#kara looks so good here....

[flowerakatsuka]

Tarot Medicos Entertainment ( 2024 )

[dancedance-resolution]

well fellas it’s happening i think i am maybe developing a crush on the girl ive been fucking recently 🫥

[noctilia]

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa it's been 84 years

[sheyshen]

i'm fairly confident in my ability to draw armor but now and then I'll be sure it looks terrible and have to resist the urge to redraw it again from scratch

[natalievoncatte]

Every part of Lena Luthor’s soul was screaming at her do not do this.

Yet there Kara Danvers

(Kara Zor-El, last daughter of the house of El, LIAR.)

stood, bedraggled and tear-tracked, hunched in Lena’s doorway like a tiny kitten begging her for food. Lena wondered how she did it, how she made herself so small and unassuming, pathetic even. It was more than a change of clothes and hair and ripping off her glasses. She truly changed, somehow.

Changed to deceive. Changed to mock, changed to take without giving, to make Lena a fool.

(it was a cruel thought, a green thought, a Lex thought)

“I’ve told you already, Kara. I don’t want you here. You’re a liar, you and all your little friends mocked me to my face and kept secrets behind my back.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“I don’t believe you.”

That relentless sad puppy look of hers softened even further.

“Why?”

God above how Lena hated her. Hated her for daring to ask. Fuck you, that’s why.

(nothing hurts more than a question that has no answer)

“I hate you, that’s why.”

Kara swallowed hard, wringing her hands. She was dressed in her pajamas and had probably flown here, then landed and asked to come up like a normal person. Didn’t she see that was the problem?

“I don’t believe you.”

Lena threw up her hands. “Oh fuck off with that, Kara. You lost your favorite toy, get over it. I’m done with you. I moved on, you should too.”

“You let me in. I’ve seen the real you. You’re not vindictive. You’re not cruel. You’re a kind-hearted, selfless, compassionate person.”

“And you didn’t,” Lena snapped, moving to close the door. “You deceived me in the most fundamental way. You made me believe you cared for me and believed in me and saw the good in me. No one sees the fucking good in me, no one. No one did but you… and it was all a trick to keep an eye on the Luthor.”

“No, no, I didn’t-“

“You didn’t? Then why did you get James to spy on me? Why’d you question my motives? Why’d you keep lying to me after I proved myself over and over and over again? Because I was never good enough. It was never real.”

Kara rubbed her arms. “Do you really think I brought you into my circle of friends and held you in when you were sad and brought you to Thanksgiving and let you sleep over in my home to keep an eye on you?”

There was a heavy pause.

“That’s fucking insane,” Kara snarled.

Taken aback, Lena flinched, half at the profanity and half at the anger in Kara’s voice.

“I admit it,” her voice broke suddenly, “I can’t deny it. I can’t just dismiss how you feel, I get that, but I didn’t keep my secret from you because you were some kind of a project, Lena. I kept my secret because keeping it let me keep you. It was selfishness, pure and simple. I wanted my one friend who didn’t see me as a superhero. I wanted… I wanted what I always want, things I cannot have.”

There was such agony in her voice that it cut through Lena’s growing fury like a blade sinking into clay, stuck fast, hot in her chest.

“I knew I’d lose you to it eventually. I didn’t do it for you. I did it for me.”

Lena blinked a few times, feeling her resolve start to shake.

(another manipulation. she will do anything, say anything to get back in your good graces)

(to do what, Lex? to what end?)

“Say what you came here to say.”

“I kind of did, but I have one more thing to ask.”

“Then ask it.”

Kara swallowed. “I want to pretend.”

Lena’s brow arched.

“Pretend what?”

“Just pretend it’s like it was. For one night. Just give me one more night and I promise you I will never bother you again. You’ll never see me or Supergirl for the rest of your life.”

“You’re on TV every day.”

“I meant in person.”

“And stop talking about yourself like you’re two different people.”

Kara sniffed.

“Okay,” she muttered.

Lena stood there for what felt like an eternity, screaming at herself not to do this.

(do it, it’ll make it hurt more)

(me or her?)

Lena stepped aside.

Kara entered. She brushed at her eyes, adjusted her glasses, and walked into Lena’s expansive, cold, dark penthouse.

As soon as she did, it was as if the light came back. It felt warm again, seeing her standing there. Having her here, in her cute little pajamas with her braid over one shoulder, those big eyes open and hopeful.

Lena closed the door.

“What do… what do you want me to do? Us to do?”

“We could watch a movie, maybe get Chinese delivered. Have you eaten? I doubt you’ve eaten.”

Lena hadn’t, actually. She hadn’t eaten today and had eaten only scraps yesterday and only because Jess insisted.

Kara touched Lena’s side, a soft brush of fingers over her ribs, and winced.

“You’re starving yourself,” she murmured. “Oh, Lena.”

“Kara-“

She already had her phone out and was ordering. Of course Kara had Lena’s place still saved in DoorDash.

Lena grabbed her hand to stop her.

“My treat.”

Lena fetched her own phone and put in a quick order- of course she had all of Kara’s favorites saved and of course she almost sent them to Kara’s address instead of her own.

“I ordered.”

Lena looked down at herself, wondering why the hell she was doing this. She was still dressed for the lab, so she retreated to her bedroom.

When she opened the closet her eyes immediately went to the maroon Midvale High School sweatshirt hanging at the far end of the rack, where it had been defying her for months. She should have burned the god damn thing but every time she reached for it, her hand pulled back of its own accord.

Not today. She let it fall over her, oversized for her frame and too long, and changed from slacks to leggings and pumps to bare feet, her toes curling from the cold hardwood floors.

Kara had already taken up position on the couch and had put on one of her beloved movies, one they’d already watched together ten times and Kara had probably already seen ten times more. The Princess Bride.

It was a cheap ploy and Lena knew it.

It gouged at her anyway, leaving something raw in her chest. It ripped open every place she’d forced to herself to scab over, broke every stitch. She killed the lights, halfway out of tradition and halfway to make sure Kara didn’t see her fighting back the tears.

Neither of them spoke. They sat on opposite ends of of the couch. When the food arrived, Kara got up to get it from the driver and her absence was keen, the void she left behind ripping at Lena.

When she sat down again right next to her, Lena let her. She shoved a box of take out into Lena’s lap and insisted she eat. They ate in silence.

Kara’s heart wasn’t in it. She are aimlessly rather than shoving her food in her mouth and gobbling it all down in minutes as she usually did. She was pretending, hard.

Lena barely paid any attention to the movie. The food, normally seasoned and spiced to the point where she couldn’t stand it and ate only to please Kara, was bland and tasteless in her mouth.

Kara, haltingly and hesitantly, put her head on Lena’s shoulder, and winced when Lena’s shoulders hitched. Why the fuck was she doing this to herself?

The worst part was that it didn’t hurt. It felt like home. Even now after all she had done and all that Kara had done and said, feeling Kara’s sadness in her soft weight beside her was ripping her apart, the mad anger and rage swept aside by a torrent of grief she couldn’t hold back.

If she was going to pretend she might as well pretend. She put her arm around Kara and leaned into her, nuzzling her nose into Kara’s soft hair, wondering if her alleged best friend ever noticed that Lena’s favorite thing in the entire stupid fucked up world was a Kara Danvers hug and nothing was more precious to her than these times when she almost kissed the crown of Kara’s head.

How she ached.

The movie ended and Netflix began making suggestions.

“Kara,” Lena murmured. “Let’s go to sleep.”

“If we go to sleep the night will be over,” her voice was small, trembling.”

“I know, darling. Just let it be what it is.”

Kara nodded.

Lena’s pulse was pounding as she headed for the bedroom, wondering how Kara had never picked up on how decidedly unplatonic it was to fall asleep in each other’s arms. Neither spoke as they climbed into Lena’s California King, a bed big enough to drown in, sinking beneath a goose down comforter, Kara’s body heat like old coals from a campfire.

For a moment they lay apart, and then slowly came together in their usual way, Kara forming herself into a protective cocoon to shield Lena from… from everything. Morgan Edge, her brother, alien shotgun weddings, random nuts with a gun and a grudge, everything but the greatest threat, her worst enemy.

“I have to go in the morning,” Kara whispered, “so I better say this now. You are not a monster, Lena. I never wanted to ‘keep an eye on you’ other than to protect you and keep you safe. No matter what you do, I will never, ever give up believing in you, but if you want me gone, that’s what I have to do. I love you so much it hurts me. I can’t stand being apart from you but if that’s what you need from me that’s what I’ll give. I would do anything for you. If moving on is what you want…”

Kara took a ragged breath.

“As you wish.”

Lena felt something crack inside her. An image filled her mind: Kara. Kara with graying hair, walking away, walking off into the sunset like the hero she was, and with someone else… with a child between them, a future, a home…

“God damn you, Kara Danvers!” Lena snapped, shocked at the sound of her own voice. “God damn you for making me feel this way! Do you have any idea what you did to me? I can’t just turn it off, I can’t stop feeling.”

“This was a terrible idea,” Kara sighed. “I should have known better. I’m just hurting you more.”

Kara began pulling away.

Lena threw out her arms, locked her hands behind the neck of the most powerful being on the entire planet, and yanked. Hard.

Their lips came together in a crash. The force was all Lena’s, as Kara’s inhuman might yielded to her control. There were no words. Kara hesitated for a shocked moment before she kissed Lena back, looping her arms around Lena’s waist.

This was no stolen glance, no innuendo, no coy hint. When Lena kissed Kara she made as if to devour her, and was mounting her before she realized she was doing it. Kara yielded, she always yielded even when Lena pinned her wrists to the mattress and clamped her legs around Kara’s hips and ground on her like a horny teenager.

She kept expecting Kara to sputter, to push back… to be fucking straight, to be brutally honest about her intentions, but there was nothing straight in the way Kara shifted to grind against her, or the way she twisted her hands free and slid them under the soft Midvale High Sweatshirt and skimmed them over the bare skin of Lena’s back. There was no mistaking the intent of her kisses or the feral sound she made when the shedding of clothing began.

Lena must have shocked her at first, because when Kara recovered, she became a force of nature. Lena was quickly on her back and let out an excited yelp when Kara simply tore her leggings apart and bared her with a feral grin on her face before shedding her top with the same desperate energy.

When they came together, really came together, Lena was nearly overwhelmed. Kara was insatiable, relentless. Hokey cliches like “force of nature” were woefully inadequate.

She never ran out of stamina and she was gentle when needed and forceful when Lena wanted it, every stoke and motion and caress somehow perfect, and she sensed without needing to be told when Lena was ready to give rather than receive and yielded without a word.

They barely even had to talk, and when Lena was finally exhausted, Kara was there with kind touches and soft words and cared for her like the most precious thing in the world.

Lena fell asleep, deeply and soundly, and when she woke up with the sun on her skin and an empty bed she wondered if it was all an elaborate dream until she heard Kara humming halfway across the penthouse, grabbed the sweatshirt, and padded barefoot from the bedroom.

Kara was at the stove cooking breakfast and holding a spatula like a microphone, singing… a fucking Britney Spears song.

“I thought you were going to leave in the morning,” Lena sighed.

Kara froze.

“I’m glad you didn’t. I’d have to come get you.”

Kara turned to her with a billion watt smile.

“I was lying about leaving you alone.”

Lena walked over, arms around her waist, hugging herself. She cupped Lena’s chin with a hooked finger and the casual intimacy of it made Lena’s heart swell.

“I love you so much. I can’t breathe without you,” Kara whispered.

Lena took Kara’s wrist and guided her hand to cup her cheek, nuzzling against the soft skin of Kara’s palm.

“Stay?”

Kara nodded.

[wincore]

I faked my engagement for free cake samples and got sued after I ran away AIO | haechan

pairing: haechan x baker!reader

genre: comedy, fluff, rivals (?) to lovers (?)

warning(s): quite possibly you will be inflicted with cringe, shameless scamming, mild swearing, one (1) innuendo

words: 5.4k

song recs: santa doesn’t know you like i do by sabrina carpenter, too late for chocolate? by kana hanazawa, like a raspberry by 宇宙ネコ子, honey by kara

a/n: ty to my queens lana and cat for gassing up this dumpster fire i wrote in a caffeine haze while watching my bf die every 20 secs in ds3. the initial plot was going to be far longer and more fleshed out but i fear i'm past my prime ( ._. )" i still hope you guys have fun with this one!! i got to play around with hallmark comedy far more this time, so overall it was a fun time writing <3 happy new year, my lovely mooncakes!!

part of a nonsense christmas: reddit edition collab <3

r/AmITheAsshole

u/YeastMode6969 • 3h

I faked my engagement for free cake samples then got sued after I ran away. AIO?

I (24F, small bakery owner) faked my engagement to get free cake samples at my rival bakery but the employee said I needed my fiance to be there. I panicked and grabbed the first guy to come through the bakery door after me. Turns out he’s not just some random customer. To top it off, he was ridiculously attractive even though he pissed me off every two sentences. I had a panic attack, told myself it’s totally not my fault, and moved on by baking fourteen cakes over the weekend. I thought I got away with it, but three days later, I got an email from him—he’s now suing me for “emotional damages” and “theft of pastries.” Am I doomed, or is this just karma with extra frosting?

⥣ 7.7k ⥥ 2,701 Comments

bun_theory0222 • 2h

INFO: Did you at least try the samples? Were they worth the lawsuit? We’re all dying to know here.

➥ Reply ⥣ 3.2k ⥥

muffinbutdrama1122 • 1h

nah cuz why is he suing when he CLEARLY wants to flirt??? this man is embarrassing but so are you. somebody matched ur freak <3

➥ Reply ⥣ 1.7k ⥥

soggywaffle0205 • 6m

YTA why can’t this shit happen to me. AT LEAST I would commit to the bit.

➥ Reply ⥣ 420 ⥥

cerealfordinner0323 • 2h

Bro sued you just to slide into your life again. He’s not slick, and neither are you. Good luck with that wedding cake.

➥ Reply ⥣ 9,011 ⥥

. . .

If you could hop a few steps to the right, feign unconsciousness, and climb right into the active fireplace, it could potentially make everything okay. For you, that is. Not for the poor bakery employees who would have to call the cops. 

“I’m sure he’s a handsome one!” The girl behind the counter giggles, light pink dusting her cheeks. “You’re- you’re so gorgeous!”

Setting aside the fact that most gorgeous women you know end up with malformed gargoyles, your current predicament is almost equally sinister. What started as an innocuous process to gain free wedding samples (in other words, a scam) has led to a question that should be obvious but completely escaped your mind following your trailing success.

“We’ll need to have you come in with your fiance for the free wedding cake samplers. Is he around?”

Is he around?! Boy, you sure hope so. Because now you’re also frantically looking around with the employee after you blurted out another lie: “He’s going to be here soon!”

When did you turn into a compulsive liar? You’re not sure if your mom would be proud of you for being so good at nabbing free food, or disappointed that you’re a filthy liar. After all, she did tell the buffet employees you were under 10 all the way till you were 14. So, really, you’re not the source of the problem! You brush your festive red skirt of invisible crumbs, trying to busy yourself.

The cafe itself is well decorated for Christmas—a silver reindeer bores holes into your head from by the front door, a small Christmas tree stands at the center that’s a little emaciated but the cute Sanrio ornaments in Santa hats make up for it, and most importantly, a beautiful Mont Blanc cake sparkles from atop the glass counter. (Seriously, why didn’t you think of this? Your own bakery is all sparkles and no play.)

You move out of the way of other customers, and casually glance at the source of your awe and joy. Powdered sugar dusts the top as idyllic snow, covering the sugared cranberries and sugared chestnuts, not dent in them under the white fondant star. The base of the cake is tied with an edible red ribbon, completing the seasonal aesthetic of it. A sigh rests momentarily upon your lips before it escapes. 

You love Mont Blanc cakes, but you never quite get it right. That’s your biggest failure as an up-and-coming baker, and such is the reason for your unhinged serial sampling scam. You swear it started off as a search for inspiration in a creative rut but before you knew it, a lie had spilled from your eclair-sweetened lips, and another, and another. 

It is at this point that you briefly consider bolting for the door. Tibet is great around this time of the year. Maybe if you convert to a monk lifestyle and atone for your sins, you’ll be granted a pardon in the form of delicious sweets. Before you can make your escape, however, the front door jingles, and in strides a sight unbelievably reassuring. A man with caramel hair enters, who might as well be wrapped in a giant red ribbon and seated atop a snow-white horse in golden ornaments.

It’s a Christmas miracle. Hallelujah! They still apply to you.

His smile—soft and sweet as meringue hearts—lights up the room as he inhales the warm, sugary air of the bakery. You’re hit with the vaguest sense of familiarity. He might be one of the few customers you get these days. For a moment, you falter. Are you really going to victimize this stranger?

Yes. Yes, you are. The situation is dire.

“Hi darling!” You exclaim within earshot of the employee, before lowering your voice. “Could you help me out a little here?”

The man blinks, dazed for whatever reason. “Uh… sure?”

“Okay, then follow along and ask questions later,” you reply, and loop your arm through his gingerly. The touch of his fuzzy winter coat makes you relax a little. It is chocolate-colored, with beige fluff around the collar. Not now, you think to yourself, You need to stop thinking about sweets for one goddamn moment.

“Here he is,” you laugh sheepishly as you bring the man forward. Gosh, what in the heavens are you doing? You didn’t even ask his name. 

The employee stares, jaw agape. What’s with the reaction? He’s not that hot. 

“O-oh,” she responds. “That’s quite the surprise. I never knew. Congratulations, sir!”

You turn to look at him. He simply scratches his chin with a sheepish smile, and manages to respond with a “Thanks, Kimi.”

He must be a regular, you think. Oh, (Name), what did you get yourself into? You’re just gonna have to read his name off his coffee order first.

“We have a selection of samples for our wedding cake choices,” the girl, Kimi, moves to the far side of the counter, offering a small menu card to the two of you. “I know you’re not a big fan of wedding cakes, Mr. Lee, but the latest tiramisu flavors should suit your tastes, no?”

Just how close are they?! You chew on your lip and try to calm your depraved little heart.

“Well,” he responds, thinking for a second, “I actually hadn’t thought this far. What do you think, honey?”

He turns to you with a radiant smile, but you sense a hint of mischief. You don’t have time to think of that though—so you just change the topic. 

“Actually, do you have a Mont Blanc flavor? I’ve always had trouble perfecting it myself.”

Truth be told, that ‘honey’ had flowed from his lips and struck you straight in the heart. He’s not too bad to look at, you think now. His tousled hair catches the light with a playful sheen, framing his face and accentuating his disbelieving smile, while his fluffy coat adds a cozy touch to his charming, boyish demeanor. If you were to overthink a little, you’d find a hint of mischief in his voice. Alas, you’re a simple girl who only overthinks sweet treats, not boys.

“You bake?” He blurts, before his ears turn red from realization.

Kimi shoots him a puzzled look and your breath hitches in your throat. Was the miracle an idiot in disguise?

“I mean, uh, gosh, you make me so nervous, honey.” He looks like he’s trying his very best to ace an exam he never studied for. “I meant to ask if you're going to bake.. today? Don’t look at me like that.” 

Maybe you should’ve picked a candied apple and prayed that a witch had poisoned it. You can’t even force out a smile at that pathetic save.

“You’re a lucky man, Mister,” Kimi jabs, a look of distrust in her eyes before they flash to you. “I’m afraid Miss (Name) in a wedding dress would make me drop dead at the altar.”

“Oh, you- you flatter me,” you choke out, “I promise you wedding gowns aren’t my thing at all. Besides, you’d look beautiful in white yourself.”

Why is she so into this wedding conversation? How close are these two? You’re not sure how to react, and neither do you know how this man is going to explain your mysterious disappearance the next time he visits the bakery. You’re sure as hell not going to continue the act beyond this. It’s time you retired from this scam business. You’re not even sure how you’ll talk your way out of this with the man, currently engaged in small talk with Kimi. 

And— is he blushing?! Does he have something going on with the girl—Kimi? Did you just ruin something? Your heart tightens a little, and you have to physically restrain yourself from falling to the floor, head in your hands.

You laugh awkwardly, trying to diffuse the situation. When you open your mouth, you are interrupted.

“Actually, Miss, I think I take back what I said about the handsome part,” Kimi jokes, evident disdain sent towards Donghyuck.

Your natural response is a little laugh that leaves before you know it. Maybe, the feelings you sensed were of unrequited resentment. He does have the kind of face that looks like it’s often smacked by girls. No offense to him.

Kimi hands you the first sample (two delicious slices of Mont Blanc) and excuses herself to fetch the rest. The two of you make your way to a booth with the heaviest silence you’ve ever experienced. You might as well be at a funeral.

“So… free samples are that good, huh?” The man asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“Shut up,” you mutter. 

“I’m Donghyuck, by the way,” he responds with a youthful laugh. “Might I have the honor of knowing my fiance's name?”

“(Name). And stop looking at me like that.”

He lets out a short breath.

“You know, maybe we should’ve pretended it was an arranged marriage.”

“Quite proficient in the scamming business, are you?”

“Oh, you’re better off not knowing my dirty secrets.”

You couldn’t care less about his secrets but the look you shoot at him is certainly dirty.

He opens his mouth but you interrupt him to absolve yourself first. “Listen, I don’t do this often. And I’ll have you know it’s nothing personal. Well, not against you. The owner of this place maybe.”

Donghyuck blinks. “Oh? Do tell. I’m all for being a hater with my fiance.”

You stare at him, not impressed.

“Sorry.”

“Okay, so this started a month or two ago. I had been working tirelessly, testing recipe after recipe, trying to perfect the Mont Blanc cake. It was my dream to make it iconic, you know? But before I could even settle on the perfect combination of flavors, some smug bastard opens a bakery right across from me. And what does he have as his specialty? Why, the Mont Blanc cake of course. Seasonal! Cute, elaborate new decor every two weeks! Just how rich is he? I bet he doesn't even bother to create his own recipes. This guy didn’t just steal my idea, he’s turned my passion into some overpriced, generic trend!”

You heave, tired from the onslaught of frustration. Chewing on your lower lip, a pout naturally makes its way onto your face, and so do more complaints. 

“And that’s not all, okay? I never see him at the bakery. I refrain from entering my competitors' establishments unless I greet them in person. But this asshole is just never there! What, is he too good to work at his own bakery? Too good to grace us lowly bakers with a visit? How could he just swoop in and steal my signature item?”

Donghyuck listens to your rant with intent, cheek resting against his palm. He even looks a little ridiculously charmed right now. 

“Wait… so you’re the infamous Free Cake Phantom everyone’s talking about?” He gasps.

You’ve finally turned to your poor, neglected Mont Blanc sample, just for your heart to jump out. “What?”

“Just kidding. Your secret is safe,” he says, digging into the cake with infuriating nonchalance. “But hey, you’ve got good taste. This Mont Blanc though? It’s my personal recipe.”

Your fork halts halfway to your mouth. “Your recipe? What, you work here or something? And, no offense, but it’s overwhipped.”

If that’s a joke, it’s not very funny. The man looks more like a confectionary than a confectioner. There’s no way he works here. He’s probably some jobless guy drifting from bakery to bakery on early Saturday mornings.

His jaw drops. “Overwhipped? Are you kidding me?”

You wave the fork at him like it’s a weapon. “Chestnut puree shouldn’t have the texture of mousse. It’s called finesse, Mr. Lee.”

Before he can respond, Kimi returns with another tray, and you slip back into character, placing your hand on Donghyuck’s. “Thank you,” you coo at her. “I can’t wait to share all these flavors at our wedding.”

Donghyuck stiffens slightly at the unexpected contact, but he recovers quickly, plastering on the fakest grin known to man. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

Kimi laughs. “You’re such a lovely couple. When’s the big day?”

You freeze, and so does Donghyuck. For a moment, neither of you has an answer.

“Oh, we’re still, uh, deciding,” you blurt, glancing at him for backup.

“Yeah, we’re thinking spring,” he adds smoothly. “Cherry blossoms. Very romantic.”

“Y-yes. Maybe the Raspberry Rose should be in the winner’s spot then.”

As Kimi bows politely and walks away again, Donghyuck leans in to whisper. “Should I book the honeymoon now, or…?”

“Don’t push your luck,” you hiss, elbowing him in the ribs. 

He makes a pained sound, but recovers quickly. 

The second flavor is dubbed “Marble Eclipse”, a decadent blend of rich chocolate and vanilla, perfectly balanced with a luscious buttercream frosting. You try to focus on the taste, but Donghyuck’s smug grin as he watches you take a bite is more distracting than you’d like to admit. You’re not easily flustered, not by men. Unfortunately, he would have been the exact type you’d have tried to nab in college.

You shake your head. Focus, (Name), you think to yourself, You’re in the enemy’s lair right now!

“So… I might as well come clean,” Donghyuck says with a serious tone, right after you’ve taken a bite. You pause in horror. What arcane knowledge is he going to use for your humiliation this time?

“I visit your bakery often, and I must say your selection is just as good, if not better.”

You exhale.

“Oh, it’s better alright,” you retort, before realizing the unwarranted passion in your voice. You compose yourself. “I mean, maybe their Mont Blanc is… a solid competitor.”

Donghyuck laughs, clearly amused by the bashfulness on your face.

“Wait, are you patronizing me?”

“Of course not!” He places his hand over his heart in mock hurt.

“I think the difference is that this one keeps up with the youth.” He waves his fork about, explaining his point further. “Everyone loves new, shiny things. Cycle those as much as possible. Have you ever considered holding blind box events with your cupcakes? I’m sure the kids would love to find out which flavor of panda bear cupcake they got—matcha, my personal favorite, or coconut cream, or… god forbid, chocolate mint. Ugh. Have you considered removing that from the menu? Anyway, that shouldn’t take too much time and money, right?”

The youth? What is he, forty? However, however, the look on his face as he describes your own baked goods to you is enough to make you intensely flustered. Has this man visited so often? And you never noticed him? How could you miss that easy-going smile?

A familiar figure saves you from whatever awkward, garbled response you were going to muster.

Despite Kimi’s arrival, Donghyuck has a hard time taking his eyes off you. Lashes swaying with each flicker of his eyes over your face, he’s hardly taking a bit of the delicious marble cake, in fact. What, have you got something on your face?

Kimi apologizes profusely before you can say anything to greet her. 

“There’s only one slice prepared for the Tiramisu Dream sample,” she explains. “I’m so sorry about this. Would you mind sharing this one? I apologize again.”

“No worries, Kimi,” Donghyuck responds, laughing a little. You shake your head and reassure it’s alright too. 

Anyway, that slice is going to be yours. You’re ready to pry it from his cold, dead hands.  

To your surprise, though, he shoots a friendly smile at you. 

“Want the first bite?”

“May I?” You ask, just to be sure.

“By all means,” he says, gesturing grandly. “After all, what’s mine is yours, fiance.”

You swear, if he calls you that one more time, he’s going to end up in the cake display.

Kimi stares at the two of you blankly for a moment. It instantly flusters you and Donghyuck both, so much so that the idiot digs his fork into the cake slice and holds it up to your lips with a soft ‘ah’ —and so much so that you actually accept it graciously. 

And all that only for Kimi to not even notice as she excused her way back to the counter. So now you’re just two idiots deep in your romantic charades. Donghyuck clears his throat, too late to cover his coral-tinted cheeks and ears. You’re certain you wear a similar expression.

“You’re- you’re so weird,” you jab, unable to come up with an insult higher than middle school grade. 

“What, you wanted me to do airplanes too?!”

“Take that fork and drive it through your tongue, will you?”

“Woah, woah, no need for violence, Miss (Name). Peace and Love.”

Unexpectedly, it makes you break character into unbound laughter. The weariness of the act and the silliness of the whole situation leaks into the sound, and it’s enough to make Donghyuck join in. For passersby, you are just a couple already past your third, fifth and seventh dates.

“Any comments for the tiramisu cake?” Donghyuck asks, grinning ear to ear.

You catch your breath, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. “Yeah, I have a comment: who puts this much cocoa powder on top? Are you trying to choke your customers?”

“Awh, and I thought you were gonna be nice,” he whines, “Your smile is just so… inviting.”

As if on cue, he chokes on the cocoa powder. 

“I still like it,” you continue. “I’d just do it better.”

“I have the utmost confidence in that.”

Gosh, his smile is nauseating—too bright, too easy, like he’s actually enjoying this. Maybe he’s a rising actor, and you’re the one being hoodwinked. After all, who looks at someone like that on a first meeting?

A moment passes, and suddenly his thumb is at the corner of your lips, brushing off the cocoa powder with a touch so casual it feels anything but. “Got it,” he murmurs, and the air between you shifts, warm and oddly heavy.

“So, how do you know all this?” you ask, changing the topic. You’re forcing yourself to focus, to breathe. 

He leans back, a small laugh slipping out like he’s grateful for the lifeline. “You- uh- you could say I’m a connoisseur of pastries,” he offers, his voice lighter now. “I like to sample the best around town—just, you know, legally. I even take notes of my favorites.”

He gestures towards you, and you scoff.

The words settle between you as you toy with the edge of your skirt, smoothing the fabric down over your lap. There’s something about the way he speaks—so casual, so effortless—that needles at you. For a man so annoyingly confident, he sure seems relieved to have redirected the conversation.

Your hand grazes the tiny snowman buttons on your cardigan, tracing the cold plastic absentmindedly. His gaze flickers to the movement, then back to your face, a smile tugging at his lips like he’s trying not to laugh. You don’t know what’s more embarrassing—getting outed as the Cake Thief or the fact that he’s bound to know he flusters you.

You tilt your head, giving him a skeptical look. “How professional of you.”

The bite in your tone is softening, and you don’t like it one bit.

He holds up his hands, feigning surrender. “Hey, it’s an art. Someone’s gotta appreciate it, right?”

The faint chatter of other patrons fills the room, but his presence sharpens the moment, making it feel like it’s just the two of you. For a fleeting second, you catch yourself wondering what kind of person would take notes on pastries for fun. It’s so bizarrely specific, so utterly unnecessary—and yet, so like him.

His smile deepens, pulling you out of your thoughts. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” he teases.

You roll your eyes, but there’s no stopping the traitorous grin threatening to break through. You refuse to indulge him, even as you feel the faintest crack in your defenses.

"Maybe,” you say, finally.

He chuckles, the sound warm and genuine, before leaning back against his chair with a satisfied air, as if he’s won something. You glance at the tray, willing yourself to focus on anything else.

How awkward. How warm. 

You spot a napkin fluttering off the table, carried by a sudden draft from the door. Instinctively, you step out of your chair to grab it, but Donghyuck beats you to it, scooping it up with an exaggerated flourish and a bow.

“Your knight in shining armor,” he declares dramatically, holding it out like a trophy.

“More like my nuisance in sugar-stained armor,” you retort, snatching it from his hand.

He laughs, unabashed. “Ah, so sharp. Yet here you are, sharing cake with said nuisance. Life is full of mysteries.”

“I’m just here for the cake,” you deadpan, dusting your hands off.

For a second, his smile falters—not in hurt but in sheer disbelief. He tilts his head, studying you with an incredulous expression, and you suddenly feel like a frog under a magnifying glass.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” he says, almost to himself, his voice low but still playful.

“Get what?” you ask, genuinely confused.

Donghyuck presses his lips together, fighting back a grin. He steps closer, leaning in just enough for you to catch the faint scent of chestnut cream. “I mean, I could spell it out for you, but that might ruin the fun.”

“Spell what out?” you press, a little flustered now.

He straightens with a laugh, shaking his head. “Nothing, you airhead. Absolutely nothing. Is your head full of cotton candy, by any chance?”

You narrow your eyes at him, but before you can respond, he’s already pulling his chair back, resuming his seat with a sigh.

“Mont Blanc, Marble Eclipse, and Tiramisu on the first date,” he states, deep in thought. “Maybe Matcha Lemon, Lavender Peach, and White Chocolate on the second… Perhaps a Red Velvet and a Strawberry Shortcake before you realize I literally own this place?”

You feel the heat intensify on your cheeks. You almost miss the last part, clouded by the implications of the rest of his words. He… wants to go on more dates with you? Was this a date all along? You’ve been swindled into having fun with a man somehow. He even knows the ins and outs of a baker’s life. And he’s charming in an oddball sort of way. You shouldn’t be feeling solidarity with this weirdo. But then again, somehow, his laugh is very… endearing. 

Wait a minute.

“You- you really own the place?!” A scream dies in your throat.

Donghyuck looks positively taken aback. “So you actually weren’t aware?!”

“What do you mean? How the hell am I supposed to know?! You described yourself as a connoisseur of pastries. I thought you were some kind of freelance failure so I didn’t pry!”

“Excuse me?!”

“Well, either that or you’re unbelievably rich. But then you don’t look it. Your sleeves have flour and oil stains on them, and your shoes are all dusty too, and there’s gold flakes in your hair—okay, how did I miss this?”

“Geez, way to judge someone by their looks. I’m not taking that from the local tart snatcher.”

The retort barely registers because your brain is too busy replaying the words “I own this place.” The realization hits, and before you can think better of it, the chair screeches back as you bolt upright.

“Wait, where are you—” Donghyuck’s voice is cut off by your shrill, mortified “Bye!” as you make a beeline for the door, leaving behind a very startled staff and a half-empty tray of cakes. Immediately after your exit, you let out a shriek. 

What the hell are you doing?!

Your face burns as you speed-walk down the street, each step punctuated by the memory of your impulsive retreat. You must have cast your senses away at that moment, like some wide-eyed fool in a fairy tale, almost charmed by that silly man and his absurd little quirks. It’s not your fault, of course—it’s his, with his flour-dusted sleeves, that stupidly endearing laugh, and the way he talked about pastries like they were a love language. What was wrong with him?! you think, conveniently ignoring the fact that it was your awkwardness and runaway theatrics that had caused the scene. You’d blame it on sugar overload if it weren’t for the nagging realization that maybe—just maybe—he’d gotten under your skin, and the fact that you deserved it.

. . .

You hadn’t expected to hear from him again. Not after your embarrassing getaway. But three days later, you’re staring at an email with the subject line: "Notice of Legal Action for Unauthorized Sampling."

You open it with trembling fingers, only to find what can only be described as the world’s most dramatic—and definitely fake—lawsuit. 

Your jaw drops as you scroll through the email. He’d even attached a fake case number: #CAKE-404-NO-FUN.

The body of the email was littered with ridiculous legalese. Phrases like "egregious acts of confectionery negligence" and "failure to properly appreciate artisanal craftsmanship" were scattered between absurdly specific accusations.

There is a diagram. An actual diagram. Arrows pointing to "Exhibit A" (the Mont Blanc) and "Exhibit B" (the empty spot on the tray), annotated with notes like "victim of hasty consumption" and "left to fend for itself."

And then, at the very bottom, there it was—the pièce de résistance:

“This suit may be settled by one (1) heartfelt apology and one (1) coffee date at the aforementioned bakery. Should you require legal counsel, I suggest bringing your A-game. I am, after all, a connoisseur of arguments… and pastries. 😉”

You groan, head thunking against the back of your chair. The audacity. The drama. The fuckass emojis. 

This man is getting to you.

Your first reaction is, of course, panic. Your second? Rage. And by the time you storm into the bakery at ass o’clock before it even opens, Donghyuck is waiting for you, leaning against the counter like he owns the place. (Which he does, actually.)

He’s propped on his elbows, his posture easy and unhurried, as if he’s been expecting you. The black apron around his waist is slightly askew, and his beige T-shirt bears faint streaks of flour across the chest, a testament to an already busy morning. His fluffy brown hair is an artful mess, the kind that looks unintentional but infuriatingly perfect, with a few errant strands curling over his forehead. There’s a streak of something golden—sugar, maybe?—on his cheek, catching the light as he tilts his head to regard you with an expression that’s equal parts curious and smug.

“You’re early,” he remarks, his voice low and teasing, as though he isn’t the root of all evil.

“You think this is funny?” you demand, shoving your phone in his face.

Donghyuck grins, unbothered. “Hilarious, actually. Did it get your attention?”

“You can’t just send someone a fake legal notice!”

“Worked, didn’t it?” He shrugs, leaning back with infuriating calmness. “Besides, you owed me an explanation for your Houdini act. You know, poor Kimi had to clear your tray. She almost cried.”

“She did not!”

As if on cue, Kimi pokes her head out of the kitchen. “Oh, she absolutely did. It was tragic,” she deadpans before ducking back in.

You groan, feeling your cheeks grow hotter by the second. “You’re unbelievable.”

Donghyuck leans back, smug as ever, and gestures to the email still open on your phone. “Unbelievable or resourceful? Let’s review: I sent a single, harmless message—full of creativity and wit, I might add—and look where we are.”

“At me wanting to strangle you?”

“At you running right to me,” he corrects, his grin widening. “What, were you worried?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you snap. “I’m here because—” 

You stop, realizing you don’t have a decent answer. “I didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of thinking I took you seriously.”

“Oh, you absolutely took me seriously.” He nods sagely. “I saw the panic in your eyes. Admit it: for a second, you thought you were going to have to pay me a hundred grand or grovel at my feet.”

“I- ugh- fuck you!” is all you can muster, stepping forward without thinking.

He mirrors your movement, the space between you shrinking by degrees. 

“But seriously, you ghosted me, and I had to get creative. What the hell was I supposed to do? I figured the legal drama might get my point across.”

“What point?”

“That I wanted to see you again.” The words come out so easily, so matter-of-fact, you don’t know how to respond. When you finally glance up, he’s watching you closely, his expression uncharacteristically sincere.

“Just because you’re all cute and covered in flour like the star of some indie chef movie doesn’t mean you get to toy with me.”

“Ha! You’re presumptuous—despite all the fine details on me you seem to observe.” He leans in. “But guess what, I’m a greedy bastard that loves attention. So, look closer.”

And you look anywhere but his lips, too pink and too plush, as your face grows hotter than a convection oven on broil.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you manage, staring resolutely at the display of cakes. “That hardly counts as details.”

“Details,” he echoes, his grin growing wider. “Like the way I look at you?”

“You’re just a flirt,” you mutter.

He gasps, mock-offended, and gestures dramatically to the kitchen. “Kimi, did you hear that? I’m just a flirt!”

“You said it, not me,” Kimi calls back without missing a beat.

You laugh despite yourself, the sound surprising you. And Donghyuck doesn’t miss it. His gaze softens, the teasing edge in his voice dropping slightly. “There it is. I knew you could laugh without running away.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Too late.”

For a moment, the air shifts, the humor giving way to something quieter. Donghyuck’s gaze lingers—not on your awkward posture or flushed cheeks, but on you, as though trying to piece together something he doesn’t quite understand.

“What?” you finally ask, defensive.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head, but there’s a small, genuine smile now. “Just... you��re such a fidgety person.”

“Are you trying to shell out an insult?”

“No, I mean, I always see you scuttling here and there. Always on the move. Always observing, but never stopping long enough to be seen. You just… don’t seem like someone who takes much time for yourself.”

You blink, caught off guard. He tilts his head, like he’s trying to figure out if he’s crossed a line.

“I’m wrong?” he asks, almost sheepishly.

“I—” You pause, unsure of how to respond. “You’re nosy, that’s what you are.”

“That’s a yes,” he decides, grinning again.

Donghyuck chuckles, leaning just a little closer, his warm brown eyes locking onto yours. “Tell you what,” he says, his voice dropping to a murmur, “I’ll prove I’m not just nosy. Let me take you out. Somewhere you don’t have to bolt out the door halfway through.”

“You think I’d agree to that?” you retort, though your words lack bite. The proximity is doing something to your brain, and you’re acutely aware of how close he’s leaned in.

His grin is confident and infuriating. “I think you’d be curious enough to say yes.”

Your breath hitches as you realize how little space is left between the two of you, your noses almost brushing. “Woah,” you whisper, trying to play it off, “my mommy warned me about boys like you. All up close and personal with flour in their hair.”

He raises a brow, unrepentant. “Smart woman. But she didn’t tell you we’re pretty good at first dates, did she?”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes, soft but genuine. “Fine,” you say, straightening up and taking a step back before your pulse betrays you further. “But you’re paying. And no weird cakes this time.”

“Deal,” he replies, his smile softer now, more sincere.

And for a moment, you believe it—not just the act, not just the cakes and the banter, but the idea that maybe, somehow, this strange, sugar-dusted series of events has led to something real.

. . .

r/AmITheAsshole

u/YeastMode6969 • 16h

UPDATE: I faked my engagement for free cake samples then got sued after I ran away. AIO?

Fine, you guys were right. We’re dating now. Let’s just say we’ve been filling my cream puffs lately  🫠

Edit: I also got the Mont Blanc recipe!!

⥣ 7.7k ⥥ 3,297 Comments

kimikakes • 13h

KIMI HERE, REPORTING LIVE FROM THE SCENE: they literally argued over frosting consistency for half an hour yesterday. This relationship is built on chaos and croissants.

➥ Reply ⥣ 7.1k ⥥

bun_theory0222 • 2h

Hellooo where are the recipes. Priorities, OP :/

➥ Reply ⥣ 4.1k ⥥

lil_sugar_daddy0813 • 1h

man i was betting on donghyuck dying alone i dont wanna lose my $20

➥ Reply ⥣ 1.3k ⥥

muffinbutdrama1122 • 1h Give me your money NYEOW ➥ Reply ⥣ 1.7k ⥥

soggywaffle0205 • 6m why are you suddenly a furry ➥ Reply ⥣ 1.1k ⥥

muffinbutdrama1122 • 1h pays the bills ➥ Reply ⥣ 2.7k ⥥

[narraboths]

“You got anything to tell me about yesterday’s interview, Ponytail?”

Being cornered by one’s editor is rarely a good sign. Being cornered by a harried Snapper Carr one month into her tenure as a rookie reporter would be enough to give others nightmares for a month. Maybe ulcers. Kara, though, she’s been having a great week, and she’s not about to let anyone ruin it.

“Nope.” She pops the p a little. Something about Snapper’s moroseness always pushes her to be spitefully chipper.

“Nothing out of the ordinary?”

“Not at all.”

“Hm.” Snapper nurses the thought with that dour, toothachey look that Kara’s come to learn is directed at her just as much as it is a sign of his general displeasure with the world. He pulls out his phone, jabbing at the screen. “So do you mind explaining to me why my cub reporter is on the front page of every gossip rag from here to Metropolis as the Mystery Blonde Caught in Luthor’s Web?”

That can’t be right is immediately the tip of Kara’s tongue but it freezes there, along with the incredulous laugh threatening to burst out of her, because Snapper is shoving his phone in her face and–

“It’s not what it looks like,” she blurts out, instinctively, then winces at her own choice of words. Great save. “I was just being considerate.”

It’s true, really. She was only holding the door open for Lena as they left L-Corp (Lena was on the move the whole day, they did half of the interview in the back of her Range Rover, flitting between offices), and it only happened that Lena’s hand fell to her forearm, a completely innocent gesture, as innocent as Lena’s smile, as the way she swayed a little closer, saying thank you as she strode by. And sure, Kara may have felt mesmerized for a single, fleeting moment, suddenly so deeply flustered by the gentle weight of Lena’s hand that she almost cracked the door handle in two, but who wouldn’t? Lena Luthor just has a remarkable presence. Why are they letting paparazzi camp out at the L-Corp doorstep, anyways?

“I’ve never seen Luthor that affectionate with anyone.” Snapper eyes Kara suspiciously, his face screaming why you of all people, bumbling rookie who can barely even spell?. “I’ve never seen any of the Luthors affectionate with anyone at all.”

“Guess it’s just my natural charm, sir.” Kara flashes the most annoyingly innocent smile she can, then squares her shoulders. “Did you actually read my article?”

There’s a beat of silence, Snapper staring daggers at her. Then finally, finally, he lets out an annoyed huff.

“Of course I read it. It’s going out first thing tomorrow.” He pockets his phone, then rubs his face with a tired motion. “Make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

“You got it, boss.”

-

It happens again.

It happens again a bunch, really. (Kara at the L-Corp gala, at Lena’s table, the two of them in lively conversation, shoulders pressed together – she was telling me about L-Corp’s new green energy initiative, sir –, the fond smile and almost-teasing tone when Lena calls “yes, Miss Danvers?” at her press conference – she’s just nice! It’s not a crime! –, the candid of them on the CatCo balcony when Lena’s in house for her cover shoot, Kara gesturing excitedly and Lena leaning against the railing, hanging onto every word, a jacket two sizes too big wrapped around her shoulders – you know it gets cold out there. At least there’s no photos of her wrapping the jacket around Lena, their hands brushing together, the faint blush along the lines of Lena’s throat. That’d probably look pretty suspicious.) Snapper’s face takes on increasingly vivid shades of purplish red.

“Do we need to go over the meaning of journalistic integrity again, Danvers?”

Kara decides to take graduating from “Ponytail” as a win.

“We’re not– it’s not anything untoward,” she shoots back, arms crossed, only slightly blushing. In anger, certainly. “I’m doing my job. I grilled her on L-Corp still holding a contract with the government for anti-alien defense systems that Lex negotiated, just last week. There’s footage.”

“Yeah,” Snapper grinds his teeth so vehemently that Kara’s afraid he might crack a crown. “Footage of her hugging you in the hallway afterwards, too. What the hell were you doing?”

“She just thanked me, sir.” The vein on Snapper’s neck looks ready to burst. Kara makes a mental note to recommend meditation at a less belligerent time. “She said my question made it possible for her to make a public stance and really send a message.”

Snapper looks like he’s nearing an aneurysm.

“Hell, Danvers, that sounds even worse!”

It sounded pretty great, actually, Kara thinks, after the borderline unprofessional row they had in Lena’s office when Kara first broached the subject. It felt pretty great, too, not just Lena’s declaration, her renewed commitment to reject everything Lex and Lillian stand for, but the warmth of Lena’s pressed against her, her lips brushing against Kara’s cheek, the low murmur of “you’re such a wonderful friend” in her ear that gave her such a strange shiver. At least that much thankfully escaped the prying eyes and cameras.

“Either I don’t go near her, or CatCo continues to have the leading stories on one of National City’s most high-profile citizens.” She gives Snapper the steeliest look she can muster without letting her heat vision flare up. “And my covers are currently bringing in our biggest numbers. Sir.”

Snapper grinds his teeth again, but his shoulders sag just a touch, and Kara knows she’s won this round.

“You’re on thin ice, Danvers. Back to your desk.”

Kara complies with a grin and a thumbs up, and decides to take a break half an hour later, when Alex forwards her an article titled Bosom Buddies: Lena Luthor Out And About With CatCo Gal Pal with a subtle mix of skull, knife, and eyeroll emojis. She does save one of the photos, though, the one where Lena’s head’s thrown back in adorable, delightful laughter.

-

“Can you explain this one, Danvers?”

Snapper doesn’t look angry this time. No, he’s strangely calm, somewhat elated, even, slamming a whole bundle of newspapers down on her desk, jolting Kara out of her reverie. Half of them are National City publications, Kara vaguely notes, but there’s Metropolis and Gotham and Central City in the mix, too, as if it was the story of the century. Must be a slow news day.

“Of course, sir. I think the proper term is ‘first date’?”

To her greatest surprise, Snapper barks out a laugh, loud and gruff.

“You’re now barred from any future reporting on the Luthors or L-Corp,” he tells her, not without a touch of satisfaction. If Kara hadn’t been walking on sunshine for the past thirteen hours, twenty-eight minutes and forty-one seconds, since the first tentative press of Lena’s lips against her own, she might’ve felt a bit miffed. “Cat Grant’s setting aside a little time later in the afternoon to chew you out personally.”

Kara nods happily along. Withering tones and grim disapproval, the usual spiel, as if anything could dull that buzzing, electrifying feeling coursing through her body since last night, the weightless, feverish joy that grips her every time she thinks of Lena’s last text and everything can’t wait to see you again tonight could possibly entail.

“Yessir.”

“Congratulations, Danvers.” Snapper raps his knuckles against her desk. “Let’s spare each other the heartburn from now on.”

- 

(Kara shows up with a hickey on her neck and the headlines of Lena Luthor Packs PDA With New Girlfriend the next day. Snapper refuses to look her in the eyes for the rest of the week.) 

[fuckyeahimafangirl]

I come here late to give my opinion on what Nicole Maines said in her book about the Supercorp fandom (go to Twitter for more info, but she basically gave her point of view of things as a queer actor on the show having expected things from the queer fans, confirmed we were being queerbaited while also blaming us for some actors getting fired). I appreciate her side of things and feel for her. But reading that I felt that A LOT was overlooked, especially the context of it all. So sit back if you care enough to read this and come with me as I go on a rant and we go down memory lane to give some context into what it was like to watch Supergirl live as a Supercorp fan.

The first season of Supergirl had its fair share of ships. People liked Kara/Cat, Kara/James, Kara/Win maybe anyone? I don't remember that one but I'm sure there were people out there who liked them. Some people even liked Alex/Kara (a conversation for another time). Kara/Cat shippers could also like Kara/James, because both ships had some strong foundations in the narrative, they were undeniably good ships, regardless of how you feel about age-difference relationships or straight relationships lol. There wasn't mostly an issue, except with the ones that liked Kara/Alex.

In between the first and second season of Supergirl it was announced that a main character would be gay. They didn't say who, though. Speculation began, of course. They did say that Maggie Sawyer was coming to the show but it was not confirmed that she was going to be a lesbian and even less whose love interest. 

Then the second season premiered. And in the very first episode Kara Danvers meets Lena Luthor. Their scenes together were filled with sexual tension from the very beginning, look at their meeting scene without context and a bit of an open mind and most people will see their chemistry and think that maybe Kara was meeting her soulmate. And the first scene of Supergirl meeting Lena Luthor? It was already drawing a parallel between them and Lois/Clark, one of most iconic, recognizable and undeniable canon ships of all time. Drawing parallels between these two ships was the creators of the show's favorite pastime and it started from day one, before the ship had any fans because we hadn't met Lena just yet.

But in that episode we did meet her. And we fell in love fast. Because their interactions and the interest concept of Lena's character were good. Could it really be that Kara was the main gay character? Could it really be that they were going to give us an epic love story with Supergirl and a family member of her family's historically known enemy? Could they dare to make the famous superhero anything other than straight?

It wasn't just a delusion on our part at that time. It was a real possibility based on real facts. Kara had suddenly dropped the guy she spent the entire previous season chasing after. She got him and dumped him for no good reason (the writers didn't bother to give it a good excuse) and in the same episode she meets this woman, at the start of the season we were going to discover a main gay character.

These are all facts.

A few episodes later Maggie Sawyer makes her debut and it's clear that she's Alex's love interest from the first moment. Cool. It's not Kara but at least it's Alex (because, at the time, we know, WE KNOW, that they don't have two lesbian/queer women characters in the same show unless they're dating each other. How could we think that gay people will surround themselves with other gay people? silly us), that was the reaction: We still LOVED that it was Alex, because it still made sense. And it was difficult to find Sanvers fanfic without it having Supercorp in it because we were all the same people, of course most of us liked both ships. 

Now, I obviously don't know her, but I seriously don't think that Chyler can say she felt overlooked by the fans that season. Alex's coming out scenes were some of the best we had seen in our entire lives up until that point, and we made that known. Not all of us might have been on board with Sanvers (some storyline choices could've been questionable) but with Alex? No one loved her more than the queer Supergirl fans. And in the meantime Supercorp kept getting screen time, their friendship progressing in a Clois kind of way that was beautiful to witness. While Maggie and Alex's relationship advanced pretty quickly from an "I'm not gay" to a rejection to a proper first kiss, Supercorp was building a bit more organically as Supergirl kept saving Lena's life, as Lena opened up only to Kara, trusting her all the while Kara was keeping this huge secret from her. We ate that shit up, of course we did.

After season two was over we got the news that Floriana Lima (Maggie) was going to leave the show. I remember Chyler saying that she wanted to do right by us and whoever came next was gonna stay. And I'm not faulting Chyler for what came next, at all. Chyler was and always will be one of the best things on Supergirl and she has always treated the fandom with the utmost respect and love. And I hope she only received the same treatment back (and I hate to know she got those letters from people threatening to kill themselves, but let's have a little compassion for those people and their mental health, I hope they're doing well).

So Maggie left. And while some fans were not coping well with that, most fans understood it was the actress' decision. That was fine. What wasn't fine was the decision the writers made by making the breakup about not wanting babies when they were about to get married. How on Earth (any Earth) a couple don't talk about that particular issue BEFORE deciding to get married? It was an easy way out. But okay, it's just a TV show, I don't write it, we can move on from that... In the same season, at the same time this whole discussion and breakup occurs, the very same person who wanted to have kids has a meet-cute with a SINGLE MOTHER, Sam. The story was full of promise, she had a kid already with whom Alex got along amazingly, there was great chemistry between all three of them, Sam also had a dark secret being basically her sister's most powerful enemy, their relationship was mostly well built throughout the entire season. But guess what? She wasn't her new love interest, and left at the end of it. 

A lot of Supercorp fans LOVED AgentReign (Sam/Alex), by the way. A lot of Supercorp fans also loved ReignCorp (Sam/Lena) and a few even loved AgentCorp (Lena/Alex) and SuperReign (lol what was the name of this ship? I don't remember but Kara/Sam). And guess what? There wasn't a war between us. We were mostly the same people multishipping because it's fun and because these were interesting characters with interesting relationships created by the writers. We were inventing and wishing for stuff, but the foundations were laid for us, some (most) things were there and most of us were just screaming that we liked what we were being given and wanted more of that.

And that's why come season 4, some people were having a hard time accepting Dansen. Because we were mourning the loss of Sam and her relationship with Alex, the what ifs are always the worst, no matter the situation.  But most Supercorp fans embraced Kelly (and Azie, we love Azie and what we got to see of her relationship with Chyler, and Katie and Nicole), the vast majority of us ended up loving Dansen despite the writers not always doing a great job at writing their arcs. And it's awful that some fans treated her and other members of the cast horribly, but that was by far a small portion of the Supergirl fandom in general, and especially the Supercorp fandom. And, by the way, as a side note because racism was part of the problem for a minority of the fandom, A LOT of us in the Supercorp side of it are not white people from the US, A LOT of us are from other countries/races/cultures (that can be racist too of course, but the point is we don't know the races and motives of everyone behind a keyboard).

And that season most of us also embraced Nia because she was the first trans superhero, because of her queerness, because she was an awesome fun character, because she was relatable and geeky like most of us. We embraced her, her relationship with Kara and her relationship with Brainy. And we showed that by trending Nia related things, by adding Nia to our fanfics and fanarts. Nia was a Supercorp ally for most of us and we didn't exclude her from the art because we loved her as much as we love some of the other characters in the show.

Now, if Kara would have had, after the first season, one male love interest that was decent enough, we would have still love and wanted Supercorp, that's true (especially when it had been years of build-up) but most of us probably would have liked the pairing anyway, because we loved Kara Danvers and wanted her to be happy and to have the love she wanted at the beginning of the show (which she didn't get, by the way).

But the writers decided to give her, instead, another man who didn't treat her well. And I couldn't honestly tell you half of William's storyline because I couldn't care less. The creators of the show didn't make me care. Hell, I didn't even see Kara cared enough about that character. The writers should know their audience and should know that the audience needs moments to make them care about the characters, the writers have the power to make that happen. Many times I've seen a fandom hate a character one episode and love them by the next one, because sometimes all it takes is one good scene, or one good arc. William never had that. And now we have confirmation of what we knew all along, that maybe they were writing half-assed storylines for their love interests because they were too busy trying to figure out new ways to queerbait us. If they would have put a quarter of that effort into creating good love interests for Kara and/or Lena (but especially Kara), most of this conversation wouldn't still be happening 3 years later.

We embraced Andrea Rojas, we embraced her so much that we shipped her with Lena. Most of us weren't the blind Supercorp-or-nothing crazy fans a lot of people to this day make us out to be. When things were good, we mostly liked them. But please, please, let's be honest here, a lot of the time Supergirl was not a great-written show. And I get that those are Nicole's friends but a little objectivity, especially after all these years, would have come a long way.

These past few days I've read a couple of people saying Supercorp was the only good thing about the show. Those kinds of people were and still are a very very minority. A lot of us started the show before Supercorp existed and LOVED (still love) the Danvers sisters with all of our hearts. And the writers, at times, didn't know how to keep up with that relationship, the one that at first was the very center of the show, all that well either.

Most Supercorp fans didn't actually like that the 100th episode revolved all around Supercorp. 1) Because it was queerbaiting at its finest. 2) because it should've been about the Danvers sisters. Or at least about all Supergirl's most important relationships in equal measure. Yes, Lena was a big part of her, but ALEX EVEN MORE SO. The fandom didn't make that happen, we didn't fire any actor either. These were decisions made by the people who had the power to make anything in the show happen. If we would have had our way we all know what we would have done, and no, it definitely was not p**n (the most used AO3 tags for our ship speak for themselves).

I didn't see Nicole's last paragraph on the subject shared much. A lot of people didn't see that she acknowledged a small portion of the good the Supercorp fandom did.

But by the time you get to it, you already have a bad taste in your mouth. Because it still reads as if she's talking about us all without a care that "the toxic fans" were just a loud minority. Not to say that the good guys weren't louder, because Supercorp is still what it is to this day because we're still loud. So why is there very little mention of that? The way we supported Nia's episode? The way we supported Kelly's?

And because we were having fun and we were loud about our love for two fictional characters, WE WERE ALSO RECEIVING THREATS from some toxic fans, hell, the day before yesterday some fans were receiving death threats like it's 2017. Everything she says the cast and crew were dealing with, the Supercorp fans were dealing with it as well, and more so because the toxic people felt validated by the choices the creators made. Validated by some writers on Twitter making it worse. Validated by some of the actors who were also mocking us. We were all called delusional, and that was the most chill thing you could be called.

I understand her point of view, and I imagine that was not a great first experience in that kind of set, and I would love to have the opportunity to talk to actors about this topic that fascinates me (relationship between fandoms and cast/crew). But context is important, to see other people's point of views is important when having these conversations. She felt her own community wasn't supporting her when most of us were and that didn't come across at all. Not even with her final words. 

The fact is, they were hurt by a small part of their own fandom (which, by the way, they have no idea how old those toxic fans were. Not to say that adults are not toxic. But we, as the non-toxic adults, should also think of the demographic and react accordingly). And most of us, the queer Supercorp shippers, were also hurt by the toxic part of the fandom and by some of the people she's trying to defend. Let's be clear, there's not "mayyyybe," they were 100% wrong in queerbaiting the hell out of us from day one and mocking us for believing the bait. Make no mistake, most of this is a consequence of THAT. 

[fazedlight]

Alone (rift with hopeful ending, content note for self-harm)

The problem is me, Kara thought.

She collapsed to her living room floor, panting and panicked, still feeling the kryptonite in her veins as she watched her best friend try to kill her. The problem is me. I’m not supposed to be here.

“One more go?” Mxy said.

Kara didn’t answer. She shoved herself off the floor, making her way to her couch to sit down, staring at a wall as her panting began to slow.

Mxy’s brow furrowed curiously as he took a seat next to her, but Kara wouldn’t meet his eyes. So he waited, and waited, watching the kryptonian as she thought through the problem.

Finally, Kara spoke. “There’s one more reality I want to see,” she said.

“That is?”

Kara turned up to him. “I want to see the world, if I had died on Krypton.”

Mxy froze. “I can’t show you that.”

“Why not?”

“I can only show you changes in your life, your choices,” Mxy said. “I can show you the events immediately following your death. But Krypton died decades ago - I can’t show you Lena so far after.”

Kara frowned, leaning up against the couch. “Then there’s something I have to do.”

---

Lena was making tea when Kara tapped down on her balcony that evening. Though it was close to 11pm, when most of the city was preparing for bed, it seemed that sleep was alluding the Luthor just as much as it was alluding Kara.

Lena tensed as she watched Kara step into her living room - wariness and cold anger highlighting her features. Kara didn’t offer greetings or niceties, knowing that Lena would prefer she leave sooner rather than later. “I’m being given a chance,” Kara said, “To rewrite time.”

“Rewrite time?” Lena asked.

Kara’s jaw tensed nervously - a flicker as she thought about the hourglass in her suit pocket, the timepiece that Mxy had given her if she made the choice he told her not to make - before speaking again. “I am being allowed one chance to change history,” Kara said. “I can make it so that we never meet.”

Lena’s eyes widened.

“Is that what you want?” Kara asked quietly.

“Yes.”

---

Kara flew.

She didn’t say goodbye - there was no point. She told Lena the change would happen at midnight, that the Luthor will wake to a new day without having ever known Kara Danvers. No memory of her old life, no memory of the pain or betrayal. It would simply be morning.

She thought about saying goodbye to her sister, to Eliza - even to going back to Argo to see her mother. But she couldn’t bring herself to. If Alex realized something was off and dug deeper, if Eliza soothingly tried to prepare some hot cocoa, Kara wasn’t sure she could go through with what needed to be done.

Kara landed outside the Fortress, walking inside the hallowed grounds of what was the only piece of Krypton on Earth. She had thought of it all too often in the aftermath of Krypton’s destruction - how death was always in solitude, and the Fortress was as good a place as any.

She reached inside her pocket, pulling out the palm-sized hourglass - given to her by a Mxy who wanted no part in all of this, telling her she ought to smash the device instead of activating it. But Kara set it gently on the console, and sand began to flow.

She exited again, floating up to the roof of the Fortress. It was cold, dark. Not that it could penetrate her skin, as she looked up to the skies.

This is forbidden, came the idle thought, an affront to Rao.

Kara ignored the bubbling thoughts, pushing back the lump in her throat. After all, she wouldn’t really exist anymore - there would be no one to punish for any transgression she committed. A thirteen-year-old child would flee Krypton in her father’s pod, but the debris from her dying planet would ensure she’d never wake up again. The Kara that existed now would simply not, and no affront to Rao would be made.

“She’s worth it,” Kara murmured up to the stars, eyes landing on a faint red glow in the distance.

---

Idiot, idiot, idiot.

Lena had realized her error as soon as Kara left - as soon as Lena had had more than two seconds to think through the implication of we never meet.

Not haven’t met yet, not haven’t met as Kara and Lena - but to never meet at all? There was only one way to keep that sort of promise. Kara, don’t you dare…

Like a fool, she had run out the door, landing on the steps of Kara’s apartment building in the dead of night only to find that the blonde wasn’t there. Lena cursed herself as she rushed back to her condo, digging for the portal watch and praying she had enough time. The Fortress, she thought, that’s the only other place she’d be.

Lena prayed she was right as she stepped through the portal field, mentally planning on how she’d need to call Alex or Nia or anyone to find out where Kara was, before the kryptonian did something so utterly fucking stupid-

“Fuck,” Lena murmured, glancing around the ice walls. She’s not here.

More than that, the Fortress was cold. Not that those rooms were ever balmy - but the door had been left wide open, allowing an arctic breeze to send a damning chill through Lena’s bones. The North Pole is around -40 degrees, she thought, scrambling for her watch as she could feel her fingers already getting numb.

But to her relief, the cold didn’t last long - she heard the shift of the door behind her, could feel the stagnation of the wind. A heartbeat later, she turned to find impossibly warm arms around her. “Lena,” Kara murmured worriedly, “What are you doing here?”

“How is it that we never meet?” Lena pleaded, ignoring Kara’s question. “What happens that prevents us from meeting?”

Kara stilled.

“Kara-”

“You won’t remember me,” Kara said, holding her tighter, “You won’t remember this.”

“You’ll be dead!”

Lena struggled against Kara, but she could only feel the kryptonian’s infuriating hold, preventing her from going anywhere. “It won’t be much longer,” Kara said softly, turning her head to her side, “You’ll be free.”

Lena followed Kara’s gaze, her eyes landing on the Fortress console. It was then that she noticed it - the small hourglass on top, sand ticking through the narrow waist. She doesn't have much time, Lena realized, noting that Kara might only have minutes left.  “Kara, don’t-” Lena struggled again, “I don’t want you dead!”

“I don’t want you in pain,” Kara said simply. “I love you too much for that.”

Lena glanced up at Kara. You love me?, Lena thought, the seeming impossibility washing over her. She feels what I feel?

Because Lena thought she had been obvious, years ago. The flirting and the flowers and the solemn confessions - compassionately denied for a friendship instead, which Lena tried to graciously take. Even if Kara didn’t feel the same way, Lena had wanted her in her life.

But Lena saw something different in that moment - maybe a kryptonian who couldn’t cross that line while carrying secrets. 

And maybe there was hurt and pain and being wronged… but ever since the night in the very Fortress they were standing in - where Lena had once walked away after encasing Kara in toxic air, after manipulating her and stealing from her - Lena found it harder and harder to look at herself in the mirror. Is this what we’re supposed to be?, Lena wondered, two people who just hurt each other?

It doesn’t have to be this way.

Lena’s fingers slipped up Kara’s shoulders, tugging firmly on the collar as Kara turned towards her with somber blue eyes. Lena knew she could never fight arms powered by the yellow sun, couldn’t argue with the kryptonian’s foolish sense of duty. 

So she did what she wished she had done years ago. Tipping her head slightly, pushing up on her toes to counter Kara’s boots, Lena pressed her lips against Kara’s own.

The kiss was soft. Chaste. No more than soft lips meaning soft lips. Where first kisses were usually of joy or lust, there was none of that here as Kara stilled, as Lena let her work through her confusion and fear. There was only a solemn confession, and the kryptonian who was uncertain of how to accept it.

Lena broke away. “Stay with me,” she whispered. “Don’t leave me alone.”

Kara’s eyes darted between Lena’s own for a moment, until her arms finally loosened, allowing Lena to pull back. Lena watched as ambivalence crossed Kara’s face as she stepped away, but she could feel nothing but relief.

Lena turned to rush to the console, fingers reaching the hourglass as it steadily trickled along, perhaps another minute or so of sand left. Lena raised her arm and threw the timepiece to the floor, smashing fragments of glass and a spray of sand across her shoes and the icy floor. If I had been any later…

Lena shivered, and it wasn’t from the cold.

She turned up to Kara again, and the blonde smiled softly back.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Musician Age Gap AU pt 2

Kara blinks, suddenly dumbstruck. Esme's t-shirt didn't do the woman justice. Her eyes catch briefly on a sharp jawline before being captivated by warm green eyes.

"Uhm, sorry, I-- I didn't mean..." Kara struggles with her words in a way she hasn't in years. "Are you--?"

"Yup," Lena confirms with a drawl, but her smile doesn't leave her lips. "Do I need to call security?"

"What? No! No, of course not, I didn't mean to barge-- I swear I wasn't looking for you."

Lena accepts the blithering answer at face value. "Good. It would be to have you thrown out before the show."

Sure enough, underneath her gray zip up hoodie Kara spies a flash of a silver bedazzled dress.

"I mean. For the record, you should." As soon as she says it, Kara picks up steam, suddenly angry on the artist's behalf. "I shouldn't have been able to get anywhere close to you---"

"It's okay," Lena assures her. "You don't look the type to be looking for an autograph."

Kara huffs, but finds a small smile creeping over her face. "No," she confirms. "I got lost."

One of Lena's eyebrows lifts.

"Well, first I got locked in the stairwell. Which is against code, by the way. And *then* I got lost."

Lena smirks, picking up her phone and typing out a short message. "Security," she explains.

"Oh."

"They'll be able to help you find your way better than I can."

Relief floods Kara, and then a thrill of excitement when Lena's smile broadens to a grin.

"You here with someone?"

Kara nods. "My goddaughter, Esme. She, uh.... she loves you. Rather a lot, actually."

"Tell her hi for me."

"I will-- oh! Shit, you've got a signal down here!" Kara fumbles her phone and her ticket, and in her rush to fire off a note to Esme promising to be there soon, doesn't notice when the ticket slips from her palm.

"Sorry," Kara rambles. "Damn. She's probably eaten all the nachos by now."

At that, Lena laughs, just as a hulking figure appears in the doorway behind Kara. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Hi Ryan," Lena greets, voice still full of mirth. "Miss, uh..."

"Danvers. Kara Danvers," Kara blurts.

"Miss Kara Danvers here got a little turned around. Would you mind showing her to where she needs to go?"

"Of course, ma'am."

Lena nods approvingly. When her gaze returns to Kara, Kara can't help but notice the brief glance that flicks over her, and the consequent blush that blooms in the younger woman's cheeks.

"I've got fifteen until places," Lena tells her. Her voice is smooth and low, velvet in the cinderblock room. "I'm sorry we can't chat more, but I'm sure Esme is worried about you."

Kara nods, swallowing. "Right. Um... thank you."

"My pleasure." Lena's crinkle at the corners. "Lovely to meet you."

"You too," Kara issues, turning to follow Ryan out the door and into the hall. It's not until the door shuts behind them that Kara realizes how hard her heart is thumping, or the tremble in her fingers.

"Jesus," she mutters, giving her hand a shake.

"Which level, Miss Danvers?"

"Second mezzanine, restrooms near the food vendors."

Ryan escorts her until Kara spots Esme, at which point he departs with her thanks. Esme dashes towards her, eyes wide. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Kara promises, giving her a hug. "Just got turned around. Sorry for taking so long."

"Come on!" Esme urges, already moving on from the subject. "We've got to get to our seats!"

Kara trails closely behind her goddaughter as they move towards the stands, but her thoughts remain with the raven haired woman two flights below.

Maybe tonight would be special after all.

[nightwingbb]

Have any jondami headcons?

Also a fan of your ao3! Your fic are really good!

oh, anon, so, so many. but here are a few:

before jon, damian never slept all that well. he was a light sleeper and could never really sleep through the night, often because of nightmares. damian was genuinely confused when he suddenly started sleeping through the night after jon began spending the nights at damian's. it took him three months to realize that it was because jon was there that he was sleeping better.

damian is picky about music. jon will listen to just about anything and keeps a running playlist titled "damian approved songs." when they're listening to jon's music, if damian indicates he likes a song, jon adds it to the playlist.

when jon first got a phone forever ago, damian added him as a contact under "jon kent" and never bothered changing it because why would he? that was jon's name. years later, after they'd gotten together, jon finally noticed that he didn't even get so much as an emoji next to his name. the outrage! he grabbed damian's phone and changed his contact name to "the love of my life and my #1 favorite person." damian left it like that for a few weeks until one way or another, stephanie saw it and wouldn't let him live it down (or believe damian when he said jon had done it, and as a joke at that). damian changed jon's contact name back to plain old "jon kent," but he did tack on a heart emoji that time. to appease jon.

damian is a clothes stealer. hoodies, t-shirts, even jon's socks aren't safe. he conveniently forgets to bring pajamas anytime he's meant to be spending the night at jon's and has to borrow some. jon plays along because he likes the way damian looks in jon's metropolis meteors sweatshirts and too-big justice league t-shirts.

although damian has never admitted it, jon knows that damian gets nervous whenever he has to interact with the kents. he's stiff around clark and a bit awkward around ma since he gets overwhelmed by her kindness. even conner and kara, he's not entirely comfortable around. if jon can't be by damian's side the whole night, he tries to make sure lois is with him. she's very intimidating and a bit scary at times, which sets damian at ease more than his dad's side's midwest kindness does.

(ps: thank you! i'm glad you enjoyed my fics!)

[yaut-jaknowit]

I’m back to pester you again

Okay so, angst idea (I think i’m a genius) but reader being forced to kill and shoot one of his family members to save his mate because said family member works for the government and was the last thing standing in the way of freeing readers mate

They Both Reached For The Gun

Pairings: Wolf (Male Yautja) x AMAB!Reader

Word Count: 4217

Summary: This was meant to be a simple meeting with your sister. After time and time again, she just doesn't like Wolf. You have tried to get the two of them to at least tolerate each other. This is your family you're talking about. But, your sister won't come to terms with him.

Author Note: Bruh, you are a genius.

Masterlist

Ao3

Part 2

This was all your fault from the beginning to the end. To the one person you thought you could trust… your sister. She’s been at your side through thick and thin. You encouraged her when she joined the government. A good job with the ability to earn plenty of money. It set her off on the right path. You no longer had to worry about your little sister.

Both of you shared plenty of secrets. Of course, her job prevented information and intelligence to be spilled. But you still talked often.

Such secrets that your mate was opposed at first. You refrained from spilling something like that to her until if or when he gave you permission. To show her the love of your life that you held near and dear to your heart. Someone you’ll defend till your last breath and your heart stops beating. He is yours as much as your are his.

When the day came, you thanked him wildly and showered him in plenty of kisses. As the stoic male that he is, he allows for the affection to rain down on him. That same day, you called up your sister to come visit you at your home. Your shared home with Wolf. She was confused on why you wanted her over so badly but came over anyhow. Anything for her older brother.

All went well during the meeting. Well… for the most part.

When Wolf walked out of the bedroom, your sister, Kara, whipped out a gun and pointed at him. That nearly sent Wolf into a spiral. You stepped out in front of the gun to prevent bloodshed. Wolf was on the verge of tearing Kara’s head from her body for daring to point a weapon at his mate. It took a lot of yelling and talking to get the two of them to calm down finally.

Everything was at a tense peace for the moment. Kara put away the gun you didn’t know she had back into her waistband. You timidly walked up to her with a nervous smile. The woman kept staring at Wolf, eyes wide but not with fear. There was something else you couldn’t pinpoint on.

From that first meeting, everything seemed alright. You would offer for her to come over when Wolf was around. All you wanted was for the two of them to get along. There was no need for fighting or hatred or fear. Wolf wasn’t going to harm her… unless she harmed him or you. Not that she would do that anyhow. This was your sister you were talking about.

Months passed on. The two came to a standstill that was decently peaceful. Despite Kara trying to hide it, you could read her like an open book. She would glance at Wolf when she thought you weren’t looking and gave him disgusted looks. You knew it would be hard to convince her there was nothing wrong with him. He’s different, yes. But, he was an amazing mate. Things like that, you tried to reason with her with.

None of that mattered in her eyes. She shot down your words with the same old ‘he’s a monster’. Words that hurt your soul.

Wolf was far from that. He saved you. He’s the love of your life. You share your soul with him. He deserve the world for what he’s done for you. Here is your sister, saying nasty things about him no matter what you did to explain to her.

Then, you tried one last time to give her a chance. You invited her over for dinner again, making all of her favorites. Anything to sweeten her up.

“It’s not going to work, little one,” Wolf rumbled from his seat at the kitchen island. The seat was barely holding his weight and groaned at each small movement. “She does not like me. I don’t care that she decides I’m the bane of her existence.” He looks up from his wine glass. “I’m only doing this for you. I wish to see you happy. Clearly, her actions aren’t despite what you originally thought.”

The spatula was set down off to the side of the stove. Your hands gripped the edges of the counter, head bowed with the knowledge of defeat. “I know…” you trailed off and shook your head. It was hard to come to terms with the fact your sister doesn’t even tolerate your mate. She hates him. That was clear as day.

You dragged a hand down your face with a groan. Today was the day you were going to give it one more attempt before calling it. If nothing comes out of it, you’ll won’t bring Kara around anymore. There was no point. Not if she brought you down like this and disrespected your family.

“One last time,” you told him with a glance over your shoulder. It was comical how this hunk of a man could perch himself on a stool not strong enough to hold his weight. Yet, the Yautja made it work.

From behind you, the chair made a scrapping noise across the wood floors. The soft, familiar pitter-patter of steps rounded the island. Wolf’s body heat washed over your back as he crowded you into the counter. He leaned down enough so his mouth hovered next to your ear. “Okay, sweetie,” he rumbled and rested his heat on your shoulder. “But then, that’s it. I will not allow her to make you feel terrible about this. It’s not your fault.”

Those words. You needed to hear them. The guilt was eating you up. You weren’t expecting them to be buddy-buddy, but you hoped for some mutual respect. From one family member to the newest one joining. Expect, Kara didn’t even treat him like someone who commanded respect on daily bases by unruly unblooded. There’s a reason he left the teaching academy long ago. He couldn’t deal with children every day like that. A fact you loved to tease him about.

His warmth was comforting. You leaned back and gingerly closed your eyes. “Thank you, love. I appreciate everything you do for me.” Including with dealing with your upset sister whenever she came over. That took a lot out of him.

Wolf grunted and let his hands rest on your hips. The pot of pasta in front of you cooked away, steaming up into the vent over the stove.

A sharp knock on the door alerted you to the appearance of your sister. Wolf growled, hands pinching your waist before he pulled away. You patted his cheek before strolling over to the front door. The Yautja huffed while crossing his arms firmly over his chest. He looked threatening in all of his glory. You gave him a pointed look to calm it down. Wolf just lazily stared at you.

With that fail, you opened the door with a bright smile. Your sister happily greeted you by throwing her arms around your neck and drawing you into a hug. A squeal surged past her lips.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you again!” she cheered and pulled back to get a good look at you. “It feels like forever since I last saw you. How are you doing? Have you dropped any luggage?” Your head jerked back at what she was insinuating. Hurt broke at your already fragile heart about the matter. Her eyes flickered over your shoulder to see the towering form of Wolf still here. “I guess you haven’t.”

Kara strolled into the house with a sneer directed at Wolf. Like the male has dealt with plenty of times, he peers in her direction calmly but as if she wasn’t a threat. Just another annoying child or pest in his way.

“Yum, that smells delicious!” Kara took a deep breath of the air and spun around to face you. You were still standing at the front door, slowly closing it. “What are you making?” You finally follow after her into the living room. She was completely ignoring Wolf. You walked over to him and leaned on the counter next to him.

“Chicken alfredo.” Easily. Simple. But, you made it the best way. Even Wolf liked what you made. You took that as a big compliment since Wolf mainly ate raw meat. Said Yautja purred lightly.

Maybe, it was his favorite at this point as well.

Her brows jumped before falling. “Oh, wow, that’s like the best out there.” The woman took a seat on the couch. “So, do you got anything exciting going on? See our parents? Going out with friends?” You found it slightly weird that she was asking such things. They weren’t normal in your mind but you brushed it off in hopes to keep the conversation light.

A slight shrug answered her. “No, not much. Wolfy here wants to take me out on a hunting trip next weekend. He’s gonna show me how to hunt.” That, you were actually excited about. To see the stars again. He’s taken you out there with his protection at all times. But, this time, to let you go out with him and be taught the Yautja way. God, you couldn’t wait for that.

A look of uncertainty passed over her features. “Are you sure you want to do that? Space seems scary and vast. What happens if you’re alone and a monster comes after you? He can’t always be there to save you,” she disagreed with this trip. Your face dropped with a flash of hurt. “I mean that in a caring way, big bro.”

At your side, Wolf’s aura changed. It grew tense. You didn’t need him to say a word or move a muscle to know what he’s feeling. The two of you are that close. Plus, he freely allows for you to sense that. Otherwise, he’s as closed as a vault.

You shrugged and grasped Wolf’s hand for reassurance. At this point, you were completely regretting this whole interaction with Kara. She seems ten times worse than normal. “I’ve got my partner. He won’t let anything happen to me. Not if he still lives,” you stated firmly and nodded your head. She really needed to get it through her thick skull, Wolf is here to stay.

“And what if he no longer lived? What would you do then?”

The air suddenly turned ice cold. Fear gripped your heart in a steely grasp. Your nails bit into the back of Wolf’s palm, creating crescent shapes in the skin.

Wolf abruptly stood from his chair, easily towering over the woman you once thought so dearly about.

“It’s time you left,” he grounded out and continued to hold your hand. Wolf positioned himself a step ahead of you, shielding you with his body.

From bad to worse, the situation turned for a down hill fall. Her face soured. A hand reached behind her back. “No, I don’t think so. He is my brother, and you are nothing but a monster.” Her eyes found yours. There was something dark in them. “I’ve tried so hard to get you to step away, to break up with him. I didn’t want to hurt you, but you left me no choice, brother. I’ve come to my deadline.”

Everything she was saying, didn’t make sense. You wanted to ask, to beg her for an explanation. Any reason to why she’s acting this way. Wolf didn’t allow for time. He stayed stationed in front of you but let go of your hand. His own were flexed, prepared for whatever Kara throws at him. Something he could else defeat and kill her for.

“W-wait, hold up! Please, don’t,” you begged Wolf and even latched onto his arm. You knew from his words and stories alone; if Kara presented herself as a threat, he had every right to take her down. Your own sister, about to be slaughtered before your very eyes. “This is my sister, Wolf!”

Underneath your grip, Wolf was tense, muscles coiled in preparation of an easily won battle. He does not waver. “Your sister wishes harm on you. She presents a threat to you. I’ve stood off to the side long enough,” he growled out in voice you rarely hear from him.

“Hear that? He’s going to hurt me. You want that? You’re going to let your mate, a monster, hurt your sister.” She played that card really well, pulling at your heart strings. She tried to sway you to her side by playing the victim. “I told you from the beginning: he cannot be loved. They are known for killing and maiming humans. I can’t believe you decided to date such a thing.”

The disgust in her voice hurt a lot.

This wasn’t suppose to be happening. This was the last try to make everyone be content with another. You weren’t going to force them to like each other. Just tolerate. Hopefully tolerate each other.

Then, her last words hit you like a train. You stepped out from behind Wolf. “What? What do you mean?!” Kara is acting as if she knew of his species more than what you told her. “Why are you acting like you know the Yautjas?”

When it came to Wolf, he was up front about everything he’s done. He’s not ashamed. Far from it. He freely let any information you wanted from him. Wolf wasn’t going to hide anything from you. Not when you’ve dedicated your life to him. The least he could do was the same thing.

Wolf used a hand to pull you safety behind him again, despite you fighting him on it. You still peeked around from his back to find your sister’s emotionless, cold eyes.

“I was given a great opportunity when I left a few special people know what you harbor in your basement. You can thank me for not letting them storm your house the moment they knew.” Her arm that was behind her back slid out.

A gun. She was holding a hold.

“I told them to let me study you and him. A great way to see the inside of what makes the two of you tick. Why on God’s green earth would a person go after a murderer?! I still haven’t figured it out.” She lifts the gun, barrel pointed at you. “But, the deadline has come upon us. I’m all out of time.”

A deadly growl pierced the air. Wolf lowers himself down a little, ready to spring across the space for an attack. “Either you willingly give in, beast, or else I’ll have no choice to shoot my own brother. Either way, you are coming with me. In chains or willingly. Make up your mind.”

And that was a threat Wolf would never let stand.

Not even a sound escaped him as he darted forward as blur of moss green. Two shots ring throughout the air, piercing the tension. You didn’t even see what happened even after Wolf tripped over his own feet and slid across the floor. He stopped just shy of her feet, slightly curled up and twitching.

Kara grinned down at him. “We’ve dealt with your kind before. Didn’t you think we had measures to defend ourselves against you?” The barrel aimed down at him. For good measure, your sister shot him again and sent another shot straight through his chest. It wasn’t designed to kill, just stun long enough for extraction. The Yautja grunted and stayed useless at Kara’s feet.

Your jaw dropped, hands shaking at your sides. It felt like you had been taken to a different universe. Surely… surely this had to be a horrible dream.

“Wolf…” you softly whined his name and finally took a step forward to him. Kara snapped the barrel at you. Betrayal was evident in eyes that held loves towards you.

“Not another step, traitor. I’m not afraid to use this on you. Remember, it’s meant to take things like him down,” she warned with a cold tone in her voice. Tears prickled the corner of your eyes.

The distraction you offered allowed for Wolf to swipe his claws at any part close to you. He could’ve purred at the sight of blood staining her pant legs.

She shouted, hand letting go of the gun. It precariously tumbled to the ground and was knocked closer to you. Your eyes darted to it, flickering up towards Kara again before you lunged forward. Kara saw a moment too late and tried to beat you to it. Your hands gripped the unfamiliar warm metal. The barrel trembled as you pointed it at Kara.

The woman put up her hands. “Are you seriously going to shoot your own sister?! I had to do what needed to be done. His kind and himself are responsible for many, many deaths! They need to know we will not let them walk amongst us, not let them walk all over us. We are no longer prey to them!” she reasoned with you. Her looks softened and pulled an innocent look you weren’t taking.

Every word made the crack in your heart worse and worse. You refused to take your eyes off of her, observing her closely. But, you could see the fragile state she had put Wolf in by shooting him. With that knowledge, this gun could be lethal to a human. Now, was the decision on whether or not you were going to kill her.

And she tried to kill your mate.

“Shut the fuck up!” you screamed at her. Rage overtook every emotion in your entire body. Heat raced throughout your veins, filling every available space. “You… I tried with you. So hard. But it was destined from the beginning to fail. You knew. You knew from the near beginning. This was your plan, wasn’t it?”

All the pieces were finally coming together.

At first, she just watched you, face turning darker. She nodded, nevertheless. She knew she was in the wrong.

The dams broke.

It took only a slight pressure for one bullet to release from the chamber. Then, another. Until nothing fired. Until every bullet had left the gun and entered her body. You wanted her dead. She deserved this painful death. Nothing more than the pain she has caused you. It could’ve all been avoided.

Amidst the ringing in your ears, Wolf became your priority. You shakily stepped forward then fell to your knees at his side. The Yautja was heavily trembling, unable to under a word. You were able to get him rolled onto his back to see three entrances to the wounds. The sight made you want to tear Kara’s head straight from her body. But… she was dead. There was nothing more you could do to make her suffer.

You leaned over him. Wolf’s bright eyes snapped to you. His acknowledgement calmed a small portion of your racing heart.

Grunts and choked noises came from him. “S-sh-ship. Go!” Your brows furrowed. As if you were going to leave him to suffer. Over your dead body. “Com-coming. Pe-p-eople.”

The cold wash of fear instantly froze your veins. It only took a second to connect the dots. Your sister was part of the government. She told them. This was a set up. People were coming to take him away. You gritted your teeth and let the rage come back in full force.

“No.”

In total, he had to be at least four hundred pounds without armor. There wasn’t time to either pull out the bullets in hope of stopping whatever they were or hide. Instead, you grabbed a leg and started to tug him towards the backdoor. The backyard offered enough space for him to land his ship.

Wolf could only watch in anger at your blatantly disregard for your own health and safety. Whatever that scum had shot him with worked fast and easily render him useless. If they made it out of this alive, he would immediately go straight to the ancients and let them know. They’ll survive this.

Barely through the night, you could see the outline of his ship. A sight for sore eyes. A place of refuge for now. You began to drag him again; down the steps into the backyard and onto the grass. The alien was heavy, bulk with muscle and dense bones. You strained to even drag him at most thirty yards from where he fell to the ramp of the ship.

It happened when you were reaching down to touch his gauntlet to open the ship’s ramp.

Cars and SUV’s roared into your driveway. You froze for a moment, blaming it on human instinct before pressing the button.

A hiss came from the craft, steam releasing into the air. Then, a slab of metal connected by hydraulics began to reveal the inside of his ship. You nervous shifted from foot to foot all while glancing over your shoulder. There was a loud bang that came from your house. You needed to get inside and close the door. That’s the only way you could be safe.

Nearly all the way down, a shout from behind you startled you. “There! Outside!” They had found you.

“Stop or we will use deadly force,” someone commanded and lead a group of soldiers dressed in all black into the yard. It wasn’t large by any means. Just enough space to enjoy. You scrambled to pull Wolf to safety.

When his body was halfway onto the ramp you slammed a hand into the keyboard attached to a hydraulics. It started the rising process as you continued to pull Wolf into his own craft. It was more than struggle. You were breaking out into a terrible sweat, heart racing in more ways than on. This was nothing other than a life or death situation.

And you were staring death in the face.

Shot echoing throughout the night air. You gasped and ducked out. They hit the metal, tinging off and heading somewhere else. You nearly lost your hold on Wolf and sent him tumbling back towards the ground. Your grasp tightened around his ankle, white knuckling it.

Halfway up, you finally got his body completely inside and felt relief. The two of you were safe now.

Sudden, one of the soldiers flung himself onto the closing ramp. His legs kicked wildly to propel him upwards. He clung to the groves in the metal, trying to crawl inside. But, he made no such luck.

Nothing needed to be done. The ramp continued to close. It stopped when his back hit the top only for the hydraulics to whine, fighting against the wedged person. The solider cried out and slammed his fists against the metal. You watched as he was sheered in half from the ramp.

Numbly, you stood there as the man just laid there at the end of the ramp. Dead. Lifeless. Blood staining the floors everywhere. You had to swallow down the bile in the back of your throat before stumbling your way through the ship. Wolf’s taken you here many times before. You knew the way to the cockpit.

All the gadgets and controls lit up at the press of a button. Life was breathed into the ship. You remembered the process from watching Wolf do this many times before. Each move nearly mirrored his own. It didn’t take more than five seconds to get the engines online. You gripped the joystick and power lever. With some ease, you were able to fed power to the engines and guided the ship into the air.

The original take off was terrible. It was bumpy and unsteady at first until you got yourself into the air. You took it fast, anything to get away from the danger that threatened Wolf.

Once in the safety of space, farther than the moon, you didn’t stop. You were going back to the cargo hold with a med pack you had snatched along the way and falling to Wolf’s side. His breathing was ragged and frightening.

“Shit. Wolf, baby, I’m so sorry,” you sobbed and shakily pulled out a pair of tweezers. The bullets were still inside of him. They had to be removed.

A process that took you longer than you had wish, but three bullets were set off to the side. Wolf was laid out in the cargo hold, taking deep breaths to calm his thundering heart. His entire body ached down to the bone. Whatever those bullets were, they were dangerous weapons against his kind. His first mission was to head straight back to Yautja Prime. He’ll have to take you with him. You couldn’t go back home anymore. A target had been put on your back because of him.

Wolf slowly sat up with a resonating groan. You cupped his cheeks and pulled his head to look him in the eye. “I should’ve known. I-I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have let her come back.” Words spilled from your lips like a dam breaking. You felt incredibly terrible for all the heartaches and pains you put him through. The Yautja leaned into your touch, eyes half closed.

They snapped open. You were surprised when his hands went for your side. When his rough finger pads touched that spot, you jolted away with a gasp. He pulled away enough for you to glance down.

Red painted them.

[duachai]

원죄 ORIGINAL SIN PT 1 - YECHAN | 82MAJOR

When you call my name, it's like a little prayer, I'm down on my knees, I wanna take you there

♱ PAIRING : YOON YECHAN X MALE READER

♱ SYNOPSIS : M/n and his sister Daena reluctantly attend a church event, where they meet the enigmatic Yoon brothers, including the quietly intense Yechan. As subtle tensions build between M/n and Yechan, M/n is left feeling both intrigued and unnerved, unable to shake the sensation of being deliberately drawn in.

♱ CONTENT WARNING : This writing contains explicit sexual content and mature themes.

♱ AUTHOR'S NOTE : This was lightly inspired by this Korean film titled the same

LINKS : Wattpad | Kofi | Part 2

“I promise it’ll be good for us!”

That’s the statement she had been saying for the whole week. But this time, it wasn’t about the cramped, buggy one-floor apartment they’d just moved into. This time it was the church right next to the elementary school she had attended when she was younger here in Ontario.

“Mom,” Daena groaned, a little disoriented as she rubbed the spot of her nose where her septum piercing was. Of course, she had to take all of her scary piercings out, wear a nice sundress, and not the ungodly splash of dark blacks and purples she usually wore. “I really don’t understand. We’ve never been religious. Plus… what about M/n?”

M/n, her twin brother, stood on the church's stoop with his arms crossed. He scratched at his neck, irritated by the itchy fabric of the cashmere sweater he’d been stuffed into. He’d also had to take out his piercing, cover his tattoos, and style his hair so his eyes and ridiculously long eyelashes were visible. Oh, and he was supposed to hide the fact that he was out of the closet here in this place too. Great.

Tapping his scuffed white sneakers against the pavement, M/n sighed, “I’m fine. Can we just go in already? It’s so fucking cold.”

His mom huffed, “Alright, but none of that. Do this for me.” She wagged her finger in his face briefly, then set her back as she walked in her best dress-up wedges up the rest of the stairs. This wasn’t just some nostalgic trip for her. The church was also where most of her new coworkers went. One of the kinder ones had even invited her to join. To her, this was a chance to finally fit in.

The twins shuffled behind her like reluctant ducklings, keeping their heads down as they stepped through the entrance. At the front, a woman was setting out stacks of pamphlets, her expression focused until she spotted their mom.

“Mrs. Yoon!” Their mom exclaimed, the woman looking up from her tidying up the paper books. Her focused face turned into a bright smile.

“Oh Kara, please call me Hyeri, no need to be formal.” She said in a shy whisper as she reached out for a hug. While their mom and Mrs. Yoon embraced, M/n and Daena stood awkwardly a few feet away. Their hands hung in front of them, and after a quick glance at each other, they bowed slightly, just like their mom had drilled into them whenever they met another Korean family.

Haneul smiled brightly, “Nice manners. You must be M/n and Daena. Oh my, you two look so alike,” Haneul looked back at Kara, “Are they twins?”

“Yep, 14 hours of labor these two,” Their mom sucked her teeth dramatically, “Two peas in a pod, just like their father.”

Daena pressed her lips into a fine line at the mention of their father, but the two adults were too busy chatting it up they didn’t even notice the twins following behind looking at each other with annoyance.

As Mrs. Yoon brought the family of three down to her row of pews, she turned to the twins. “You two should head downstairs to the bible study. My two boys are down there as well as some of the other kids!”

“That sounds fun, right?” Kara’s tone was overly bright as she elbowed Daena, her eyes practically begging. Please, for the love of God, just go along with it.

M/n rolled his eyes and sighed, shifting his shoulders back. “Fine. We’ll go, Mom. Whatever.”

Awkwardly, the twins shuffled back toward the entrance, their mom’s hopeful smile burning into their backs like a spotlight. They reached the stairwell and hesitated before heading down. The narrow staircase creaked under their feet, leading to a dim hallway lined with small rooms on either side. At the very end, light spilled out of an open door.

Inside, about ten kids sat around a circular table, colorful Bibles scattered in front of them, all open to the same page. A low hum of chatter filled the room, mixed with the occasional rustle of pages and a quiet laugh.

As they stepped closer, M/n’s throat felt tight, the collar of his sweater pressing uncomfortably against his neck. His fingers fidgeted with the sleeve, tugging it further down his arm as if to double-hide the tattoos already hidden beneath the thick fabric. He stole a glance at Daena, who looked just as out of place, her shoulders hunched slightly as she fiddled with the hem of her sundress.

Neither of them said a word, but the awkward tension between them spoke volumes.

“Oh, are you two here for Bible study too?”

The voice came from a blonde girl who had just turned around, catching sight of the twins. Her cheerful tone was paired with a distinct Canadian accent. “I’m the youth leader. Come on in and grab a seat.”

Before either of them could respond, she gestured enthusiastically for them to follow. She led them to the table, her upbeat energy completely unbothered by their obvious reluctance. “You can sit right here next to the Yoons,” she said, motioning toward two empty chairs.

The twins glanced at the seats and then at the pair of Korean teens already sitting there. The Yoons looked about as lost and overwhelmed as they felt, their postures stiff and their expressions blank.

M/n hesitated for a moment before finally dropping into the chair with a resigned sigh. Daena slid into the seat next to him, muttering a soft “thanks” to the youth leader, though her voice barely registered.

The other kids around the table stole quick glances at the newcomers, their curiosity thinly veiled. On the opposite side, two girls exchanged hushed whispers, giggling softly as they eyed the twins—though their attention lingered a little too long on M/n. One of them nudged the other, her cheeks flushing as she stifled a grin.

As the group began flipping their Bibles to a new passage, one of the Yoon boys silently slid his Bible toward M/n. His movements were subtle, almost hesitant, as if he’d already picked up on how out of place the twins felt.

M/n glanced at the Yoon boy, his eyebrows raising slightly in surprise before giving a small nod of acknowledgment. He took the Bible, his fingers brushing over the worn edges of the pages as he adjusted it in front of him.

At the top of the pages, colorful Post-it notes were stuck haphazardly, filled with scribbles in both English and Korean. Some notes had doodles in the corners, while others listed verses or thoughts in rushed handwriting. Each one was labeled with the name “Yechan” scrawled neatly at the top, standing out among the chaotic writing.

M/n’s eyes lingered on the notes for a moment, his fingers brushing over one of the edges as he tried to make sense of the mix of languages and ideas. He glanced back at the Yoon boy, who gave him a small, shy smile before looking away, fidgeting with the edge of his own Bible.

Daena caught the quiet exchange and nudged M/n’s thigh with hers under the table. When he turned to her, she raised an eyebrow, a subtle smirk tugging at her lips. He rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the slight smile that crept onto his face.

The rest of the session went on like that—small, shared glances, whispered comments between the twins, and the occasional stifled laugh when one of the girls across the table shot M/n another not-so-subtle look.

When the session finally ended, the twins were making their way back through the hallway when the Yoon boys caught up with them.

“Hey, sorry we didn’t talk much earlier,” the older boy said, his voice polite as he dipped into a slight bow. “I’m Keeho, and this is my younger brother, Yechan.”

Yechan offered a small wave, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his sweater. “Nice to meet you,” he said quietly, his gaze flicking between M/n and Daena before landing on the floor.

Daena stepped in to lead the conversation. “I’m Daena, and this is M/n,” she said, nodding toward her brother. “We’re the kids of your mom’s coworker. We just moved here, actually.”

“Like, just moved?” Keeho asked, his tone curious.

“Yep,” Daena confirmed with a slight shrug.

“Where do you guys go to school?”

“Oh, uh, I go to an all-girls school,” Daena replied, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “And M/n does school online.”

“Oh, okay,” Keeho said, nodding slowly. “I was just curious because most of the kids here go to the same school. But honestly… we don’t really mingle with them much. We don’t exactly fit in.”

Daena chuckled dryly. “Tell me about it.”

Before anyone could say more, a sharp beep followed by a soft vibration drew M/n’s attention. He glanced down at his smartwatch, tugging his sweater sleeve up just enough to read the message. He didn’t even notice that part of his tattoo had slipped into view—though Yechan definitely did.

Yechan’s gaze lingered on the ink, curiosity flashing in his eyes, but he didn’t say anything.

“Oh, shoot,” M/n muttered, lowering his arm quickly. “It’s Mom. We should head back upstairs.”

As the four made their way back upstairs, M/n and Yechan fell behind their more talkative siblings, both of them awkwardly stealing glances at each other. There was a quiet tension between them, unspoken but palpable, as they lingered just out of earshot of Daena and Keeho.

M/n glanced at Yechan, who quickly looked away, his cheeks faintly pink. They both seemed unsure of what to say, the silence between them growing heavier with every step.

When they finally made it upstairs, the twins stepped outside to find their parents still deep in conversation. As they approached, the topic of lunch came up.

“Why don’t you guys come with us for lunch?” Mrs. Yoon asked with a warm smile. “The place we always go has amazing Korean food. I know you’re probably dying for a real homey kind of meal, Kara.”

Kara raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Homey kinda meal, huh? You’re not wrong,” she replied with a grin, clearly excited at the thought of a good, home-cooked-style meal.

The Korean restaurant bustled with life, the warm lighting casting a cozy glow over the large booth where the families gathered. Kara slid in first, followed by Daena, Keeho, and Mrs. Yoon. Mr. Yoon took a seat at the end, leaving M/n and Yechan to share the other side of the booth.

M/n hesitated, glancing at Yechan before sliding into the booth first, tucking himself against the wall. Yechan followed, sitting stiffly next to him, leaving a small but noticeable gap between them.

As menus were handed out, Kara turned to Mrs. Yoon. “It’s a shame your daughter couldn’t come. What’s she up to today?”

“She has gymnastics practice,” Mrs. Yoon said with a proud smile. “She’s been working hard for an upcoming competition.”

“Gymnastics? That’s incredible!” Kara said, her enthusiasm genuine. “Daena used to compete back in Vancouver. She loved it.”

Daena perked up at the mention. “Yeah, it’s been a while, but I’d love to get back into it.”

Mrs. Yoon’s eyes lit up. “Oh, Mina would love to meet you! Maybe they could practice together sometime.”

“That sounds perfect,” Kara said, turning to Daena with a grin. “You could use a friend here.”

While the adults chatted, M/n glanced sideways at Yechan, who was studying the menu intently. Not wanting to seem rude, he spoke softly. “Um, do you come here a lot?”

Yechan startled slightly but looked over at him, nodding quickly. “Yeah, it’s… one of our favorite spots. The kimchi jjigae is really good.”

“Oh. Cool.” M/n smiled faintly, looking back at his menu. After a pause, he added, “I’ve never had it before. Is it, like, really spicy?”

Yechan’s lips quirked up in a small smile. “Not too bad. You should try it.”

“Maybe I will,” M/n murmured, his fingers fiddling with the edge of the menu.

The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but neither seemed to know how to push the conversation further. Every so often, their shoulders brushed as Yechan shifted slightly, and M/n felt a blush creep up his neck.

“Hey, what are you two whispering about?” Keeho’s voice cut in from across the table, making both boys freeze.

“Nothing,” M/n said quickly, his voice slightly higher than usual. He ducked his head, pretending to study the menu again. Yechan turned back to his own menu, his ears tinged pink.

The dinner wrapped up without much fuss, the table full of empty dishes and the air light with easy conversation. Kara and Mrs. Yoon had spent most of the meal reminiscing and swapping work stories, while Keeho and Daena kept the energy up with their playful banter. Yechan and M/n barely exchanged words, though M/n felt Yechan’s quiet presence beside him like a shadow he couldn’t quite shake.

When the group finally stepped out into the cool evening air, M/n quietly slipped away from the group, drawn toward the brightly lit window of a record store nearby. The neon “OPEN” sign buzzed faintly, its light reflecting off the glass as M/n pressed closer to the display. Rows of vintage records caught his attention—Guns N’ Roses, Boney M., and some SOTD vinyls prominently displayed.

He let out a soft breath, his fingers twitching at his sides. This was his kind of space, somewhere far removed from the suffocating politeness of dinner and the confusing tug-of-war inside his head.

“You like that kinda music?”

The voice, soft but clear, made him stiffen. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Yeah,” M/n said after a pause, keeping his eyes on the display. “I collect them. When I can afford it, anyway.”

Yechan moved to stand beside him, his reflection appearing faintly in the glass. He didn’t say anything at first, just slipped his hands into his coat pockets and tilted his head as if studying the display himself.

“You’ve got an interesting taste,” Yechan said finally, his tone casual but his words landing heavy, like he was trying to say more than he let on.

M/n glanced at him, his gaze flickering briefly before returning to the window. “Yeah? Didn’t know you’d be into this kind of stuff.”

Yechan chuckled, the sound low and warm. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

M/n swallowed hard, the tension from dinner creeping back into his chest. It wasn’t just the words; it was the way Yechan said them, like he was deliberately pulling at a thread M/n didn’t want unraveled.

“Anyway,” M/n said, shifting on his feet. “I should probably—”

“You’ve got a tattoo.” Yechan’s voice cut through, soft but firm.

M/n froze for a moment, then glanced down instinctively at his arm, realizing the sleeve of his sweater had slipped up slightly. The edge of one of his tattoos peeked out, the dark lines stark against his skin.

“So what?” M/n muttered, tugging the fabric back down.

Yechan’s lips quirked into a faint smile, but his gaze stayed steady. “Nothing. Just didn’t expect it.”

There it was again—that strange undercurrent, like Yechan was circling him, trying to draw something out. M/n felt his pulse quicken, and for a moment, he couldn’t tell if it was annoyance or something else entirely.

“I should get back,” M/n said abruptly, stepping back from the window.

Yechan didn’t stop him, but as M/n turned away, he caught the faintest flicker of a smirk on Yechan’s face in the reflection.

The walk back to the group felt heavier than it should have, and even as they said their goodbyes and piled into the car, M/n couldn’t shake the feeling that Yechan had gotten under his skin in a way he wasn’t sure he liked—or understood.

Back at the apartment, the bathroom mirror was fogged from the warm air rising from the sink as M/n and Daena stood side by side, reclaiming their identities piece by piece.

Daena twisted her septum piercings back in, her reflection smirking at her brother. “You okay? You’ve been quiet since dinner.”

“I’m fine,” M/n replied curtly, focusing on threading his earring through the hole in his lobe and cuffs back at the top of his ears.

“Sure you are,” she teased, nudging him lightly. “You looked like a deer in headlights the whole time. Or maybe more like a deer being stalked.”

M/n paused, glancing at her through the mirror. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Daena raised an eyebrow, leaning closer to inspect her nose ring. “You tell me. Yechan barely looked at anyone else, and you? You looked like you didn’t know whether to run or… something else.”

M/n scowled, but his pulse betrayed him, quickening as he remembered the way Yechan’s eyes lingered, the way his voice had dipped just slightly, like he knew he was throwing M/n off balance.

“Whatever, I’m not falling in love with the church boy,” he muttered, shoving his cartilage piercing back in and turning toward the door.

Daena shrugged, watching him go with a knowing smirk. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

Alone in his room, M/n sat on his bed, his fingers idly tracing the edges of his tattoos through his sleeve. He couldn’t shake the feeling Yechan had left behind—a strange mix of curiosity and unease.

Hunted. That was the word Daena used, and as much as he hated to admit it, she wasn’t wrong.

M/n lay sprawled on his bed, the dim light of his bedside lamp casting a warm, hazy glow across his room. The soft hum of distant traffic filtered through the partially open window, a quiet backdrop to the storm of thoughts swirling in his mind. He stared up at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling in a slow, uneven rhythm.

Yechan’s face lingered there, vivid in the soft shadows. The way his dark eyes had locked onto M/n, steady and unreadable, was impossible to forget. There had been something unsettling in that gaze—like Yechan had been looking at him, through him, peeling back the layers he kept hidden.

M/n shifted under the covers, his skin prickling with an almost unbearable awareness, and his hand traveled down to his crotch underneath his sweatpants. He could still feel Yechan’s presence beside him at the dinner table, the faint brush of his shoulder when he leaned too close, the low timbre of his voice curling around words that seemed to hold a double meaning. Slowly, M/n’s hand slow stroked himself hard as he leaned back on his pillow, lips clamped together to keep his sinful noises muted.

It wasn’t just the memory of Yechan’s smirk, his lips, as they stood by the record store window, or the quiet way he had said, “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” It was the way he made M/n feel—cornered, exposed, and something else. Something electric.

M/n’s fingers tightened around the edge of his blanket as his mind wandered unbidden to the faint scent of Yechan’s cologne, how it lingered just enough to pull him in without overwhelming him. The thought of it made his stomach tighten, as his pace fastened and his whiny moans seeped through his lips. “Fuck,” he whined, covering his mouth with his free hand, a desire that his hand was Yechan’s, veins creeping up his slender fingers. With a few more strokes, M/n came with his body jolting with satisfaction.

What the hell is wrong with me?

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration mingling with something deeper, harder to name as he reached over to his nightstand to grab some tissue and clean himself up then turned over. The air in the room felt heavy, and no matter how much he shifted, he couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position. His thoughts looped back to Yechan’s smirk, the almost predatory way he seemed to observe him, as though he was waiting for M/n to stumble, to react.

And M/n hated how much he had reacted—how his heart had pounded when their eyes met, how his pulse had quickened at Yechan’s quiet remarks.

He pressed his palms against his face, willing his thoughts to quiet, but the warmth pooling in his chest betrayed him. Yechan had gotten under his skin, in his head, and M/n wasn’t sure he could or even wanted to shake him out.

Now he felt like something horrible.

He felt like a sinner.

[flemingsfreckles]

Be Home Soon

Synopsis: based off this request! Jessie has some hard feelings about being away from you and your kids so much, you do your best to reassure her.

Warnings: it’s a little sad, but nothing major.

WC: 1.7k

A/N: as I joked, this could be my last Jessie fic. I have a fear that seeing her in person at the game today will make me feel ~weird~ about writing for her, so we’ll see 🤷‍♀️

I also just finished writing this, gave it a quick skim and I’m posting it, so there’s bound to be errors, but I wanted it posted before I had to leave for the game.

The sound of the FaceTime call connecting has you running back over to where your phone sat. “Hi sorry, give me a second.” You quickly wave at the sight of your wife on the screen before running off to the other side of the room where your daughter sat in her playpen playing with blocks.

“Come here Kara, we’re going to say hi to Mom.” You reach down and pick up your daughter, propping her on your hip and walking back over to the phone that’s propped up against a water bottle on the kitchen table.

“Hi, sorry, it’s been a little hectic here. Kara’s been sassier than usual and Blake’s been coming down with a cold or something, I’m hoping she didn’t catch what he’s got.” Your daughter begins to whine on your hip, you gently start bouncing her, trying to soothe her fussing. “Look, it's Mom.” You point to Jessie’s face on the screen to show your daughter.

“Hi Kara, hi baby girl.” Jessie tries to pull your daughter's attention to her but your daughter is too busy pointing to the cabinet wanting a snack.

“Blake, come say hi to Mom!” You shout in the direction of your son’s room.

“Hey,” Jessie changes her tone, no longer using her high pitched baby voice, “are you taking care of yourself too?”

“Uh, yeah, just, the kids are priority.”

“Babe.” You knew she must’ve noticed the darker than usual circles around your eyes, you hadn’t been sleeping well, the empty bed next to you and a sick child were a lethal combination to your sleeping habits.

“Jess, I’m good, don’t worry.” You shoot her a pointed look over your shoulder letting her know not to push the subject at the moment. You wait a second before shouting for your son again, you hear his bedroom door open and he comes walking over to the phone.

“Say hi to your Mom.” You point at the phone.

“Hi.” Your son waves at the phone, he doesn’t sound thrilled to see your wife unlike your daughter who was repeatedly saying Mom into your ear.

Jessie starts asking him about school, she’d only been gone ten days so far, but she had missed the first full week of school for your kids. She was asking about teachers and homework and all the things she missed out on hearing about. You turn around occupying yourself with making your daughter a small snack

“When are you coming home Mom?” It was a question your son asked you frequently. When would Jessie be home, why was she gone so long, why did she always leave? Everytime he asks, your heart hurts for him. He just missed his mom, you missed her too, but playing was her job, her passion, you couldn’t ask her to step away.

“Soon, I promise, I get on a flight tomorrow night, I’ll be home the next morning.”

“I miss you, I don’t like when you’re gone.” You hear your son's sad voice from behind you. Closing the cabinet, you turn just in time to watch a flash of hurt run across Jessie’s face as she tries to fake a smile to your son.

“I know buddy, I’ll be home in two days though, you know my job makes me travel a bit.”

“I hate your stupid job.” The words sound so angry coming from your child’s mouth, your jaw drops and eyes widen.

“Blake!” You are quick to scold him. “Don’t talk to your Mom like that.”

“No, I hate it, she’s always gone.” He shouts back at you before storming off back to his room. You watch the irony, your wife’s name and number splayed across the back of the shirt he was wearing as he stomped away.

You suck in a big breath before slowly releasing it, throwing your head back, trying to compose yourself. When you tilt your head back down your met with the face of your wife, clearly hurt by what your son had said.

“Oh Jess, honey.” You grab the phone with your free hand before walking to sit down on the couch, letting Kara crawl back to her blocks.

“Sorry.” She sniffles, biting her lip and blinking hard as she looks up at the ceiling. “I just, it’s hard being away.”

“I know babe, you don’t have to be sorry.”

You watch as a tear falls from Jessie’s eye. “I know but I am, I’m so sorry. It’s not fair. It’s not fair to you, or to them. I feel like I’m never home.”

“Jessie.” You wish you could climb through the screen of your phone and engulf your wife into a hug.

“I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have to reassure me, you’re already doing so much. You’re the best wife, and the best mother, I wish I could be as good of a mom as you.”

“Honey. You’re an excellent Mom.” You knew there weren’t enough words in the world to make Jessie believe you, but you’d be damned if you didn’t try.

“No Blake’s right, I’m hardly home, I feel like I’m always traveling, I miss important life events.”

“Jessie, you’re home plenty. It just feels long right now, it’s been two years of major tournaments.” It felt cruel for the World Cup and Olympics to be back to back. It was always a hectic two years even when you didn’t have kids, but you also couldn’t lie, when the Olympics were over it was nice knowing there wasn’t a major tournament for almost two more years.

“Yeah I guess. I just sometimes wonder if I’m making the wrong choice, still playing.” She puts her hood up on the sweatshirt she’s wearing, sitting back into the pillows of the hotel bed.

“It might not help, but I don’t think it’s the wrong choice. Jessie you’re not gone as much as it probably feels like. And I know Blake said he hates your job, he’s just having a rough day. That kid loves you and your job, he’s never not in one of your club or Canada jerseys.”

“I know I just feel bad.” You watch as she fiddles with her hands in her lap, a small quiver in her lip tells you she’s on the verge of tears again.

“Baby, when someone asks his favorite athlete, he always answers ‘my Mom’, he finds ever opportunity to talk about how his Mom is a professional soccer player, he loves watching you play, and yeah the long tournaments are harder, but I think he’d miss watching you play. Kara, she doesn’t quite understand yet, but she likes seeing you on the TV too, I don’t think it’s time for you to be done yet.”

Jessie doesn’t say anything, she just looks at you through the screen, you know she’s probably doubting herself, every tournament she’s played in since your kids were brought into the world, every weekend she’s away. Her heartbroken face upset you. You sit for a moment before starting again.

“And Jessie, you take the time to call, you call them before and after every game, you call every single night, you haven’t missed one. You read them bedtime stories over the phone. You’re still an excellent Mom to them, it’s from a distance sometimes but you still make the time. There’s plenty of parents who wouldn’t, plenty of parents who go on work trips and don’t bother with even one call. And when you’re home, you’re their favorite person, you play with them and you teach them all the silly little facts you store in that brain, you show them how to be good humans and that is so important.”

“It’s not just Blake and Kara though, it’s a lot of extra work that gets put on you.”

“Yeah, but I knew that.” You shake your head slightly with a smile. “Honey you’ve been a professional athlete our entire relationship, I’ve sat through World Cups and Olympics, and the weekends away, it’s not new to me. I knew what I was signing up for when I asked you to marry me, I knew what I was signing up for when we started talking about kids, I knew what I was signing up for when we actually had our babies.”

Jessie just nods along to your words. You reach down, picking up Kara who had wandered over and was hanging on to your leg. You place her on your lap, adjusting the phone so Jessie could see her.

“And Jessie, despite knowing you’d be gone, and busy occasionally, I couldn’t imagine my life without you, I wouldn’t have this life without you.” You look down to where your daughter had stacked a small block tower. “I love you Jess, you’re an amazing wife, and an even better Mom. You working, doesn’t change that.”

Jessie’s now got tears in her eyes again. She reaches over grabbing a tissue from the bedside table before wiping her eyes and blowing her nose. “Sorry, I love you, you’re incredible and I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“You deserve the world Jessie.” You say before you hear your son's bedroom door open. You hear the small pats of his feet before he’s standing across from you, his freckled face reminiscent of your wife.

“Hi Blake.” You say, letting Jessie know he was back in the room.

“Hi. I’m tired. Can Mom read me a story?” He asks, pointing at the phone. You look down to see Jessie’s face break into a small smile.

“Sure buddy.” She answers before you get the chance.

“Of course.” You shoot Jessie a smile on the phone. You give her a smile before handing the phone over to your son. “I’m going to hand you to Blake, I love you, we’ll talk later.”

[tortillamastersblog]

✐ Drained | Kara Danvers ✎

Pairing: Kara Danvers x spider!reader

Warnings: angst, cursing, fighting, mentions injuries, and violence

Summary: Kara solar flaring and putting herself in danger over and over again puts a strain on your already fragile relationship. . .

_______________________________________________

“Y/N?” Alex’s voice in my ear makes me flinch and if it weren’t for the fact that I can literally stick to ceilings and walls I would have slipped off the edge of the roof I’m currently standing on. “You good?”

I sigh and lift my hand to my ear. “Yes, I’m okay. Just stopped a bank robbery.”

It was a fairly easy job, considering the robbers immediately surrendered when they saw me.

“Yeah, I saw it on the news, so. . .”

“So?” I play with the mask in my hands and close my eyes, enjoying the night breeze on my face.

“Are you coming back to the tower, or are you planning on spending the rest of the night on a rooftop?” she asks, her voice full of concern. She can see where I am because of the giant digital map back at the tower. What she doesn’t know though is why I’m here. Judging by the looks she’s given me lately, she knows that something is up, but she has yet to figure out what it is.

I scoff bitterly and slip my mask back on. “It’s not like it would matter anyway.”

“What?”

I take a deep breath and swallow the hurt clawing its way up my throat. “Nothing. Forget I said anything. I’m heading back now.”

There’s a short pause on the other end of the line before Alex says, “Okay. See you in a bit then. Swing safe, little one.”

“We’re the same age, Alex, and I’m literally taller than you.” I deadpan, leaping off the building.

My stomach flutters at the feeling of the wind rushing by and for a moment I forget all about why I was brooding in the first place.

“I’m four days older than you” Alex corrects with a chuckle and I can’t help but smile under my mask as I swing through the city.

“Pff. . . tomayto, tomahto.” I swing from building to building, keeping my eyes and ears open for anything suspicious while I make my way back to the tower.

Alex laughs again, trying to convince me that four days are a significant amount of time only to stop mid sentence when an explosion across the city captures both our attention.

“What was that?” I pivot and start swinging in the direction of the explosion, my spider-senses tingling ominously. Alex ignores me, cursing under her breath and typing furiously on a computer. “Alex!”

“Y/N?” J’onn’s calm voice does nothing to assuage my worry, especially not when I can hear Alex shouting something unintelligible in the background.

“What’s happening, J’onn? What’s going on?” I shout over the noise of traffic as I swing across a bridge.

“It’s Supergirl,” he says. “She got caught in an ambush. We’ve already sent out some backup.”

Kara. . .

My heart clenches at the thought of anything happening to her and I force myself to go faster. My arms burn and I’m panting in no time, but the only thought on my mind is that I have to get to Kara before anything else happens.

“They’re never going to get there in time, J’onn! Do we know who’s responsible for this?” Caught up in my own worry, I miscalculate on of my swings, coming dangerously close to swinging into oncoming traffic.

“We don’t know any details yet, but Lena and Brainy are working on it.”

I clench my jaw and force myself to go even faster when another explosion goes off. “Any word from Kara?”

The short silence that follows gives me the answer I’m dreading before J’onn even admits that communication with Kara has been cut off.

“Fuck!” I ignore whatever else J’onn says after that and perform two powerful swing before finally getting to the docks by the river. Sweat is running down my body below the suit and my lungs are burning.

I land on top of a crane and let my eyes dart all over the place until I spot what I’m looking for.

Below me, standing in a circle around Kara in her super suit are four goons, dressed in black combat gear. They have have strange looking guns pointed at her and I realize that every time Kara uses her heat vision, the guns absorb it before shooting it back at her.

Why isn’t she flying away?!

“Nala, what’s going on down there? Why isn’t she fighting back properly?” I ask the AI in my suit, trying to figure out how best to approach this situation without putting Kara in any more danger.

Nala scans the surrounding area before reporting her findings. “I have detected traces of Kryptonite in the air.”

“Shit. . . And how many hostiles are there?” I ask, only now noticing the way the veins in Kara’s face and hands glow a faint green.

“There are four hostiles at the moment but I have detected three more incoming human heat signatures in a lead-lined truck half a mile from here. ETA forty seconds.”

I jump off the crane and swing to a nearby container closer to the ground. “Fuck! They’re going to take her!”

My heart is pounding in my ears and I know that if I don’t act right now, it’s going to be too late, but I can’t think of a plan when all I can focus on are the yelps that escape Kara every time she takes a hit.

“Thirty seconds.” Nala’s says, her robotic voice as calm and rational as ever. “If you don’t do something within the next five seconds the chances of Supergirl being taken increase from 43% to 97%”

“I know, Nala! Shut up, I’m trying to think!”

A particularly strong blow hits Kara’s side and she drops to one knee with a whimper while one of the goons pulls a pair of bulky handcuffs from his pockets.

They wouldn’t normally be able to restrain Kara, but because she’s weakened and on the brink of solar flaring right now they’ll work on her just like they do on any other human being.

“Twenty seven seconds.” Nala reminds me.

“Argh, fuck!” I’m shaking uncontrollably, not knowing what to do.

“Your time to act is running out in three—“

My eyes dart around frantically, trying to spot something that could help me distract them.

“Two—“

There’s nothing. No pipe, no crate, or anything I could fling at them.

“One—“

Before Nala can finish, I leap off the container and swing right at the group below me.

I can’t fight those goons because they’d outnumber me, so a quick getaway is my only plan of action.

“Heads up!” I shout which makes all of them look up in surprise.

At the sight of me, Kara lets out a broken sob of relief and lifts her arms like we’ve practiced a hundred times before.

She does it just in time because not even a second later I slam into her, wrapping one arm around her waist and picking her up mid swing.

“Gotcha!” I readjust my grip on her and focus on swinging us away as her arms tighten around my shoulders. “Hold on, I’m getting us out of here!”

Kara doesn’t answer. She only sobs against my neck and wraps her legs around my hips.

Well, that was easier than I thought it would—

A blow to the back of my left leg makes me howl in pain and I almost miss my next swing. I look over my shoulder and see the goons below chasing us with their guns raised and firing.

“Nala! A little help here!” I screech as I see the lead-lined truck the AI detected earlier barreling towards us.

“Calculating alternative routes. . .”

Another blast from below grazes my shoulder, making me grit my teeth. “Oh my God?! What are you? My car’s GPS?! Tell me where to go!”

I take a sharp right turn and head for the city, now finally out of range of the goon’s on foot. The lead-lined truck however has turned down the same way we did and is now hot on our tail.

I can’t get higher because all I can swing off of are these containers and I can’t go any faster because I have Kara in my arms.

That reminds me, since picking her up she hasn’t said a single thing and her grip around me has also loosened considerably.

“Nala, what’s wrong with Supergirl?” I ask, doing my best to dodge the bullets that are being fired at us from below.

“It seems the Kryptonian has passed out.”

Great, she’s solar flared. . .

I grunt and readjust her in my arm. “Is she injured?”

“Yes, but she should make a full recovery as soon as her powers have returned.”

The gunfire from below suddenly stops and when I look down I see that the truck has come to a stop in front of a superficial police barricade.

Officers are swarming the place, ducking behind car doors and aiming their guns at the truck, screaming at the goons to step out with their hands behind their head.

“J’onn.” I breathe in relief when I realize that this is the backup he mentioned earlier.

I try to get my comms device working again, having no idea when it stopped working in the first place, but it doesn’t turn back on, so I just continue making my way into the city toward the tower.

Now that the imminent threat of being shot has been eliminated though, I slow down considerably and focus on keeping my swings as smooth as possible in case Kara wakes up.

Someone squeezing my hand makes me stir in my chair. I groan and open my eyes, feeling a dull ache on my shoulder and the back of my leg where I was hit by the goons.

“Baby. . .” Kara’s soft voice makes me shoot up in my chair and when I look down at her on the bed I find her blue eyes already on me. She smiles softly and squeezes my hand again. “Hey.”

“Hi, how are you feeling?” I ask quietly. I reach forward and push the sun lamps up enough for her to sit up carefully.

“Like shit,” she admits with a small chuckle.

I scoff and let go of her hand, burying it in my lap. If she’d said that three months ago, I would have laughed and kissed the back of her hand playfully, but since then, things have changed.

Three months ago, sitting in the med bay next to Kara was a very rare occurrence. Nowadays though, it’s almost a daily occurrence.

She’s constantly taking unnecessary risks and on the off-chance that she’s not out superheroing, she stays up late at the office to finish an article, or write a news segment.

I can’t remember the last time we slept in the same bed, much less when we shared a meal together. Our relationship is barely even a relationship anymore, and tonight has honestly been my last straw.

Frowning at the way I pulled my hand out of her grasp, Kara sits up straighter. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Tears prick my eyes and I dig my fingernails into my palms. “What’s wrong?! Are you kidding me, Kara? This is the third time you’ve solar flared this week! You were almost kidnapped and I was shot twice saving you!”

“Y-You’re hurt?” She squints, presumably to use her x-ray vision on me, but then she realizes her powers have yet to return. “Are you—“

“This isn’t about me!” I cut in, my voice getting louder. “You keep putting yourself in these situations and I can’t for the life of me understand why. What’s going on with you? Why are you doing this?”

Kara gapes at me, her frown deepening. “Y/N. . .My Love . .”

I shake my head and get up, pacing at the foot of her bed. “No, Kara. I want answers. What’s going on with you? Does it have anything to do with me?” I ask, my voice shaking. “Did I do something wrong? Is that why you’re never home? Are you being reckless to prove something, or—“

“No, you didn’t do anything,” she insists. “I promise. This has nothing to do with you.”

I stop and turn to look at her. Her blue eyes are shining with tears and her chin is quivering.

“Then what is it?” I use the sleeve of the hoodie Alex gave me earlier after cleaning my wounds to wipe away my tears.

Kara clenches and unclenches her jaw as if she’s struggling to admit something. “Y/N, it’s not— I mean, you didn’t— I know things have been a lot lately, but-“ she runs a hand through her hair and sighs. “I don’t know what’s going on with me.”

If that isn’t the biggest lie she’s ever told then I don’t know what is. She’s a horrible liar and even if I didn’t hear the telltale sound of her heart stuttering just now, I’d still know she was lying just by seeing the guilty look on her face.

I stare at her for a moment, wondering when everything started to go this wrong between us before hanging my head low and turning to leave. “Well, I guess you better start figuring it out then because I can’t do this anymore, Kara.”

“W-What?” she stutters. I hear her trying to get up to follow me before groaning and falling back into bed. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.” I reach for the door handle without looking back.

“Wait!” Her voice falters and when she sniffles I have to force myself not to turn back and comfort her. “Are you. . . Are you breaking up with me?”

I swallow harshly and open the door. “No, not yet anyway.”

I leave before she can say anything else and make my way to the tower’s main room where J’onn, Alex, and Nia are sitting around the coffee table.

“Hey, are you okay?” Nia asks when she sees the distress on my face.

I just shake my head and make my way to the elevator. “No. Alex?”

The older Danvers who’s also watching me with concern gets to her feet. “Yeah?”

“Tell your sister to pull herself together,” I say before stepping onto the elevator.

I see J’onn raise an eyebrow at the interaction and share a glance with Nia before the doors slide closed.

Kara might be the one who solar flared, but I could bet a hundred bucks I’m more drained than she is right now.

This has been quite some time in the making now, and I know it’s no longer up to me how things will turn out from here on out.

It’s in Kara’s hands now and if our relationship is as important to her as it is to me, she will have to prove it.

_______________________________________________

Uh oh. . .

[natalievoncatte]

Lena tipped back the last of her scotch and savored it, letting the smooth, piquant insistence of it roll across her tongue and sting between her teeth. She’d poured herself three fingers of a thirty year old single malt from the Macallan and had tasted it every drop, letting it stay a while. Indeed she’d indulged so slowly that she was barely buzzed.

A distant memory struck her. The sting of heavy smoke in her mouth, acrid and unpleasant but as rich and complex in flavor as her single malts. The effect was ruined by her idiotic decision to breath it in rather than allow a brief visitation in her mouth before being set free into the night air. She had been thirteen and Lex had given her a puff on a cigar he’d stolen from their father’s humidor while he and Lillian were away.

“This is a Dominican,” he’d told her. “I’ll give you a Cuban when you have enough experience to appreciate it.”

She turned the glass in her hand before setting it in the sink. She thought of Lex almost every day- not the raving, incoherent loon who’d tied her to the chair or the bitter shell of a man he was when she fired five bullets into his chest, but the boy he was, about to go off to college, full of adolescent bravado that matched his genius. She thought of the man he might have been if he hadn’t let his base jealousy consume him, if he’d had enough empathy to follow a better path. Her path.

It was a hard one to walk, but-

There was a tap at her balcony door and she nearly jumped out of her skin, wheeling.

It was Kara.

Lena motioned for her to open the door and she did, stepping inside.

“Can you ever use the inside door like a normal person?”

Kara shrugged. “I went for a fly to clear my head and I ended up here.”

Lena sighed. “I was just heading to bed, darling. It’s late. Too late to watch cartoons on my couch.”

“Will you fly with me?”

Lena quirked a brow. “You know it’s not any fun for me. I really do hate flying.”

“I know but, I was just… would you?”

Lena looked at her. Kara looked back, her eyes soft, expression hopeful and fearful, inviting. It made Lena fight the urges that dogged her. She felt a need to stride across the distance between them and tuck away a few wind-tossed locks of Kara’s hair, cup a warm hand to her cool cheek, soothe the pain that always seemed to hide in her eyes, like the reflection of something dark in the gloss of a family photo.

“Okay.”

She got her jacket first to protect herself against the night chill, then wondered how to do this. She was used to Kara flying her, but it was usually after being caught from a fall or scooped from danger and whisked to safety. Casually flying hadn’t really been their thing.

She settled on looping her arms about Kara’s neck.

She hesitated. “Lena, are you sure? Your heart is beating pretty fast.”

“You won’t drop me?”

“Never.”

Lena nodded and Kara swept her arms under Lena, one arm under her knees, the other curled around her waist. Of course it was effortless- for Kara, raising a cement mixer over her head was effortless. She stepped up to the railing of the balcony and paused when Lena tensed.

Lena closed her eyes as Kara stepped into empty air. She realized that she didn’t know how Kryptonians fly; she suspected Kara didn’t know either. It just happened.

Lena kept her eyes shut. Kara flew, holding her gently but firmly. If not for the wind buffeting her, Lena wouldn’t have known she was hundreds of feet in the air.

Finally she felt the soft impact of Kara’s boots on the ground and opened her eyes as Kara lowered her to her feet.

“Where are we?”

Lena looked around. They were in a baseball diamond, probably for little league games, in a small park.

“The suburbs. No one bothers me at night if I stop here. It’s a good place to think.”

Kara walked over to the bleachers and sat down. She looked so forlorn, so terribly sad, and Lena quickly sat beside her.

Kara didn’t speak. She saw the slight tremor of Lena’s restrained shiver, and without a word unclasped her cape and swept it around Lena.

“Thanks,” said Lena. “This makes a good blanket.”

Kara smiled. “That is a blanket. Kal… Clark’s birth parents, my aunt and uncle, sent it with him to Earth. Martha made it part of his first suit. The one she made.”

Lena stared at her for a moment. She rarely spoke of her cousin, and when she did, it had an odd, detached tone to it. A kind of resentment. She sounded fond now, and familiar. Lena knew who he was, of course; once she knew who Kara was, deducing who her cousin was turned out to be a simple thing. Yet Kara had never dropped his name so casually in conversation. It was intimate. Familiar.

“Speaking of Clark,” said Kara. “He sent me a message today. He’s staying on Argo with Lois and their child. He’s not coming home.”

Kara caught herself, eyes wide. Lena waited, holding a tense breath.

“Kara, what is it?”

“I can’t remember when I started thinking of Earth as home,” said Kara. “Just like I can’t remember when I started thinking in English instead of translating my thoughts.”

Lena poked an arm out of the cape to rest a hand on Kara’s shoulder.

“You’re thinking about joining them.”

Kara looked down. “I almost did before, but I was needed here. I don’t feel needed so much anymore. There’s so many more heroes now- Bruce has a whole team he’s built, and there’s Diana now and of course Barry and Oliver and… they can handle a lot of it. I don’t even put the suit on every day anymore.”

Lena felt a terrible, frigid chill. Colder than the night, colder than death. She looked at Kara, really looked at her, lit by lamplight, a golden beauty in the dark. She was so hauntingly, achingly beautiful. Lena could still remember the feeling when she saw Kara for the first time in her office, how her face must have betrayed her. My God, who is this?

“Are you thinking about going?”

“Maybe. I’m not sure. I don’t know what to do. My people need every Kryptonian to come home and rebuild our culture and way of life. I have a sacred duty.”

Lena met her gaze levelly, feeling undone by it. Kara’s eyes were soft, full of an aching, unasked question.

“You keep talking about being needed, about duty,” Lena said. “The whole time I’ve known you it’s been about oaths and obligations and responsibilities. What do you want, Kara? What is your heart’s desire? Whatever it is, if you ask me, you deserve it. Whatever debt you think you owe the universe, you’ve paid it back in full with interest and gratuities.”

Kara looked away. “I know what I want, but I’m scared to ask for it.”

“I’ve never known you to be scared of anything.”

“I’m scared of being hurt. I’m scared of hurting someone else. What if I’m wrong? I’ve always been wrong about this one thing. I don’t want to lose you by asking the wrong question.”

Me? Lena thought. Why would…

Lena’s heart raced anew. The shock felt like she’d spilled cold water from her heart, racing down her limbs. She felt as heavy as stone and as light as a feather, and the flutter in her belly made her regret the scotch.

“I don’t want to go,” Kara sighed. “This is my home now. Krypton… Krypton is gone and it probably should be. I hope Clark can show the survivors a better way. There were a lot of things my people did wrong.”

“Kara, you can’t go. Okay? You can’t. You are needed here. I need you.”

Kara turned abruptly, eyes wide.

“Why did you wait so long?” Lena whispered.

“After everything I did, I… I was as afraid. I hurt you so much, caused you so much pain. Why would you…”

“Because you get so excited when you land on Park Place,” said Lena. “Because you sing to yourself when no one is looking. Because you’re bored to tears watching documentaries with me but you do it anyway. Because you always flex your muscles when you pop a cork from a bottle. Because you save me and cherish me and treat me like a queen, and you always have. Yes, Kara, you hurt me, but no one is perfect. I’m just as guilty.”

“What do you want, Lena? What’s your hearts desire?”

“I think you already know that and you’re just too scared to admit it.”

Kara swallowed, hard.

“Stay with me. Choose me,” said Lena.

“Can I kiss you?”

“I seriously thought you’d never ask,” said Lena.

Kara tilted in close. Sitting on the old faded wood of the bleachers with a blanket around her, she felt so young. She hadn’t been this giddy about a kiss since middle school. No; she’s never been this giddy ever, not a day in her life. Kara’s lips touched hers and despite the chasteness of it, she let out a soft moan.

Kara took it as an invitation and the kiss deepened, and she slipped under the blanket so they were both wrapped in it and her arms found Lena’s waist. When she tucked her head under Kara’s chin and pressed into her arms, she felt so safe, so sheltered. It was perfect, like finally finding home, and they were still there when the sun found them and Kara carried her into the morning sky.