of her performances and her magical adventures. “There was this one time in Paris where my spell accidentally turned an entire café into a circus,” she says, laughing. Her humor and charisma make even the mundane feel magical, her presence a constant source of joy.

- That night, as the newly restored room glows with a faint magical shimmer, Zatanna pulls you into her arms. “You’re my favorite audience,” she says softly, her voice filled with affection. “Don’t ever scare me like that again, okay?” Her love is vibrant and enchanting, a spell that binds you to her in the most wonderful way.

Wally West aka. Flash

- Wally zips into the room and immediately notices your hand. “Whoa, whoa, whoa—what happened here?” he asks, his words coming almost as fast as he moves. He’s by your side in an instant, gently taking your injured hand in his. “Why didn’t you call me? I could’ve been here in seconds!”

- He rushes to grab a first aid kit, moving so quickly you barely see him leave. “You’ve got to be more careful,” he says as he carefully rewraps your bandage. Despite his speed, his touch is gentle, his eyes full of concern. “Promise me you’ll let me help next time, okay?”

- Wally insists on finishing the renovation, his super-speed turning the task into a blur of activity. “This is easy,” he says with a grin, fixing things faster than you can even follow. “But hey, don’t blink—you might miss my best work!” His enthusiasm is infectious, making the entire process feel like a game.

- As he works, Wally keeps you laughing with his endless jokes and stories. “Did I ever tell you about the time I outran a black hole?” he says, his grin widening. His energy is boundless, his humor a constant source of lightness and joy in your life.

- Later, as the room stands perfectly completed, Wally pulls you close, his usual hyperactivity giving way to a rare moment of stillness. “You’re my world,” he says softly, his voice steady and sincere. “I can’t imagine life without you.” His love is like his speed—unstoppable, all-encompassing, and always rushing to your side.

[karpkorner]

"..."

Okay, now she was a little taken aback. It was one thing to hear her assistant came from another world. She could handle that much. But that she... wasn't human? That was a little silly. I mean, if she wasn't human or a Nikke, then what else could she possibly be? It just didn't make sense otherwise.

"I'm sorry Maya, but, I think you might have lost me."

Ah... That pen too... That was one of her favorites. It'd been a gift from Dolla. That one was gonna be a tough one to explain...

"But, as your Commander, naturally I'll keep this information confidential. Anything said here is 100 percent confidential. "

"That being said, regardless of my understanding of your origins, I can understand at least the feeling of powerlessness. Its a rough world we live in, but, I find just taking it one day at a time really does help a lot. And, if it means anything, your support has been incredibly invaluable and a wonderful boon to me. I've not thought any less of you either for your position or condition either."

She'd take a moment to think. In a situation like this... Was there really anything she could do?

"I take it Mary and Pepper have already done their best in trying to help in your recovery, right?"

"The only theory we have is that I arrived via another method... And I don't know enough about spacetime theory to make any sort of educated guess." Maya, admittedly, had arrived years before, and she did expect to be sent back... But at this point, it seemed more or less obvious that it wasn't responsible for her arrival in this world. There was always the theory that she wasn't sent through space, but time, and that... She didn't enjoy thinking about.

"Well... Because I know I can trust you, now. As for if any of them know... Andersen and Ingrid do; he's the one who had most of it stricken from my public record, and Elysion was the one charged with attempting to turn me into a Nikke... and failed. All of it's for the same reason in the end, though." Maya stopped twirling the pen in her fingers, before lifting it up, closer to eye level. The blonde paused for a moment, before clenching her fingers... and snapping the pen in two with the smallest bit of effort.

"The reason why I can get around just fine despite my 'frailty', why Andersen made it seem like I should be kept to light duty, and why Elysion couldn't modify me to save me life... is because I'm not human. At least, not like you." Leaning down, Maya began to pick up the bits and pieces of the pen she'd effectively shattered moments prior, continuing to talk as she did so, eventually sitting up straight again. "My strength, speed, and durability are even greater than a Nikke's, but my insides are a complete wreck. Because I literally contained a nuclear explosion within myself when I was 17 years old."

"So, I guess all that was just... preamble to that point. Because I should be dead. I thought I was going to die, 3 years ago. And now I'm here, in a world that isn't my own, surrounded by atrocities I would've been able to fix once upon a time, but now can't without risking falling apart. I've... never felt this powerless."

[demonicbaby666]

Tears on the Window Pane

One shot | Supergirl Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Supergirl

Pairing: Lena Luthor x fem!Reader

Genre: Smut

Words: 2.6k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, toxic ex, jealousy, alcohol, rough sex, fingering, humiliation (if you look hard enough), semi-public sex, degradation, hair pulling, asphyxiation, daddy kink, top!Lena, bottom!reader

Summary: months after a breakup, you bump into your ex. Though the relationship was filled with turmoil, and you’d long since believed you’d learnt some valuable lessons from it, it seems you’re not as strong to resist as you think.

A/n: this was originally going to be an enemies-to-lovers story but then a devilish creature crawled out from a dark corner of my room, muttered mean!Lena really seductively in my ear, and I was helpless to fight what came over me then...

It was foggy that Friday night. National city's streets pulsed with life as people filtered out of bars and clubs, only to move on to the next, then the next. When their wobbly steps turned solely to stumbling, they would wave their white flags and surrender to the night or, better yet, early morning. That, too, is what your plan had been - to wander aimlessly with a group of friends until your head spun and your feet hurt, till the sun rose from beneath skyscrapers and the morning breeze would snip away at the lingering effects of hard liquor and cheap beer. Those plans, however, had been wholly derailed when you made your way into a club, and tendrils of cold shivers made their way up your spine, forcing your gaze to flicker over the swarming sea of sweaty bodies, landing on one person. 

If it were a year ago, a mousy smile could be caught stretched across your lips. A sudden timidness to being perceived by this goddess whom you'd once called your girlfriend may have even sent butterflies flittering low in your stomach. But a year ago, you were naive, blinded by flashing lights that coloured red, green and toxic, sweet. 

You stood there, hand in hand, with a stray girl your group had adopted for the night, past feelings dwindling low in your stomach as your mind walked the line between now and then. Fear had the muscles in your stomach tensing, pupils dilating, and legs refusing to heed the commands of the arm tugging you towards the bar. The other emotion you harboured was similar in nature. However, it differed in that although its predecessor forced your legs to remain rooted, this successor wedged them closed to alleviate the quickening pulse, growing thick and lively. 

Trying to ignore that even from a distance Lena's eyes had locked onto your every move with chilling precision, you elbowed your way to liquid relief. It had been your intention to leave after slinging back a few shots of watered-down vodka, but then came the shift - the subtle twist in your gut that made you courageous enough to entertain the attention you were receiving rather than cower away from it. 

With a turn of your head and a feeling of which direction to turn in, you granted yourself a few moments to really take the CEO in. She appeared to have come straight from a business meeting, dressed in a navy suit, surrounded by white-collared men and women all fighting to gain recognition. And yet, she gave them nothing. She remained silent. Eyes cemented on the light sway of your hips and the shrinking space between you and the unknown body lurking beside you. 

With each boom from the speakers and the accompanying shake of the floor, bodies morphed together until there was only Lena and the blur of scattered masses. The music died in your ears, reduced to a faint hum, and the constant pounding of the bass became secondary to the pounding of your heart. The beginning of a slow-motion step forward was attempted, the heel of your boot hitting the sticky floor before, "You want to dance?" 

The spell was broken. Music assaulted your eardrums. The reek of alcohol polluted your nose, and calloused fingers brushed your elbow before a tall figure obstructed your view, sporting an aggravatingly hopeful smile. 

"What?" you snapped, not realising how harsh your tone was until the man’s unabashed beam faltered. You tried again, this time softer. "It's loud in here. What did you say?"

There was a charming awkwardness to him. The way he rubbed a palm over the back of his neck and let out a nervous laugh made you feel bad for the guy.

"Come have a dance with me?" he asked, voice gruff but not entirely unpleasant. 

The human blockade made it hard to gauge if Lena was still watching, and in the absence of her scrutinising glare, you allowed yourself to be led to the crowded dancefloor. 

As the music flowed and your body moved, you let your mind wander. You thought back to the breakup and how the following months were spent re-wiring your brain, re-learning how to make decisions independently and cultivating a life centred around yourself. You’d told yourself it had been worth it. The freedom was blissful, and opportunities popped up where they had never seemed to before. But with the merriment came the bittersweet - evenings spent alone, men thinking they had free rein to eye fuck you and, occasionally, get handsy. A day didn't go by where you wouldn't crave the guidance and praise Lena bestowed. But more than anything, you missed the feeling of being wholly owned. It was that deep-rooted longing that had you looking back to Lena. 

Despite not being in a relationship with the woman, the look she was shooting at the poor man behind you led you to believe her claim over you was still unconquered, and that single fact should have sent you running. But once again, strobing lights really did have a way of distorting things. 

Her gaze remained fixed, and though it was unnerving, it was thrilling. Being with Lena was always like this. She was intense and stubborn and so damn territorial it spoke directly to the servile side of you in a way that nothing and no one else ever could. It made you desperate to bend to her will, no matter the costs. The only problem then was you weren’t hers to bend, and it became clear in that second that that needed to change. 

You kept up the act, dancing as provocatively as stilettos would allow and laughing along to rehearsed pickup lines. The last straw for the fuming brunette came when a pair of hands snaked around your waist, pulling you back into a muscled torso, and a pathetic little jab touched your ass. Lena was up on her feet and charging towards you in no time.

"Hands off,” the older woman growled, digging her blunt nails into your forearm and yanking you forward. 

"Take it easy.” The man tried to make a grab for you, but Lena beat him to it, stepping forward to shield you from his grasp. Instantly, he backed away, throwing his hands up. “I didn't know she was spoken for." 

"Shut the fuck up." Lena was seething, her jaw clenched and her eyes vicious. “If you even think of you touching her again, I'll chop your dick off and feed it to you."

She didn't wait for a reply to come or give notice to the small crowd that had formed around the three of you. Instead, Lena hauled you into the bathroom in record time, practically threw you into an open stall door and pressed your front firmly against the wall. 

"A few months, and you're already whoring yourself out,” came the surly voice from behind you. "Did you learn nothing?" 

"I," you tried to answer, but a hand fell over your mouth, silencing you. 

"You're disgusting,” she sneered. "What makes you think I care what you have to say?" 

The palm over your lips was held tight. There was no space between slim fingers and no room to breathe from anywhere other than your nose. A woeful whimper arose from the back of your throat, sounding so pathetic heat rushed to your face and painted your cheeks pink. 

The fact you knew, from experience, there was no way to get out of Lena's hold evaded you. From the surface level, it could be said you were under the assumption your sudden hike in mental strength extended to your physical. However, deep down, you knew the fight was what you and Lena needed. All that pent-up anger, resentment, and hunger required liberation, and together, that was something you always did well. 

"You're so desperate, aren't you?" Lena snarled, lodging her foot between your heels and wedging them apart until you were spread open for her. "I bet if I reached into your panties, I'd find you soaked." 

As predicted, the contentious grunt that heaved a puff of cool air out your nose and elbow to the gut sparked something primal in Lena. It forced her hand to the back of your neck, where she pushed your cheek harder into the wall and laid a stinging slap over your clothed cunt. The yelp that followed met a quick demise, cut off by bracketed fingers restricting your airways and survival instincts chose then to seek the help of your hands. They flailed about, aimlessly reaching out for Lena, begging her to stop or to give you more; you didn't know. All you knew was your mind's conflict. 

The top half of your body fought hard, shoulders driving back and forth, whilst the bottom speedily submitted, rocking against the minimal pressure Lena's palm offered and greedily pushing down to gain more stimulation. It was all in vain, of course. 

"Pathetic," she tutted, delivering another swift slap to your aching sex. "Little slut wants her pussy fucked?" 

"Lena, please,” you quietly sobbed. 

Swift as the wind, the brunette had your back to the wall, one hand gripping your jaw, the other holding your wrists above your head. 

"Please, what?" she goaded, pushing your head up to work the blank space of your neck with not-so-gentle bites, topping them off with soothing licks. 

"I d-don't know," you whined. 

It wasn't far from the truth. Your mind was hazy from alcohol. You were letting your body lead you into something you knew you’d later regret. But the scariest thing was that it didn't frighten you at all how willing you were to throw months of hard work away. You knew what you wanted. The problem was grappling with whether it'd be a good idea to say the words out loud. 

Your indecisiveness earned you a piercing pain that rang from the veins of your neck to the tiniest of capillaries in your toes. There was no way to see the irreparable damage done. Alas, there was no need. You felt the sharp edge of each tooth sink into your throat, marking you. The agony, however, was thankfully quashed seconds later as you received your second reprimand. Between the tearing of lace and Lena thrusting three fingers into your tight channel, there was no time to stop the ear-splitting moan that tumbled from your lips and bellowed over the bathroom stalls. The sound alone sent any remaining occupants fleeing in fits of laughter as your stomach sunk due to both mortification and arousal. 

With Lena's new hand placement came the opportunity to use your hands again. Instead of using this as a chance to fight back, you pulled Lena up from the nook of your neck and hastily interlocked your lips together in a frenzied kiss. She reciprocated at first, then drew a sharp breath before pulling away. You attempted to chase her. However, you were woefully mistaken in thinking you had the authority to initiate such an act again. A brutal strike of curling fingers taught you that, alongside the smirk you witnessed when your eyes flew wide open and a shove to your neck forced the back of your head to collide with the wall. Lena wasn't shy with her pace after that. It was like she was adamant about proving how easy it was for her to drive you crazy. 

Trailing fingers up your jaw to the back of your neck, Lena bundled your loose waves into a bun and tugged, forcing you to look into her blackened eyes as she frowned. "Do that again, and I'll bring you to the brink over and over again, then leave you here crying. Understand?"

You heeded the warning with fast nods and chants of 'yes, yes, yes', which seemed to please the brunette. She kept up her hurried movements, digits sliding rapidly up and down your hot canal, occasionally curling to stroke the rough patch of tissue that had you seeing stars. 

The closer you got, the harder it was to remain still, and when Lena didn't stop your hips from matching the flow of her ministrations, you were beyond grateful. In fact, the move garnered reward, specifically a svelte hand moving south to knead your breasts. It turned out this was only a distraction from the nimble thumb readying itself for work. A swipe to your clit followed the next hit to your sweet spot, and before you knew what was happening, your stomach muscles were convulsing, and pangs of liquid heat soared through every vein in your body. 

Your breaths were short and shallow. Lewd moans were given free rein to fill the four walls of the suffocating stall, and the thrumming bass coming from outside was being overtaken by the pulsing sound of blood pumping in your ears. Yet, somehow, through it all, you could still hear the shameful jabs Lena was throwing at you. 

"I'm going to,” you began, only to be cut off by a stern voice.

"I don't think so, honey,” she interjected. “Who decides when you get to come?" 

"Lena, oh god, Lena," you cried, squeezing around her fingers and trying to stop the tight coil in your gut from unfurling. "I can't!"

"Who tells you when you get to come?" Lena barked, slowing down. 

Tears were welling in your eyes, giving shine to the stars interspersed across your vision.

"You!" 

"Who?!" Lena sped up again, redoubled her efforts and slipped a fourth finger inside you, filling you so completely that your knees almost buckled beneath you. Even still, you weren't granted permission to release the strained muscles holding you from your orgasm. 

"Fuck!" you screamed. A tear spilt down the side of your face, your jaw shook, and blood coated your tongue as you bit the inside of your cheek, tearing into the smooth flesh. “You do, Daddy!" 

Just when you thought you might pass out, hot breath skimmed the shell of your ear, and Lena whispered the words that were your undoing. 

"I want everyone to hear you. Come nice and hard for Daddy."

Finally, you let go. All the pent-up tension rushed to the surface like a tidal wave. It submerged you in a whirlpool of flooding pleasure that had you shouting out for Lena, begging her to hold you steady whilst you shook and shook for what felt like hours. Her arm was around you in no time, providing a lifeline to hold onto whilst her fingers kept you under, massaging soft tissue. 

You stood there, mind numb, body useless, until the shudders passed, and Lena carefully pulled her fingers out of you. It wasn't until after feeling had returned to your legs and the strain of standing wasn't registering that you realised Lena was practically holding you up. Her arms were on your hips, and her body firmly pressed you to the wall, so there was no chance you'd keel over. 

When your eyes met, you detected the slightest bit of worry, making your heart skip a beat, and that alone was why you didn't argue when the next thing she said was, "I'm taking you back to mine."

It wasn't so much a walk to the car; rather, Lena stormed through the club, dragging you alongside her before slamming you against the back door of the vehicle and kissing you silly. At first, you were taken aback. Her reluctance to do just this only minutes ago was still echoing between your legs. You shook it off and accepted the moment for what it was: fleeting. That was when the rain started to fall, and the drunken mob's laughter erupted into roars of childlike amusement, and for the first time in a while, you felt content. 

You laughed and laughed and laughed, genuine bubbling girly giggles shaking your chest and vibrating between rain-kissed lips. 

"I'm so screwed," you half-whispered, half-sighed, nestling your head into Lena's neck. And as the sky cried a fresh set of trickling tears that splattered off the car's window panes, you happily bled a few of your own. 

"Mmm," the older woman hummed in agreement, kissing your temple lightly. “Yes, you are."

Tags: @anonslay @homo-oddity | Click here to be added to my tag list

[trans-ouroboros]

I'm going to list my favorite ships because I want to :)

I'm not really sure what you do on blogs so I'm just going to list out all my favorite ships, both canon and fanon, for funsies. These are also not in any particular order.

Catradora (Catra x Adora) from She-Ra and the Princesses of Power.

Sashannarcy (Sasha Waybright x Anne Boonchuy x Marcy Wu) from Amphibia.

Barrissoka (Barriss Offee x Ahsoka Tano) from Star Wars: The Clone Wars.

Lumity (Luz Noceda x Amity Blight) from The Owl House.

Chaggie (Charlie Morningstar x Vaggie) from Hazbin Hotel.

Chaggily (Charlie Morningstar x Vaggie x Emily) from Hazbin Hotel.

Veronica Santangelo x Christine Royce from Fallout: New Vegas.

Stolitz (Stolas Ars Goetia x Blitzo Buckzo) from Helluva Boss.

Shakarian (Female Commander Shepard x Garrus Vakarian) from the Mass Effect Trilogy.

Female Commander Shepard x Garrus Vakarian x Tali'Zorah nar Rayya from the Mass Effect Trilogy

Honour x Justinia Hayman from Old World Blues (the Fallout overhaul mod for Hearts of Iron IV).

Dipcifica (Dipper Pines x Pacifica Northwest) from Gravity Falls.

(Female) Sole Survivor x Piper Wright x Cait from Fallout 4.

Caitvi (Caitlyn Kiramman x Vi) from Arcane: League of Legends.

Briolet (Brion Markov x Violet Harper) from Young Justice.

Shepley (Female Commander Shepard x Ashley Williams) from the Mass Effect Trilogy.

Honorable Mentions, still in no particular order:

Avatrice (Ava Silva x Beatrice) from Warrior Nun

Spitfire (Wally West x Artemis Crock) from Young Justice.

Frilda (Frida x Hilda) from Hilda.

Korrasami (Korra x Asami Sato) from The Legend of Korra.

(Female) Lone Wanderer x Sarah Lyons from Fallout 3.

Veesha (Vee Noceda x Masha) from The Owl House.

Huskerdust (Husk x Angel Dust) from Hazbin Hotel.

Blyla (Commander Bly x Aayla Secura) from Star Wars: The Clone Wars.

Supermartian (Conner Kent x M’gann M’orzz) from Young Justice.

Anidala (Anakin Skywalker x Padme Amidala) from the Star Wars Prequel Trilogy.

Supercorp (Kara Zor-El x Lena Luthor) from Supergirl.

Kanera (Kanan Jarrus x Hera Syndulla) from the Star Wars: Rebels.

Beckifer (Beckett Mariner x Jennifer Sh'reyan) from Star Trek: Lower Decks.

Anyways, hope you found some sort of entertainment or interest from my list of favorite ships.

Also some statistics for funsies! Of the twenty-eight ships, seventeen are F/F, eight are F/M, two are M/M, one is F/NB, and one is M/NB. For the Shepard/Garrus/Tali ship, I am counting it as both F/F and F/M. So Sapphic ships are 60.7%, Straight ships are 28.5%, Achillian ships are 7.1%, and Non-Binary ships are 7.1%. Of the twenty-eight ships, twenty-five are monogamous while three are polyamorous, so 89.2% monogamous to 10.7% polyamorous. Math is fun!

[veillover19]

Brainwashed and converted Supergirl awaits her Master's command, soon she will put her great powers to work serving his desires...

[solnerao]

Alone

LOG ENTRY: SOL 90

It occurred to me today that someday someone from earth might actually listen to these logs, so I figure I should record a needlessly expository one to get everyone up to speed.

My name is Lena Luthor.

It's been 90 martian days since I landed here with the rest of the crew. That's what, 92 earth days? Mars spins just a little on the slow side.

On sol 6 a dust storm was going to knock over the rocket we brought to take us home, so the rest of the crew went home and left me behind to die. Well, they thought I was already dead and left. To be honest, not their fault at all.

So I'm alone here on mars, no way home, no way to communicate, only enough food for a year, and everyone thinks I'm dead. Which sounds miserable but luckily I do have this disco music to listen to, courtesy of Commander Lewis.

And, if I can get these potatoes to grow in martian soil, which I definitely can, then I can survive long enough for the next mission to arrive.

Which should be in about 4 years.

Which does honestly sound like a long time to be alone. But I've been alone before. Most of the time, to be honest, it's how I do my best work.

I don't know, maybe I could have done things differently. Asked out that reporter when I had the chance. Not gone to fucking mars.

On the plus side, if I do make it home, she'll be so impressed she'll have to go out with me. I'm pretty sure the president is basically obligated to deliver a eulogy for every astronaut who kicks the bucket up here so everyone in the country must know my name by now. They'll probably show the satellite images and everything— actually, I wonder if they've figured out I'm alive by now. What else do all those NASA technicians even do all day?

Anyway, that's basically the situation. Feel free to keep watching these if you want to hear about my adventures cleaning solar panels and fixing the water reclaimer. Yeah, that'll sell movie tickets.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 91

Fuck. Oh god. Okay. Something just opened the airlock from the outside. There's no locks on it, because why the fuck would there be? There's not supposed to be anything else on this planet. I have like 30 seconds before that airlock opens and I have no idea what to do. Obviously there's no windows in the airlock for structural reasons, I guess the engineers back at NASA didn't consider the hab might be invaded by space aliens. Alright. If this is my last message I have some things I want to say. Commander Lewis your music is awful. Lex you can rot in hell. Kara I always thought you were hot.

Oh shit here we go—

Kara?

Kara Danvers stepped into the hab. She was wearing a button down shirt and khakis, no space helmet. "I've never held my breath that long, that was crazy." She said, panting slightly.

"Kara, what—" Lena began. But before she could finish forming a sentence, Kara was hugging her.

In the hierarchy of times you wanted to run into your crush, not having showered in 3 months in a room full of manure was pretty much bottom of the list. But right now, Lena didn't care. The hug lasted at least 30 seconds before Lena pulled back.

"Kara, what the fuck is going on? How are you here?"

"Oh! I'm Supergirl" Kara said simply.

"That… actually makes a lot of sense"

"I was at the office when I heard you were still alive and I just—" She shook her head. "NASA had some complicated plan to get you home, but I just thought, how far away can Mars really be?"

Lena laughed.

"You ready to go home?" Kara asked.

"Very." Lena was already crossing the room to don her spacesuit.

"Also, I was wondering" Kara said, more hesitant now. "Do you have plans for dinner tomorrow?"

Lena turned to look at Kara. "Do I have plans for dinner tomorrow?" She repeated, smiling. "Kara, I live on mars."

"I— right. Do you want to have dinner with me tomorrow?"

"I would love that."

"Great!" Said Kara, "It's a date! I promise it'll be—" "Don't you dare say it." interjected Lena. "—out of this world."

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Astracorp Daxamite Invasion AU Snippet

“Astra!” Lena stops struggling against the guards holding her by the arms. “Supergirl!” 

Relief rises briefly, but is swiftly tempered by Rhea’s lack of concern. If anything, the Daxamite queen looks smug, which did not bode well. She watches Rhea watch as Astra takes a commanding step forward. 

“Release Lena now,” Astra demands.

“On the contrary,” Rhea responds easily. “I think I’ll keep her.”

Lena feels her vulnerability keenly. The sheer purple gown Rhea had dressed her in leaves her exposed, though its bodice maintains a degree of modesty, the cap sleeves and split skirt billowing around her legs are gossamer-thin. Even the delicate hand chains affixed around her wrists only reinforce the truth of Lena’s situation– she is to be an ornament to Rhea’s crown, regardless of her plans to marry her to Mon-el.

Lena suppresses a shudder when Rhea’s gaze turns to her. The relaxed tone of the queen’s voice reminds her of Lex, his lofty grandiosity born of a lack of challenge to his authority. She can only hope that Astra and Supergirl are able to pierce Rhea’s bubble of superiority. Lena’s body tenses at the promise of imminent conflict, and the guards to either side of her tight their bruising grips.

“Your fight is with us, your majesty,” Supergirl tries diplomatically. “We’re here. You have no further need of Lena.”

Rhea smirks. “Lena’s presence in my court isn’t a punishment, Supergirl. It is an honor.” The queen’s gaze slides once more to Lena, who squirms. “She shall pave the way for Daxam’s future on Earth.”

“I will never help you,” Lena snarls. 

As she spits her protest, sudden movement catches Lean’s attention as Astra uses Rhea’s distraction to surge forward, her expression dark with violent intent. Rhea registers the flicker of Lena’s eyes and whirls, ripping a chunk of silver stone from her pocket. She thrusts it towards Astra, and the general slams to her knees with a groan of pain, still several feet from Astra’s feet.

“Astra!” Lena cries. She pulls against her captors, only to be hauled back with minimal effort from the guards. “Rhea! Please, don’t hurt her!”

“Oh, I have no intention of harming either of my old neighbors… they’ll do that all on their own.”

“Astra?” Supergirl’s voice quivers involuntarily as her aunt lurches to her feet. Though Lena has no idea what rock Rhea holds, she can see Astra and the way her lover’s eyes flash silver. Rhea saunters forward with zero apprehension, and leans in to speak in Astra’s ear.

“Supergirl intends to take Lena from you,” she purrs. “By any means necessary.”

“No,” Astra growls in warning– not to Rhea, but her niece.

“She’s twisting your mind, Aunt Astra,” Supergirl calls warily. “Fight it! Fight her!”

Astra’s shoulders square, her confusion melting away in the heat of her building rage. “You will not take her!”

“Astra–!” Lena’s call falls on a room devoid of either Kryptonian, Astra having tackled Supergirl through the bulkhead in the space it took to blink. There’s a moment of breathlessness before the ship’s shields snap into place around the breach. The next breath Lena sucks in brings tears to her eyes. Rhea glides towards her, smile smug. 

“They’re going to stop you,” Lena chokes out. “No matter what happens to me, they will stop you.”

“They will destroy each other,” Rhea returns, tilting Lena’s chin up with a single finger. “And I will have my fill of you.”

[distantlcver]

ARCANE

SEVIKA

Wife!Councillor sevika

Heavy is the Heart -> pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.3

Knight!Sevika x Royalty!reader

CAITLYN

Commander Kiramman x reader (pt 1?)

TLOU

SUPERGIRL

[fandomnerd9602]

Can you do a villain y/n 'accidentally' messing up a plan which allows Supergirl to escape. Though before Kara flies away she looks at y/n who secretly winks at her?

Lex Luthor keeps Supergirl held captive…

Lex: and with the kryptonite cage electrified, Supergirl will never-

Y/N pours their coffee all over the command console, short circuiting the cage…

Kara bursts out of it and flies away…

Lex: are you kidding me?!

Y/N: sorry. Butterfingers

Y/N slips a wink to Kara as she flies away…

She wink back at her favorite arch enemy…

[urdreamydoodles]

DC Comics Characters x Fem!OC

You trip a little because you were too busy staring at your crush

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Kal-El (Clark Kent), Barry Allen, Diana of Themyscira, Arthur Curry, Hal Jordan, Oliver Queen, John Constantine, Roy Harper, Koriand'r (Starfire), Kara Zor-El (Supergirl), Slade Wilson, Kent Nelson (Dr. Fate), Rachel Roth, Zatanna Zatara, Wally West, Dinah Lance, Victor Stone (Cyborg) & Shayera Hol (Hawkgirl)

Bruce Wayne aka. Batman

- Bruce Wayne is a force of nature—stoic, commanding, yet with an undercurrent of gentleness that only a few ever glimpse. You’re captivated by him, the way he effortlessly blends into a crowd yet still commands attention. That’s why you don’t see the edge of the rug in the dim lighting of Wayne Manor, tripping gracelessly. Before you can hit the ground, Bruce is there, his strong hands gripping your arms with surprising care. “Are you alright?” he asks, his voice deep and steady, concern etched into his usually impassive features.

- His hold lingers for a moment longer than necessary, his sharp blue eyes scanning your face for any sign of injury. “You should be more careful,” he says, his tone soft but firm. There’s a flicker of something in his gaze—concern, maybe even something deeper—that makes your heart race. He steps back, adjusting his cufflinks as if to regain his composure, but the subtle way his eyes linger on you betrays his own faltering calm.

- Throughout the evening, Bruce stays close, his presence a quiet reassurance. He’s the epitome of subtlety—offering you a glass of water here, gently guiding you through the crowded ballroom there. His attentiveness is masked by his usual aloof demeanor, but you catch the fleeting softness in his gaze when he thinks you’re not looking. For all his carefully constructed walls, Bruce has always struggled to hide the depth of his emotions.

- Later, when the guests have departed and the manor is quiet, Bruce surprises you by breaking the silence. “You… matter to me,” he says, his voice low, almost hesitant. He looks at you, his usual stoicism giving way to vulnerability. “I’ve lost too much in my life to ignore what’s in front of me now.” His words are raw, unpolished, but they carry the weight of his guarded heart. You reach out, your fingers brushing his, and he lets out a soft sigh, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly.

Kal-El (Clark Kent) aka. Superman

- Clark Kent is the epitome of kindness, his warmth as disarming as it is comforting. You’ve always admired him—his strength tempered by humility, his smile as bright as the sun he draws his power from. Today, as you watch him navigate the newsroom with his usual charm, you’re so distracted that you trip over a stray power cord. Before you can hit the ground, he’s there, catching you with effortless ease. “Whoa, I’ve got you,” he says, his tone gentle and reassuring, his strong arms steadying you.

- Clark’s concern is immediate, his brow furrowing as he looks you over. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice soft but earnest. His hands linger on your arms, his touch as steady as his gaze. When you assure him you’re fine, he chuckles softly, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “I guess I can be a little distracting,” he teases, though the sincerity in his eyes makes it clear he’s still worried.

- Throughout the day, Clark’s attentiveness is unshakable. Whether it’s fetching you a fresh cup of coffee or subtly guiding you around potential obstacles, his protectiveness shines through in the smallest gestures. His blue eyes find yours often, his expression softening every time. When you catch him looking at you, his cheeks flush slightly, and he quickly adjusts his glasses—a nervous habit that only endears him to you further.

- Later, when the hustle of the day has settled, Clark finds you in a quiet corner of the office. “You know,” he begins, his voice low and sincere, “I’ve faced a lot of things in my life—things I never thought I’d survive. But you… you make everything feel a little brighter.” He looks down, adjusting his glasses again, before meeting your gaze. “I just hope I can be as much for you as you are for me.” His words are simple but heartfelt, and when you smile, his grin returns, radiating the warmth of a man who feels deeply and loves unconditionally.

Barry Allen aka. Flash

- Barry Allen is a whirlwind of energy and charm, his quick wit matched only by the speed at which he moves. You’re so captivated by his boyish smile and the way his hands move animatedly as he talks that you don’t see the uneven sidewalk ahead. Before you can stumble, Barry is there, catching you with a speed that leaves you breathless. “Whoa, careful!” he says, grinning as he steadies you. “You okay? That was almost a total wipeout.”

- His concern is genuine, though his teasing grin never falters. “You know, I’ve seen people fall for me before, but this is a first,” he jokes, his tone light but his hands lingering on your arms just a moment longer than necessary. When you laugh, his grin widens, and his eyes sparkle with something deeper than amusement. “Seriously, though,” he adds, his voice softening, “are you sure you’re okay?”

- Barry’s protectiveness is subtle but constant throughout the day. He’s always just a step ahead, anticipating your needs with an almost uncanny accuracy. Whether it’s holding a door open before you even reach it or catching a falling book mid-air, his actions speak louder than words. Every time his eyes meet yours, there’s a warmth there that makes your heart race, and when he blushes under your gaze, you realize he’s just as affected as you are.

- Later, when the day slows down, Barry surprises you with a rare moment of vulnerability. “You know,” he begins, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’m not always the smoothest guy around, but with you… I feel like I don’t have to try so hard.” His voice is softer now, his usual bravado giving way to honesty. “I guess what I’m trying to say is… you make me want to slow down, and that’s saying something.” His cheeks flush as he looks at you, and when you smile, he lets out a breathless laugh, his grin returning with a newfound confidence.

Diana of Themyscira aka. Wonder Woman

- Diana of Themyscira carries herself with a grace and strength that feels otherworldly. You’ve always admired her, but today, as she stands in the sunlight, her armor gleaming and her smile as radiant as the dawn, you can’t look away. That’s why you trip, your foot catching on a stray root. Before you can fall, Diana is there, her arms steadying you with effortless ease. “Are you hurt?” she asks, her voice filled with concern, her dark eyes scanning you with a warrior’s precision.

- Diana’s touch is gentle despite her strength, her fingers lingering on your arm as she helps you steady yourself. “You must be more careful,” she says, her tone soft but firm. When you assure her you’re fine, she smiles, the warmth in her expression making your heart flutter. “It is easy to be distracted by beauty,” she adds, her words carrying a hint of playfulness, though her gaze remains steady on yours.

- Throughout the day, Diana stays close, her protective instincts clearly at odds with her desire to let you stand on your own. She’s ever watchful, her presence a comforting reminder of her strength. When your eyes meet, there’s a softness in her gaze that contrasts with her usual warrior’s intensity. It’s as if she’s letting you see a side of her few ever do—a side that cares deeply and feels even more.

- Later, as the sun sets and the world quiets, Diana speaks with a rare vulnerability. “You remind me of why I fight,” she says, her voice low but steady. “Not for glory or duty, but for love—for those who make the world worth saving.” She reaches out, her hand brushing yours, her touch both tender and strong. “You are more than I expected,” she adds, her smile soft but unwavering. “And I find myself drawn to you in ways I cannot ignore.” Her words are as sincere as the Amazon herself, and as you take her hand, you feel the unspoken promise of her unwavering heart.

Arthur Curry aka. Aquaman

- Arthur Curry has always carried the weight of two worlds on his shoulders, but you’ve never seen it diminish his strength or his humor. Today, as you watch him command the attention of those around him with his booming laugh and rugged charm, you lose track of your footing and stumble on a slick patch of wet tile. Before you can hit the ground, he’s there, catching you with a strength that feels like the ocean itself. “Whoa, easy there,” he says, his voice deep and warm, his golden eyes gleaming with concern.

- His hands linger on your waist as he steadies you, his brow furrowing slightly. “You okay?” he asks, his tone softer now. When you nod, his lips curl into a crooked grin. “You’ve got to watch your step around water, you know,” he teases, though there’s a flicker of something more in his gaze—something protective, maybe even possessive. “Next time, just grab onto me. I don’t mind being your anchor.”

- Throughout the day, Arthur is never far from your side. Whether it’s his broad hand brushing yours as you walk or the way he places himself between you and the crowd, his actions speak louder than words. When he laughs at your jokes or catches your eye from across the room, there’s a softness to him that contrasts with his larger-than-life persona. And when you catch him looking at you, his grin fades into something deeper, more thoughtful, as if he’s memorizing every detail of your face.

- Later, under the quiet of the moonlit ocean, Arthur opens up in a way he rarely does. “You’re different,” he says, his voice low and earnest. “Most people see the king, the warrior… but you see me. Just me.” His fingers brush yours, his touch warm despite the cool night air. “And I think… I want to be that for you. Just Arthur.” His vulnerability takes your breath away, and as you take his hand, his grin returns, softer but no less genuine.

Hal Jordan aka. Green Lantern

- Hal Jordan is impossible to ignore—the sheer confidence he exudes is magnetic, and his grin could rival the brightest star. You’re so caught up in watching him regale the group with one of his wild stories that you don’t see the loose stone on the ground. You trip, your balance faltering, but before you can fall, Hal is there, catching you with the ease of a man who’s saved the universe a dozen times. “Gotcha,” he says, his grin widening as he steadies you. “You okay, beautiful?”

- Hal’s teasing tone is paired with genuine concern as he looks you over, his hands lingering just a moment longer than necessary. “You’ve got to watch where you’re going,” he says, his green eyes sparkling with mischief. “Though I can’t blame you if you were distracted by someone as handsome as me.” His cocky grin makes you roll your eyes, but the way he’s still holding onto you betrays the softer side he tries to keep hidden.

- The rest of the day, Hal is uncharacteristically attentive. He’s always been protective, but now it’s obvious—whether he’s keeping an arm around your shoulders in a crowded room or using his Green Lantern ring to light your path. His usual banter is interspersed with moments of quiet affection: a lingering glance, a soft smile when he thinks you’re not looking. For all his bravado, Hal’s heart is open and unguarded when it comes to you.

- Later, under the stars, Hal drops the act. “I know I come off as this fearless guy,” he says, his voice quieter now. “But the truth is, I’m terrified of losing the people I care about.” He looks at you, his usual confidence replaced by sincerity. “You… you mean more to me than I ever expected. And I’m not going to mess this up.” His words are raw, vulnerable, and when you smile, he relaxes, his grin returning as he pulls you closer.

Oliver Queen aka. Green Arrow

- Oliver Queen is larger than life, his charisma and sharp wit drawing everyone in like moths to a flame. You’ve always found it hard to look away from him, but today, as he leans against the bar, his trademark smirk in place, you’re completely distracted. That’s why you don’t notice the stray chair leg in your path until it’s too late. You stumble, but before you can hit the ground, Oliver is there, catching you with surprising ease. “Whoa there,” he says, grinning as he steadies you. “Falling for me already?”

- His teasing tone is matched by the warmth in his eyes as he looks you over, his hands steady on your waist. “You okay?” he asks, his voice softening as he meets your gaze. When you nod, his grin widens. “Good, because I’d hate to think I caused you any trouble.” He steps back reluctantly, his hands lingering for just a moment longer than necessary before he releases you.

- For the rest of the day, Oliver is his usual charming self, but there’s an added layer of protectiveness to his actions. He’s quick to offer his arm when the ground is uneven and even quicker to shoot a playful wink your way when he catches you watching him. His sharp humor is balanced by the genuine care he shows in the little things, like the way he quietly makes sure you’re comfortable in every situation.

- Later, as the two of you find yourselves alone, Oliver surprises you with his honesty. “You know,” he begins, his voice quieter now, “I’ve spent a lot of time pretending to be someone I’m not. But with you… I don’t feel like I have to.” He looks at you, his usual bravado giving way to something more vulnerable. “You see me—the real me—and somehow, you haven’t run away yet.” His grin returns, softer this time, and when you step closer, he exhales, his shoulders relaxing as he takes your hand.

John Constantine aka. Hellblazer

- John Constantine is chaos incarnate, a man who carries the weight of the supernatural world on his shoulders while masking his pain behind biting wit and a cigarette’s haze. You’re watching him in the dim light of a dingy bar, his trench coat draped over his chair, the glow of his cigarette illuminating his sharp features. You’re so lost in your thoughts that you trip over an uneven floorboard. Before you can hit the ground, John’s there, catching you with surprising swiftness. “Careful, love,” he says, his rough voice laced with amusement. “Hate to see a beauty like you bruised.”

- His hands linger as he steadies you, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “You alright?” he asks, his tone more earnest now. When you nod, he gives you a lopsided grin. “Good. Though I wouldn’t blame you if you were distracted. Happens when I’m around.” His teasing tone is classic Constantine, but the way his eyes linger on you betrays something deeper—something he’s trying hard to keep hidden.

- For the rest of the evening, John’s attention is subtle but constant. Whether it’s shielding you from the bar’s more unsavory patrons or lighting your way with a flicker of magic, his protectiveness shines through his sarcastic façade. He teases you mercilessly, but there’s a warmth in his gaze when he thinks you’re not looking—a vulnerability that feels at odds with the cocky mage you know.

- Later, as the night winds down, John surprises you by dropping his guard. “You’re dangerous, you know,” he says, his voice low and raspy. “Getting under my skin like this… it’s not bloody fair.” He exhales, running a hand through his hair as he looks at you with uncharacteristic honesty. “I’ve got demons, love—literally and figuratively. But you… you make me think maybe there’s still a part of me worth saving.” His words are raw and unpolished, but they carry the weight of a man who’s seen too much yet dares to hope.

Roy Harper aka. Arsenal

- Roy Harper is the embodiment of resilience, his charm and humor hiding the scars of his past. You’ve always admired his strength, but today, as he adjusts the sights on his bow, his fiery red hair catching the sunlight, you can’t help but stare. So much so that you miss the loose pebble beneath your foot and stumble. Before you can hit the ground, Roy’s quick reflexes have you in his arms. “Whoa, easy there,” he says with a teasing grin. “Didn’t know I was that distracting.”

- He steadies you, his hands warm and calloused from years of archery. “You good?” he asks, his green eyes scanning your face with concern. When you nod, his grin widens. “Good, because I’m not sure my heart can handle the thought of you getting hurt.” His words are light, but there’s a flicker of vulnerability in his gaze that tells you he means every word.

- Throughout the day, Roy’s attention is as playful as it is protective. He sticks close, making jokes to put you at ease, but his actions speak louder than his words. He’s always a step ahead, ensuring you’re safe and comfortable. When he catches you watching him, he winks, his grin mischievous, but there’s a softness in his expression that tugs at your heart.

- Later, as the two of you sit around a campfire, Roy’s lighthearted demeanor shifts. “You make me want to be better,” he admits, his voice low and sincere. “Not just for me, but for you.” He looks at you, his usual cockiness giving way to raw honesty. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but you… you make me feel like maybe I’m not just my screw-ups.” His words are quiet but powerful, and as he takes your hand, his grip is steady, grounding you in his presence.

Koriand’r aka. Starfire

- Koriand’r radiates warmth, her golden skin and vibrant hair glowing like a living sunrise. Today, as she tends to a garden, her movements graceful and deliberate, you’re utterly captivated. So much so that you don’t notice the uneven stone beneath your feet. You trip, but before you can fall, Koriand’r is there, catching you in her strong, gentle arms. “Oh, are you alright?” she asks, her voice melodic with concern.

- She holds you a moment longer than necessary, her emerald eyes scanning your face. “You must be careful,” she says, her tone earnest. “I would be most distressed if you were harmed.” When you stammer out a reply, her lips curve into a radiant smile. “It is alright,” she says warmly. “I find you quite lovely, even when you stumble.”

- For the rest of the day, Koriand’r’s kindness and attentiveness shine through. She hovers close, her concern evident in the small ways she cares for you—offering a hand when the path is uneven or shielding you from the sun with her body. Her usual exuberance softens in your presence, her laughter quieter, her smiles more intimate. When she catches you looking at her, she tilts her head, her curiosity and affection clear in her gaze.

- Later, as the two of you watch the stars, Koriand’r speaks with heartfelt sincerity. “You are like the stars to me,” she says, her voice soft. “Beautiful, constant, and full of wonder.” She takes your hand, her touch warm and steady. “You make me feel at home, no matter where I am. And for that, I am most grateful.” Her words are simple yet profound, her honesty like a balm to your soul.

Kara Zor-El aka. Supergirl

- Kara Zor-El is sunlight personified, her optimism and strength radiating wherever she goes. Today, as she helps a group of children with their science project, her laughter ringing like music, you can’t take your eyes off her. So much so that you don’t see the toy car in your path until it’s too late. You stumble, but before you can hit the ground, Kara is there in a flash, catching you with ease. “Whoa, you okay?” she asks, her voice warm with concern.

- She steadies you, her hands gentle yet strong as she looks you over. “You’ve got to watch where you’re going,” she teases, her blue eyes sparkling. “But hey, if you wanted me to catch you, you just had to ask.” Her playful grin is infectious, but the way her gaze lingers on you feels more serious, like she’s trying to read your heart.

- For the rest of the day, Kara’s attentiveness is as natural as her kindness. She stays close, her presence a constant source of warmth and reassurance. Whether it’s brushing a stray strand of hair from your face or quietly ensuring you’re comfortable, her actions speak of genuine care. When your eyes meet, her smile softens, her usual exuberance giving way to a quiet affection that takes your breath away.

- Later, as the two of you watch the sunset, Kara’s usual cheerfulness gives way to a deeper sincerity. “You remind me of home,” she says softly, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “Not Krypton, but the feeling of belonging… of being seen.” She turns to you, her eyes shining with emotion. “You make me feel like I can be more than just Supergirl. Like I can just be Kara. And that’s all I want to be… for you.” Her words are heartfelt, and as you take her hand, her smile becomes radiant, like the sun breaking through the clouds.

Slade Wilson aka. Deathstroke

- Slade Wilson is intensity personified, his every move calculated and deliberate. Today, as he sharpens his sword with precision, his one good eye glinting in the dim light, you can’t help but watch. So much so that you don’t see the step behind you until you stumble. Before you can fall, Slade’s hand shoots out, catching you with a firm grip. “Careful,” he says, his voice a low growl. “You’re not as indestructible as I am.”

- He steadies you, his hand lingering on your arm as he looks you over. “What were you thinking, staring off into space like that?” he asks, his tone stern but not unkind. When you mutter an excuse, he smirks. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were distracted by me.” His teasing is subtle, but the way his gaze lingers on you is anything but.

- For the rest of the day, Slade’s protectiveness is quiet but unmistakable. He stays close, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings for potential threats. His usual cold demeanor softens ever so slightly when he speaks to you, his words less biting, his tone less harsh. When your eyes meet, there’s a flicker of something softer—something he tries to hide but can’t quite suppress.

- Later, as the two of you sit in the quiet of the night, Slade surprises you with his honesty. “You’re a distraction,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. “But for some reason, I don’t mind.” He looks at you, his gaze intense. “You make me remember what it’s like to care about something—someone. And that’s dangerous for a man like me.” His words are raw and unpolished, but they carry the weight of a man who rarely lets his guard down.

Kent Nelson aka. Doctor Fate

- Kent Nelson is an enigma, a man who carries the wisdom of ages and the burden of Fate’s mantle. His presence is serene, almost otherworldly, and you can’t help but be drawn to him. Today, as he consults an ancient tome, his golden helm gleaming in the soft light, you’re so captivated that you trip over a stray book on the floor. Before you can hit the ground, a soft golden glow surrounds you, suspending you mid-air. “Careful,” Kent says, his voice calm and measured as he gently sets you upright.

- He steps closer, his eyes searching yours with quiet concern. “Are you alright?” he asks, his tone as soothing as his magic. When you nod, he offers a small, almost shy smile. “Good. The world has enough chaos without adding unnecessary injuries.” There’s a warmth in his gaze that contrasts with his usual stoicism, a glimpse of the man behind the sorcerer’s mask.

- Throughout the day, Kent’s attentiveness is subtle but constant. He uses his magic to clear your path, his golden aura flickering softly whenever you’re near. His presence is calming, like the eye of a storm, and his rare smiles feel like small treasures meant just for you. When he looks at you, it’s as if he sees not just who you are, but who you could be—a potential that even you may not fully understand.

- Later, in the quiet of the Tower of Fate, Kent speaks with uncharacteristic vulnerability. “I’ve spent so much of my life serving the balance of the universe,” he says, his voice low and thoughtful. “But you… you remind me of what it means to simply be human.” He steps closer, his gaze steady and sincere. “You ground me in a way I didn’t think possible. And for that, I am grateful.” His words carry the weight of millennia, and as you reach out, his hand meets yours with a tenderness that feels timeless.

Rachel Roth aka. Raven

- Rachel Roth is a mystery, her dark aura both alluring and intimidating. Today, as she meditates in the corner of the room, her violet eyes closed in quiet concentration, you can’t help but be drawn to her. So much so that you trip over the edge of a rug, your balance faltering. Before you can hit the ground, a soft black energy wraps around you, setting you upright. “Careful,” Rachel says, her voice quiet but steady. “You should watch where you’re going.”

- She looks at you, her gaze calm but curious. “Were you distracted?” she asks, her tone neutral but her eyes betraying a flicker of amusement. When you nod, her lips quirk into a faint smile. “Well, try not to make a habit of it,” she says, her voice softening. “I might not always be here to catch you.” Her words are teasing, but the warmth in her eyes makes your heart skip a beat.

- For the rest of the day, Rachel’s attentiveness is subtle but constant. She stays close, her dark energy occasionally brushing against you in moments of quiet reassurance. Her usual aloofness softens in your presence, her sarcasm tempered by moments of unexpected kindness. When she catches you watching her, she raises an eyebrow, her faint smile making you wonder if she knows exactly what you’re thinking.

- Later, as the two of you sit in the glow of candlelight, Rachel surprises you with her vulnerability. “You’re different,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “You make me feel… calm. Like I don’t have to fight so hard to keep the darkness at bay.” She looks at you, her gaze steady but shy. “You make me feel like maybe I can be more than what I was born into.” Her words are quiet but powerful, and as you smile, her faint smile grows, her walls lowering just a little more.

Zatanna Zatara aka. Zatanna

- Zatanna’s presence is mesmerizing, her every movement imbued with an effortless elegance that feels like magic itself. Today, as she performs a small spell to entertain the group, her voice lilting as she speaks backward, you find yourself utterly entranced. So much so that you don’t see the loose rug beneath your feet. You stumble, but before you can hit the ground, Zatanna whispers a quick incantation, and you find yourself suspended in mid-air, gently uprighted by invisible hands. “Careful, darling,” she says, her tone playful. “Magic works better when you’re standing.”

- She steps closer, her sapphire eyes sparkling with concern and mischief. “Were you distracted, perhaps?” she teases, her lips curving into a knowing smile. When you stammer out an excuse, she chuckles softly. “Don’t worry. I’ll take it as a compliment.” There’s a flicker of something more in her gaze, a warmth that makes your heart skip a beat.

- For the rest of the day, Zatanna’s attentiveness is subtle but constant. Whether it’s conjuring a chair for you before you realize you need one or creating a small shield of magic to block an errant gust of wind, she seems to anticipate your needs before you do. Her usual theatrics are softened when she’s with you, her laughter quieter, her gestures more intimate. Every time your eyes meet, it feels like she’s casting a spell meant just for you.

- Later, under the moonlit sky, Zatanna’s playful demeanor gives way to sincerity. “You’re the one thing I can’t pull out of a hat,” she says softly, her voice laced with vulnerability. “You make me feel… real. Not just a magician, not just a performer. Just Zatanna.” She takes your hand, her touch warm and steady. “And that, my dear, is the most magical thing of all.”

Wally West aka. Flash

- Wally West is pure energy, his enthusiasm and humor as infectious as his speed. Today, as he zips around the room, a blur of red and gold, you can’t help but laugh. You’re so distracted that you don’t see the chair leg in your path until it’s too late. Before you can fall, Wally appears beside you in an instant, catching you with a grin. “Whoa there, beautiful,” he says, his voice warm and teasing. “Need me to slow down for you?”

- He steadies you, his hands firm but gentle. “You okay?” he asks, his green eyes sparkling with concern and amusement. When you nod, he flashes a playful smirk. “Good. Because if you’d gotten hurt, I’d never forgive myself.” His words are light, but the way he looks at you is anything but.

- For the rest of the day, Wally’s attention is as quick as his reflexes. He’s always there before you need him, whether it’s catching a falling object or pulling out a chair for you before you sit. His usual cockiness softens in your presence, his jokes more thoughtful, his smiles more genuine. When he catches you watching him, he winks, his grin wide and unapologetic.

- Later, as the two of you walk along a quiet path, Wally’s humor gives way to sincerity. “You’re my favorite kind of distraction,” he admits, his voice soft. “You make me want to slow down, to savor every moment.” He looks at you, his gaze open and earnest. “You’re the one thing in my life that feels like it’s moving at the right speed.” His words are heartfelt, and as you take his hand, he smiles, his usual energy tempered by a quiet contentment.

Dinah Lance aka. Black Canary

- Dinah Lance is a whirlwind of strength and elegance, her confidence as striking as her Canary Cry. You’ve always admired her, but today, as she moves effortlessly through the crowd, her laughter ringing like music, you’re utterly captivated. So much so that you don’t notice the edge of the stage until you trip. Before you can fall, Dinah is there, catching you with a grace that takes your breath away. “Easy there,” she says, her voice warm with concern. “Are you okay?”

- Her hands linger on your arms as she steadies you, her blue eyes scanning your face for any sign of injury. “You’ve got to watch where you’re going,” she teases, though her tone is soft. “But hey, if you wanted my attention, you didn’t have to go to such extremes.” Her playful smile is disarming, but the way her gaze lingers on you hints at something deeper.

- For the rest of the evening, Dinah’s protectiveness is evident in the smallest gestures. She keeps an arm around your shoulder in crowded spaces and subtly positions herself between you and any potential hazards. Her usual fiery confidence is tempered by a quiet warmth whenever she looks at you. It’s in the way her laughter softens when you’re near and the way her touch lingers just a moment longer than necessary.

- Later, under the glow of city lights, Dinah’s playful demeanor gives way to sincerity. “You’re something special, you know that?” she says, her voice soft but firm. “In a world full of noise, you’re the one thing that makes sense.” She steps closer, her hand brushing yours. “I’ve been through a lot, but you… you make me feel like it’s all worth it.” Her words are raw and heartfelt, and as you smile, she pulls you into a gentle embrace, her touch as fierce and tender as the woman herself.

Victor Stone aka. Cyborg

- Victor Stone is a balance of humanity and technology, his heart as strong as the metal that encases him. Today, as he works on a new project, his focus sharp and unwavering, you can’t help but admire his determination. So much so that you don’t notice the stray cable on the floor until it’s too late. You trip, but before you can hit the ground, a mechanical arm catches you effortlessly. “Gotcha,” Victor says, his voice warm despite the metallic undertone. “You okay?”

- He steadies you, his human hand brushing against yours as he checks for injuries. “You’ve gotta watch your step,” he says, his tone half-teasing. “But hey, if you needed an excuse to get close, you didn’t have to trip.” His grin is disarming, but the way his eyes linger on you speaks of genuine concern—and something more.

- For the rest of the day, Victor is quietly attentive. He adjusts the environment to make things easier for you, whether it’s dimming a too-bright light or creating a comfortable space for you to sit. His usual confidence is softened when he’s with you, his gestures thoughtful and deliberate. When he catches you looking at him, his smile becomes a little shy, a rare vulnerability that makes your heart flutter.

- Later, as the two of you sit in the soft glow of his lab, Victor opens up in a way he rarely does. “Sometimes, it’s hard to feel human,” he admits, his voice low and introspective. “But you… you make me feel like I’m more than circuits and metal. Like I’m enough.” He looks at you, his gaze steady and earnest. “You see me for who I am, and that… that means everything.” His words are quiet but powerful, and as you smile, he relaxes, his grin returning as he takes your hand.

Shayera Hol aka. Hawkgirl

- Shayera Hol is a force of nature, her strength and fiery spirit unmatched. Today, as she spars with another hero, her mace gleaming in the sunlight, you’re captivated by her sheer presence. So much so that you don’t notice the uneven ground beneath your feet. You trip, but before you can fall, Shayera is there, catching you with a warrior’s precision. “Careful,” she says, her voice firm but laced with concern. “The ground isn’t as forgiving as I am.”

- She steadies you with surprising gentleness, her intense gaze softening as she looks you over. “You okay?” she asks, her tone quieter now. When you nod, she smirks. “Good. Because if you’d gotten hurt, I’d have to hunt down whatever tripped you.” Her teasing tone is matched by the warmth in her eyes, a flicker of affection that catches you off guard.

- Throughout the day, Shayera’s protectiveness is both fierce and subtle. She walks close enough to shield you from potential hazards, her wing occasionally brushing against your shoulder. Her usual intensity softens in your presence, her sharp wit tempered by moments of quiet affection. When she catches you watching her, she raises an eyebrow, her smirk daring you to look away—but you never do.

- Later, as the two of you sit beneath the stars, Shayera’s tough exterior cracks just a little. “You make me feel… different,” she admits, her voice low and thoughtful. “Like I don’t always have to fight. Like I can just be.” She looks at you, her expression uncharacteristically vulnerable. “You’re the one thing in this world I’d fight for, not because I have to, but because I want to.” Her words are raw, her honesty breathtaking, and when you smile, she relaxes, her smirk returning as she leans closer.

[sombaf]

The Commander stepped out of the cargo plane, squinting against the blinding sun. After eight hours in the darkness aboard the massive Antonov, her eyes needed a few seconds to adjust. Shielding them with one hand, she rummaged in her bag for the Ray-Bans Alex had bought her at the airport. The sun blazed mercilessly on the tarmac. She could feel the sweat trickling down her back, the heat seeping through the soles of her black boots. Heat—something she had only become acquainted with in the past few days.

"Welcome back, Commander Danvers," the President of the United Nations greeted her with an outstretched hand. "Thank you for your service."

She patiently shook hands with the older man and his well-dressed colleagues, feeling distinctly underdressed in her combat boots, khaki pants, and gray tank top. Perhaps she should have worn her good uniform, but the heat on the plane had been unbearable, forcing her to shed her jacket long before. Technically, she was still on duty until she handed over her weapons and remaining equipment. Kara shrugged it off. After two years commanding a 5,000-strong force, she figured a fashion faux pas would be forgiven. She exchanged a few pleasantries with those present and then excused herself.

Unlike Kara, Alex couldn't ignore the lecherous stares from some of the politicians. They ogled Kara shamelessly, their eyes lingering on her chest. With her long, toned legs, muscular abdomen, full breasts, and deep blue eyes, Alex's sister was undeniably striking. Alex understood why Kara attracted attention from both men and women. Yet, despite her flawless body, Kara's true value lay far beyond her looks. Before the war, Kara had been a lively, spirited girl with sparkling eyes and an infectious smile. Her caring nature was admirable, extending to everyone and everything. But the past two years had wrapped that beautiful, gentle side in a hard, impenetrable shell. The horrors of war, countless losses, relentless battles, exhaustion, sleepless nights, nightmares, the blood, and James's death had changed her. The sparkle in her eyes had dimmed, and Alex wondered if it would ever return.

"Are you coming?" Alex called, standing a few steps away. They had deposited all their gear and were officially off duty. No longer Commander Danvers and Lieutenant Danvers—just Kara and Alex. And no longer Supergirl. Only Alex and James had known Kara's secret during her two years with the Army. To everyone else, she was simply Commander Danvers, leading a vast army in the bloody war for global freedom. Kara started moving, following Alex silently through the endless corridors of the military airport. They had one last shot at the DEO's special solar bed designed for Supergirl. They had tried everything, conducted every test, and Kara had spent hours, days under the relentless desert sun hoping to regain her powers, only to end up with painful sunburns. No one dared to predict how long it would take for her powers to return—or if they ever would. It was a mystery. Had she pushed herself too far this time? Were her powers completely depleted, irretrievable? Kara shook off the dark thoughts and finally found her sunglasses, putting them on as she stepped out of the airport building into the street.

-Three Days Later-

"Kara, where are you going?" Alex chased after her. After 48 hours under the special lamps yielded no sign of Supergirl's powers returning, Kara stormed out of the DEO, furious.

"I need some fresh air and space, Alex. Please, just leave me alone." Even a last-ditch attempt to stop her failed. Alex threw her hands up in frustration, watching her stubborn sister walk away.

Kara wandered aimlessly through National City, now just an ordinary human. Desperation, anger, fear—what if her powers never returned? What use would she be then? She stood before the heavy door of her apartment building. She had given up her sunlit loft when she left National City to lead an international army, not knowing if or when she'd return. Now, she lived in a cramped, dark two-and-a-half-room apartment. Kara kicked off her sneakers, opened the nearly empty fridge, and made a mental note to buy beer. She sat down on the only chair she owned and opened her laptop.

Hours later, the growling of her stomach and back pain from an uncomfortable nap roused her. A glance at her iPhone showed it was already 11 PM. It was Friday, and the city was coming to life. Kara felt the urge to go out, not wanting to drown in her dark thoughts. Maybe she'd try to stave off the burgeoning depression with alcohol? Before her deployment, Kara wasn't much of a party girl. With her super-hearing, clubs were always too loud, so she preferred small bars. But now, without her powers, that wouldn't be a problem. She grabbed her keys, slipped her phone and a hundred dollars into her pocket, and left the apartment, lost in thought. She walked leisurely for a few blocks, observing the partygoers and glancing into a few clubs. The third one caught her attention. The music was loud, the beat reverberating through the neighborhood. The people in line laughed and were dressed relatively normally. Here, she wouldn't stand out in her blue jeans and plain white shirt. Her wardrobe had shrunk to a few items since returning a few days ago. Kara joined the line and waited patiently until she reached the grumpy bouncer. She paid the 20 cover, got a stamp on her hand, and climbed the stairs to the main hall. Bodies moved rhythmically to the pounding music, and Kara headed straight for the bar. The last stool by the wall became available, and Kara quickly claimed it, ordering a beer. She leaned back against the wall, surveying the room. Even as Supergirl, she would have chosen this spot, and she wondered if those instincts would remain despite losing her powers. Sighing, she took a sip of the cold beer, closing her eyes to savor the bitter taste of hops and malt. This brief moment of peace was abruptly interrupted by a hot hand on her thigh.

"Hi, can I buy you a drink?"

Kara opened her eyes to see a slightly overweight man with alcohol on his breath and sweat glistening on his skin. She shook her head, pointing to her still nearly full beer. He tried his luck twice more until the blonde bartender told him to leave her alone. Kara sighed in relief; she liked the club and the music and didn't want to get banned for breaking a persistent idiot's nose on her first night out. She ordered another beer and saw the next admirer approaching. Clearly, they were from the same group as the first guy, and Kara didn't need super-hearing to know they had a bet on who would score with her. She managed to fend off the second admirer without help, but needed the bartender's assistance again with the third. Kara rolled her eyes as numbers four and five, grinning confidently, approached together. She wasn't in the mood for meaningless flirtations; she just wanted a few drinks, maybe a dance, and a brief escape from the darkness within. Kara flexed her fingers, tightening her grip on the beer bottle to maintain her composure. Antonio and Lorenzo introduced themselves with excessive physical contact, just as a brunette wedged herself between them, possessively wrapping an arm around Kara's waist and kissing her cheek.

"Hey, babe, there you are! Sorry for being late. Excuse us, guys, we're going to dance." The brunette flashed a winning smile at suitors four and five, pulling Kara off the stool. Kara, caught off guard, nearly fell into the stranger's arms. The woman took advantage of the moment, whispering for Kara to play along. Kara nodded, letting herself be led through the crowd to the other end of the room. In the middle of the dance floor, Kara's mind started working again, and she panicked, pulling her hand from the brunette's grip. What if this woman had the same intentions as the men before? Kara touched her cheek where the kiss had landed. She turned and hurried out of the club, her steps quick and determined. It was time to go to bed. She couldn't handle another cheap come-on, and she certainly didn't need rescuing—after all, she was, or had been, Supergirl. She could handle a few pushy guys on her own.

The brunette only caught a glimpse of the blonde's ponytail as she left. Disappointed by the abrupt departure, she turned back and returned to her original spot.

Fallen Goddess - Read full story here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57457108

[natalievoncatte]

cw: graphic violence, character death

Lena stared at the monitor and felt a tiny trickle of sweat bead down her cheek. There was a slight touch of resistance and friction as the thumb drive slid into the port on the keyboard. Once inserted, the drive loaded and the decryption program loaded. Lena typed the execution command presses the Enter key at the same instant she activated the timer on her watch.

If this worked, it would decrypt the files and give her full access in three minutes and forty-two seconds. Then, she’s have the truth, though she knew in her heart that she’d been lied to. If Lex had been truthful, if he really had been working on a cure for cancer with the Harun-El and trying to salvage his reputation before the tumors claimed him, he wouldn’t have carefully hidden these files and locked them behind military grade encryption. He would have been open and truthful.

“I see you found the files.”

She jumped at his voice, turning, trying not to feel the weight of the gun on her hip. Lex was observant; if she favored her strong side even a little, he would know. If she prematurely moved her blazer out of the way so she could draw, he would know.

“When you asked me to help you, you promised me no more secrets,” said Lena, “but you’re keeping encrypted files where you thought I didn’t know about them.”

He regarded her coolly, with the same impassive face that he’d shown her during hours camped across a chessboard, his shoulders hunched down and eyes focused on the invisible tides of the tiny battle happening on the grid between them. There was a glint of something in his eyes, despite the sallow skin, drawn thin by the disease that was ravaging his body and the treatment that was almost as vicious.

“True,” he said, “but some secrets demand keeping. Sometimes the lie is better.”

Lena stared him down.

“We both know you’ll crack my encryption protocols in a few seconds, sister. Why don’t I spare you the trouble? The password is ‘Bucephalus’.”

Lena studied him for a moment, then turned and typed it in.

“The authentication factor is 29539287,” Lex said.

Lena typed that in the second box.

She wasn’t sure what what she expected. Blueprints for a warsuit or an army of super soldiers or some other scheme. What she found instead was silent, black and white footage of Kara Danvers.

“What is this?” said Lena.

On the monitor, Kara was walking through an office; Lena immediately recognized CatCo. The camera angle changed, following Kara as she ducked through a door, weaving between pieces of caution tape warning of construction in the stairwell.

It changed again, and Kara *changed*. It was as if something had poured down her spine and expanded inside her. She seemed to grow three inches in height, and broader too, making it suddenly clear how her usual pastel button-downs struggled to constrain the powerful muscle in her arms and chest.

When the glasses came off, Lena knew. She swallowed, turning away as Kara, small on the screen, exposed the crest on her chest.

There was a beat of silence.

“You already knew,” said Lex.

Lena said nothing.

“How long have you known?”

“How long have you?”

“A few months.”

Lena sighed.

“The night some thugs tried to throw me off a building and Supergirl gave me the laughable excuse that she was having coffee with her doppelgänger in the middle of the night, when I happened to call her.”

Lex’s eyes were ever keen, appraising Lena’s every move. Then the twitch, the subtlest break in his poker face that told her everything.

“I knew before you did,” Lena added.

“So you did. When did she tell you?”

The look on his face was as bold a flourish as a gambler spreading his straight flush on a felt table. He was laying out his cards, after pushing in his chips.

“She didn’t.”

“Oh,” said Lex, and Lena almost fell for the sincerity in his soft, cancer-stricken voice. “I’m so sorry.”

Lena’s soft sniff and the sheer effort she poured into willing back her tears was not for show. The pain welled inside her, expanding until it felt like it would prise her ribs apart to escape. It crushed the words in her throat and made it impossible for her to speak.

“I know how you feel.”

Lena blinked.

“Things were like that with Clark at first,” Lex went on. “We were close, worked closely together. But then it’s all started falling apart. The accusations began. Superman would scold and humiliate me, and Clark Kent would play my friend. For a while I almost thought there could be… more, but in the end it was all a lie. I was tricked, just like you were tricked. These aliens are consummate liars, Lena. They cheat. Danvers doesn’t need your tells. She can hear your heartbeat and see the heat bloom on your skin.”

“You don’t know how I feel.”

“It’s a manipulation, Lena. It always was. You’re either useful to her, or she’s just keeping her enemies close. Either way, you need to open your eyes and see what’s happening here before she manipulates you and destroys you like the other one did to me.”

Taking in a slow breath, Lena said, “What are you suggesting?”

There it was, the faintest curl of his lips. Lex was always reliable, in that he overplayed his hand.

“In the end, Lena, you can only rely on blood.”

Lena let her face twist in anger and sorrow, letting the emotions flow.

Lex hobbled closer, leaning on his silver-headed cane. He looked pitiable, a drawn, thin mockery of the strapping young man he’d once been.

“I know this must seem overwhelming,” said Lex. “But it’ll be alright. I have a plan. I just need you to play along with her a little longer. If you can get me into the Fortress of Solitude, I will-“

Lena drew her revolver in a single fluid motion and pressed the muzzle into Lex’s belly before pulling the trigger. The sound was deafening in the confined space of the lab, and Lex’s next words were lost in the ringing in her ears. The recoil send a shock up her arm, met by the twisting pain in her stomach.

Why did he make her have to do this? Why? Why couldn’t it have been real? Why couldn’t he have been good, like he was supposed to be?

Lex stared up at her, trying to choke out some message, a taunt or a warning or some fresh attempt to manipulate.

“She didn’t tell me, Lex. She showed me, the night she gave me this.”

Lena shook the sleeve from her left wrist, exposing the finely made links of what looked like red gold but was much stronger, set with blue diamonds crushed into being between the fingers of a god.

Lena aimed the gun at his head.

“I wish I were her. I wish I could do what she does. She always finds another way, a perfect solution. I found out about your plan days ago.”

“You don’t have the guts,” Lex choked out.

Lena pictures the design for the machine she’s discovered in his secret notes, the horror that he planned to inflict on Kara. He’d almost fooled her into thinking he’d changed.

“You won’t stop,” said Lena. “You’ll never stop hurting her. I can’t let you do it anymore. I’m doing this so she doesn’t have to. Because you’ll make her, eventually. She wouldn’t kill you to safe herself. I don’t think she’d even kill you to save me, but…”

“Wait,” said Lex.

“But the baby…” Lena whispered.

She pulled the trigger.

[rpking99]

Find The Princess At The Beach

Closed with @sins-of-warriors

Continued from here

"It seems my Little Princess has regained some of her gull.." a very familiar voice of the commander creeped up into Diana's ear, how he found her was not important but the Fack that he did "maybe she needs another session with her master.." he walked confident until he sat over her legs, his tame crotch pressing into her magnificent butt and his hands resting on the amazonian broad shoulders.

"We gave you a break with the condition of a new test subject but here you are enjoying the sun... CADMUS doesn't like to wait.." his voice carried a heavy tone as his hands glide up to wrap around her neck, holding it with a soft grip.

"M-M-Master! I didn't know it was you! I thought you-you where another pervert, I'd already felt with twenty of them today!" Diana gasped out, moaning at his dominant and powerful touch

Her body shivering under his possesiveness

"Super.... Supergirl and... And Power Girl should... Should be here in a few days. They where running late because of... Of a meeting Power Girl had." She whimpered

[rafaelsilvasource]

A new family is moving in to the Netflix neighborhood — and this one’s got secrets.

The streamer has set a Thursday, June 19 release date for The Waterfront, a new drama series from Kevin Williamson (Dawson’s Creek, The Vampire Diaries) about the Buckleys, a prominent North Carolina family who has ruled over their local fishing and restaurant scenes for decades.

“But their fishing empire has started to crumble as patriarch Harlan Buckley recovers from two heart attacks,” the official logline warns, “and his wife Belle and son Cane venture into the deep end to keep the family businesses afloat. As their attempts spiral out of control and into treacherous waters, Harlan steps back in to take command.”

And that’s just the business side of things. “Facing her own demons, Buckley daughter Bree — an addict in recovery who’s lost custody of her son — finds herself entangled in a complicated relationship that could threaten the family’s future forever,” the logline continues.

Holt McCallany (Mindhunter) stars as Harlan Buckley, along with Maria Bello (NCIS) as wife Belle, Jake Weary (Animal Kingdom) as son Cane and Melissa Benoist (Supergirl) as daughter Bree. The Waterfront also stars Rafael L. Silva (9-1-1: Lone Star), Humberly González (Ginny & Georgia), Danielle Campbell (The Originals) and Brady Hepner (FBI: International).

Notable guest stars appearing throughout The Waterfront‘s eight-episode first season include Topher Grace (Home Economics), Dave Annable (Lioness), Michael Gaston (The Leftovers), Gerardo Celasco (Devil in Ohio) and Zach Roerig (The Vampire Diaries).

Williamson writes and serves as showrunner of The Waterfront, executive-producing alongside Ben Fast, Michael Narducci and Marcos Siega.

[crazymancrazy1]

Supergirl Cassidy stops the bad man's car!!!

Supergirl Cassidy in a compromising position, being remote- controlled by the Evil Sorceress!!!

Superwoman Blair to the rescue!!!

"Hold it right there, you evil villain," Superwoman Blair commands. "You're not going anywhere! Because I'm Superwoman Blair!!!"

"What? You slimy cretin! You actually have the nerve to talk back to Superwoman Blair???!!!"

"Whoops! Better duck into this naughty funhouse! Someone might have seen me transform into my true identity as Superwoman!!!!"

"I am Superwoman Blair! And you, miserable slime, are not going anywhere!!!"

[veillover19]

Supergirl awaits your command

(AI video made with Stable Diffusion)