#lena's writing

[lena-oleanderson]

you're allowed to be held.

[fazedlight]

Ferrari (S2 meet-cute, inspo)

“Jesus christ,” Alex’s disbelieving voice said over the earpiece.

“What is it?” Kara said, giving the hellgrammite one last kick in the head for good measure. “Is there another one?” 

“No,” Alex muttered, “But fuck, Kara, you bashed a Ferrari.”

“Oh,” Kara said, turning behind her, frowning at the sight of the crumpled platinum convertible. “Well, public safety comes first.”

“Thanks for the paperwork,” Alex said, “Let’s hope whatever rich son of a bitch-”

But Kara turned back towards the car and the skyscraper, her ears picking up on the murmurs of passersby who had gathered during the attack. “Is that her?” and “holy shit” they whispered, as Kara caught the sight of a woman exiting the building.

An utterly gorgeous woman.

Kara felt a flush grow on her face as the woman took pause, glancing down at her car, expression carefully blank and hidden behind wide sunglasses. Oh Rao, I had to ruin some pretty lady’s car, Kara thought, feeling a sinking pit in her stomach.

The woman looked up, seeming to gaze at Kara - before her eyes darted to the side again where the hellgrammite still lay unconscious, then back to Kara. With a sigh, the woman stepped to her left, passing behind the wrecked Ferrari and walking straight towards her. Oh Rao oh Rao oh Rao-

The woman reached her quickly, halting in front of Kara from her position in the street. Kara swallowed, watching as the woman’s lips quirked slightly. “I suppose you’re entitled to some revenge,” the woman murmured, her lilting voice making Kara feel like melting, “But I’m surprised you would direct it at a beautiful Italian vehicle.”

Beautiful? You’re beaut- wait. “Revenge?” Kara squeaked.

“My brother, your cousin,” the woman gestured loftily. 

“Your brother,” Kara sputtered, “Wait, you’re-”

“Lena Luthor,” the woman said.

Oh shoot, Kara thought, still shocked as Lena reached for her sunglasses, pulling them off to reveal stunning green eyes. I hope she’s evil, otherwise this is a diplomatic nightmare, Kara thought, straightening up for some damage control. “Miss Luthor, I am so sorry-”

“It’s alright, Supergirl,” Lena said, glancing up to Kara again, “I took out extra insurance before moving to this city.”

“Moving?” Kara asked, “You live here?”

“I do now,” Lena said, and that’s when Kara saw it - the slightest fault in Lena’s haughty demeanor, the nervousness behind the mask, “I’ve actually been hoping to meet you. I’m taking over LuthorCorp. To make it a force for good.”

A force for good, Kara thought, wonder flitting past her mind. Was this a trap?

Or the start of something better? “I think that’s a wonderful idea, Miss Luthor.”

“I could use your help,” Lena said honestly, “Maybe we could discuss over coffee?”

“I’d like that,” Kara smiled.

“Good,” Lena said, raising her sunglasses again to her face. Kara watched as the woman turned, making her way back to the sidewalk. This is going to get interesting, Kara thought.

Lena hesitated once more, turning her head over her shoulder. “Oh, and Supergirl?”

“Yes, Miss Luthor?”

“I trust you’ll be able to handle the shipment of the replacement Ferrari?”

A small smile flickered to Kara’s lips. She could recognize a powerplay when she saw one. Well, I did ruin her car, Kara thought, I’ll give her the win on this one. “Of course.”

“Thank you.”

-------

I wrote a continuation of this ficlet, called Venture.

[scarletwants]

million dollar man.

18+ notes: my sweet, flawed english man:’). summary: billy butcher finds solace and deepens his bond with you during a tender, intimate night after a rough day. warnings: soft billy, mature content, oral (f! receiving). discretion is advised. word count: 1.7k

You knew Butcher had a temper, a way of seeing red that could make anyone in their right mind stay clear of his path. But it was different with you. He had a soft spot, a rare vulnerability that he guarded jealously from the rest of the world. But tonight, he was late. And that wasn’t like him.

The clock on the wall ticked louder as the minutes dragged on. You tried to focus on the book in your lap, but your mind kept wandering back to Butcher. The scars that crisscrossed his back, the shadows that darkened his eyes, the rare smiles that lit up his face. He was complicated, infuriating, but he was also the man you’d come to care for more deeply than you’d ever thought possible.

The door creaked open and you snapped your head up. Butcher stood in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the dim light from the hallway. He looked exhausted, his shoulders slumped and his usually sharp eyes dulled by fatigue.

“Hey,” you said softly, closing your book and standing up.

“Hey, love,” he replied, his voice rough around the edges. He stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind him, and you noticed the blood staining his shirt.

“Jesus, Billy, you’re hurt,” you exclaimed, rushing over to him. He waved you off, but you could see the pain etched on his face.

“Just a scratch,” he muttered, but you weren’t convinced. You guided him to the couch, making him sit down while you went to fetch the first aid kit.

When you returned, Butcher had already started to unbutton his shirt, revealing a nasty gash on his side. You winced at the sight, but kept your expression neutral. He didn’t need pity; he needed someone who could help.

“Hold still,” you said, kneeling beside him and carefully cleaning the wound. He hissed through his teeth but didn’t flinch away.

“Bloody hell, that stings,” he grumbled.

“Well, maybe next time don’t pick fights with people twice your size,” you teased gently, trying to lighten the mood. He snorted, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Can’t help it. It’s in me nature.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but smile back. “Yeah, well, your nature’s going to get you killed one of these days.”

“Not if you keep patchin’ me up,” he said, his eyes meeting yours. There was a sincerity in his gaze that took you by surprise. You finished bandaging him up and sat back, feeling the weight of his stare.

“Why do you do it?” he asked suddenly. “Why do you stay?”

The question caught you off guard. You’d asked yourself the same thing many times, especially on nights like these when the danger seemed too close. But the answer was always the same.

“Because I care about you,” you said simply. “And because I know there’s more to you than what everyone else sees.”

He looked away, his jaw tightening. “I’m not a good man, love. I’ve done things…”

“We’ve all done things,” you interrupted gently. “But that doesn’t mean we don’t deserve a chance to be better.”

He didn’t respond, but you could see the internal struggle playing out on his face. You reached out, taking his hand in yours, and squeezed it gently.

“You don’t have to do this alone, Billy. Let me help.”

He looked down at your joined hands, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’m scared,” he admitted in a whisper, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

“Of what?” you asked softly.

“Of losing you. Of letting you in and then watching you walk away.”

Your heart ached at his words. You knew he’d been hurt before, that he carried more scars on the inside than the ones that marred his skin. But you also knew that he was worth the risk.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promised. “Not as long as you want me here.”

He looked up, his eyes searching yours for any sign of deceit. Finding none, he nodded slowly. “I want you here. More than anything.”

You smiled, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. He kissed you back, his grip on your hand tightening as if afraid you might slip away.

The apartment was quiet, the only sound the gentle hum of the refrigerator and the distant traffic outside. Butcher and you had spent the evening wrapped up in each other, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten as you enjoyed a rare moment of peace. The bandage on his side was a stark reminder of the dangers he faced daily, but tonight, you wanted to focus on the here and now.

Butcher's hands roamed your back, his touch firm yet tender as he pulled you closer on the couch. You could feel the heat of his body, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingers. His lips brushed against your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" he murmured against your skin, his breath warm and intoxicating.

You smiled, threading your fingers through his dark hair. "You're not so bad yourself, Butcher."

He chuckled, the sound low and gravelly, vibrating against your throat. "Not sure what I did to deserve you, love."

"You're not getting rid of me that easily," you teased, tilting your head to capture his lips in a soft kiss. The kiss deepened, growing more urgent as he pressed you back against the cushions. His hands slipped under your shirt, caressing your sides with a possessive tenderness that made your heart race.

"Let me show you how much I need you," he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

Before you could respond, he was lifting your shirt over your head, his eyes darkening with hunger as he took in the sight of you.

"Billy," you breathed, your fingers clutching at his shoulders as he trailed kisses down your chest, his stubble grazing your sensitive skin. He paused at the waistband of your pants, his gaze locking with yours.

"Is this okay?" he asked, his voice softer now, laced with an unexpected vulnerability.

"Yes," you replied, your voice trembling with anticipation. "Please."

With a growl of approval, he undid your pants, pulling them down along with your underwear in one swift motion. You were left exposed before him, your skin tingling with the cool air and the intensity of his gaze.

"Fuck, you're perfect," he murmured, his hands gripping your thighs as he spread them apart. He lowered himself between your legs, his eyes never leaving yours as he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh.

You gasped at the sensation, your fingers tangling in his hair as he trailed kisses closer to your core. The first touch of his tongue against your folds sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your back arching off the couch.

"Billy," you moaned, your voice barely more than a whisper. He groaned in response, his hands holding your hips steady as he delved deeper, his tongue swirling around your clit with a skill that left you breathless.

He took his time, alternating between gentle licks and firm sucks, his eyes watching your every reaction. You could feel the tension building inside you, the pleasure mounting with every flick of his tongue. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your body trembling as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

"Please, don't stop," you begged, your fingers tightening in his hair as you teetered on the brink of release. He growled against you, the vibrations sending a shockwave of pleasure through you that pushed you over the edge.

Your orgasm crashed over you, your body convulsing with the intensity of it. Butcher didn't stop, his tongue continuing its relentless assault as he milked every last drop of pleasure from you. You cried out his name, your vision blurring as waves of ecstasy washed over you.

Finally, when you could take no more, he pulled back, his lips and chin glistening with your arousal. He crawled up your body, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that left you breathless all over again.

"You taste fucking amazing," he growled against your mouth, his hands cradling your face as he kissed you deeply. You could taste yourself on his lips, the intimate act only heightening your desire for him.

"I need you, Billy," you whispered, your voice raw with need. "I need all of you."

He didn't need any more encouragement. In one fluid motion, he was shedding his clothes, his body pressing against yours as he settled between your legs. You could feel the heat of him, the hard length of his cock pressing against your entrance.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice rough with restraint. "I don't want to hurt you."

"I'm sure," you replied, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him closer. "I want you. All of you."

With a groan, he entered you, the sensation overwhelming as he filled you completely.

You clung to him, your nails digging into his back as he began to move, each thrust sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

He set a steady rhythm, his movements growing more urgent as he lost himself in you. You met him thrust for thrust, your bodies moving together in harmony.

The world outside ceased to exist, the only thing that mattered was the connection between you, the unspoken promises and the love that bound you together.

As you neared the edge once more, you felt him falter, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered your name. With a final, shuddering thrust, you both tumbled over the edge together, your cries of pleasure mingling in the stillness of the night.

Afterward, you lay tangled in each other's arms, the sweat cooling on your skin as you caught your breath. Butcher pressed a kiss to your forehead, his hold on you gentle but unyielding.

"I love you," he murmured, the words carrying a weight that made your heart swell.

"I love you too," you replied, your voice filled with a certainty that left no room for doubt.

In that moment, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would always be his side. He was your million dollar man after all.

[hlvstia]

kissland - joaquin torres x f!reader

drunkbf!joaquin torres showing up at your doorstep at 2 in the morning?!

minors, do not interact!! 18+ post

a/n: i’m back from my 2 year hiatus wtf 😭 anyways hope yall enjoy this fic cuz it’s my first time posting smut! BUTTTT YEAH, my reqs are open and i have more coming soon. trust me.

you couldn’t remember the last time you had a goodnight rest after that whole ordeal with the government and almost being in a war that didn’t even start. it honestly hurt deep in your soul to see joaquin being shot out the damn sky and seeing him plummet down into the ocean.

on top of that, the hospital visits here and there to check if he was doing okay were nonstop; you just cared too much to let him go.

and here you were, tossing and turning in your sleep because you were worried about him, not knowing how he was doing at the bar and how well his friends were taking care of him. you didn’t like to admit it but you were overprotective of him, and hell, you’d go to the ends of hell for joaquin.

before you could almost drift off to counting sheep, there was a heavy knock at your front door— which alarmed you immediately, getting up to check the cameras and it was joaquin. your boyfriend.

he seemed out of it and needy. ( as per usual )

without thinking for a damn second, you ran out of your bed and opened the door for him, his body immediately melting into your arms as he towered over you, slamming the door behind the both of you.

“hi, sweetheart.” he mumbled into you, slipping off his boots as his lips found its way to your jawline, giving you sloppy wet kisses. “hi, pretty boy. how was— the bar?” you paused in between your sentence, a bit surprised with how his hands tightly gripped onto your waist, slightly hissing at the pressure. “it was good, really good.” he continued to trail his kisses down to your neck, his hands still on your hips. “jump for me,” he whispered, his hands now moving down to your ass to hold you.

and best believe you jumped into his arms while you wrapped your legs around him as he slowly began making his way towards your bedroom, gently laying you down onto the mattress. “missed you so much, you have no fuckin’ clue, baby.” he grabbed your legs, pulling you to the edge of the bed as he tugged off your shorts, his lips immediately kissing your inner thighs, taking in your organic scent.

“joaquin…” you sat up, your fingers finding his hair and pulling on it slightly. “please let me eat you out, y/n.” he pleaded, looking up at you with glossy eyes. “you can, baby.” letting go of his hair, you laid back down on the bed.

not wasting a second, he threw your panties across the room and slowly worked up to your wet pussy, first kissing your inner thighs before making out your clit, his fingers teasing your folds and entrance, using your arousal fluid as a lubricant to slowly ease his way inside with his fingers.

he was pumping at a slow pace while he was still kissing away at your pussy, making you weak in the knees already, your legs were almost at its shutting point, struggling to keep em’ spread but the way his shoulders were propped against you was making it impossible to even do so.

“fuck, what a good boy…” you whimpered, biting down on your lip softly while he was still going at it, your praise being his cue to go a bit faster and messier with his antics.

which… just brought you closer to the edge honestly.

“say that again, sweetheart.” he begged, his nose covered with your fluid as he was mumbling into your pussy. “you’re being such a good boy for me, joaquin.” you said, your legs locking around him once you started to pulse, your stomach tightening when his fingers curled up inside you, his fingertips hitting that spot.

“come for me, y/n.” he whimpered, his face pulling away while his fingers were still curled up inside you, waiting until your walls loosened up against him.

and like that, you came onto his fingers and he was quick to clean you up with his mouth. his words afterwards being nothing but affirming.

[rustingcat]

Break Point

After getting second place in the Washington Open with an incredible shot that won her some fame, Kara Danvers got an invite to the biggest tennis tournament in the United States. The US Open.

Despite her small 15 minutes of fame granted by her shot, Kara Danvers was a relatively new name in the pro world, so Kara had absolutely no Idea why Lena Luthor, the number one player in the league, found her interesting of all people.

Or

Tennis AU

Read here

[natalievoncatte]

Kara heard a distinctive hollow pop as she approached Lena’s apartment. The doorman had been gracious enough to let her up, informing her that Miss Luthor was expecting her. She knocked on the door and listened intently. The soft clink of a bottle being set on a table and rather gentle passing of Lena’s feet on the hardwood floor. Kara resisted the urge to peer through the door.

When it swung in, she wished she’d had the chance to prepare herself. Lena was visibly distraught, eyes red rimmed from crying and cheeks puffy. She was dressed down in a a sweater and leggings, and couldn’t meet Kara’s gaze with her own.

It hurt. Seeing her like this physically hurt, gouging a dull ache into her chest. Her first instinct was to reach out and scoop the smaller woman into a tight hug, make her safe, to wall her in with her arms. Kara fought it down and sighed.

“You… don’t look so good.”

“Come in,” Lena said, her voice soft and flat. “If you want to hang out with a monster, that is.”

Lena turned and trudged back into the apartment as if she was walking to the gallows. She fell back into the couch and grabbed the wine bottle from the table, long since having abandoned the pretext of glasses.

“You’re not a monster, Lena.”

She stared at the bottle and took a long pull from it, the wine sloshing around the bottom.

“Yeah I am. You ever watch Godzilla movies?”

Kara blinked. “What?”

“Godzilla. Giant radioactive lizard.”

“Of course.”

Lena snorted a bitter laugh. “Monsters are born too large, too strong, too tall. That is their tragedy. Or something like that. Director of the movie said it. That’s me. I’m not trying to hurt anyone, it’s just in my blood. It’s who I am and I’ll never escape it.”

“That’s not true,” Lena said, softly.

She looked around the apartment, shocked to find dishes piled in the sink and two more empty wine bottles lined up on the kitchen island.

Kara quickly moved to the couch. Lena offered no resistance as Kara took the bottle. Lena stared as Kara took a long, glugging pull.

“There. Now you’re not drinking alone.”

Lena smiled weakly. Kara didn’t mind the taste of the wine but as far as getting her drunk, it was like pouring it down the drain. If she could keep Lena from alcohol poisoning, it was worth it. Kara felt a tug in her chest. Lena looked so soft, her big eyes wet with tears.

“I only wanted to help.”

“You did, Lena. You saved the world.”

“Children, Kara. Sick kids, dying because of me.”

“That’s not true, Lena. Edge is cooking the data, you know that. We’re going to clear your name and I’m going to help.”

“I’m so tired, Kara. My own brother tries to murder me once a week because I won’t help him try to take over the world. I keep getting kidnapped by my insane family and aliens and God knows who else and I’m tired. That woman today almost killed me. One of these times there won’t be someone to jump in front of the bullet and it’ll be my time.”

“That won’t happen.”

Lena shook her head, failing to fight back the tears. “I’m so tired of being everyone’s monster.”

“You’re not a monster to me, Lena. You are so good. You work so hard and care so much, and people don’t even know about your work at the children’s hospital, the reading to the kids. You’re a saint.”

Lena looked at her sharply. “How did you know about that?”

Kara thought, FUCK.

She fiddled with her glasses, knowing it was a tell.

“I um, well I am a reporter. I won’t tell anyone, I know you don’t want publicity.”

“Kara, I’m confused. I put a lot of effort into making sure no one knows I do that, so the kids don’t have to deal with the bullshit my life brings. Have you been following me?”

Kara licked her lips.

Just holding back the truth isn’t make it a lie, did it?

“More like keeping tabs, just to… keep you safe. To watch your back.”

Lena looked horrified. Kara’s chest seized and she thought for a moment that she’d gone too far.

“Kara, I don’t want you doing that. If Edge or my brother come after me and you’re in the way, they’ll kill you. You can’t risk that, you don’t deserve it.”

Lena grabbed her hands. “Listen to me, Kara. I have a target on my back. I have a price on my head. Sooner or later my number is going to be up and I’d rather die than have you be the one to catch the bullet. I just want you to be okay.”

“They won’t get you.”

Lena pressed her eyes shut and choked back a sob. “Yeah, they will. I’m living on borrowed time. It’s just a matter of the odds, in the end. Next time James won’t be there to take a bullet for me and Supergirl will be too busy and I’ll just be another monster on obituary page until-“

“Stop it!” Kara barked, shocked at the sharp snap of her own voice. “Stop it. I won’t let them.”

Lena’s eyes snapped open and she stared at Kara, more than a little shocked. Her hands tensed, closing tightly around Kara’s.

“Don’t put that on yourself. I’m not you’re responsibly and I don’t want you risking your life for me. It’s just not worth it.”

“You are worth it,” Kara insisted, shaking her hands a little as she leaned in. “You are, and I won’t accept that you’re not.”

“I love that you believe in me so much.”

Kara’s heart did a backflip. Love? She loved it? Lena was looking at her with such a softness in her eyes, and Kara scolded herself that she was drunk, that she might say things she didn’t intend or didn’t want to slip out.

“But,” Lena said, “you’re just one person, you can’t save me from this.”

Kara’s jaw set as she bit down on this pressure growing inside her, as if something had taken root in her chest and grown and grown inside until it made her ribs creak and her heart ache and it would split her open if she didn’t let it out.

She wasn’t drunk. She was lucid, clearheaded, but Lena was gazing into her soul with tear-filled eyes and she looked so small and vulnerable and resigned, like she was just waiting for her turn at the headsman’s axe.

Kara couldn’t take it. She couldn’t fucking take it, and the words came so easily she scarcely knew how she’d held it in for so long.

“I can protect you, Lena. I’m Supergirl. I can do anything.”

Lena’s soft expression twisted into a scowl.

“Bad time for a joke, Kara.”

Tenderly, as gently as she could, Kara guided Lena’s hand to her glasses.

“Go ahead.”

Lena hesitated, chewing her lip, eyes flicking strangely, gaze surveying Kara’s face- looking at her eyes, her scar, and in a way that pulled at Kara’s heart, her lips.

Slowly, carefully, Lena pulled the glasses free, visibly surprised by their weight.

“They’re lined with lead. It helps with sensory overload.”

Lena raised her now shaking hand and her thumb grazed Kara’s ear as she reached back to unclasp the clip holding Kara’s hair, allowing honeyed tresses to spill free across her shoulders and down her back.

“Look at me, Lena.”

Lena looked. Her expression flickered from pained annoyance to shock to something Kara couldn’t quite identify.

“You lied to me,” Lena whispered.

Kara bit back some lame excuse, like I never said I wasn’t Supergirl.

“I did, and I’m sorry. If this means your feelings about me have changed, that’s okay, but I won’t stop protecting you. I won’t let Morgan Edge or your brother or anyone hurt you. Never you.”

Kara’s jaw trembled as she spoke and her heart was racing.

Lena’s was doing the same, beating too fast in her chest. Kara carefully put her hands on Lena’s shoulders.

“Easy,” she said. “I know this is a shock.”

“When you caught me after… when you saved me from Lillian… when you… the helicopter… that was you?”

“Always, Lena. I’ll never let you fall.”

“Kara?” Lena whispered.

She was staring, but rather than meet Kara’s gaze, she was looking lower, eyes fixed on Kara’s lips. Kara’s gut did a backflip at the way Lena was looking at her, mouth slightly parted, flushed, her heart racing.

If Kara was human, she might pick up on those things, or she might not. She might be confused or briefly wonder if Lena was really looking at her the way it seemed she was.

Kara Danvers was not human. She could look up and see particles dancing across the atmosphere in hues for which humans had no names because their eyes were blinded to them. She could hear the rapid beating of Lena’s heart and see the heat blooming on her skin and taste on her tongue the tangy, pleasant musk of the pheromones Lena was emitting, and she could do it all so fast that her mind processed it so quickly that it could barely be measured. When Lena began to lean towards her, she watched it happen in curious slow motion.

When Lena kissed her, it was an explosion of sensation. Not just the soft warmth of her lips but her scent, her real scent breath the perfumes and sharp tang of wine smell, the pure scent of Lena herself. The soft sigh that broke from Lena’s lips was a symphony, and Lena’s hands on Kara’s flanks was like a blast of firecrackers running under her skin to ignite a sudden flare of warmth low in her hips.

Lena was kissing her. Kara was kissing her back, consuming every aspect of the contact in perfect detail, burning it into her solar-powered Kryptonian mind where it would live in perfect detail for the rest of forever.

She gently, oh so gently, pushed Lena back.

“Lena, stop.”

“Oh,” Lena murmured, her face falling. “I didn’t… I’m sorry… I thought… I misread…”

“No, no Lena it’s not that I promise, you’re drunk. You’ve had too much to drink and I can’t let you do anything while you’re like this, I couldn’t take it if you wake up tomorrow and…”

Lena blinked back tears.

“Oh my God. You really are a superhero, aren’t you?”

“I’m just being decent.”

Lena smiled sadly. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Well, you’ve got me, Lena. You’re not getting rid of me.”

Lena actually laughed, a bitter little chuckle that made her look away in embarrassment.

“I can imagine Lex seething if he found out about this.”

“Alex is going to kill me.”

Lena giggled. “Oh my God.”

“What, um, what is this, exactly?” said Kara, her voice cracking with tension. “I mean, you kissed me.”

“I did,” Lena said, guarded. “I’ve wanted to for so long. How does the saying go? In vino, veritas?”

“In wine there is truth,” said Kara.

“Yeah.”

“Lena, we’re going to get through this, I promise, and I will always protect you. Always. Right now I need to protect you from the hangover you’re going to have tomorrow. I’m putting you to bed, and I’m sleeping on the couch.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t have to, but I need to know you’re safe, and you can’t get any safer than Supergirl crashing on your couch.”

Lena blurted, “I could have her in my bed.”

Kara thought her soul might leave her body.

“Not when you’ve had this much to drink.”

“God, you are amazing,” Lena sighed.

Kara nodded. “If you say so.”

It took a while for Kara to actually get Lena into her bed. Lena was suddenly taken with an extreme tiredness and Kara let her lean on her as they walked down the hall, fighting the urge singing in her veins, demanding that she pick her up and just carry her.

She may have been Supergirl, but even she had limits.

Once Lena was curled up in blankets and safe, Kara puttered around the apartment, doing the dishes, cleaning a little before she fell back on the expansive sofa to sleep.

When the warm morning sun woke her, she sat up and found Lena staring at her.

“I didn’t dream that. You’re really here.”

Kara rose from the couch and approached her tentatively.

“Yeah. I’m really here. Lena, if you’re angry with me because…”

Lena cut her off, darting forward to plant a soft kiss right on her lips. Kara froze as her brain essentially rebooted.

“Oh,” said Kara.

Lena smiled softly. She still looked bedraggled and had clearly been crying, but the smirk on her lips was everything.

[rueyam]

lena khalaf tuffaha, ‚running orders‘

[ekingston]

So it’s 2019, because that’s what it said on the screenshot I used to create the gif, and you’re casually browsing Netflix, grateful to be alive in a world where COVID or an internationally devastating shift in political alliances are but distant echoes of a future that may never come to pass, and you happen upon a movie that’s just been added, called BREACH.

Your Netflix synopsis says: When a man turns up dead on the shore of a remote mountain town and a local girl vanishes without a trace, it’s up to a local detective to put the pieces together. But when she rescues an attractive tourist off the side of the road, the investigation takes an intimate—and dangerous—turn.

And you’re like, ‘eh, nothing I haven’t seen before,’ (though the LGBTQ label is interesting), but then the preview starts autoplaying and IS THAT KATIE MCGRATH?! And it IS. So now you have no choice but to sit through the trailer.

Nocturne by Blanco White is playing, calmly at first, swelling as it goes on. You’re presented with a wide shot of a towering dam, the camera slowly rising up the water-streaked concrete before breaching the top. An enormous lake BOOMS into view, jagged mountains beyond it, forming a serrated edge against the lightening sky. It’s early morning. Mist is rolling down the densely forested mountains and over the water.

(You wonder if this production used the same locations (or rather special effects) as Les Revenants did, and yes, it absolutely did, because I loved the atmosphere of that show and I adore mountain towns with enormous lakes and it is, to date, the most Hollywood version of non-Paris France I’ve ever seen.)

The wide shot narrows to a ground-level closeup of the pebbled shoreline, pulling slowly away from the water until we glimpse a piece of discarded police tape, fluttering on the breeze. The camera pans past a pair of sneakers and then a pair of uncomfortable-looking high heels, wobbling on the rocky beach. It’s a news crew, reporting live on the disappearance of a young girl. The camera pushes past them, staying at ground-level as it leads us into the woods, where we find the paws of a canine unit, splashing in a shallow mountain stream. There’s the sound of police radios, and then we see the boots of a police search party. We stop at a much smaller but otherwise identical pair of leather boots. The camera pans up at our detective—it’s Katie McGrath! Finally!

She looks amazing, obviously. For the sake of this miraculously being a supercorp AU, her character is a fair bit more acerbic version of our girl Lena Luthor, except we’re time traveling so she’s now in her early 40s, her dark hair greying slightly at the temples (let a girl dream), her jawline somehow sharper than ever, freckles proudly on display in the natural light. Her hair is hanging loosely over her shoulders, looking like it hasn’t seen a brush since she last laid down. Lena is wearing slacks, a wrinkled dress shirt and a men’s blazer that is slightly too large for her. She stares off into the woods, chin jutting, a muscle jumping in her jaw, her fingers absently playing with a pack of cigarettes.

CUT TO:

Early nighttime. A dark mountain road, lit sparsely, tall pine trees walling it in on both sides. We see over Lena’s shoulder, her hands on the steering wheel, as her cruiser’s headlights sweep over the shape of a woman, bent over the engine of her stalled car. The woman—blonde, mid-thirties, wearing cut-off jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt far too thin for the late hour—turns when the car appears, squinting into the light. It’s Kara.

Lena comes to a stop behind her and rolls her window down. She calls out, “You need a ride?”

CUT TO:

The dimly lit interior of a spartan living room. Lena dumps blankets on the couch.

Kara asks, “You sure this is okay, me sleeping here?”

CUT TO:

Daytime, and we’re at the sheriff’s office. Lena, wearing a clean-but-barely-ironed dress shirt, drinks coffee as if her life depends on it. Mike Matthews, the sheriff’s deputy, makes fun of Lena’s uncharacteristic hospitality.

“What was I supposed to do?” Lena asks him, as we see a flashback shot of Lena watching Kara over the rim of her coffee cup, earlier that morning. “Next town’s hours away.”

We see Kara maintaining eye contact with Lena for a moment, the corners of her eyes crinkling, as we hear Mike telling Lena, back at the office, “You won’t even let me stay at your place.”

“You had bed bugs,” Lena points out. Then she raises an eyebrow, looking away, adding as a casual sidenote, “Plus she’s prettier than you.”

WLWNESS/SAPPHICTROCITY/LESBIANANIGANS CONFIRMED.

CUT TO:

It’s evening, and we’re in Lena’s kitchen. Kara is making dinner when Lena walks in, feeding scraps to—and this is very important! but only to me—Lena’s dog. Did I mention this is actually also a crossover with Person of Interest, and for absolutely no other reason than I need Lena to have Bear the Brilliant Belgian Malinois? “I see you made a friend,” Lena says. It’s unclear whether she’s talking to Bear or Kara.

The news is on, talking about the missing girl. Lena turns it off before settling into a chair near the open doorway, her legs splayed wide at rest. Bear immediately settles at her side, chin resting on Lena’s thigh. We all kind of want to be a Brilliant Belgian Malinois, in that moment. Kara asks, indicating the TV, “You think she’s still alive?”

“Could be.” Lena digs for her pack of cigarettes and pulls a lighter from a kitchen drawer, probably shoving an old walkman she’s had forever out of the way to get to it, scratching the course hair between Bear’s ears before settling back down. “‘Course if you asked me last week, I may have told you something different.”

Kara turns off the stove so you can all stop worrying, and starts plating the food. “What changed?”

Lena pauses while she lights her cigarette and takes a deep drag, the blue smoke drifting through the doorway outside as Lena savors it, slowly breathing out as gays the world over are forced to reconsider the merits of smoking. Like yes, it kills you in terrifying, excruciating ways, but LOOK AT HER. Lena watches Kara intently, but doesn’t answer her question.

CUT TO:

We see Lena in her bedroom, late at night, flipping through case files. Her fingers (which, EXTREME closeup, EXTREME CLOSEUPS OF HER HANDS THROUGHOUT THIS ENTIRE PRODUCTION, hover over a grainy picture of a young white man, wearing a red baseball cap. His back is turned so we can’t see his face, though if you hated hard enough back in the day you may have a hunch. As the camera circles around the room, Lena is replaced by Kara, the bedroom now bathed in golden morning light. She’s looking through the photos too, her fingers shaking. We see her react to the photograph of the ballcapped man, before quickly putting things back exactly as they were.

CUT TO:

An evening shot of the lake, the water wrinkling in the breeze, softly lapping at the shore. We hear the sound of something large hitting the water.

CUT TO:

A pee break, actually, and you’re gonna go ahead and grab a snack while you’re up. There sure is a lot of water in this movie. Wait, weren’t you just watching a trailer? Why does it feel like an hour has passed? Is it the hands? How many times have you hit that pause button? What year is it?

CUT TO:

Lena and Kara are at the Lake Pub. It’s dimly lit and smoky. Lena drinks whiskey. Across from her, Kara stirs a glass of soda with her pinkie finger. They’re regarding each other so openly you genuinely start to feel a bit faint.

“You’re looking at me like I’m one of your suspects,” Kara says.

You disagree. That’s not what suspicion looks like. You’re sure, because you’ve seen Katie McGrath look at approximately 99.9% of her female costars this way.

Lena keeps her gaze level, unflinching and forward. “I look at everyone like that,” she lies.

A beat.

“I don’t think that’s true,” Kara says.

You’re feeling suddenly thirsty, too.

CUT TO:

Red and blue lights illuminate the deep indigo sky over the lake. A body is being dragged from the water as Lena watches, clenching her stupendous jaw. Seriously, how is she growing hotter all the fucking time if storybook-princess-turned-mesmerizing-murderess was her baseline?

CUT TO:

Lena, sitting in her parked car. She slams her fist against the steering wheel. (Don’t worry, no hands were injured in the making of this film.) It’s overlayed with imagery of a burial service, a US flag draped over the coffin, a pair of grieving women—one middle aged, the other a pretty 20-something brunette, surrounded by officers in dress blues. Lena is there too, looking dashing in her uniform, but also like she hasn’t slept in a week.

CUT TO:

Lena is standing in the center of her living room, rubbing her brow with her long, spatulate fingers. Kara is hovering in a corner a couple of feet away, cautious. “Just say it,” she whispers. “You think I killed him.”

Lena releases a breath that is half-huff, half-groan. “I’m not sure it even matters anymore,” she says.

“How can you say that?” Kara asks. When Lena doesn’t answer her, Kara steps closer and touches her arm. Lena turns as if she’s going to shrug Kara off, and the instant you begin to wonder what the hell this movie is supposed to be about, you stop caring because Lena abruptly pulls Kara closer and they kiss, urgent and rough.

You’re not sure if your ears are ringing or if the sound you’re hearing is a chorus of lesbians all over the world exploding into cheers & wild applause.

As the music builds to a crescendo, we see a quick series of images:

Lena presses Kara against her bedroom wall, Lena’s lips at her jaw, her fingers undoing the button of Kara’s jeans before they slip inside her pants; your life flashes before your eyes; Lena points her gun at someone, but we don’t see who; Lena’s fingers support Kara’s chin as she gently dabs at her bloodied brow with a piece of gauze; headlights illuminate a figure in the road, mirroring Lena picking up Kara, but this time the smiling man in the red baseball cap (again seen only from the back) is the one pulling over & rolling down his window.

The dam’s floodgates open, a roar of white water pouring through.

The music stops abruptly as we end on a final, long shot. Lena stands on top of the dam, looking down, the sky above her, the dizzying depths below. The camera falls away, down down down, until it breaches the surface of the water and sinks into the dark water beneath.

Kara (voiceover, pleading, breathless): “If I go under, I’ll pull you down with me.”

Lena (voiceover, raw but full of conviction): “I’m a pretty good swimmer. And I have a feeling you are, too.”

CUT TO BLACK.

You blow out a breath and resign yourself to your fate. You hit the mute button, and press play.

Also I was proud of how this one manip turned out so I’m sharing the version that makes it marginally more clear that Kara isn’t randomly & uncomfortably touching her own face:

Like I said: SO MANY CLOSEUPS.

[meowelous]

I'm kind of obsessed with this idea of Kara trying to tell Lena that she's Supergirl but she gets super nervous and it kind of sounds like she's coming out as queer and Lena thinks that's it. Then she says "oh Kara it's okay, I understand, you don't need to be nervous"And the conversation ends with that. Kara thinking that she told Lena that she is Supergirl and Lena thinking that Kara came out of the closet. So every time they're together doing something and there's an emergency that Kara needs to deal with it and she's like "hm I have this thing now-" and Lena thinks Kara is abandoning her to go on a DATE with a woman and gets extreme sad Then one day, Kara shows up as Supergirl to Lena and is like "I came to get you for our lunch!" And Lena is very confused and they finally figure out the confusion.

Edit: hi I wrote!

[seulgisqt]

𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐘 𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐒 — lena oberdorf

lena oberdorf x bayern!reader

(a/n: hey…it’s been a while, uni has me on its deathbed so enjoy this piece whilst I disappear again x)

word count: 1136

genre: fluff

summary: lena challenges you to a game, but the real challenge is ignoring the way she looks at you

Giuila’s housewarming party was already in full swing by the time you arrived. Music pulsed through the apartment, blending with the hum of conversation and bursts of laughter. From the balcony, you could hear a few teammates arguing over a game of cards. The kind of chaotic energy that only came when the squad was off-duty.

You weren’t exactly a party person. Sure, you’d go to the team events when you had to, but you’d never been the first to arrive or the one to linger long after. Still, Giulia had insisted, and you figured one wouldn’t kill you.

You hesitated at the door, shifting the bottle of wine you’d brought. It wasn’t much, but it felt like a decent contribution. Just as you raised a hand to knock, the door swung open, and Giulia stood there, grinning.

“You made it!” She beamed, grabbing your wrist and pulling you inside before you could even respond. “About time. I was starting to think I’d have to drag you here myself.”

You laughed. “You would have tried.”

“Obviously,” she teased as she took the wine bottle from you. “Now go get a drink. Just—“ she shot a look towards the kitchen where Klara was waving a bright green drink in Georgia’s face, “maybe don’t let Klara talk you into whatever she’s making.”

You promised to steer clear, but as turned towards the living room, Lena’s familiar figure caught your eye.

Sitting on the arm of the sofa, beer in hand, she caught your gaze and lifted her solo cup in a silent greeting.

You and Lena weren’t exactly close. However, your midfield partnership was solid. You understood each other’s movements, and trusted each other in tight spaces. But off the pitch? Your interactions had always been brief—causal words in passing, although she had a sharp wit that always kept you on your toes.

And you were slowly warming up to her.

“I honestly didn’t expect to see you here,” she smirked, her voice carrying a hint of surprise as she stretched out her arm in an inviting gesture for a quick embrace.

“Why’s that?” you replied amusement crept into your voice, as you sunk into her warm embrace, feeling the softness of her sweater against your cheek.

She shrugged. “You don’t usually do the whole team bonding thing outside of training.”

“I do.” You tilted your head. “Sometimes.”

Lena’s smile widened as she pushed off the sofa. “Alright, then prove it. Play Jenga with me.”

Gesturing towards the coffee table, where a precariously stacked Jenga tower stood, the game already mid-progress. Georgia was up, hands steady as she carefully pulled out a block. The moment she placed it on top, Giulia—ever the troublemaker, bumped her shoulder just hard enough to send the entire thing crashing down.

“You’re kidding,” Georgia groaned as the room erupted in laughter.

Lena leaned in, voice low. “Think we can do better?”

Your pulse stuttered at her closeness, but you forced yourself to focus. “Obviously.”

So you played.

At first, it was just a casual game, with teammates cheering you both on, but then it became a challenge. Just you and Lena, neither of you willing to back down. Every time she pulled out a block, her fingers would brush yours—maybe accidentally, maybe not. And every time you made a risky move, she’d grin at you like she was impressed.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you were aware of the rest of the party continuing around you. Music, laughter, the occasional shouts from the kitchen as Klara tried to convince someone—anyone—to try her latest cocktail disaster. But here, in this little bubble of competition, it was just you and Lena.

The Jenga tower grew taller, the tension thick. You reach for a block near the middle, carefully wiggling it free. The second you placed it on top, Lena exhaled a low whistle.

“Not bad,” she murmured.

“You sound surprised.”

“Oh, I’m not.” She tapped her fingers against the table, considering her next move. “I know exactly how steady your hands are.”

The words sent a jolt of heat up your spine, though you weren’t entirely sure why.

The game ended a few rounds later when a risky move from Lena, sent the tower tumbling down. She grumbled, readjusting her ponytail as the rest of your teammates laughed, but she was still watching you, something in her expression indecipherable.

By the time Giulia called for a toast, the night had blurred into something easy, warm. Glasses clinked, voices filled the room, and Lena nudged your arm.

“Wanna get some air?”

You hesitated, just for a second, but then you nodded.

The cool night air was a relief as you stepped onto the balcony, the distant hum of Munich stretching out before you. Lena leaned against the ornate railing, her gaze flickering towards you.

“You having fun?” She asked.

“Surprising, yeah.” You huffed a laugh.

“Told you it wouldn’t kill you to socialise.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips.

Falling into a comfortable silence, Lena shifted, her shoulder brushing yours. “You know,” she began, voice softer now, “you’re different when you’re not so focused on football.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

She hesitated, then shrugged. “You’re just…lighter. It’s nice.”

Your stomach flipped.

You didn’t know what to say to that. You weren’t even sure what she meant, not really, but there was something about the way she was looking at you. Like she was seeing something no one else did, making your heart crawl its way up to your throat.

And then, before you could think too hard about it, you nudged her. “I like this side of you too.”

Lena raised a brow. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The words hung between you, heavy with something neither of you had put a name to yet.

Lena’s gaze flitted down—to your lips, just for a second—and your pulse skyrocketed.

But she didn’t close the distance.

Instead, she reached for your hand, fingers brushing hesitantly before settling against yours. Not quite lacing together, but not pulling away either.

You heart pounded, hearing the pulse in your ears.

Another second passed as the balcony door burst open, and Klara stumbled out, drink in hand, oblivious to whatever moment had been forming.

“Oh, there you are,” she said, eyes flicking between you and Lena. “We’re playing Uno. You two in?”

You blinked, still trying to catch up to reality. Lena glanced at you, something amused flickering across her face, before she finally pulled her hand away.

“Yeah,” she said. “We’re in.”

Klara grinned, already heading back inside.

Lena exhaled, turning back to you, her voice low. “This isn’t over,” she murmured.

And then she was gone, leaving you standing there, heartbeat unsteady, wondering what the hell had just happened.

[ettraxx]

She Leaned In

Lena awakens with a start, the medical bed is deathly silent all about her. Shooting up she looks to the bed, and sees its dimly glowing golden surface is empty. She rushes to the door, unable to speak, choking with fear. Exiting the med bay, she rushes out in desperate search for Kara fearing that the entire rescue was a dream.

In a moment of silent relief she sees Kara in the tower’s largest and most open space leaning against the back of a sofa on unsteady legs. Without a second thought or a single word, she comes up behind the blonde and swiftly wraps her arms around her in as warm an embrace as she has ever given.

Kara uncharacteristically, freezes and stiffens at the touch. Lena undaunted presses herself against Kara’s back sharing her warmth. Kara’s right arm stiffly and oh so slowly reaches up to hold Lena’s. Her hand hesitates to connect for an incredibly long moment. To Lena’s delight and relief the surprisingly cold hand grasps her own.

Kara releases the breath she didn’t even know she was holding. Expecting the entire world around her to fall away the moment she believed it was true. Expecting the tower itself to shatter and for that hellscape to return. Kara nearly collapses in that moment. But Lena’s arms hold tight and she stands firm.

If this were not the culmination of so many weeks of desperation to save her, Lena might chuckle at the idea that she was the strong one holding up Supergirl this time. Instead a sharp pain in her chest begins to fade as she holds as tightly as she can on to the Kryptonian. They had all fought so hard to save her and she won’t let Kara fall back in to that cold darkness.

Kara sobs silently, the weight of the Phantom Zone still resting so heavy on her shoulders. The only thing she can let herself focus on in this moment is elegant arms interlacing around her and the calm breathing and familiar heartbeat of the only other person that maters in the world. They stand in silence for what feels like years before Kara finally speaks.

Her voice cracks, as if from years of disuse. “He was never really there was he?”

“You… you were all alone when we found you.” Lena responds, sadness at the edges of her voice. “But your not alone anymore, never again.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep Lena.” Coldly responds the Woman of Steel.

With surprising strength, Lena spins Kara around in her arms. Locking her own blood shot eyes on to Kara’s. She had never seen Kara this defeated before, not even in all the inches were fighting. She doesn’t hesitate to speak with all of her strength and compassion.

“I will never leave you Kara. I almost gave up all of National City just to get you back.” Lena’s doesn’t hold back her tears. “I didn’t sleep for days after Lex banished you. All any of us could do was try desperately to get you back.”

“You brought me a sun.” Responds Kara with a faint smile curling her lips, if only for a moment. “You shouldn’t have tried, I’m not worth it.”

Lena tightens her grip on her best friend and looks desperately in to her eyes. “Don’t you dare say that! You mean so much to so many people.” Tears are fully streaming down Lena’s pale cheeks now. “You are a beacon of hope to National City, an amazing friend to Nia and Brainy, a surrogate daughter to J’onn. You’re Alex’s sister for god’s sake.” Lena hesitates for only a moment before continuing no longer willing to hide. “And you mean everything to me. I… I’m in love with you, Kara. I think I always have been.”

Kara’s eyes focus on Lena. The tears still streaming down her pale cheeks, her emerald eyes shining so brightly, and her teeth hesitantly bitting against her red lip. Kara wants to say so much but can’t trust her voice. She slowly closes her eyes and inhales deeply. Holding her breath and her eyes for a moment too long, Kara hesitates to open them.

When she does open her eyes and release her trapped breath, she sees Lena is still there. The tower is still around them, the Phantom Zone is gone. Locking her eyes once more on to Lena’s crimson lips, Kara gives in to years of repressed feelings and longing glances. She leans in and without a word she presses her own lips to Lena’s. Her unsteady arms wrap around Lena, and Lena’s own arms reposition themselves around Kara.

Lena responds to the kiss with equal passion, holding back only because Kara is still sluggish from her ordeal. The two women remain in their embrace for a short eternity before they break the kiss. Kara leaning on Lena as she once more feels the weakness creeping through her. Lena never for a moment letting the weight of the Kryptonian wear her down.

Kara soon recovers enough to stand on her own, but can’t bring herself to stop pressing herself to Lena’s warmth. She smiles the largest and most natural smile she has mustered since being rescued. “I think I need to go back to bed.” She stumbles out.

“I will take you to bed.” Responds Lena with a smile greater than any Kara had seen in a very long time. “And I’ll be right at your side until you wake up once more.”

“I love you too Lena.” Finally says Kara, her voice stronger than it has been. “I know the kiss gave it away, but I still wanted to say the words.”

“I appreciate it Kara.” Responds Lena choking back tears of joy as the two begin the journey back to the medical bed.

Lena lays Kara on the bed, and the solar lamps kick back on instantly. Kara’s head comes to a stop on the small and firm pillow. She can feel the artificial yellow sunlight bombarding her body. She unleashes a faint sigh and continues to grasp hold of Lena’s hand in her own. Kara’s eyes flutter shut as her body begins to relax and absorb the yellow light.

“I’m going to be right here when you wake.” Whispers Lena soothingly.

[lena-oleanderson]

you have to live.

wasn't going to post anything from the new collection before it was fully finished, but in light of recent events

start by staying alive.

[fazedlight]

Waves

“Why is your hair wavy?” young Lena asked.

It was one of Lena’s earliest memories - one of the few she had of her mother. The realization was sudden and profound for the 4-year-old, that sometimes her mother’s hair was straight, while other times it seemed to cascade down her shoulders in loose spirals.

Her mother had looked surprised, before breaking out into a smile. “You know how mommy puts her hair in braids some nights?” she said, getting a nod from her daughter, “That makes it wavy the next morning.”

“Can I try?” Lena asked back, and her mother nodded.

The next morning, Lena’s hair had waves too.

---

There weren’t waves in the Luthor household. “It looks messy,” Lillian said disdainfully one morning. Lena wondered if she wasn’t braiding her hair right - her clumsy little hands just couldn’t seem to get the tightness and symmetry that her mother had been able to. “I can try again,” Lena replied.

“It looks better straight,” Lillian said. And that was that.

---

It was Andrea that taught her to braid her hair for real.

Lena was 16 years old when she joined Mount Helena Boarding School, and she felt lucky to meet Andrea off the bat. Andrea taught her a lot- she learned how to sneak off for drinks, how to feign cockiness against other snobs, how to roll her r’s properly.

One late night - after doing things parents didn’t want to hear about their teens doing - Lena mulled that she wanted to braid her hair, but didn’t know how. Andrea murmured “easy”, finding a hand mirror and guiding Lena through the motions until she had a tight braid.

The next morning, Lena had waves in her hair, and breathed a little easier.

---

She was drunk. Jack was drunk. Drunk nerds at MIT were a different breed. “You can factor a Yang-Baxter equation in that state,” Jack slurred slightly, “But a quantum state is-”

“Unfactorable,” Lena completed, “Yes, I know how entanglement works. Jack, what are you really trying to say?”

Jack sat down, glancing up at Lena. “I like your braids.”

“You… wanted to talk about topological braid groups to compliment my hair?”

“Yes,” Jack said.

She asked him out on the spot.

---

She was a Luthor again. 

After years together, she left Jack - crossing the country to take over LuthorCorp. She rapidly needed to slough off her MIT years, knowing that nerdery would not help her in a boardroom meeting. She needed to pull from her lessons from Andrea, how to put on a facade in the face of nerves, how to command a room full of misogynistic men to get her way. Poise and class would need to define her if she didn’t want to drown.

She kept her hair straight.

---

Years went on, and she found herself occasionally falling back into the habit - nights here and there where she would braid her hair, letting the waves fall the next day until they straightened out in the shower again. Never too often, never too many days in a row. Just in those moments when she felt a little closer to being herself.

Or was trying to be.

Kara came back from the phantom zone, and somehow their friendship seemed to survive the layers of mutual betrayal. Though it would take time to repair what was broken, their conversations were soft words sitting across from the couch from another - a far cry from the tense moments and harsh words on balconies. For the first time in years, Lena felt she could breathe again. 

Other things changed. She never expected to end up in Kara’s bed, or wake up to her sunny smile. Somehow, that made it easier to drift away from the Luthor facade - to trade her stilettos for comfortable tennis shoes, her fresh-pressed suits for soft cottons, for a lighter touch on makeup that didn’t hide the crow’s feet developing from her more frequent laughter. She’d note the private smile from Kara when she’d show up at her loft for the evening, happy to see Lena more comfortable.

And before bed, Kara started taking to braiding Lena’s hair. “I had wondered why it was wavy sometimes,” Kara said, “It was like that a lot, in your college photos.”

Lena caught Kara’s eyes in the mirror. “Just didn’t seem fitting for a Luthor,” Lena said, “But it feels more right now.”

Kara smiled back, reaching for a small hair tie, finishing the braid. “Ready for bed?” Kara said.

“Ready.”

[scarletwants]

black leather & eyes of blue.

18+ notes: we love obsessive homelander in this house :’)<3 enjoy! summary: no one touches what’s his and what’s his never interacts with people who don’t respect that. you should have learned that by now. warnings: explicit/mature content. secret office romance, domlander, fingering, cowgirl, breast-play, oral(f! receiving), morally grey! reader, killing, possesive & obsessive behaviour. word count: 1.7k

The fluorescent lights of Vought Tower's 75th floor cast a sterile glow over the bustling office. You could feel eyes on you as you navigated the maze of cubicles, clutching a stack of reports to your chest. It had been a particularly stressful week, with deadlines looming and pressure mounting.

All you wanted was a moment of peace to collect your thoughts.

But that wasn't to be.

As you rounded a corner, Daniel from marketing intercepted you with a friendly smile. "Hey there," he said, leaning casually against a cubicle wall. "You look like you could use a break."

You offered him a polite smile. "Just trying to get through these reports. How are you, Daniel?"

He chuckled, a warm, easy sound. "Better now that I've seen you. You know, you really brighten up this place."

You laughed softly, shaking your head.

"You're too kind.”

What you didn't notice was the pair of piercing blue eyes watching the interaction from afar, growing darker with each passing second.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, but the tension followed you home. When you finally made it to your apartment, the door had barely closed behind you before you felt him.

Homelander stood in the shadows, his presence filling the room with an intensity that made your heart pound. He stepped forward, the glint in his eyes sending a chill down your spine.

"You've been ignoring me, sweetheart," he said, voice dangerously calm. "And we can't have that now, can we?"

Before you could respond, he grabbed you and tossed you onto the bed. The reports you had been holding scattered across the floor, forgotten. He ripped his shirt off, his eyes dark with possessive lust.

"You think I didn't see you today?" he growled, climbing on top of you. "That little chat with Daniel?"

Your breath hitched as his hands roved over your body, claiming you. "I was just being polite," you whispered, trying to reason with him.

"Polite?" he repeated, a sinister edge to his voice. "No one touches what's mine. And what's mine never interacts with people who don't respect that."

His lips crashed against yours, hungry and demanding. He pinned your wrists above your head, his grip bruising. His free hand trailed down your side, tearing open your blouse and sending buttons flying. He exposed your bra, his eyes devouring every inch of you.

"You belong to me," he said, his voice low and possessive. "No one else."

He yanked down your bra, his hands rough on your breasts, squeezing and kneading.

You moaned, the mix of pain and pleasure making your head spin. He bit down on your neck, hard enough to leave a mark, and you cried out.

"No one flirts with you," he growled against your skin. "No one makes you smile but me."

His hand trailed lower, slipping under your skirt. You gasped as his fingers found your wetness, teasing you. His eyes locked onto yours, a predatory gleam in them.

"You're so wet for me," he murmured, sliding a finger inside you. "So eager to please."

You moaned, your body arching into his touch. He added another finger, thrusting them roughly, his thumb circling your clit.

The pleasure was overwhelming, your climax building rapidly.

"That's it," he coaxed, his voice a dark whisper. "Come for me. Show me who you belong to."

Your climax crashed over you, your body trembling as you cried out his name. He didn't give you time to recover, lifting you and positioning himself at your entrance.

With one powerful thrust, he was inside you, stretching you, filling you completely.

"You're mine," he growled, his pace relentless. "Always mine."

His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your flesh as he pounded into you. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your moans and his grunts. He was rough, dominant, and completely in control.

"Say it," he demanded, his eyes burning into yours. "Say you're mine."

"Yours," you gasped, the pleasure almost too much to bear. "I'm yours."

He rewarded you with a deep, bruising kiss, his tongue dominating yours. His hands moved to your breasts, squeezing and kneading, his fingers pinching your nipples.

The sensations were too much, pushing you to the edge again.

"Come for me, sweetheart,” he commanded, his voice a low growl.

Your body obeyed, another orgasm ripping through you, your cries of pleasure filling the room, fingers gripping the sheets. Homelander's eyes never left yours, his gaze intense and unyielding. He followed you over the edge, his own release powerful and consuming, a primal growl escaping his lips as he came inside you.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop.

You lay there, your body trembling and spent, feeling the weight of him on top of you. He stayed inside you for a few more moments, savoring the connection, before finally pulling out. He rolled onto his side, pulling you against his chest, his arms wrapping around you possessively.

"You did well," he murmured, his voice softer now, almost tender. "You're learning."

You nestled against him, feeling a strange sense of security in his embrace despite the intensity of his earlier actions. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He stroked your hair, his touch surprisingly gentle. "I don't want to see you talking to anyone else at work. Especially not Daniel.”

"I understand," you replied, knowing better than to argue. "I'll avoid him."

"Good," he said, his tone firm. "You belong to me and I won't tolerate anyone else trying to take what's mine."

The next day at the office, you tried to maintain a low profile, avoiding unnecessary interactions, especially with Daniel. But as luck would have it, Daniel caught up with you in the break room. He flashed you a charming smile, holding a cup of coffee.

"Hey," he said, "You seemed a bit off yesterday. Everything alright?"

Before you could respond, you felt a sudden rush of air and heard a terrifyingly familiar voice behind you.

"Everything's just fine," Homelander said, his tone deceptively pleasant.

Daniel looked up, his smile faltering when he saw Homelander. "Oh, uh, Homelander! I didn't see you there."

Homelander's smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Obviously."

In a flash, Homelander grabbed Daniel by the collar and lifted him off the ground. You could see the terror in Daniel's eyes, and you knew what was coming next.

"You think you can flirt with what's mine?" Homelander hissed, his eyes glowing with an ominous red light.

"Wait, no, I-" Daniel's plea was cut short as Homelander's laser vision sliced through him, leaving nothing but a smoldering corpse on the floor. The scent of burning flesh filled the room, and the sight of Daniel's lifeless body should have horrified you, but instead, it sent a strange thrill through you.

Homelander turned to you, his eyes still glowing, blood spattered across his face and chest. "Let's go," he said, his voice commanding.

You followed him back to your apartment, the adrenaline and shock mixing with an inexplicable arousal. As soon as you entered, Homelander closed the door behind you. His presence filling the room with an electric tension. His gaze locked onto yours, intense and unwavering. He approached you slowly, every step deliberate, as if he were stalking prey. The sight of him, splattered with blood from the earlier incident, should have repulsed you, but instead, it ignited a desire deep within.

Without a word, Homelander closed the distance between you, his hands gripping your shoulders firmly. His eyes bore into yours, searching, demanding. There was a hunger in his gaze, a hunger that matched the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

"You liked that, didn't you?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

You swallowed hard, unable to tear your gaze away from him. "I-" Your voice caught in your throat, the words failing you.

His grip tightened slightly, a hint of warning in his touch. "Answer me," he demanded.

A shiver ran down your spine as you nodded slowly. "Yes," you admitted in a whisper. "I did."

A dark, satisfied smile spread across his lips.

"Good."

In one swift motion, he pushed you against the nearest wall, his body pressing against yours possessively. His lips crashed onto yours, claiming you with a raw intensity that made your head spin. You could taste the metallic tang of blood on his lips, feel the heat of his body against yours.

His hands roamed over your body, urgent and demanding. He tore at your clothes, the fabric giving way under his strength. Soon, you were both stripped bare, exposed to each other.

He pushed you back onto the bed, climbing on top of you with a predatory grace. His hands pinned your wrists above your head, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

"You're mine," he growled, his voice low and possessive. "All mine."

You nodded, unable to speak as desire coursed through you like a wildfire. His lips found your neck, his teeth grazing your skin lightly before he bit down, marking you as his. The pain merged with pleasure, sending sparks of electricity through your veins.

He kissed his way down your body, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. When he reached your core, he didn't hesitate. His tongue flicked over your sensitive flesh, his fingers spreading you open. The sensation was overwhelming, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you.

You moaned, arching into his touch, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you. His tongue worked you mercilessly, each stroke pushing you closer to the edge. He added his fingers, thrusting them deep inside you, matching the rhythm of his tongue. The dual assault sent you spiraling towards ecstasy, your body trembling with need.

"Come for me," he commanded, his voice a dark whisper against your skin. "Show me who you fucking belong to."

Your climax ripped through you like a tidal wave, pleasure consuming every inch of your being. You cried out his name, your back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Homelander didn't let up, prolonging your ecstasy with expert precision until you were trembling and breathless.

He crawled back up your body, his eyes burning with hunger as he positioned himself between your legs. With one swift motion, he buried himself inside you, filling you completely. The intensity of his desire matched yours, his thrusts deep and powerful.

"You like it rough," he murmured, his voice a husky growl. "Don't you?"

You nodded, unable to form coherent words as pleasure consumed you. His hands gripped your hips, his pace relentless as he pounded into you. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your moans and his guttural grunts.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss. His tongue tangled with yours, dominating you completely. His hips drove into yours with an urgency that bordered on desperation, his need for you palpable.

He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as he whispered in a voice filled with possessive desire, "Mine. Say it."

"I'm yours," you gasped, the admission spilling from your lips without hesitation.

"Yours."

He groaned, a primal sound of satisfaction, before his movements grew more erratic. You felt him tensing above you, his rhythm faltering as he approached his own release.

"Come with me, sweetheart,” he commanded, his voice strained with pleasure.

His words pushed you over the edge once more, your body convulsing around him as he found his release deep inside you. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, a growl escaping his lips as he emptied himself into you.

For a moment, you lay entwined in each other's arms, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat. Homelander's weight pressed against you, his breathing slowly returning to normal. He shifted slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of possessiveness and tenderness that took you by surprise.

"You're mine," he repeated, his voice a whisper against your skin.

You nodded, a strange sense of belonging settling over you despite the chaos of your emotions. "I'm yours," you whispered back, feeling the truth of those words down to your core.

He kissed you gently, his touch surprisingly tender as he caressed your cheek. "No one else gets to touch you," he murmured, his voice filled with a possessive certainty. "You belong to me."

You closed your eyes, a mix of fear and desire coursing through you. "I do, I always will,” you replied, knowing that with Homelander, there was no room for negotiation.

As the night wore on, you lay in his arms, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your chest. In that moment, with the world outside forgotten, you knew that you had willingly stepped into the darkness with him.

[elfrooting]

I’m thinking about Emmrich and his obvious compassion for the dead, and I’m wondering about how the Mourn Watch are trained. We know not all Mortalitasi share his empathy (see the mage in “The Dread Wolf Take You” from Tevinter Nights), so maybe the Mourn Watch undergo something that helps instill this reverence and respect for spirits and the departed.

It got me thinking: what if the Mourn Watch mages work with the dying before they work with the dead?

Perhaps as apprentices they complete a year of service as death doulas, to give them perspective on how death affects not only those dying but also their loved ones. They hold hands at bedsides, comfort parents and children and siblings and spouses, and give potions to help ease their patients across the Veil without pain, if that is their wish.

They then prepare their remains for mummification, treating these mortal shells with the same care they did before their soul departed. They lovingly wash their skin, anoint them with oils and resins, and wrap them in strips of linen with their precious earthly belongings tucked between the layers.

Then, now knowing the departed on a more intimate level than many who knew them in life, they begin to search the Fade for a being who will best embody the things they held important, imparting their legacy to live on through a benevolent spirit who can then experience the waking world through their form.

They don’t bind these spirits. They don’t need to, because they have come to know and understand the departed so thoroughly that they can then seek out one who will come willingly into their body.

Maybe this is why some Nevarran mages callously bind wisps to stir their wine, but Emmrich can see a wailing corpse and recognize the pain of lost love in its cries, or give a curious wandering soul the perfect postmortem position as his librarian.

Anyway, I guess what I’m saying is RIP to the rest of the Mortalitasi but the Mourn Watch is different.

[lena-thinks-too-much]

Random Batfam Headcanon:

The batkids have different levels of separation for when Bruce is Bruce and when he's batman

Jason has zero separation. For him they are one and the same and it's largely the cause of their issues. He can't separate the vigilante from his dad. He refers to Bruce and batman interchangeably.

Tim is on the opposite side of the spectrum. To him Bruce and batman are completely distinct individuals. Tim viewed robin as almost a job that you clock in and get your hours. There are aspects of tim that are integral to his vigilante work it is not his central identity. While he understands that it's not the same for Bruce and that Batman is more than just a job for him, he still applies a similar mentality towards him. In the mask or while doing anything related to vigilante work he's batman. If he's giving any degree of an emotional display, he's Bruce.

Dick's the most in tune with Bruce's state of mind. It doesn't really matter if he's in uniform or not, his distinction between batman and Bruce is more based on behavior and context. Sometimes he might look like Batman but one of his kids are hurt and the only person he can be is Bruce the dad. Sometimes he's out in civvies in public but every muscle is tense and dick knows he's looking at batman not his dad.

Damian, very much like Jason, struggles to separate Bruce from batman. To him they're one and the same. His Dad is Batman. That's what he was raised to believe and to him Bruce is inherently always Batman. It causes some tension for him too, but not as much as it does Jason.

Cass is similar to Dick but to a lesser degree. She's able to tell when his actions comes from Batman the vigilante versus Bruce the Dad, but, to her, the separation isn't as important as it is to her brothers. Bruce and Batman are both two parts of the same person and to Cass he will always be the combined whole

Steph doesn't really see a difference between Bruce and Batman. But to her them being the same person doesn't really matter. Idk neither Bruce nor Steph really give that much of a shit about each other. They tried to work together, it was a train wreck. They just kinda coexist when they need to and ignore each other's existence when they don't.

Duke is still figuring out where Bruce ends and Batman begins. Ironically he might have the healthiest approach to this. He understands that Bruce and Batman are two identities with a lot of overlap so his separation has less to do with identifying what's going on with Bruce and more just keeping the identities separate for security purposes. In the mask he's Batman because Signal can't be caught calling him Bruce. Any other time he's Bruce because Bruce Wayne is not a superhero, no siree.

Bonus:

For Bruce himself Batman is his true identity. Bruce is only slightly more real than Brucie. I don't remember if it was in a comic or a show, but there is a scene where someone subjects Bruce to a truth serum or something to find out his identity and we find out that even in his inner monologue he thinks of himself as Batman not Bruce. He has his own distinction and is able to compartmentalize his more vulnerable and emotional sides when he needs to. But we all know Bruce isn't great at emotionally removing himself ever.

Conversely, for Alfred, he is always Bruce. Cowl or no cowl, that is the boy he raised and it will always be that way.