#endless lenas

[misandriste]

↳ endless gifs of lena luthor ✰ 85/∞

KATIE McGRATH as LENA LUTHOR in SUPERGIRL ⪼ 5.14, "THE BODYGUARD"

[justaboot]

Losing a best friend is hard.

[carnelianfoxx]

here’s that video i said i wanted to make about minecraft and my weird thoughts about life

[arayeee]

Okay, Chapter 3 of Hold Me Steady has been uploaded. Obviously I am avoiding continuing my current WIP of the Veterinarian AU. Though, since I have started it I feel as though I need to finish it. *sighs* I can hear my father's voice in my head "I didn't raise a quitter" no no, sir, you sure didn't, because I never know when to quit things even if it destroys me. But I digress. Maybe I will have the Veterinarian AU up by this weekend. *shrugs*

[littencloud9]

sad face i dont think i can finish all the plans i had for rarepair week why is the world so cruel to meeee

[lenakluthor]

why do i kinda wanna start a “movies i’ve watched” gif meme when i have 373837 other ones screaming at me to continue

[natalievoncatte]

“Lena?”

“What are you doing here?” Lena said, on the other side of the phone line.

Kara was already moving, lunging for the window, shedding her civilian clothes so fast she blurred into a streak of red and blue, the phone still mid-fall from where her hand had held it to her ear to the osprey cushion. She wasn’t thinking when she rattled windows with her passage. Less than a second later, the air snapped taught around her and burst with the cracking fury of a sonic boom as she bolted across the city in a ballistic arc that took her from her apartment to the upper floor penthouse office at L-Corp.

She was still too slow.

Lena was calling her name, her own phone flying from her hand into space as two men manhandled her over the railing into open air, almost six hundred feet up. Kara watched it happen in agonizing, hateful detail. She could hear every thudding panicked contraction of Lena’s heart even as she could count ever stitch in the side-seam of her dress.

Faster. Faster faster faster faster.

Any faster and she’d ignite the atmosphere around here.

Lena was perpetually falling, reaching up in a futile attempt to grasp the sky. Those thumping heartbeats came slow to Kara’s ears as she focused herself, time around her slowing to match her speed.

She has to do this perfectly. Hit Lena too fast and she’d kill her. Lena’s screamed stretched into a shrill endless peel as she fell, raw terror contorting her features.

Kara dove, slowing as she reached those last few millimeters of distance, forcing herself to match Lena’s speed, dipping under her so that the bewildered woman dropped into her arms and they further slowed together, Kara coming to a stop midair, half way down the length of her fall. Kara bundled Lena into her arms even as Lena clutched her in desperate fear, grasping and clutching at her in desperate fear. A wail of agonized terror exploded from Lena’s lips against Kara’s throat, followed by a taut cry of anguished relief.

“I have you,” Lena murmured. “You’re okay, I have you.”

Lena was shaking.

“They th-threw me off the balcony!”

They.

They.

Kara rose, cradling a treasure in her arms. They should have known better, these two thugs, these goons. To show her contempt, she blew them off their feet with a gust of air from her lungs. Tenderly, she placed Lena on her bare feet -her shoes had gone flying when she was tossed- and turned to her attackers.

One pulled a gun, the other ran. She crushed the crude little human weapon, so infuriatingly primitive and barbaric, almost forgetting not to pulp the wielder’s hand. As the other ran, she hooked her fingers in his collar and yanked, pulling him right back and over the railing. His scream satisfied something hateful within her and she wanted to stop herself from seizing his ankle, but she didn’t. The weight of the crest on her chest was too much to bear it.

She did let him dangle though, begging her for mercy.

Kara jabbed the comms in her ear and barked orders to the DEO agent that answered her. It wasn’t ten minutes later that half a dozen agents, led by Alex herself, were dragging the two men out of Lena’a office.

Lena herself was standing on the balcony still, shivering in the late night chill. Kara pointedly ignore the way Alex stared at them both as Kara unclasped her cape from her shoulders and threw the heavy cloth around Lena, bundling her up in it.

Oh Rao, her poor feet on the concrete.

Kara didn’t think. She picked Lena up again and carried her inside. Lena didn’t protest or even speak, as delicate as a precious baby bird in Kara’s arms.

“We can… we can deal with statements later,” said Alex. “I’ll step out.”

They were alone.

Lena just stared for a moment, as Kara opened the drawer in the coffee table and took out the fleece blanket that Lena kept there for naps or those frequent nights when she just didn’t go home, unable or unwilling to abandon her work for such pedestrian things as sleep, or her own health. Kara spread it across her, covering her feet. She just didn’t want her to be cold.

Kneeling beside the couch, Kara stroked a loose lock of wind-ruffled hair back from Lena’s eyes, forgetting herself, forgetting that she was the Super and not the Girl, right now. She couldn’t help it. The Super was stoic, unruffled, full of bravado. The Girl wanted to fucking cry and scream in agony and blessed release.

She was okay. Kara made it. Lena was okay.

Lena was staring at her.

“How did you know I was in trouble?”

The way she said it, it almost wasn’t a question. It sounded flat, half an accusation.

“I was with Kara Danvers,” Kara was about to say, but the answer died on her lips, the lie too bitter to cross her tongue.

She was so sick of lying, and the reasons why she lied all seemed so… hollow, here, now, and Lena wasn’t stupid. It was halfway there, Kara realized. She could see it in Lena’s bewildered, quivering expression. The thought was there, half formed, and once the suspicion was formed, it was only a matter of time. Their friendship was built on pillars of sand and the tide was rolling in right now.

“It’s me, Lena,” Kara whispered.

Lena’s eyes widened, as her nostrils briefly flared. Lena did not ask her to clarify, or explain. Her penetrating gaze merely searched, drinking in the details of Kara’s face in a way that made her feel both seen in a warm and comforting way and horribly exposed, the chill wind from the balcony door at her back. Yet the gaze was open, permissive. Kara noticed that one of her eyes was a little more blue than the other.

Rao, Lena was so pretty. She was beautiful, yes, in the austere almost untouchable way of a young powerful woman who weaponizes her looks, but that part of her was gone now, replaced by something open and vulnerable and soft, and usually reserved for Kara, not Supergirl.

Kara sat down in front of her, crossing her legs. She wanted to reach out and sooth the trembling she saw, her hand twitching of its own accord. Lena pulled the red fabric of her cape up and tucked it under her chin, making herself small.

“It’s you.”

“Yeah.”

“You caught me.”

“I always will.”

Lena closed her eyes. “I’m tired of falling. God I’m so tired of it, I just want him to leave me alone.”

Anger flashes in Kara’s chest, sending a jolt of heat up her spine as the red-sun fire burned within her, begging for release. She kept her eyes tightly shut.

A soft cry opened them again. Lena was crying silently in the manner of one used to hiding it, her chest hitching as she held it back.

“If it weren’t for you I’d be dead, Kara.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

Something tightened inside her, clutching so hard she could barely breathe. Watching Lena fall had been like… like looking over her shoulder and seeing the green flash. Kara had pinched her eyes shut and turned away, not watching the blast, screaming in agony when the blast wave tossed her pod, too afraid to watch her world die, unable to escape it. Sometimes that feeling would wash over her and tear her from the embrace of a dreamless sleep and she’d scream.

A soft, cool hand brushed her cheek. Lena reached out from the blanket and pushed away the errant tear. Kara couldn’t help herself, and returned the gesture. Lena’s skin was so delightfully soft, and whenever Kara touched her, felt her, it gave air to something like hot coals in her belly, and they’d threaten to become an unbound flame.

Something was happening here and she wasn’t sure what it was, but it was important. Kara had a sudden sense that this moment was a real one, an important one, and that she had just started bumbling through a choice that needed her full attention.

Lena was watching her, her soft intelligent eyes darting. Her breathing had calmed but she was agitated, heartbeat too fast, heat bloom crawling across her skin as her face flushed. A deep, powerful part of Kara woke up at the sight of it, something that she would normally have disdained had she remained on Krypton, a part of her that she might even have hated.

Her hand was still resting gently on Lena’s cheek. Lena met her gaze and shifted slightly, pressing a touch harder against Kara’s palm. It was an acknowledgement. It felt permissive, inviting. Lena tilted her expressions slightly and looked at Kara through her lashes.

She was scared, Kara realized. Scared but perhaps hopeful. Things began to swirl in her head. She could drown in the heady scent of an office full of flowers.

“You just keep saving me,” Lena said.

Kara rose to her knees so she could lean in, arching over her. This need, this impulse, gripped it like a firm hand on the back of her neck. It felt so wrong, so human, so Terran, but she didn’t care. For the first time she felt like doing this because she wanted it, not to make herself feel human or soothe some itch.

She hesitated every moment but Lena’s gaze remained fixed, a faint smile curling her lips as Kara drew closer, sliding an arm under her shoulders, very carefully pulling her up.

“I thought you were hopeless after the thing with the flowers,” Lena whispered. “Or maybe just regrettably straight.”

Kara wanted this to be right. She nuzzled her nose against Lena’s, one last tiny little request, and murmured, “is this okay?”

In response, Lena closed the gap and their lips met. Kara hadn’t felt like this since the first time she stepped off the ground into the open air. This was better than flying. Lena’s kiss was just so her, at once brash and hesitant, a question phrased as a declaration.

Before long Kara was holding her.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you. I won’t.”

Lena released herself; there was no other way to describe it. It was like their past hugs but more, Lena embracing Kara as though she’d like to be absorbed by her.

“I know.”

In the morning she’d pay Lex a visit. She’d talk to Alex and J’onn, make it clear that if the DEO wanted a Kryptonian on speed dial, it was time to make her priorities their priorities, and the first thing she was going to do was tear Cadmus out of their hiding places by the root.

It wouldn’t be enough to just hobble their operations, she wanted them gone. Supergirl would work in tandem with the Kara Danvers until Lex Luthor had no friends, no allies, no resources. Even the prison guard who smuggled him his caviar would learn that any largesse towards his prisoner would summon a furious Kryptonian.

She would call in every favor, seek every ally, use every resource.

Right now none of that mattered. Lena was safe, and she was in Kara’s arms.

[etfrin]

18 + | cockwarming Coryo | arranged marriage au m. list | drabble | bc: @cafekitsune | taglist |

You squirm under his hold. His arm wrapped around you like a snake catching its prey. You weren't sure how you ended up in this position either, one thing led to another and here you are on his lap. Your panties down to your knees and his pants unzipped, his hard cock out of its confines.

His length twitched against your puffy folds, making you gasp softly. Your eyes close as you lean back onto him. A whimper leaves your pretty lips as he uses his opposite hand to press his cockhead into your cunt, stretching the little hole with his tip. He slides in your gaping cunt that was begging to be filled. His cockhead pressing against your g-spot makes you whimper. Your pliant body is to ruin however he wants.

“Coryo,” you moan when he thrusts in, once, twice, thrice before he stops. He takes in deep breaths, his cock getting to know all the sensitive nerves your cunt had to offer.

“Coryo?” You whimper in question as to why he stopped. “There's dessert left, dove,” he whispered to you, his lips pressing a hot kiss to your nape. “We shouldn't waste food,” he adds.

Then you suffer for minutes (it seemed endless) as he spoon-fed you whatever delicacy cooked when all you wanted was to bend over and have him fuck your cunt.

Current tag list: @stelleduarte @nowitsmissing @lifeonawhim @le-lena @dollfacedalls @motley-baby @champomiel @slytherinholland @randomstuff2040 @justacaliforniandreamer @emmalinemalfoy @hyuk4s @theamuz @watercolorskyy @littlebiwitchsworld @eir964 @skywalker1dream @darkangelkathiecookiesmith @ben-has-arrived @bucksdonkey @xyzstar @ellie-luvsfics @sunny-deary @daughter1of2anita3dearly @eir964 @nowsyhozey @ayaya-aa @serving-targaryen-realness @hansbasement @louweasleymalfoy @lettersandwhiteroses @arzua10 @wotcherpeak @ever8ea

a/n: next in line is their wedding night, a one shot about Sejanus, and another Ghostface! Coryo

[deliciousangelfestival]

Change of Heart - 4 | Bucky

Character: Bucky x Female! Reader

Theme: Angst, tragedy, romance.

Summary: The interviewer asked her a provocative question:

“If you were offered a million dollars, would you leave your partner?”

Without hesitation, she replied with a smirk, “Give me one dollar, and I’ll leave him this second.”

True to her word, she walked away, leaving the man stunned and searching for answers. Now, he’s desperately trying to find her, grappling with the haunting question—why would she leave him so easily?

And is there more to her departure than a single dollar could ever explain?

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5.

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing on Kindle.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

You floated on the open sea, arms stretched out, weightless against the gentle pull of the waves. The sky above was endless, painted in hues of soft blue and white, the sun warm against your skin. Closing your eyes, you whispered, “I’ve wasted my life.”

Swimming in the open sea, you let the water seep into the emptiness inside you, hoping it could fill the void that nothing else could.

The vastness of the ocean mirrored the hollowness in your chest—a space once filled with ambition, competition, and the relentless pursuit of approval. Now, there was nothing. No goal. No purpose. Just a lingering ache, stretching endlessly like the horizon. You wondered if this was what it felt like to surrender—to stop fighting, to stop wanting, to simply exist.

Maybe that was why you swam so far from the shore. Because, for the first time, you weren’t chasing anything. You weren’t proving anything. You weren’t running toward or away.

You were just here.

Anyone seeing you like this would call you insane—adrift in the middle of nowhere, surrendering to the ocean as if it held all the answers. If it were the old you, you would have been furious at the thought. The old you would have fought back, defended yourself, proved them wrong. But now? Now, you were fine with it.

You felt reborn as if shedding the weight of everything you once thought mattered.

This marriage contract was supposed to be a shortcut—a way to secure wealth without the hassle of love, without emotional complications. That was the plan.

But love was a thirst that couldn’t be easily quenched. And the cruelest part? The person you loved didn’t even believe in it.

Sometimes, the hardest thing to do is let go. Love is messy. Love is unpredictable. And love doesn’t always work.

On paper, becoming Bucky Barnes’ wife had been enough. It had given you everything you wanted. Prestige. Power. Validation. More importantly, it had given you the one thing you had chased your whole life—your father’s approval.

You could still see it so clearly—the way his expression shifted the moment you told him you had married Bucky, heir to the Lena Group. His disbelief, the way his pride cracked just slightly before morphing into something else. Something like admiration. And when Bucky officially became CEO? That was the first time you had ever seen pride on your father’s face, directed at you.

It was intoxicating.

That was when you realized—you had finally beaten him. For the first time in your life, you had surpassed him.

Growing up with a father like yours meant winning was everything. He had shaped you into a competitor, someone who measured success not by personal happiness but by how high you could climb compared to others—especially compared to him.

It was never enough to be good. You had to be the best.

Even when you excelled, even when you got into the top university, it wasn’t impressive enough. He had done it before you. He had already conquered that path. “Been there, done that,” he had said, dismissing your achievements as if they were insignificant.

That was the moment you realized academic success would never be enough for him. So, you changed the game.

If you couldn’t impress him by following in his footsteps, you would surpass him in a way he never expected. You would rise higher than him, take something he could never take back.

And you did.

Bucky Barnes was your golden trophy, the proof of your victory. The contract marriage had been your ultimate power move. Even if love was off the table, even if you wrestled with the dangerous feelings creeping in, it didn’t matter—because you had won.

But then love took root, slowly and silently. And before you knew it, your greatest triumph had become your deepest weakness.

Falling in love with Bucky was never part of the plan. You admitted it to yourself—it was your mistake. You should have never allowed feelings to grow, not when you knew exactly how he felt about love, about romance, about anything remotely affectionate.

But even the coldest mountain can melt. And the walls you built around your heart? They didn’t come crashing down all at once. No, they eroded slowly, day by day, worn away by the time you spent with him.

You had everything you thought you wanted—money, connections, status. Everything you once craved was finally within your grasp, all because of him.

And that was the most dangerous part.

Because once something is fulfilled, the hunger for more only intensifies.

At first, it was manageable. Just fleeting thoughts, stolen glances that you convinced yourself meant nothing. But the more time you spent with him, the stronger the desire became—wanting something you could never have. Scarcity breeds obsession, and Bucky, without even realizing it, had become the one thing you couldn’t stop longing for.

His presence didn’t help. He was considerate but distant, dominant yet effortless in his role. He played the part so perfectly that sometimes, you forgot it was all an illusion. And that made it worse. Because even though you knew the rules, your heart refused to listen.

You had spent your entire life getting what you wanted. But now, there was one thing you couldn’t have.

Your own husband.

By the second year, you weren’t pretending anymore. The way you looked at him, the way you touched him, the way your chest ached at his smallest gestures—it was all real.

It became unbearable.

Then, just two days before the contract was set to end, something happened. A shift so profound that it shattered something deep inside you.

Your father went bankrupt.

And just like that, the man who had spent his entire life building an empire, who had made you believe that life was a relentless competition, who had pushed you beyond your limits to ensure that you would never come second—walked away.

Without a fight. Without resistance. Without regret.

And the worst part?

He looked… content.

"You tried so hard to impress me," he said, his voice almost gentle. "I’m sorry. This time, live the life you want to."

His words should have freed you. Instead, they hollowed you out.

"What the hell was that?"

The man who had built you into a warrior had surrendered without a battle. The man who made you believe that winning was everything—had stopped playing the game. And now, he expected you to do the same?

For so long, your life had a singular purpose: beat him. Surpass him. Make him acknowledge you, respect you, fear you.

But now, he was gone.

And what was left of you without him?

Nothing.

The fight was gone. The battlefield was empty. The war was over. And yet, instead of victory, all you felt was loss.

Because when your entire existence is built around a single goal, what happens when that goal disappears?

Aimless. Directionless. Floating.

You wandered through each day like a ghost. Because if you weren’t trying to win, then what were you supposed to do? Who were you supposed to be?

You had always defined yourself by the pursuit.

Now, without it, you weren’t sure you existed at all.

You felt eternally useless. Adrift. Like a ship lost at sea with no compass, no anchor, no destination. But at least, for now, you still had something to hold on to—the contract marriage.

Even if it was slipping through your fingers.

Even if the one thing keeping you grounded was also the very thing pulling you under.

Because no matter how much you tried to ignore it, the truth was suffocating: you had fallen in love with Bucky.

And it was a love that would never be returned.

You had asked him once, on a quiet night when the walls between you felt thinner than usual. After nearly two years together, after countless stolen moments that made you question everything, you let the words slip out.

"What do you think about love?"

Bucky clicked his tongue, barely sparing you a glance before answering.

"If I could use all my money, I would erase romance from this earth."

You had heard many things from him before. Cold things. But this? This still caught you off guard.

Because the way he treated you—his attention, his protectiveness, the way he seemed to make you the center of his world—would have fooled anyone. It had fooled you.

And yet, his view of love remained unshaken.

It was in that moment you knew.

This was never going anywhere.

You just needed a sign. Something to push you over the edge, to force you to let go before you drowned completely.

Then, one day, it came.

A street interview. Some random internet guy shoving a microphone into strangers’ faces, asking them, "Would you leave your partner for a million dollars?"

It was supposed to be a joke. A meaningless question. But when you heard it, something inside you snapped.

It felt like time stopped. Like the entire weight of your past two years came crashing down in that one ridiculous, absurd moment.

You had millions in your bank account. More than you could ever need. But what was the point of it all when your heart was empty?

Your lips parted before you could stop yourself.

"If you gave me a billion, I’d consider it."

The interviewer, a college kid chasing internet fame, blinked at you, clearly caught off guard. You knew he didn’t have a billion dollars. He probably had student loans drowning him.

So, out of pity—or maybe out of desperation—you sighed.

"Give me a dollar."

He hesitated. Then, amused, he pulled out a single crumpled bill and placed it in your palm.

And somehow, that was enough.

That one dollar.

That was all it took to change everything.

That one dollar carried more weight than the millions sitting untouched in your bank account.

That one dollar made you walk into the agency and tell the CEO you weren’t renewing the contract.

That one dollar gave you the strength to face Bucky, even though leaving him felt like ripping your heart straight out of your chest.

That one dollar made you drop the sleeping pills into Bucky’s tea, ensuring he wouldn’t wake up before you were gone.

That one dollar gave you the courage to pack your bags and leave before you lost the nerve.

Leaving suddenly felt childish. Reckless.

But it was better this way. Better to vanish before you changed your mind.

Better to make Bucky hate you.

Because making him hate you was easy.

Hating him? That was impossible.

Because he had no flaws—at least, none that made him unlovable. If he were cruel, if he were indifferent, if he had betrayed you even once, then maybe, just maybe, you could hate him enough to walk away without regret.

But he wasn’t.

He was the perfect storm—brilliant, sharp, magnetic. The kind of man who could make you believe in things he didn’t even believe in himself.

And that was the cruelest part of all.

So you ran.

Not because you were weak.

But because staying would have destroyed you.

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Author Note:

Sorry for the sudden lack of updates. I just ran my first 5K marathon two days ago, and it was so much fun! I made great memories with my friends and even met new people.

But the aftermath—OMG! My thighs and knees were screaming for help. Lol.

[fazedlight]

Zhizhaf (Chill)

“There’s the last of it,” Kara said cheerfully, dimming down her heat vision in order to hand Lena her hot cocoa. “No more heat vision until we get back on Earth.”

“So we really don’t have to worry about that asteroid field?” Alex asked.

The four sat in a circle on the floor of J’onn’s cruiser - Kara, Lena, Alex, and Kelly all facing one another, piled onto pillows and blankets as their ship made its way through space. J’onn had been kind enough to let the four borrow his ship for the journey to Argo, taking about a day - longer than the last time Kara went, to avoid stressing the engines - for a trip to Kara’s homeland.

Unlike Kara’s first time aboard the cruiser, J’onn had made considerable improvements, allowing it to have a bigger interior than her first trip to Argo or Mars. There were controls facing out towards windows of endless darkness, a small area with a TV and couches and blankets that also served as a place to sleep, a storage closet with leftover supplies, and a small bathroom. Finally, the back of the ship had a small airlock, leading to the exit.

(Kara had suggested making it a convertible car like her trip to Mars, but she was soundly outvoted.)

“J’onn’s ship can navigate the asteroid field automatically,” Kara shrugged. “Besides, I don’t trust your flying.”

“Hey, I saved you after you threw Fort Rozz into space,” Alex said back. “In your own pod.”

“This ship is bigger! And there were no asteroids!”

“Earth is surrounded by debris-”

“Maybe we can watch a movie,” Kelly grinned, eyeing Lena across the way, who was holding back a laugh at the bickering sisters. “We brought a copy of Die Hard with us.”

The group agreed - aside from Kara murmuring The Mummy is better under her breath - as the group repositioned their nest of blankets and pillows. Kelly grabbed the DVD, popping it into the TV before snuggling up against Alex and reaching for the remote.

Lena, in turn, snuggled up against Kara - causing the kryptonian’s heart to skip a beat. Keep it together, Kara thought, we’re just friends.

But before Kelly could press play, Lena interrupted. “Guys? Should that be happening?”

The group turned, following Lena’s gaze to the windows ahead, where a small layer of ice was forming at the rims. “That’s not good,” Alex said, as the four shuffled to their feet.

They approached the screens of the ship controls, as Lena began to tap away. “Flow is normal in all steam pipes,” Lena said, “No sign of a leak or reduced gas pressure-”

“But the temperature’s dropping fast,” Kelly murmured, rubbing at her arms as Alex stepped in to warm her. “Something isn’t right.”

“Our course is off,” Alex said, nodding towards a neighboring screen. “We still have the same plot mapped, but we’re deviating significantly.”

“Because of the asteroids?” Kelly asked.

“This is too far for that,” Lena murmured.

“No…” Kara whispered.

The other three women looked up at the kryptonian, noting her wide eyes and suddenly concerned features. “Kara?” Lena asked.

“We need psychic inhibitors,” Kara said, turning to run towards the storage closet, “Alex, stay at the controls, autopilot might disengage.”

“Kara, what’s happening?” Lena asked, as she and Kelly followed. Kara was already digging into the first box she pulled down.

“We need three psychic inhibitors, you guys need to start looking,” she said frantically, as Kelly pulled down a second box and began her search.

“Three? You don’t need one?” Lena asked, pulling down a third box.

“You don’t,” Kara said, refusing to meet Lena’s eyes as she was digging. “You might be the only one left sane in a moment.”

“What are you-”

“Found one,” Kelly said, holding up the small earpiece.

“Put it on Alex since she’s driving,” Kara said, as Kelly got up.

“Why would I be the only sane one?” Lena asked. “Kara, what’s happening?”

“Zhizhaf-shed,” Kara said gravely, shoving her box aside to grab another. “I thought they were a myth.”

“I don’t know what that means-”

“They’re-” Kara hesitated, avoiding looking Lena in the eye. “They’re sirens.”

“Sirens,” Kelly said, returning to continue digging through another box. “Mythological creatures that sing to men at sea, so they can crash their ships into the rocks?”

“Kryptonians have a similar legend, about psychic attacks, making people euphoric enough to run out the airlocks,” Kara said. Lena pulled out a second psychic inhibitor, to Kara’s great relief. “Give it to Kelly,” Kara said, watching as Lena passed the device and Kelly attached it to her head.

“Aren’t you immune from psychic attacks?” Lena asked worriedly, continuing to dig into a box.

“Only sometimes,” Alex said from across the room, “Psi was able to break through.”

“How do you know it’s them?” Kelly asked.

“The first sign is a chill coming across the ship,” Kara said, “And then they-”

“Autopilot disengaging!” Alex shouted, “I’m taking over the controls manually.”

“-do that. We don’t have much time,” Kara said, shuffling around the boxes. “We just need one more.”

“Why only one?” Lena said, glancing to the devices on Alex and Kelly’s heads, “Why won’t it affect me?”

“Sirens only, um…” - Kara shifted another box - “They only tempt people who love women.”

Lena and Kelly’s eyes both widened, realizing the additional similarity between Earth and kryptonian sirens. “Then we need two more,” Lena said.

Kara’s head jerked up to Lena. “What are you talking about?”

“We all need them, Kara,” Lena said firmly.

It was Kara’s turn for her eyes to widen-

“Found a third,” Kelly said, holding up a device. Kara muttered something under her breath, grabbing the device from Kelly’s hand, leaning forward to place it on Lena’s temple before she had time to argue. “One more,” Kara said firmly, as they all resumed digging.

But they were out of time.

Lena and Kelly didn’t notice for a moment as they searched - and Alex couldn’t, as she concentrated on navigating the asteroid field, fighting whatever powers were trying to tug the ship off of its path as the air became colder and colder.

But Kara had stilled. “Beautiful…” she murmured. 

Lena glanced up, feeling a sinking sensation in her stomach as she looked over at the kryptonian’s blank face. “Kara?”

“Do you hear that?” Kara said, rising to her feet.

“Kara,” Kelly said, glancing worriedly towards Kara before grabbing another box. “Stay with us, Kara.”

“They’re - they’re beautiful,” Kara said, turning, “They’re calling to me…”

Lena tried to tackle her as Kara walked towards the back of the ship, but - even depowered - Kara was simply too strong. “Kara, Kara stay with me-”

“They say I can go home-”

“You are going home!” Lena begged, trying to pull Kara back. “We’re going to Argo, your parents are waiting-”

But it didn’t seem to matter, how hard Lena pulled back on the kryptonian, what she said. Kara’s eyes were far off and glazed over, entranced and distant as she resolutely made her way to the airlock. “They said I don’t have to be alone anymore,” Kara said.

“Kara-”

Kara pushed Lena back, bounding towards the airlock switch, tapping at the buttons as Lena shuffled to her feet. “Damn it, Kara, they’re not real!”

Lena’s heart raced as the layer of the airlock opened. I can’t let that close with her on the other side, Lena thought, darting forward to again, trying to come up with a plan that was better than another pathetic attempt at wrestling the kryptonian to the ground.

But nothing occurred to her as she caught up to Kara, grabbing her arm. “Kara, please, don’t!”

“I have to,” Kara murmured.

“Why?!”

“I can have everything,” she replied simply, stepping inside. “I can have what I can’t have.”

“Kara-”

There was no more thought. 

There was no more reason. Lena could think of nothing else to do when she surged forward, wrapping her arms around Kara’s neck. Maybe it was some combination of I didn’t know you were into women so now I can put my hat into the ring or just as simple as what if what you want is me. Anything to distract Kara from the siren’s call. Something desperate and stupid.

Lena pressed her lips against Kara’s.

She expected to be thrown back again, shoved aside as Kara finalized the dance of the airlock before losing her life somewhere in space. 

But to Lena’s relief, Kara froze. The kryptonian planted a hand on the wall next to the latch, body tense with confusion. Lena pulled back to look into Kara’s eyes, watching as the fog seemed to partially lift. “Lena?” Kara asked, blinking and dazed but somehow more herself.

“I’m here,” Lena said.

But to her horror, the fog seemed to only temporarily clear. Kara’s eyes began to glaze over again as the ship became colder still. Lena was dimly aware of Kara moving to flick the switch of the airlock, of a tap-tap-tap sound approaching behind her, of the kryptonian pushing her away as the trance began to grow again-

Then Lena felt a small push to the side, as Kelly stepped in, pressing a device to Kara’s temple.

Lena sighed in relief.

-----

Kara slept for most of the remaining journey, fitful between stretches of sleep and brief moments to drink some water. “This really wiped her out,” Alex said.

Kara was still shaky when they arrived on Argo, though her grogginess faded faster - by the time they were all sitting for a meal with Alura and Zor-El, she had mostly recovered from the stressful ordeal. Warm hugs and introductions were exchanged, stories told over the evening as the group settled in for their stay.

But Kara had not once met Lena’s eyes.

Evening became night - dishes were cleaned, bags were placed in guest rooms, and Kara excused herself to step outside and watch the starry skies of Argo. I need to clear the air, Lena thought to herself, glancing to the door as Alex and Kelly wandered off to shower and sleep.

Lena stepped outside, grateful that Kara’s parents were content to remain indoors, reading for the evening. She glanced up ahead, watching where Kara stood in a dim garden, leaning on a railing as she watched the sky. 

Lena walked forward, fighting the shivers from the cool night, knowing that Kara could hear her padding across the stone steps, before she gingerly stepped to Kara’s side. Lena leaned against the railing, eyes gazing out in the same direction as Kara’s, as they stood in silence.

Lena heard Kara draw in a quiet, resigned breath. “It worked because it was you,” Kara confessed.

“What do you mean?” Lena asked gently.

“The kiss. It woke me up,” Kara said, swallowing nervously. “It’s- it’s not just that you’re a woman. It worked because it was you.”

��Oh,” Lena breathed.

“I probably should’ve told you a while ago,” Kara murmured. “How I felt. I didn’t expect…”

Kara trailed off, shuffling nervously on her feet. Lena placed a comforting hand on her arm. “It’s certainly not how I imagined our first kiss,” Lena murmured.

That startled Kara enough to finally - finally - meet Lena’s gaze. “You- imagined?”

“For years,” Lena said softly. “Personally, I think we should get a do-over.”

Kara smiled. “Really?”

“Really.”

Kara examined Lena’s face - glanced to her eyes, before dropping to her lips, back up to her eyes again. Lena could see the slight blush on Kara’s cheeks in the dark, and she knew hers were in a matching shade.

Kara moved slowly, tentatively - opening her arms for Lena to step into them, which Lena did. Lena found herself lifting her hands, cupping Kara’s face as the blonde smiled softly back. Tentatively, Kara leaned forward, as Lena tilted her head.

Lips met soft lips, and Lena could feel her heart flutter in her chest, feel Kara’s tension sublimate to eagerness. Lena parted her lips in an invitation that Kara blissfully followed, the blonde tightening her arms around Lena’s waist as Lena’s fingers made their way into Kara’s hair.

And Lena no longer felt the chill of the night.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Musician Age Gap AU

Kara goes to the concert expecting nothing more than a tepid evening out. Well, as tepid as a night alone with her goddaughter could be. Esme has a knack for pulling Kara out of any funk she's in, no matter how deep her doldrums. And Esme's excitement to see this specific artist Kara's never heard of is nearly infectious.

Kara finds herself grinning in the car as Esme strictly tells her not to turn the radio on.

"They're gonna play one of her songs, and we need to go in fresh!"

So they simply chat on the ride to the arena, and upon arrival Kara is floored by the flood of people flowing from the parking lot to the venue itself.

"She's only the biggest name in pop music, Aunt Kara," Esme teases with a grin. "What did you expect?"

Kara's eyes go big with an exaggerated shrug of her eyebrows. "Not this!"

"Come on, old lady. This is why we got here early."

Esme finds fast friends among the other fans in line, but Kara steers clear of the parents clearly commisserating over the ordeal. She's not a parent, just a chaperone, and she has no intention of allowing herself to be infected by the endless negativity of long suffering caregivers bemoaning the whims of their tweens and teens.

Once inside, Esme heads straight for the merch table, clearly intent on spending her long-saved allowance money on anything she can get her hands on. The kid's wrists are already stacked with friendship bracelets, her own tote of swaps nearly empty and waiting to be stuffed with shirts and mugs and posters. Kara eyes the mounting total, then catches the moment Esme starts weighing the balance of what she has against the hoodie advertised at $60.

Kara rolls her eyes at the price, then reaches over with her card outstretched. "Add a medium hoodie to that, please."

Esme squeals with delight, and as soon as they're clear of the stall she throws her arms around Kara.

"Thank you!!!!"

"You're welcome," Kara says with a chuckle. "Just don't wear it til you get home. It's going to be hot in there."

"Okay!" Esme is already swapping her existing t-shirt for the tank top she'd gotten, emblazoned with the face of a young woman and the performer's name: LENA

"How do I look?" Esme asks with a spin, bracelets clicking.

Kara grins. "Like the world's cutest groupie." She tilts her head towards the crush of people heading into the stands. "Come on, let's go grab our seats."

"What's a groupie?"

Kara rolls her eyes, only to pause mid-turn when her phone starts vibrating in her hand. She hesitates, meeting Esme's eye.

"Just a sec, sweetie."

"What? No! Aunt Kara you promised no work."

Kara grimaces. "I know, but it might be an emergency." She scans the corridor, gaze catching on a short row of food vendors. "Here, why don't you take this and get us some nachos?"

She shoves forty dollars into Esme's hand and fishes out her bluetooth, nestling it in her ear.

"Aunt Kara..."

"I gotta find a corner somewhere," Kara continues. She points to a section of cinderblock wall a little ways down. "I'll meet you in across from the restrooms, okay? Five minutes, then I'm all yours."

Esme huffs. "Fine."

Kara answers the call, but waits until she sees Esme add herself to the food line before she starts speaking.

"This better be good!" she shouts into her phone. She can't hear anything but a jumble of sound on the other end, the din around her crowding out any words that might have been spoken. "Hold on!"

Reassured to see Esme already in conversation with a number of girl's around her, Kara goes looking for a quieter spot. She finds one in the nearest stairwell.

"What?" Kara snaps.

"Um," her assistant says over the line. "Mrs. Jasper called again? She wants--"

"Eve," Kara growls. "Do not tell me you called me, tonight of all nights, because Mrs. fucking Jasper called making some other inane request."

"I'm sorry!" Eve squeaks. "It's just--"

"Tell her it is after hours, and that she will be hearing from me personally first thing tomorrow morning."

"Oh, um. Okay. I guess--"

"Go home when it's done. And turn off your phone. You shouldn't be working this late either."

"Um. Okay. Thank you, Miss Danvers."

Kara ends the call with a roll of her eyes. But her frustration hardens into panic when she tugs on the door to return and-- it doesn't budge. She yanks again, harder, and still nothing.

"Fuck!" she shouts. She begins pounding on the door. "Hey! Can someone open this door?!"

No one comes to her rescue, her calls likely drowned out by the same noise that had driven her here in the first place. With another curse, Kara steps into action. She chooses to go down, hoping that the next door will open. It does, but the corridor she steps into is nearly empty. She hears a bit of bustle further down the hall, but out of sight.

She heads towards the sounds, trying the handle of every door she passes. None of them turn-- save one. She leans into it a little too hard as she tries the knob, and nearly tumbles into the room at the unexpected open.

Managing to right herself with a small yelp, Kara straightens-- only to freeze upon locking gazes with the young woman staring at her. A young woman Kara recognizes from the shirt her goddaughter had just put on.

Lena tilts her head with a droll grin.

"Well, you aren't my tea with honey."

[misandriste]

endless lenas no. 36 redo

Katie McGrath as Lena Luthor Supergirl ⪼ 4.05, “Parasite Lost”

[ceilidho]

exit, no entry wound joe bear graves x reader; part 1 (3.8k)

-

Local time at destination: 0500 hours.

And then the world rushes back to him like the culmination of a terrible dream.

Bear wakes up in another rosebush outside the front steps of the local library worse for wear. Blinking out of sleep-crusted eyes, shapes diverging in blurry unfocus before slipping back into material objects. A bench. A door. The thorny stems of roses already on their way out, already depetalling, the ground below covered in a thin layer of them. One petal even sticking to his cheek when he pulls himself off the ground, wincing at the branches that crunch around him, that tug against his skin and clothes.

His clothes smell of cheap liquor. Gin. Bourbon. It hurts to open his eyes, to sit up. 

“Morning, sunshine,” someone says. He remembers hearing it in his dream too. 

He looks to the source of his awakening, blanching when he notices the man staring at him.

Rip sits on the other side of the bushes on his haunches, looking deeply unimpressed. Hair slicked back for a change. “This what you get up to when I’m gone?”

Bear doesn’t respond. He struggles to his feet instead, hangover only just creeping in. Still drunk, to an extent. His knees threaten to buckle under him, forcing him to lay a hand flat on the wall to keep himself upright. One foot in front of the other. The walk home feels endless in the hour before dawn, hardly any light to guide him. 

“Pretty pathetic shit, Bear,” the man says, trailing along behind him. Not quite mockingly, but bordering on it. “Getting piss drunk and passing out in a bush? Really? C’mon, man. You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

There’s no sense in responding, Bear knows that now. No sense in even turning around to look. One foot in front of the other. Stumbling home alone under the cloak of night, dawn just around the corner; terrified that one day he’ll have to see it—the sun coming over the mountains, over the horizon. 

It’s been less than a year. He hasn’t yet made his amends with God. Forgiveness sits outside of him. Not quite the right time to let it in. Maybe that time passed a long time ago, a small aperture that shuttered closed at the approach of his eyes. He missed it sometime between killing a boy and losing his mind.

A man cannot hold himself up on the scaffolding of the world alone. There has to be something beneath him. There is no sense in repeating the horrors of the world back to him; he’s already lived them. He’s got something of a Midas touch for death. 

The months have been long since the divorce was finalised, since Lena left for good, since Buckley died, since Rip—since it all went down. If he thinks about it for too long, it seems like a nightmare that he woke up from still mad about; a nightmare he had no choice but to drink himself into a stupor over to escape. That’s the reality of the world. 

“You know, Bear, you’re not the one that’s fuckin’ dead,” Rip spits as he follows behind, matching Bear’s stumbling gait stride for stride. “So you can stop acting like it.”

There’s a truth in Rip’s words and it leaves him feeling nauseous. There’s also a kink in his neck and a headache threatening to split his forehead open. In the belly of him, he has a truth that says that the firmament of heaven is beyond his reach. When he looks up and the sky is void of coruscating light, the meagre stars like an exit with no entry wound, it doesn’t surprise him. Of course there wouldn’t be anything there.

On a good day, his heart feels like it’s weathered a siege. 

“So she left you! It’s time to fuckin’ move on. Go to a bar—I mean, you already are, so step one done—and pick someone up. Go on Christian Mingle or something. You keep living your life like this and you’re going to wind up killing yourself. And then the fuck good that’ll do?”

It takes everything in him to not turn around and do something rash. Only the nausea keeps him from making any sudden movements. Even if he were to turn around and do something, his knees would probably buckle under him. Probably throw up the contents of his stomach. Not much in there either. It rumbles when he thinks that, clenching at the thought of food. Then it twists, the nausea returning. 

One foot in front of the other. The walk home takes twice as long, his whole body aching.

“Heard you almost quit. Wouldn’t be the worst idea you ever had. Let Buddha take over—he’s earned it. Get yourself a nice piece of land in fuckin’…Montana or something. Couple cows, maybe some chicken—you could get a dog, Christ. You look like a guy who’d have a dog. Why don’t you have a dog, actually? You would’ve told me if you didn’t like dogs, so it’s not that.”

His forehead is greasy when he touches it to rub his head. Body secreting poison in his sleep. Oily. The corners of his lips crack when he yawns. It’s not like he’s never thought about a dog, about having something to care for, another living thing in his house. 

But—

(“Bear? …I don’t think we should have a child.”)

What he wants often falls to the wayside, slides off him like a glancing blow. 

Her old, familiar shape appears at the sudden loss of a dream: one where Lena’s gaze lingers on him long enough to burn; but then it is the sun.

Bear watches dawn break. Sunday morning. In a different life, he would’ve squinted into the light of a new day and closed his eyes against it, curling into the slighter body tucked into his chest for another hour of rest. Felt the rise and fall of her chest. Woken up to a hot mouth on his cock or fingers curling in his chest hair, petal lips seeking him out. Church after that, showering off the remnants of their morning, solemn in their pews with their chests still holding the laughter of an hour previous. Light as air, as a feather. 

He won’t go to church today; hasn’t in months. Not with the guilt of missing it the week before trailing after him, each missed week compounding month after month. The cracks in his faith webbing. Splintering out like stepping on the lake when it freezes over in the winter, crunching under his boot until he holds his place. Conscious that it could break under his feet.

“I grew up with a dog,” Bear finally responds, voice hoarse. First thing he’s said since last call at the bar. 

“Yeah. Figures. What kind?”

“Black lab. We called her Daisy.”

It’s another lifetime ago. Still living in his parent’s house, Daisy curled by his dad’s feet, her favourite spot to sleep. Television playing at a low volume, mom at the kitchen table doing her crossword, ink bleeding into the side of her hand. It’s been a long time since Bear buried all of them. He’s buried countless people since. 

“What—can’t get another? One and done? That’s how everything works for you?”

Teeth raze across his skin again. Trust Rip to always cut to the quick. Finally back in his neighbourhood at least, the street empty apart from the cars parked in their driveways or along the sidewalk. Bear’s stomach rumbles something fierce now, entreating him to eat. Worse than hunger is how he’d kill for a glass of water though. Anything to settle his head.

“Haven’t wanted a dog,” Bear grumbles, then clears his throat.

“Yeah, you have,” Rip scoffs. Bear hears him kick a rock, sending it skidding across the asphalt. 

“Fuck off.”

Heart silicified in his chest, composed of fossilised shells and rocks and bones. It feels heavy in his chest. 

He turns down the street leading to his house. 

“Gotta let someone else in, Bear. Girl, dog—whatever. You can’t keep this up forever or it’ll kill you.”

When he turns around at the door, fishing in his pocket for his keys, the sidewalk beyond his house is empty. 

(So a man lies down and rises not again; till the heavens are no more he will not awake or be roused out of his sleep.)

Every Friday like clockwork, Bear stops at the diner down the street for a coffee and a slice of cherry pie before heading to the bar. 

Today is like any other. He leaves the house with only his keys and wallet and walks the long twenty minutes to the diner. Every time he fights the urge to drive, but there has to be something holding him in place. A reason not to throw it all away. 

It’s never completely empty when he shows up, but it’s never full either. His seat at the back of the room is open as usual, like they put up a sign before he comes ambling down the street that says Reserved for Joe Graves and then pluck it away before he opens the door. It’d be nice if that were the case. Nice to have something just for him for a change. The thought comes with its accompanying pang of shame. Desire is a dangerous thing; anything he’s ever wanted has come at him with sharpened teeth, clamping down on his leg and ripping through the flesh. Bear trap for old Bear. 

He slides into the booth and waits for someone to notice him. Never bothers to flag someone down—if it’s ten minutes or even half an hour before he’s served, that’s fine by him. 

“Hiya,” a clear voice says to his right, pulling him away from staring through the blinds out the window. “Can I get you something to drink? Coffee, tea?”

The face Bear turns to meet is pleasant, smiling. Wide and untroubled. It’s not a face he recognizes though, despite months coming to this diner and becoming familiar with the staff. If he had to guess, he’d bet she only started a few days ago, maybe a week at most. She still has the sparkle of someone who hasn’t had the goodness beaten out of them yet. 

“Coffee,” he says, his own smile strained. “And a slice of pie.”

“Sure—we have key lime, blueberry, apple—”

“Cherry,” he interrupts, not letting her build steam. The wick in his chest burns too low for any conversation. The quick flicker of her brow makes the shame in his chest swell again. Forgive me sitting on his lips, unsaid. I’m sorry, I don’t know why I do this. 

She nods and scurries off to the back, skirt swishing with her movements. Bear notices only because his eyes get stuck there, somewhere between the curves of her hips and the roundness of her ass. When he realizes where he’s let his mind wander, he pulls it back, flattening his lips into a hard line. Any sort of indulgence feels wrong, a taking that shouldn’t be taken. He hasn’t even begun to pay penance for all the damage he’s wrought. 

It’s only on her way back that Bear notices the small bump protruding from under her apron. His mouth goes dry. When she reaches him again, he wordlessly accepts the cup of coffee and her reassurance that the pie will be out in just a minute. For a moment, he can hardly meet her gaze, eyes locked on the gentle curve of her belly, caught off guard in a way he hasn’t been in months. 

The first thought with any clarity is, what is she doing working here? A crummy diner on a Friday night. Down the street from an even sleazier pub. His second thought is to look outside at the poorly lit stretch of road and think that this is no place for a pregnant woman to be alone. He recognizes each car in the parking lot save one, likely hers. Drove herself here with the expectation of driving herself home at the end of the night.

If it had been Lena—well, he never would’ve let it be Lena, but if it had been, Bear can’t imagine letting his pregnant wife drive herself home in the middle of the night. Can hardly stomach the thought. 

She’s not Lena though, so he has no right. 

She’s gone before he has time to say anything else, skirt swishing behind her. It catches his eye again. When he tears his gaze away for a second time, he swallows back the metallic taste of self-loathing. It curdles in his mouth. It’s the sign telling him to stop coveting, stop looking out into the world and wondering what he can take. It’s his hamartia, his fatal flaw; thinking himself above the reproach of God. Thinking that he can kill, fuck, curse, and stray farther and farther from the light only to find his way back in the dark. 

The bell above the door rings when someone else comes in and Bear tenses. His shoulders only relax when two older women step in and head to a table. 

He watches as she picks up a plate from the pass-through window and heads back towards him. When she places it in front of him, he draws a deep breath in, trying to catch more than just the aroma of fresh baked cherries. 

“Here we go…one slice of cherry pie, straight out of the oven.”

“Thanks, honey,” Bear rumbles, smile finally meeting his eyes. 

“No trouble. The guys in the back said they make it special for you. Joe, right?”

That gets him to levy her with the full weight of his attention. The thought of her asking about him. “I go by Bear.”

“Oh. Alright, Bear.” She twists the word around in her mouth and seems to find it satisfying. “I think I’ve heard your name before. You were—I mean, you’re part of Pastor Adams’ parish, right?”

He clears his throat, cutting off the triangle point of his pie with the side of his fork. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Me too,” she confides, voice a low whisper. A secret between strangers. She doesn’t glance around though, doesn’t bother to draw out the ruse. “Or, I was, anyway. Haven’t been to service in awhile. I, um…I remember you. From a year or so back. You and your—um…you and your wife used to always sit up at the front.”

The fork scrapes against the plate. “Ex-wife.”

He catches her wince from the corner of his eye. “Oh. Sorry. You just—” She doesn’t have to say it. The slight dip of her eyes tells him all he has to know, and besides, it’s his own fault for still wearing the ring. Even with the paperwork signed and dated, even with Lena in another state now, starting a new life without him, the thought of taking it off makes him break out in a cold sweat. 

“It’s not—” Bear starts before giving up. He curls his fingers into a fist on the table. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine. Not a big deal.”

She fidgets in the silence. Bear can’t bring himself to break it or make the atmosphere less oppressive. He tenses under it, the ache in his low back worsening. These days, he always aches. Nerve damage, a disc on the verge of slipping, an old ankle injury that flares up whenever he goes running. A ghost that follows him from haunt to haunt. The ring on his finger is just another old ache. 

“So, uh—” he clears his throat, nodding to her belly. “Your first?” 

It’s inappropriate, hardly his place to ask. Incredibly intrusive for someone he’s met for the first time, a stranger just trying to do her job and serve him coffee and pie before he goes off to drink himself half to death again at the dive bar down the road. 

Still, he asks. 

Only the faintest wrinkle of her nose betrays any embarrassment. “Oh. Yeah. First one.”

“Congratulations.” It’s sincere. The envy in his gut is old, but it’s a manageable pain. 

“Thanks,” she says, with a small, private smile, hand resting absently under her belly. “I’m excited. I’m only a couple months along, but, uh…it’s been a journey. Just me and baby against the world, you know.”

That stops him in his tracks. Screws up the whole course of his evening because suddenly the sound of the bell over the door jingling doesn’t draw his attention away. It stays fixed on the smiling girl to his right that just opened her mouth and said something unacceptable. 

“Where’s the dad?” he asks, far too bluntly. 

She shrugs. “Somewhere. Didn’t stick around long enough to tell me where. It’s fine though—I’ve got my little peanut. That’s all that matters.”

“You told him and he left?” 

The pie sits cooling in front of Bear as a pit in his stomach opens up. It’s a terrible, empty hole that holds truths like the fallibility of the body and the good shouldering the burdens of the world.  

He only regrets being so direct when her lip quivers, a little motion that betrays her until she wrests control over her face again. “It’s not his fault. I don’t think he was—well…you know, it was a surprise.”

“That’s—” he struggles to find his words, “—that’s not right.”

Again, she shrugs. “That’s life.”

Bear feels his eyes go hard. A coldness settles under his skin. 

In the deep, dark gut of him, only anger lives. He spends his days questioning why God has allowed everything else in his life to fall apart, has allowed countless other people to die, but refuses, for reasons unbeknownst to him, to kill him. He’s given him enough opportunity and enough reason. 

The answer he circles back to time and again is the same. An eye for an eye. Divine wrath. The litany of his sins could be sung until the end of time and there’d still be more to sing. It’s only right that there would be consequences for him. 

The rage that simmers in his blood now is twofold. It begins with the sharp pang of injustice, of witnessing a punishment meted out to someone innocent. The girl standing by the booth he’s shoved himself into, almost too small for a man of his size, cannot be deserving of the same punishment that he’s brought upon himself. She has never killed. The babe in her belly has never killed. The two of them should never have to meet at the point of two paths converging with the likes of someone like Bear and proceed down the same road together. 

Then it sinks into a familiar territory. A place at the core of him where righteousness gives way to envy, as it always does. After what he's been through, the thought of someone having everything that he's always desperately wanted handed to them on a silver platter and then sending it back leaves him feeling a bit off-kilter. Not quite right. 

“Bear?” Her voice breaks the silence. When he blinks, concerned eyes stare down at him, brows furrowed. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he rasps, dragging a hand down his face. Shaking it off. “Sorry, I—got lost in my head. Sorry.” 

“That’s alright,” she says, again gentle in her voice and smile. “Easy place to get lost in, isn’t it?”

He makes a sound in acknowledgment. Drags the silence out. Her mouth twists shy under his scrutiny. 

“Anyway, I have a few other tables to get to, if you don’t mind. Enjoy your pie. I’ll check on you in a bit.”

He eats his slice of pie in silence as she leaves, eyes following her to her next table. Rage still sizzles under his fingertips. It makes his hands shake, old nerve damage and anger problems. 

It’s like a gun punch to think of her all on her own. It’s not right. For someone like him, well, it’s—deserved, earned. Inevitable, even. Every step taking him further away from grace, from its light. No one who knows his story would think otherwise. 

She’s a pretty thing though, this new waitress. Too tired, the bags under her eyes testament to that, no matter how well she hides them with makeup. Slightly puffy anyway, maybe from a lack of sleep or too many tears. His stomach aches at the thought. It must have come as a shock, the bottom of her world dropping out from under her when the baby’s father took off. Dragged away from the church not through her own doing, but the fault of another. Not her shame to bear, and yet. 

He forces the pie down. Bites that taste like nothing, 

Bear hears the lilt of her voice from two tables over. “Refill on your coffee, hun?” 

A supplicant sits in his place as he sips his coffee. The hour slips by into the next and it starts to come together in his mind. Why he's been forced down this long road alone, why God hasn't struck him down yet despite every terrible thing he's done. His eyes follow her flit across the diner, the light seeming to bend around her like a halation. 

When Bear looks across the room at her, he thinks, Lord, do not think I am waiting patiently for your hands. Every part of me trembles with anxiety.

(O Lord, show me I can fall apart together again; but not just yet.)

He stays until the last customer has finally left, waiting for her to come back to his table with an apologetic smile. When she does, Bear hands her his empty plate, watching her take a step back when he scoots out of the booth, rising to his full height. He makes note of the way her eyes round as they follow him up. Taller than her, unsurprisingly. Surprising though, the way her bottom lip droops just the slightest bit. 

“Is it just you closing up?” he asks, voice a tad too gruff. He clears his throat again, looking around for anyone else. 

“Well, the chef’s cleaning up in the back, but, uh—” she looks around the diner, conspicuously empty apart from the two of them. “Yeah. Just me.”

Bear gestures with his chin towards the door. “I’ll wait ‘till you’re done, then walk you to your car.”

“Oh, Joe—”

“Bear,” he corrects.

“Bear,” she amends, fingers twisting together now. He relishes the sound of it on her lips. “You don’t have to. I’m used to it, honestly. I know I just started here, but I’ve done closes before, you know.”

“I’ll wait outside.” A statement now. Stubborn. He’s always been a bit mulish, hard to shake off. 

He can tell the second she relents, shoulders slumping. “Alright. I shouldn’t be too long…you can leave if you get bored though. Won’t blame you.” 

He fights the urge to tilt her head up by the chin to make her meet his eyes. Just barely restrains himself. 

Leaning against a tree out front, he twirls the ring around his finger as he watches her clean up. For the first time in a long time, he slips it off.

[supercorpkid]

Would it really kill you if we kissed?

Supergirl. Baby Danvers. Kara Danvers x B!D!reader, Alex Danvers x B!D!reader, Lena Luthor x reader!

Word Count: 3125

Part 1 of 3

It’s late when the conversation dies out. Kelly is lulling Esmé in her arms, while Alex clears a spot in Kara’s bed to lay Esmé down more comfortably—even though they’ve been saying they should head home for a while now. It’s definitely late for a kid to still be up.

Kara leans in, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “We should go on vacation.”

You’re not sure what kind of reaction your sister was expecting, but it’s clear she doesn’t get it. Lena only raises her eyes from her wine glass, Alex’s brows knit together, Kelly keeps humming softly to Esmé, and you can’t help but sigh.

“No, come on, guys. I mean it. We should do it!” She insists, undeterred. “Take Esmé somewhere different. Go somewhere nice—all of us.”

“Ummm.” You make a sound, just to break the silence that’s stretching too long.

“What’s up?” Kara frowns. “Why is no one excited?”

“Because.” Lena answers, a single word with no follow-up. You nod in agreement.

“Because what?” Kara presses, exasperated.

Alex finally ventures the real explanation. “Kara, you don’t do vacations. Remember when we tried that ‘sisters trip’ a few years ago? You left Y/N and me stranded at the airport because of a Supergirl emergency.”

“Yes, I know.” Kara winces. “I’ve been apologizing for that for years now.”

You and Alex exchange a look. “And we’ve forgiven you,” you say, almost amused.

“Heh, jury’s still out on that,” Alex mutters, shrugging.

“But we don’t believe you anymore.” You give Kara a half-smile, seeing her open her mouth to protest. “It’s fine, Kar. We know you can never truly relax. It wouldn’t be fun, so we’d just rather not go.”

It’s a terrible lie. Alex and Kelly could definitely use a break, and they’d love to take Esmé somewhere nice and different. Lena looks like she’d kill for a vacation, and you wouldn’t mind stepping away from the endless 'saving the world' chaos your life has turned into.

But if you’re honest, going on a trip with Lena—specifically—sounds like a terrible idea. Your love for Lena has grown to the point of suffocation, devouring your thoughts and swallowing whole chunks of your day. Her face and voice are embroidered in your mind, and sometimes you struggle to tell what’s a memory and what’s just your imagination.

Kara, sensing the resistance, tries again. “No, I mean it this time. I can ask J’onn and M’gann to stay back and cover, and—” She pauses at your collective eye rolls, lowering her voice. “And even if I do have to come back, you guys can still stay. Please. I need this.”

She’s dead serious, and you know it. Lena quickly concedes, admitting you all could use some time off. Kelly doesn’t need much convincing either. But you and Alex still share a look, as if remembering that time she’d left you both waiting at an airport in Australia and never showed up.

Kara looks at you and Alex, her eyes pleading. “It would mean the world to me if we could go somewhere and be normal for a few days.”

You’re the first to waver. Obviously. She knows how much you crave a sense of normalcy. But you haven’t felt normal since the day your pod crashed on Earth, taking you and Kara away from Krypton’s certainty and into this chaos. It’s not like a vacation would change that.

Alex picks up Esmé from Kelly’s arms and lays her down in Kara’s bed with a sigh. “Oh well, I guess we’re going on vacation.”

Kara’s face lights up, but before she can cheer, everyone shushes her. Esmé has finally drifted off. Kara grins, pumping her fist in a whisper. “Yay!”

The next morning, just as you’re getting up for work, Alex is at your door, munching on a box of donuts. Which is a dead giveaway that something’s wrong—she doesn’t do sugar this early unless she’s nervous. You open the door, already braced.

“Alright, what’s up?” you say, brow furrowing. “You don’t normally start your day with a sugar rush.” You reach for the box, but she twists away, holding it out of your reach.

“Uh-uh. I need this.” She says, half-chewed donut in her mouth as she steps inside. “You’re the reason we’re all going on this vacation.”

“Am not!” You sigh, wandering to the kitchen to fill your coffee mug, hoping caffeine will help you handle this conversation before your brain fully kicks in. “It’s not like I’m dying to go.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” she says, arching an eyebrow, as if she knows more than she’s letting on.

Confused, you shoot her a glance. “God, Alex. Going on a trip with Lena is about the last thing I need right now.”

“Really?” She smirks, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Because it sounds like the perfect chance to finally do something about it.”

You huff, running a hand through your hair. “Or… and hear me out… I could just not go?”

“Oh, no way! You got us into this; you’re not backing out that easily, you little shit.”

“Again, this was all Kara’s idea,” you mutter, taking a deep breath. But Alex doesn’t bite. She watches you closely, her expression softening, as if she’s waiting for you to say something else—something you haven’t been able to admit out loud. You take a deep breath, fighting back a wave of nervousness.

You swallow hard, feeling your heartbeat in your throat. “I think Kara might… be in love with Lena.”

Alex doesn’t answer. Doesn’t deny it and tell you that you’re obviously wrong. That your sister wouldn’t fall in love with her best friend, that you’re just imagining the worst case scenario so you don’t have to act on it. She doesn’t say a word.

“Well?” you prompt, a mix of frustration and dread rising up.

“Well, what?”

“Do you think Kara’s in love with her?”

Alex lets out a long sigh that hangs in the air between you—and that’s how you know. She’s been thinking about it too.

“I don’t know, Y/N,” she says gently, seeing the tears gathering in your eyes. “But what if she is?”

You look down, struggling to keep your voice steady. “Then… then I’ll just… have to back off, right?”

“Back off more?” Alex’s voice is soft but incredulous. “You’ve been pulling away for months. To the point where Lena actually asked me if you hated her.”

Your chest tightens. “I don’t hate her,” you murmur, voice catching. “Obviously. I just… it’s too hard. Being around her and not doing something about it. And just as hard wanting to.” You let out a shaky breath, pressing your forehead to the cool counter. “Please Alex, can you find out if Kara has feelings for her?”

“No. That’s on you.” You lift your head, giving Alex a look of pure pleading. “Nope. No puppy eyes, Y/N. Kara’s your sister too. And I still don’t get why you haven’t told her any of this.”

You groan, burying your face in the cool marble, and holding up your index finger. “Donut me.”

“Classy.” she says, popping one onto your finger, and that’s the end of that.

Alex wasn’t kidding. She won’t talk to Kara about your suspicions, and as for you? You can’t bring yourself to do it either.

There was a time when you would’ve told Kara everything—more than you probably should have. But these days, it feels like there’s a wall between you. An invisible one, but solid all the same.

Maybe it’s the way she loves supering—the way she lights up at the mere thought of saving another day. And you… well, you’re still trying to learn to like it. Which is worlds away from loving it.

Or maybe it’s the way she feels so responsible for you, as if she’s obligated to take care of you. Lately, she's been acting so much like a mother that a few weeks ago, you accidentally called her Alura. The awkward silence that followed was heavy. Neither of you has brought it up since.

And then there’s Lena. The real wedge between you and Kara, and the reason you can’t find the words to talk to her about any of this. She would know. One look, one slip, and your sister would know you’re hopelessly tangled up in feelings you have no business having.

Despite all these reasons not to go, you find yourself packing for a vacation on a private island. Lena has arranged everything, from the secluded bungalows to the chef she hired to prepare your meals. You’re not complaining—it’s hard to argue with paradise—but somehow, it feels far from what a ‘normal’ vacation is supposed to look like.

As the island draws nearer, the knot in your stomach only grows tighter. Because, God, it’s just the six of you—Kara, Alex, Kelly, Esmé, Lena, and you. Nowhere to hide. And no distractions from the truth you’ve been so desperately trying to avoid.

Banging on your door pulls you out of sleep the next morning. “Auntie! Auntie!” Esmé’s voice rings out, cheerful and insistent.

You stumble over to the door, while using your superspeed to change, throwing it open with a wide grin. “I’m up, I’m up!”

“Let’s go play on the beach!” she declares, lifting her little arms toward you. You scoop her up, and she beams. “Can we build a sandcastle?”

“No way! Snowman first,” you tease, and soon the two of you are belting out Frozen lyrics at the breakfast table. Alex eventually gives you a look—half exhausted, half amused—and mouths, ‘please, shut the fuck up.’

“Meet you on the beach!” Esmé yells, racing outside, with Alex and Kelly chasing after her, leaving the table suspiciously empty.

You glance up, realizing you’re now alone with the two people you’ve been expertly dodging: Kara and Lena.

“Oh. Uh…” You force a smile. “So, what do you two have planned for today?”

“Not much,” Lena replies, her voice smooth. “A lot of reading on the beach.”

For a moment, your mind betrays you, painting an image of her stretched out on the sand in a bikini. You swallow hard, your throat dry. Oh, you didn't count on images of Lena in bikinis. Damn, this trip will be harder than you already predicted.

“I don’t have any plans,” Kara interjects, snapping you back to reality. Her expression is bright but almost pleading. “Do you want to do something together? We could fly around the island, see what’s interesting.”

It’s an innocuous enough suggestion, but the weight behind her words is impossible to miss. You haven’t really been alone together in weeks, maybe longer. She’s staring at you now, her eyes a little sad, hopeful, and you can tell she’s feeling the distance between you too.

“We haven’t hung out in a while, just us.” she says, a touch of hurt slipping through, like it’s your fault—which, honestly, it sort of is. You’ve been dodging her invitations unless Alex was willing to join. Lately, you’ve relied on Alex as a buffer more times than you’d like to admit, not ready to face everything that’s been bubbling up between you and Kara.

You hadn’t planned on confronting this on the first day of vacation, but there’s no way out now. “Oh, um… yeah. I guess it would be good to know the best spots.”

Kara’s face lights up, that bright, trusting smile of hers breaking through. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Lena watching the two of you, her gaze intent and almost curious. Then she smiles too, a warm, satisfied curve of her lips that sends an unsteady pang through you.

“Well,” Lena begins, her tone light but pointed. “We haven’t hung out alone in ages either.” There’s no accusation in her voice, just a gentle reminder. “Maybe make some time for me too?”

You knew this was coming. The wall you’ve built, the distance you’ve created to keep your feelings hidden—it’s collapsing faster than you can stop it.

“I thought the point of this trip was  to not have schedules,” you say, aiming for a joke, but it comes out grumbly and defensive. “We can hang out whenever, I mean.”

“Perfect!” Lena’s smile widens, bright and genuine, making your pulse race. “I’ve been missing you too, you know.”

They’re not trying to guilt-trip you; you know that. But the sincerity in their words makes you feel raw and exposed, and you can’t help but feel the need to defend yourself.

“I’m sorry, the whole superhero thing…” You trail off, realizing you can’t actually explain it. Not with Kara right there. “And, um, the thesis for my doctorate…”

Lena reaches out, resting a hand over yours, her touch unexpectedly soft and grounding. “Hey, Y/N,” she murmurs, her gaze steady. “We get it. You have a lot on your plate. Really, it’s okay. We just miss you. You’re… you’re fun to have around.”

Fun. It’s meant to reassure you, but the word sinks like a stone in your chest. You don’t feel fun. Lately, every moment spent with them has been a calculated exercise in restraint. It’s exhausting—lying, hiding, swallowing words you’re afraid will slip out. It’s not fun to be hopelessly, irrevocably in love with Lena. It's not fun to know you can't do anything about it because Kara might be in love with her too. And it’s even less fun to not be able to be yourself around your own sister.

You stand up abruptly, plastering on a smile that feels almost painful. “Cool. I’ll just, uh, grab something from my room, and then we can go flying?”

Kara nods, visibly brightening. “Perfect!”

But as you walk away, a sinking feeling settles over you, knowing that the closer you get to these two, the harder it is to keep pretending.

You actually like flying. Seeing the world from above, watching your problems shrink to nothing but blips—it’s your favorite power, if you’re honest. When you and Kara first discovered what you could do, you felt invincible, legendary even. Like a hero in some ancient Kryptonian folktale. But the thrill didn’t last.

Before long, it became “don’t use your power—wait, please use it—be a hero—but only for the greater good, never for yourself—be a hero—save everyone—forget what you want—be a hero!” Now? It doesn’t feel half as exciting as it once did.

You both land on a quiet beach, the waves lapping against the sand, and you look around, frowning. “This doesn’t really seem like—”

“We should talk.”

“—the best spot.” you mutter, the words stalling as her tone hits you. You feel your heartbeat spike, hammering loudly against your ribcage.

“I can hear your heart racing,” Kara says softly, almost apologetically. You try to steady it, but the thumping only grows stronger as you realize what’s coming. There’s no way around it—you’re finally about to confront what you’ve been dodging for months. “Y/N, will you sit with me?” she asks, patting the spot beside her on a driftwood log you hadn’t even noticed. You make your way over, bracing yourself.

“What’s up with you, ie?” The word in Kryptonian tugs at something deep inside you, a pang of longing for home, for the uncomplicated love you shared as kids. Her hand settles on your shoulder, warm and grounding. “You’ve been so distant from me. And don’t start with the thesis or the superhero excuses. I know it’s not that.” You open your mouth, but she cuts you off. “You’ve certainly had plenty of time for Alex.”

You roll your eyes, maybe too hard. “You can’t seriously be jealous of Alex.”

“I’m not jealous,” she insists, her gaze softening. “I’m worried. You’re my little sister. I promised mother and father I’d always keep you safe, that you’d always have family in me.”

“I’m safe, we’re family,” you reply, shrugging off her concern. “I don’t see what there is to worry about.”

“This,” she says, gesturing at you in frustration. “This distance. You’re pulling away from me like I’m the enemy.”

“Kara, you’re overthinking it.” you say, feigning a breezy tone. But she’s right, and you know it. She’s barely scratched the surface, and already you feel yourself unraveling. So you get up, turning your back at her and you hear a sigh behind you.

“I know you’re in love with Lena!” she says, her voice breaking the silence in one clean strike. You go still, holding your breath as her words hit you like a blow.

“What?” You try to sound unaffected, but your heart’s stuttering tells another story.

“I know you well enough, Y/N.” Kara makes sure you know it’s on her, that she was the one to figure it out. “I’ve noticed the stares, heart skipping beats, blown wide pupils. I’ve noticed how kindly you say her name, and how fond you talk about her.”

“So you think I love her?” You finally turn around to face her.

“I know you do,” she says firmly. She won’t let you deflect this time, won’t let you squirm out of it. “I’m your sister,” she means biologically, her voice tinged with something close to accusation, almost as if she is mad you'd confide to Alex and not her. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“Because—” You falter, the excuse fizzling out in your throat. “I’m dealing with it, okay?”

“By ignoring her?” she presses, stepping closer. “And me?”

You swallow hard. “Among other things, yeah.”

Kara’s brow knits in confusion, like she’s searching for some other answer, something that will explain why you’re pushing her away too. “Why me?” she asks. “I get why you’d need space from Lena if you don’t want to act on it, but why shut me out?”

You can’t answer. Not when you can barely make sense of it yourself. You want your sister to be close, you need her closer—but being near her feels like one more reminder of all the things you can’t have.

When you stay silent, her expression shifts, something like realization dawning in her eyes. But you don’t wait to see where her thoughts land.

“Well, as fun as this has been, I promised Esmé I’d meet her at the beach,” you say abruptly, stepping away.

You’re just about to lift off when you hear her voice, soft but unyielding. “We’ll talk when you’re ready.”

You take to the sky, flying to the other side of the island, hoping the wind might strip away the heaviness clinging to your thoughts. But even as you busy yourself building sandcastles with Esmé, your mind drifts back to Kara’s words—and the truth you’re trying so hard not to face. In all fairness, all you can do is think about the feelings that you hide and sit in silence waiting for a sign on what you should do next.

[imagine-lcorp]

Perfect Sense (Part I)

Request

Soulmate AU, please? (With A/B/O you're comfortable?) Fem!Reader (or Gender-Neutral) hasn't experienced much in her life, other than the experiments CADMUS had done to her shapeshifting powers. All she knew of the world outside the facility was what she'd learnt in the stories a sympathetic scientist would sometimes tell her when she was still a kid, to calm her down during testing. After 2 decades the scientist had enough and helped her escape, landing her in the arms of another Luthor.

A/N: Aaaand here another request you guys, writing a few fics in parts due to how long they get to be at the end. Thank you to the lovely person that sent this one, I'm sorry it's been ages, i still hope you can enjoy it. Love you guys

Lena Luthor x Fem!R/Shapeshifter//Word Count: 2,413

-------------------------------------------------------

"Subject C-308, ready for testing." A voice sounded through the speakers of the room and immediately the lights went on, blinding your eyes.

You couldn't use your hands to cover your face. They were tied to your sides with restrains to the medical bed you were laying on. It was the same with your feet, where the restraints were even tighter. Silhouettes started to moved and hoover above you, all covered in masks, blue suits and white gloves, looking down at you.

"Phase one of Project Lykaon, subject C-308, ready for intervention." A deep voice, from one of the silhouettes said. "All things set. Ready to start protocol."

"Initiate procedure." The same voice of the speakers sounded and the figures above you started to move.

You would have wished to tell them about the lights, how bright they were and how they hurt your eyes. About the ties around your wrists and feet, how uncomfortable they were, but the gag in your mouth didn't allow it and before you could even think of making a sound, it all went dark.

That was one of the first memories you ever had in your life, and it looked almost the same for the rest of it. It was all uncomfortable restrains and chains, white walls and white lights, the constant smell of antiseptic and cleaning products, knives, syringes, and endless surgical procedures. With no contact outside four walls of that place that felt more like a cage.

A cage fit to held the animal you were sure you were becoming.

After each intervention, after each transformation, with this savage instinct inside of you always in the edge of taking control. You were more beast than human, they used to say and you almost believed them.

But Dr. Jeremiah wouldn't have any of it. He was a different memory, a kinder, softer reminder that you were indeed human. The only person to ever treat you with compassion.

Before your interventions, on those terrible moments when you felt the anger and fear building up inside of you, threatening to tear to shreds anyone that dared come near you, he would come to talk you down. Dr. Jeremiah seemed to understand, how you would have done anything to put a stop to it. The numbness, the tiredness, the overwhelming sensations and pain that came each time after you were taken out of your room. But he would talk to you, speaking softly, assuring you you were going to be just fine, because you were stronger than you thought.

He would come after the operations to check up on you, sitting beside your bed with a worried expression, telling you stories about what awaited for you in the outside world, a world that was bigger than an operations room and your own. A world full of wonders like grass, sunsets, the sunshine, flowers, snow, and love. Whatever those things were.

"What's love?" You have asked once. He had paused then and thought for a long moment.

"Love is when two souls find and want each other." He had explained.

"What's a soul?" You asked then.

"It's something inside of you. The strongest part of you, (Y/N)" He smiled, only he called you with a name. "Your soul is everything you feel, and when you feel something so strong for someone else that means you have found your soulmate."

"A soulmate." You have whispered and frowned, still unsure of that idea.

"You will know it when you see them. It will feel as if you have known them all your life and everything you have been through will make sense." At that moment you had been too young to understand what he meant, but you would do it in due time.

Years passed, you became older but he kept telling you those stories. The ones you liked more where about the people. People that didn't hurt others just because they had the power to do it. He would even speak highly of one scientist he knew, so different from the ones you had met so far. A woman he had met time ago, someone so kind and loving that you liked to imagine her sometimes too and dream about meeting her in the outside world, to finally know something else apart from the nightmare that was being trapped there.

The dream came true a decade later, when you had grown up so much that it took them more and more people to control you. Dr. Jeremiah had been right, you were stronger and even stronger than they thought you were. That was one of the few joys you had then, besides the stories Dr. Jeremiah retold for you. Your powers grew too, the size of your body as you transformed, the length of your claws and teeth, the range of your sense of smell, the vision of your eyes. More powerful than the child you had been once.

Still, it wasn't enough for them.

"I think you enjoy your time with her a little too much, doctor." The voice of a woman caught your attention as you tried to fight the numbness of the strong sedatives.

You had been injected after being taken to the testing room, after finding out you could take three men with a single swing of one of your clawed hands, to keep you under control.

"I'm just trying to be comforting. Seems to help with her neural responses." Dr. Jeremiah was as indifferent as he could be.

"Well, you won't have to worry about that for much longer." The satisfaction in that woman's voice was noticeable and also the way you seemed to respond to her, with a terrible feeling of submission that was difficult to shake compared to any other people. You never felt like that in the presence of Dr. Jeremiah. "Project Lykaon has been terminated. She will be taken to another facility, and you can perform her last surgical procedure if you are that attached to her."

"Are you sure you want to dispose the only test subject that has survived all the interventions, Lilian?" His word came with a hint of outrage and concern. "With her powers she could still-"

"I spent too many resources already on this project, doctor. Besides, she's still incapable of following directives from her superiors, even when she seems compliant at first. And we can't do much with only one successful specimen, can we?" The woman cut him off and there was a moment of silence before she spoke again. "There's no need for more interventions. She will be taken tomorrow. After her autopsy, we will see which parts of her can be salvaged."

After the conversation was over, you tried to open your eyes looking for Dr. Jeremiah but he wasn't there anymore. You felt a certain heaviness in your chest, but you couldn't dwell on it as the sedatives finally won over you.

You woke up after a deep slumber restrained to a metal bed, only wearing a simple set of pants and shirt. As your senses returned you noticed you were being transported through the dark narrow hallways of the facility you had known all your life, but there was something different this time. You still felt a fog clouding your mind and the heaviness in your chest came back. It lessened when you heard Dr. Jeremiah's voice, who was talking with the armed men that transported your bed, giving them instructions on where to take you.

You moved your head, trying to catch a glimpse of the place you were going and noticed those weren't the usual turns and hallways you had grown accustomed to. When Dr. Jeremiah noticed you were awake, he put a hand on your shoulder to calm you down.

After a moment the movement stopped, you were left looking at the ceiling while Dr. Jeremiah talked with the men. He convinced them of leaving you and him alone for a moment, before they had to put you in the van. The men left without much complain, and the doctor seized the moment to act.

"(Y/N), listen to me." He rushed to try to loosen up your restraints. "I'm not letting them take you. You understand?"

The only thing you could do was nod as he kept moving, loosing the restraints on your naked feet and hands.

"You must remain on the bed. Don't move until I tell you to." You nodded once again. You saw him then take a vial and a syringe from his pocket and prepare it. "This will counteract the sedative in your system, you will be more alert in a few minutes, but remember, don't move."

He had injected you just in time before the armed men came back. They pulled your bed around and finally pulled you into the back of an armored van. They sat around you, two men at each side, guns in hand, along with Dr. Jeremiah on your left, who kept an eye on you at all times. As the vehicle started to move you also started to feel less and less numb with each passing minute. You were aware of each bump of the road, hear the sounds of the city in the distance, and your sight adjusted to what was around you as you squinted your eyes to see, trying not to get noticed. Just when you felt like your body was completely awake, you started to wonder what Dr. Jeremiah would do. Not much time had passed but the minutes felt like hours as you tried to be still.

Then you saw movement. Dr. Jeremiah was pulling something out of his pocket, and you opened your eyes to see him better. He looked at you, nodding slowly and with a fierce expression. Almost like telepathy you understood, you had to get ready, and in a second everything turned into chaos.

Dr. Jeremiah, in a faster move than you thought him capable of, pulled a teaser and attacked the man next to him. Almost immediately the rest of the men responded raising their guns at him. However, they didn't expect you to act as quickly as them or even you breaking your restraints so easily.

You grabbed one of the men with your right hand by his bulletproof vest and tossed him against the other one. Your strength, without the need of transforming, was enough to leave them on the floor. You didn't get the change to feel pleased with your work as a deafening bang went off on the left side of your head. You screamed as you raised your left hand towards the last man remaining, ignoring the ache in your head you managed to slash his side and right arm with your nails, now turned into claws. He had tried to eliminate you, but Dr. Jeremiah had managed to push him before he could do it.

The van stopped abruptly and took a sharp turn that made you fall from the metal bed. With your restraints already loose, it was easy to free yourself from them but as you tried to recover from the fall you felt a dizziness making it hard for you to stand up. A hand on your arm pulled you up. Dr. Jeremiah was on your side hurrying you up before the back doors opened. You couldn't hear his exact words but it didn't matter, with the adrenaline running once the back doors opened and you looked at two other agents pointing at you with your guns, you went feral.

Bullets flew the moment the agents saw the enormous black figure lunching at them, but your white sharp teeth showing as you growled and your black nail claws heading straight for their heads were enough to put a final stop to it. You jumped out of the van, leaving two more bodies behind you. A couple of bullets managed to hit you in the chest and arms but you would be recovering quickly, interventions had been done to make sure it didn't take too long.

Dr. Jeremiah jumped out of the van a moment later, gripping his shoulder. You smelled his blood and approached him with a hint of worry in your transformed face.

"It's alright. I'm okay." He smiled softly at you and looked around the streets. They were empty and there seemed to be no people around. "You have to go now. More will be on their way."

You protested with a whimper.

"I'll be okay, don't worry about me." Dr. Jeremiah moved his hand to one of his pockets an pulled a small piece of black fabric. "Run and don't stop. Not until you find her."

You came close to it, sniffing the fabric he held for you. Many scents were mixed on it, from Dr. Jeremiah, from the woman he had talked before, and another you couldn't identify. It wasn't as different from the woman, but it was distinctive enough you believed you could find it without confusing the two. You guessed you had to search for another woman and, feeling like it was a sort of treasure hunt, you let yourself imagine you would find that scientist he had talked about to you years ago.

But doubt filled your head as you looked at him, wondering what would happen to him once you left. There was also that pressure in your chest once again, as you thought what awaited in the outside world now that you had the chance to leave all this behind. All, including him.

"I have to stay." Dr. Jeremiah said catching his breath. He raised his good arm at you, caressing the black fur of your head with his hand as a way of last goodbye. "You go now, (Y/N), go and don't look back."

You pressed your head against his chest, listening to the beating of his heart. The last comforting sound you heard before screeching tires approached in the distance. They were coming for you. You had to leave.

You ran, darting into the shadows of the city, focusing on the memory of the scent Dr. Jeremiah had given you. Moments later you heard shots behind you, but you had been too long gone for them to even catch the sigh of you. You hoped those hadn't been directed to the doctor instead.

You used all your strength and speed to wander between warehouses and factory buildings to reach the urban lights on the other side.

[karalovesallthegirls]

“i’m not going to write this” you say as you simultaneously create a tag for any future instalments in the same universe. (i see you and i agree lena should have two wives.)

Listen obviously I’m not going to write this story BUT just imagine…. The tension, the forced conversations as Kara and Lena both pretend to still be the women they were all those years ago, pretend like they aren’t strangers with nearly a decade of distance between them. With Kara and Lena experiencing an anxious desperation to get away from each other as deep as their desire to never leave each other’s sight.

Andrea goes to bed before them - she has to, she’s trying to be strong but even she isn’t strong enough to navigate the sleeping arrangement - and when she wakes up in the middle of the night it’s not a surprise to find Lena’s side of the bed empty and untouched. The predictability doesn’t lessen the burn. The guest room sits empty, though, and instead she finds Lena curled up in a ball on the couch with Kara sleeping beside her. Not on the couch, no, instead sat propped on the floor at Lena’s feet, her hands gripping right at her ankles in her sleep. Like she was scared if she let go for a second Lena would vanish.

Everyone wants to know what this means for them - Kara was dead legally, so their marriage was voided in the law, but then Kryptonians mate for life, and it’s not like Lena ever really let her go in her heart - but they have no answers. It’s clear they don’t fit together anymore, not any of them, but the idea of any one of them letting go is unimaginable. So they fight and they fake it and they find ways to connect as the new, scarred versions of themselves, and there’s a palpable jealousy between the three of them.

Andrea can feel Kara’s eyes burning into her when she comforts Lena, when they share well-worn jokes Kara never learned. And Andrea can see the longing in Lena’s every move, every word, and it burns and burns and burns. Andrea stares at Kara and wishes she had stayed dead. Her dreams are filled with the other woman: dreams of her dying again, of her never returning at all. Of her smirk as Lena tells Andrea they’ve run their course because “really, did you think I’d pick you over her?”

Andrea dreams of what Kara’s mouth must taste like, of how her lips and tongue might move against her own, what she must do to have Lena so fully under her spell. Perhaps if she could kiss her then she could know how to give Lena everything she’s been missing for seven years. Maybe then she could be enough for her. She feels almost desperate thinking about it.

And Kara burns just as deeply in her own way, Andrea can feel it. Kara’s eyes track her every move, always studying and analyzing and overwhelming her. The questions are endless every day - tell me about your life, what do you love to do, what makes you tick.

“You are the one person she chose after me. She wanted you,” Kara explains after Andrea’s furious refusal to answer her forty ninth question about her perspective on things. She’s staring at her with a hunger Andrea feels in her toes. “I have to understand. I have to know every part of you.”

Kara looks at Andrea like she wants to devour her whole. Andrea feels the same.