#supergirl ao3

[jazznicoleproductions]

Weaponizing One’s Love: The Long Awaited Date

Pairing: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor

Ao3: Chapter Ten

Chapter Summary: With the drama from Lillian and Lex's antics having subsided, Lena and Kara finally have to face the issues brought up by the chaos. Lena rejects the gift the Kryptonian had given her months ago, stating that she doesn't deserve it. Kara is left reeling, feeling that her superheroine identity may cost her the one thing she wants most. And after some last-minute intrusions, thanks to Lillian meddling with Kara's boss, forcing her to interview the youngest Luthor about the attack, they have their date. Unfortunately, it doesn't go as smoothly as planned. Kara listens to Lena about working with kryptonite. And with some hesitation, agrees to let her work with it. If only to avoid the claustrophobic suit. But just as things settle down, Lena discovers that the Kryptonian kept her suit on, setting her into defensive mode. And with her walls going up, Kara begs her to let her in and show her what she sees.

[chairhere]

*sees a tag i don’t normally click on* ah fuck it what’s the worst that could happen

[sombaf]

The silence before the storm was always the most dangerous. Lena had learned that early in life—boardrooms, labs, and now, in the heart of her office at L-Corp, standing across from Kara Danvers. Correction: Kara Zor-El. Supergirl. Her wife. Or at least, her soon-to-be ex-wife.

The tension in the room might as well have been a grenade, pin pulled, seconds from detonating.

“You filed for divorce,” Kara said, her voice low, tight.

“Yes.” Lena kept her arms crossed, her face calm. She had practiced this—practiced detachment, practiced not letting Kara look at her with those wide blue eyes and make her doubt her decision.

“You actually filed for divorce.” Kara’s voice cracked, disbelief and anger curling together into something sharp. “Lena, how could you—?”

“How could I?” Lena’s voice rose sharply, her mask fracturing. She pushed off the desk, closing the distance between them in two quick strides. “Don’t you dare stand there and act surprised, Kara! How could you?”

Kara recoiled slightly, her eyes narrowing, her jaw tightening. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to hurt you!”

“And yet, you did.” Lena’s voice was cold, cutting. “Every single day you lied to me. Every moment you pretended to trust me while keeping the biggest part of yourself hidden. Did you think I wouldn’t find out eventually? Or was I just supposed to live my entire life being the idiot who didn’t know her wife was Supergirl?”

“I wasn’t trying to make you feel like an idiot!” Kara’s hands curled into fists, trembling at her sides. “I was trying to protect you, Lena! Don’t you understand that?”

“No, Kara.” Lena stepped closer, her voice like ice. “I don’t understand, because that’s not protection. That’s control. You decided for me. You decided I didn’t need to know. That I wasn’t worthy of the truth.”

“That’s not—” Kara’s voice faltered, her shoulders sagging. She looked at Lena, her eyes pleading now. “That’s not why I didn’t tell you. I was scared.”

Lena barked out a hollow laugh, shaking her head. “Of me? Kara, I loved you. I trusted you completely. I would have died for you, and you were scared of me?”

“I was scared of losing you!” Kara shouted, her voice raw, reverberating through the office. Her fists slammed against her thighs, and Lena could see the way her fingers twitched, like she wanted to punch something—anything.

For a moment, they stared at each other, the tension in the room so thick it felt like the air itself might shatter. Then Kara reached into her jacket and pulled out the manila envelope.

Lena recognized it instantly.

“I can’t believe this is what you want,” Kara said, her voice low, shaking. She slammed the envelope onto the desk with a crack that echoed through the room. The wood splintered beneath it, a jagged fault line spreading across the surface.

Lena flinched but didn’t step back. She refused to let Kara intimidate her, even unintentionally.

“You want your divorce so badly?” Kara spat. “Fine. Take it.”

The desk groaned ominously, the split widening. For a moment, neither of them moved, their heavy breathing the only sound in the room.

Lena’s lips parted, words teetering on the edge of escape, but nothing came. Kara’s chest heaved, her fists still clenched at her sides, and for the first time, Lena felt the full weight of Kara’s anger—not just the anger at her, but the anger Kara carried toward herself. Lena’s body tensed, her hands curling into fists at her sides. She told herself to step back, to stay in control, but the pull of Kara—of her fury, her presence—was impossible to resist. Even now, with anger still simmering in her veins, Lena hated how much she wanted her.

And god help her, Kara had never looked more breathtaking.

Lena’s composure cracked completely. She hated herself for noticing the way Kara’s chest heaved, her lips parted in anger. Oh lord, why does she have to look like that? The thought scraped against her resolve, shattering it entirely.

She surged forward, grabbing Kara’s shirt and yanking her down into a kiss. It was messy, frantic, their teeth clashing before their mouths found a rhythm, before their anger melted into something else entirely.

For a moment, Kara froze, her mind racing. She didn’t deserve this—didn’t deserve Lena’s touch, her anger, her love—but Rao, she couldn’t stop herself. Her hands found Lena’s waist, pulling her closer as if drawn by a force she couldn’t resist. Lena could feel the heat radiating off her skin—something warm, almost electric, like sunlight trapped beneath Kara’s clothes.

“This doesn’t mean—” Lena gasped between kisses, but Kara cut her off, her lips capturing Lena’s again, stealing the breath from her lungs. She tasted faintly sweet, like honey and something unplaceable—something not of this Earth.

“Don’t talk,” Kara murmured, her voice low and rough, her hands sliding up Lena’s back. “Just—don’t.”

Lena didn’t argue. Her fingers fisted in Kara’s collar, pulling her closer, the fabric taut beneath her hands. Kara’s strength was dizzying, a palpable force beneath her touch. When Kara lifted her onto the desk—splintered wood and all—Lena felt a fleeting rush of safety, absurd in its contrast to the chaos between them.

The papers were crushed beneath them, forgotten, as Kara pressed forward, her hands everywhere—Lena’s hips, her thighs, her waist. The touch of her fingers was firm, grounding, but never too much, as if Kara was still afraid of breaking her.

“Kara,” Lena breathed, her voice shaky, her hands threading through Kara’s hair. Her fingertips grazed the soft waves, tugging just enough to make Kara groan low in her throat—a sound that sent heat pooling low in Lena’s stomach.

It was intoxicating, the way Kara’s control slipped in moments like this. The way she kissed Lena like she was both holding her together and tearing her apart.

“You drive me insane,” Kara muttered against Lena’s lips, her voice low and husky. The scent of her—clean, crisp, with a faintly alien warmth that Lena couldn’t name—wrapped around her like a cocoon.

“Good,” Lena whispered back, her nails dragging down Kara’s back through her shirt. The fabric bunched under her hands as she scratched lightly, just enough to make Kara shudder. “Now shut up and kiss me.”

Kara obliged, leaning in again, her lips searing, her hands gripping the edge of the desk to steady herself. The desk groaned under their combined weight, but neither of them cared.

It wasn’t forgiveness—not yet. It wasn’t a resolution to the anger and hurt that still lingered between them. But it was something—something raw and real and theirs.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were panting, their foreheads pressed together. Kara’s hands were trembling where they rested on Lena’s thighs, and Lena’s lips were red and swollen from the force of their kisses. Her heart thundered in her chest, her body still thrumming with the aftershock of Kara’s touch.

“I hate you,” Lena whispered, her voice trembling, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

“I love you,” Kara replied, her voice just as shaky, her gaze searching Lena’s face.

Lena let out a choked laugh, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re infuriating.”

For a moment, they just stared at each other, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between them.

But the tension that had suffocated them for weeks now felt… lighter. Not gone, but no longer insurmountable.

“Let’s talk,” Kara said softly, her voice breaking the silence.

Lena nodded, her hands still clinging to Kara’s shirt. “Okay. But not here.”

Kara smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair out of Lena’s face. “Anywhere you want.”

And for the first time in a long while, Lena thought they might actually be able to fix this. Together.

[ekingstonart]

“Here they are. We have a few different lines of toys here, different sizes, and the squeakers themselves vary from brand to brand. Some of these are very loud.”

—from Treats and Collars on ao3

Thank you so much @makicarn for commissioning me to illustrate this scene from @trashpandato’s ADORABLE fic! It has been an absolute pleasure working with/for you both!

[ciggrtte]

supercorp kiss :)

[jennywebbyart]

I made a couple of drawings for lostariels to say thank you for the beautiful stories that she writes on Ao3. My favourite is ‘queen of hearts’.

While I was looking at the drawings, I realise that she needs more credit. so I thought I will post only one of the artwork I did. Please send appreciation to @lostariels for all of her fantastic supercorp fanfic that she writes.

[allgreekbitch]

hi i posted a silly supercorp fic x

[corpluthor]

She’s a pirate for the @supercorpbb a pirates of the caribbean AU

Link oa3:

[fyonahmacnally]

Their eyes meet across the tower. They’re surrounded by the ragtag family they’ve built over the years, but their eyes are firmly fixed on each other. They weren’t exactly on speaking terms when Kara was sent to the Phantom Zone. Working together, sure, but friends again? Not even close. Most days, Lena felt like she was mostly tolerated. 

There are so many words left unsaid, so many things unresolved. Now that Kara’s back, Lena isn’t sure what to say or do. She’s served her purpose, she brought the hero back. Her presence here is no longer needed and likely no longer wanted. Kara needs to spend time with her family, get to know her father again. 

Lena should go. She doesn’t belong here. Did she ever? She should definitely go.

Veridian eyes are the first to look away. Seeing the disappointment that is probably swimming in ocean blue isn’t something she can handle at the moment. She waits until the others swarm the superhero before she quietly gathers her things and makes her exit. Getting Kara back is what she promised Alex and she’s fulfilled it. It’s time for her to figure out what her future looks like. She’s on her own, starting over again. 

But first, she needs to grieve. Lena’s lost everything. Again. Kara’s betrayal broke her in a way nothing or no one ever has. She’s lost the only person that ever actually believed in her. Yet again, she is mourning someone that is still alive. First Lex, then Andrea, and now Kara. Sure, she played a role in the rift with Kara, but any time she lets her guard down, someone rips her heart out. 

As she enters the cab, she thanks her past self for removing all of her things from Kara’s apartment before the rescue mission. Getting a hotel room was a good idea. At least she doesn’t have to see the inside of the apartment again, doesn’t have to face those otherworldly blue eyes in the only place that ever felt like home. 

She can grieve in peace. Eventually she will find her own place again. At this point, she’s not even sure she’s staying in National City. What’s the point? There’s nothing here for her anymore. She’s got more money than she will ever spend, maybe she’ll head to Ireland. Back to the place her mother’s memories live. 

The beep of the door unlocking startles her from her thoughts. The lifeless, sterile room matches the way her soul currently feels. Empty and achingly lonely. Now she needs to find something to numb the ache in her chest. Her legs automatically take her to the dining table in her suite. Her past self made sure to stock up on her preferred poison, Macallan double cask single malt scotch – a tried and true method of numbing what ails her.

Her current emotional state causes her to bypass the tumbler in favor of drinking directly from the bottle. Not that it matters, there’s no one to care anyway. She opens the bottle and makes her way onto the balcony. Kara won’t be flying around anytime soon, it will be at least a few hours before she has her powers back fully so she feels safe sitting outside. 

Besides, as soon as she is a few drinks in, she’ll activate the lead shield she created. Then her favorite Kryptonian won’t be able to hear her heartbeat. It’ll be better for both of them. Kara deserves better than she will ever be and she’s pretty sure the hero doesn’t want anything to do with Lena anymore. She releases a humorless laugh before taking a swig from the bottle. Swallowing and feeling the burn promptly turns into body wracking sobs. 

She ends up sitting on the balcony for longer than anticipated. Between sobs, she manages to drink about half of the bottle of scotch. Pushing herself up from the chair, she stumbles her way inside to activate the shield. At least now she can drown her sorrow without the risk of the woman she loves more than life finding her in such a chaotic, sad state.

The next two days pass in a blur. She manages to eat just enough to sustain her mostly liquid diet. A pretty steady drunkenness propels her into a numbness that prevents the stark emptiness from being front and center. Unfortunately, it does nothing to quell the loneliness and grief. Every inch of her body is engulfed with loss. No matter how much she tries, the love she feels for Kara remains threaded into every fiber of her being. So she drinks more.

When the third day rolls around, her luck runs out. She knew it wouldn’t be long before Kara figured out where she was. It’s not hard when her suite is the only one in the city with a lead shield. As she anticipated, around noon on the third day a tentative knock sounds on her door. First she ignores it, just like she has her phone. All of them have tried to call and text. Unfortunately, she can’t ignore the now insistent knock on her door. Still, she tries.

A tired voice penetrates the threshold between them. “Lena, please open the door. Please.” Kara’s weary words drift into the silence around her. “I’m not going to leave until I see you. I need to, Lena. Please.”  

The last word cracks with emotion and breaks what little resolve the youngest Luthor has. She staggers to the door, engaging the sing bar lock to crack the door enough for Kara to see her. “T-There. Nowsh’you see’shmme.” Lena slurs, leaning against the door to hold herself up. 

The hero’s shoulders slump and the already welling tears cascade down her face. A shaky whisper of “Lena” escapes her lips before she reaches her hand out as if to touch the porcelain skin peeking around the barely open door. “Please let me in. I’ll sit out here in the hallway until you do. I’m not going away, Lena.”

The sound that escapes her throat is something between a groan and a resigned laugh. She is weak to the woman standing in the hallway, always has been. Closing the door and disengaging the swing lock, she reopens it before staggering back to her third bottle of scotch. With the bottle in hand, she plops herself onto the couch without looking at the hero.

Kara just stands at the edge of the room watching the raven haired genius swallow the last dregs of what appears to be her final bottle of scotch. She’s never seen the woman in such a state. In the five years of their friendship, she’s seen Lena tipsy and even drunk, but never like this. Her usually stoic facade is nowhere in sight. Kara has never seen her this disheveled and out of sorts. Immediately, her stomach drops and she feels some sense of responsibility for it. 

Their friendship wasn’t anywhere near mended before her unplanned trip to the Phantom Zone. It was a tentative truce at best. Her time with the phantoms was riddled with “what ifs” and “should haves” related to her relationship with Lena. Seeing the state of her best friend (ex-best friend?) now makes her want to vomit. The fact she felt the need to run from the tower after their shared moment of eye contact twists the proverbial knife in her heart. 

Kara’s selfish behavior and lies ruined everything they built. After Lena told her countless times she’d been betrayed and lied to by the people she loved most, Kara continued to keep her secret. How is she ever going to get back into her good graces? 

Here she is standing at the edge of the room while the woman she loves drinks herself into oblivion. Standing and staring, saying nothing. In truth, she has no idea what to say. How do you tell the person that means the most to you that you didn’t mean to break their heart when deep down you knew it would happen? She has no words. She’s paralyzed by the possibility of losing Lena for good. So, she watches as the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen fades into unconsciousness. 

Saying nothing. 

Lena wakes up at noon the following day, head throbbing and stomach roiling. She’s confused because she distinctly remembers being on the couch, but she’s in bed with the curtains drawn. Her eyes squint at the glass of water and ibuprofen sitting on the bedside table. That’s when she realizes what she thought was a dream must have been real. Kara was here. A sigh escapes her lungs and she rolls over to push herself up. Sitting on the side of the bed, she gingerly grabs the glass of water and pills to swallow them down. Of course Kara would take care of her. 

Forcing herself to sit still for a minute, she listens for any sign of the blonde in the suite. When she doesn’t hear anything, she grabs a change of clothes and heads to the bathroom. Thankfully, the cool shower tempers the hangover a bit. As she opens the door to the bathroom, she is greeted by Kara sitting at the table surrounded by food. The sight stops her in her tracks. She didn’t expect the Kryptonian to still be here, much less sitting at the table waiting with food. 

They make brief eye contact before Lena moves again. Neither of them say anything, the silence filling the space with their internal shame. Each harboring guilt and blame for the current situation. She makes it a point to sit at the opposite end of the table from Kara, knowing she can’t share close quarters with her without shattering. Not right now, maybe not ever. The meal is spent in a deafening quietude that makes them both squirm, but neither is willing to speak.

Or maybe they just don’t know what to say. Is it too late to salvage what they had? Can they wash away the mistakes and talk about how they feel? The doubt swims across the air between them like sharks circling an injured seal. How can they possibly rebuild their relationship on such damaged ground? They’re both frozen in place, paralyzed with fear and indecision. 

Lena finishes what little she manages to eat, grabs her sunglasses, a bottle of water, and steps out onto the balcony. She spent three days trying to wash away her mistakes, erase her pain, and all she did was make herself feel worse. Now she can feel every pulse of heartache, every ounce of remorse and guilt. She’s no closer to knowing what to do than she was before. There’s a part of her that wishes she wouldn’t have survived the phantoms. Maybe that would have been easier than whatever this is.

Her whole body stiffens when she hears the balcony door open and close. The presence of the hero appears in her periphery. Close enough to see, but far enough away they don’t run the risk of an accidental touch. Kara is close enough to pull her into a hug, but she won’t. She can’t. 

They both stand there, saying nothing. 

Lena chances a glance to her right and immediately regrets her decision. There is a deep, profound sadness in the blue eyes that meet hers. Glittering tears flow down unusually pale cheeks and it further guts her. They’ve both spent so much time bottling up their feelings to save themselves from pain only to cut their own throats with the knife of their lies. 

Here they are, two women who spent most of their lives trying to please others by hiding behind walls and facades. Now they're broken and damaged standing in front of each other afraid to speak. They need to talk, to tell each other how they feel, expel their pain, but they stand there and say nothing. Lost in the stare of regret.

Neither of them are sure which one of them moves, but they drift together, inches apart. Stormy blue eyes are focused on churning sea green. There is a question asked in their intense gaze, each seeking permission to pull the other close. With silent permission granted, they bridge the divide and wrap their arms around the other. It’s a step, toward what, who knows, but it’s a step.

Lena stands there. 

Kara stands there.

For now, that’s all they need. Arms wrapped around their world.

To simply say nothing.

[gothamite-rambler]

Superman: Supergirl, how's your week been?

Kara (blushing): Can you—can you stop calling me "girl"? I have to change my name. "Supergirl" is starting to feel… weird to be called at my age.

Superman: What about Power Girl? She likes her name.

Kara (snidely): Cleavage window wearing a bathing suit? Yeah, no, I’m good.

Power Girl (insulted): Bitch, I'm a version of you!

Kara: Version, but not me.

Kara rolled her eyes and turned back to Clark.

Kara: I want to go by Super Woman.

Superman (shrugging, not bothered by the demand): I mean, you can if you want. I'm not your boss or anything, but what's with the demand to change it?

Kara (raising her voice): Because Nightwing goes by Nightwing after being Robin for seventeen fucking years! He got a cool name and suit… eventually. You gave him an awesome hero name and I got supergirl.

Superman: Oh yeah, he didn't come up with the name because of me. I love that kid sometimes.

Kara: Cuz, I need you be on my side right now. Like look at him standing there all ... cocky!

Kara pointed to Nightwing, who stood by himself, waiting for Batman and Robin. He frog-blinked, then looked around, wondering why Kara was glaring at him.

Nightwing (confused): What? What did I do? I'm just standing here!

Kara (mockingly): You know what you did, Ass-man!

Nightwing (cocky): You're just upset that I make the suit work and that your cousin likes me more. I’ll see you for trivia night tonight, but seriously, work on that snippiness.

Nightwing walked off with his arms crossed. Kara growled, clenching her fists angrily. Superman chuckled, clearly amused by the banter.

Superman: I swear, Nightwing is a delight.

Kara (smirking): And a headache.

[a-timely-problem]

/ comes up to you in a bar wearing a cowboy hat/

Not to sound queer, but how 'bout that blonde and brunette pairing with lots of potential that never got together?

[onceuponaweirdo]

A weird obsession called "female cops that are gay for each other"

Jemily

Rolivia

Rizzles

Astrid et Raphaëlle

Pepa y Silvia

Sanvers

(Only two pairings here are an actual couple and I find that it's homophobic that the others aren't 😤)

[chairhere]

So now a lot of my social feeds have to do with queer partnered dancing pairs Right after reading all of THE dwts au. Two femmes dancing the tango? Yes please. Two mascs waltzing? Uh, yeah! Mixed presentation? Mmmhummm you know it baby.

[sombaf]

Lena wraps the luxurious red kimono around her body, the silk gliding over her skin like a whispered promise of warmth. The fabric clings loosely to her frame, soft against her bare shoulders as she steps from the bedroom into the living room. The hardwood floor beneath her feet is cool, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from the fireplace that still flickers faintly against the darkened room. Her eyes lift toward the terrace, bathed in the silvery glow of the full moon, and then to the figure standing at the railing, silhouetted against the sky.

Kara. Still as a statue, her arms crossed, her gaze lost in the night.

Lena lets out a quiet sigh as she pads silently across the room. Her bare feet barely make a sound on the polished wood, the cool air from the open terrace door raising goosebumps along her exposed skin. The night air is crisp, tinged with the fresh scent of the ocean, carried in on a breeze from the bay, and the sharp cold hits her as she steps outside.

“Kara…” Lena’s voice is soft, intimate, as it breaks the stillness of the night. She gazes upwards, catching a fleeting glimpse of a shooting star burning across the cristal clear October sky. A rare sight. The cold nips at her exposed skin, the thin fabric of her kimono offering little protection against the night’s chill, but it’s nothing compared to the icy distance she feels emanating from Kara. Something has changed.

Kara doesn’t move, her profile sharp and unmoving, backlit by the city lights far below. Her silence is heavy, as if she’s swallowed by thoughts too vast to speak aloud. Lena steps closer, positioning herself beside her at the railing, her breath coming out in soft puffs that hang momentarily in the night air before dissipating.

“It’s been three weeks…” Lena continues, her voice barely audible as her hand reaches out, fingers brushing against the strong curve of Kara’s shoulder. She traces the intricate weave of the blue suit beneath her fingertips, feeling the subtle rise and fall of Kara’s breath, the tension coiled tight in her muscles. The fabric is cool to the touch, but underneath, Lena can feel the heat of Kara’s skin, her body like a furnace even in the night air.

Kara’s jaw tightens, her hands gripping the railing as if the very act of holding on is what’s keeping her tethered. “Seventeen days,” Kara corrects quietly, her voice tight, almost strangled. Her arms slowly fall to her sides, the tense muscles of her shoulders barely relaxing as her hands grip the cold steel railing, her fingers pressing hard enough to leave unmistakable dents behind. Her knuckles turn white, her gaze still lost on the shimmering horizon of the city’s skyline.

Seventeen days. Seventeen days since she had almost lost Lena. The weight of it settles heavily between them. Seventeen days since her world had nearly unraveled. The memory presses against her chest, threatening to break free, tightening her every breath. She can feel it in the air, thick and unyielding, vibrating in her limbs, buzzing like a taut wire ready to snap.

The guilt gnaws at her—sharp and insistent. It never leaves her, simmering just beneath the surface, always there to remind her of how close she came to failing. If she’d been just a second too late… if she had lost Lena… The thought sends a shiver down her spine, makes her fists clench and unclench, the tension coiling tighter inside her like a spring.

Seventeen days.

She doesn’t know how to rid herself of it—the anger, the fear, the helplessness that had surged through her when she realized Lena was in danger. It’s all still there, choking her, holding her prisoner. Her chest feels too tight, her pulse too fast, the air too thin.

Lena’s hand on her skin is the only thing keeping her grounded, but even that… even that feels fragile. The touch is like a lifeline and yet too soft, too delicate. Her skin is hyper-aware of Lena’s every movement, every brush of her fingers, as if her entire being has been tuned to that sensation alone. Her body reacts instinctively, a sharp intake of breath, her muscles clenching as if to resist the pull. If she doesn’t move, if she doesn’t get away from this suffocating need, she’ll shatter. Shatter into a thousand pieces. Every muscle in her body is screaming at her to run, to flee, to take off into the stars where none of these emotions can follow her.

But she doesn’t. She can’t.

The stars, so inviting above, promise her freedom from the storm raging inside. She knows it would be easier to run—to feel the wind against her skin and leave the heaviness behind. But here, grounded beside Lena, she’s caught in a battle with herself, her body begging for flight, but her heart tethered to the woman standing next to her.

Lena is here, and she almost wasn’t. That knowledge alone is like a punch to the gut. How does she protect someone from everything—from the world, from danger, from herself? How does she keep Lena safe without breaking under the weight of it all?

The guilt, the fear—they cling to her like shadows, never letting her forget how close she came to losing the person who means the world to her. And no matter how hard she tries to hold it together, it’s all unraveling at the edges, pulling her apart, piece by piece.

Lena can feel the heat of that rage, simmering just beneath Kara’s calm surface. It ripples through her like electricity, her body taut with unspent energy. The air crackles between them, thick with unspoken fears and unshed tears. Lena’s hand slides down Kara’s arm, her fingertips barely grazing her skin before she gently places her hand over Kara’s on the railing. The metal is freezing, but Kara’s skin beneath her touch is burning hot.

The contact pulls at something deep inside Kara, as if Lena’s fingers are drawing out all the anger and fear she’s buried. The warmth of Lena’s hand sears against her, and Kara’s breath catches in her throat. Her heartbeat pounds in her ears, deafening, as if it’s trying to remind her of every second she came too close to losing Lena. She can feel Lena’s pulse through their joined hands—soft, steady—and it’s like an anchor pulling her back to the present, to Lena.

“Kara…” Lena’s voice is soft, and the sound of it seems to reach deep into the storm inside Kara, pulling her back from the edge. Lena watches as Kara’s grip on the railing loosens, her shoulders dropping slightly as the tension begins to uncoil, the storm in her subsiding to a slow, steady thrum.

“You have to let it go,” Lena whispers, her thumb brushing over the back of Kara’s hand, tracing the tendons there. She is not just talking about the railing, now bent under the force of Kara’s grip. The cold air presses against them, biting through the thin layers of fabric, but Lena hardly notices it. All she can feel is Kara’s warmth radiating through the palm of her hand, the way Kara’s touch reverberates through her, like a pulse syncing with her own heartbeat. The subtle tremble in Kara’s hands sends a ripple of sensation up Lena’s arm, grounding her, pulling her closer. Lena’s breath catches as Kara’s thumb unconsciously brushes against her skin, a small movement that feels impossibly intimate, stirring a slow burn deep in her chest.

Kara’s breath hitches again, her body hyper-aware of the small movements, the way Lena’s fingers brush against her skin. The rise and fall of her chest stutters as she fights to hold it all in. Her eyes stay trained on the skyline, as if letting go of the sight of it would mean letting go of everything. The city below flickers with life, the hum of cars, distant sirens, and the soft glow of streetlights reaching them even here, so high above it all.

“I can’t… not yet,” Kara murmurs, her voice thick with emotion, as if each word costs her something. She doesn’t look at Lena, doesn’t dare meet her gaze just yet, as though the weight of it might shatter her fragile hold on her composure.

Lena watches her, the way Kara’s eyes remain fixed on the city but her body trembles with the effort to keep standing. Her gaze softens as she reaches up, brushing a stray lock of hair behind Kara’s ear. “I‘m here. I‘m alive,” Lena whispers, her voice a balm in the night, her hand sliding to cup Kara’s face.

Kara’s breath catches as Lena’s fingers trace the outline of her jaw, her touch impossibly tender. The contact sends a jolt through her, and Kara feels the heat blooming across her skin where Lena touches her. She closes her eyes, and for the briefest moment, she allows herself to lean into Lena’s touch, her forehead dropping gently against Lena’s. The cold air whips around them, but all Kara can feel is the warmth radiating from Lena’s skin, the steady beat of her heart beneath her fingertips. It calms her like nothing else ever could.

“I almost lost you,” Kara breathes, her voice breaking as she finally lets the truth slip free, raw and jagged.

“But you didn’t,” Lena counters gently, her thumb sweeping over Kara’s cheek as she wipes away a single tear that has managed to escape. Her other hand moves to Kara’s chest, resting over her heart. The frantic thrum beneath her fingertips pulses like a lifeline, a wild current threading them together, and the sensation sends a wild thrill coursing through her veins, grounding her in the moment as if nothing else exists. The rhythm of Kara’s heart, erratic and racing, presses against her palm, and she finds herself leaning closer, almost drawn by the very force of it. The warmth beneath Kara’s skin, the sensation of life beating so strongly just beneath her hand, sends a shiver down Lena’s spine, her body attuned to every subtle shift of Kara’s breathing, to the warmth of her presence.

Kara opens her eyes, those sapphire blue orbs glistening with more unshed tears. The stars above seem to reflect in their depths, tiny pinpricks of light caught in the moisture gathering along her lashes, as if the universe itself is held within her gaze. The moonlight softens the angles of her face, casting her in a silvery glow, while her eyes—so often fierce and unyielding—are now fragile, filled with a sorrow as vast as the night sky. Another single tear escapes, catching the light as it falls, reflecting the stars and the city below, like a fragment of the universe slipping from her control. Lena watches it slide down her cheek, the weight of the world resting in that tear, both infinite and heartbreakingly vulnerable.

“What if I hadn’t been fast enough,” Kara whispers, her voice heavy with guilt.

Lena shakes her head, stepping in closer, her body pressing lightly against Kara’s. She feels the warmth of Kara’s body seep through the thin fabric of her kimono, a comforting contrast to the cold air that still nips at her exposed skin. The heat from Kara radiates through her, steadying her, grounding her in the moment. “But you were. You were there when it mattered.”

Her words hang between them, suspended in the cold air. Kara stares at her, the conflict warring in her eyes, her chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.

“I can’t lose you.”

Lena looks into Kara’s shining eyes. She can feel Kara’s breath on her face, can feel her own heart beating louder with every passing second.

It’s moments like this when Lena loves Kara the most. When she is soft and vulnerable. Exposed. Raw. When even the last remnants of her armor fall away, leaving nothing but honesty. When there’s no trace of the hardened superhero, the brave and proud Zor-El, or the awkward Danvers persona—when she is simply Kara.

Pure, unguarded.

Without warning, Kara steps back. Her breath hitches as she turns slightly, her eyes darting to the edge of the terrace. A silent, desperate plea rises within her, a primal need to escape—to flee from the weight of what she feels. “I… I can’t stay. I need to go,” she stammers, her voice shaky, already preparing herself to flee.

Lena’s heart clenches. She reaches out quickly, her hand wrapping around Kara’s wrist, stopping her in place. “Kara, please… don’t,” Lena whispers, her voice soft but firm.

Kara freezes, her body tense under Lena’s touch. Her heart pounds in her chest, the instinct to flee—to escape the storm of feelings swirling inside her—overwhelming her senses. The stars call to her, promising freedom from the weight pressing down on her chest. She struggles to control her breathing, her mind racing. Her gaze remains fixed on the sky, her pulse quickening, the temptation to take off into the stars gnawing at her. For an instant, she almost gives in, her muscles tensing, ready to bolt into the night.

In this moment, Lena fears that her hand, her words, might not be enough to stop Kara from slipping away. She feels it in the tension of Kara’s muscles, the way her eyes keep darting toward the sky, drawn to a freedom that Lena can’t follow. Kara has always fled when things got too close, too raw. And Lena has always held on, hoping that one day, Kara would stop running. But there’s an unspoken weight tonight—a fragility in the air that Lena can’t ignore. They’ve danced around this moment for so long, always teetering on the edge of something more, something neither of them has been brave enough to reach for. But still, Lena holds on, her touch a silent plea for Kara to stay grounded in the moment, to stay with her. To stay, this time.

For Kara, Lena’s touch, warm and grounding, anchors her here, tethering her to the one thing she fears losing most. The gentle pressure of Lena’s fingers against her skin is a reminder of what’s real, what’s here. Her voice, steady and calm, is like an anchor in the storm of emotions threatening to consume her.

„Please, don’t run from this,” Lena whispers, her voice fragile, a thread of hope woven into the quiet night.

Kara’s thoughts swirl. The fear of losing Lena, the guilt of almost being too late, the weight of her own vulnerability—it’s all too much. She’s not used to feeling this exposed, this raw. The tightness in her chest feels suffocating, like she’s caught between the need to protect herself and the longing to give in.

But Lena’s words cut through the chaos.

Don’t run from this.

This. The word lingers in her mind. Kara can feel the heat of Lena’s body so close, her soft breaths brushing against her skin. The scent of her perfume—delicate, floral—mixes with the crisp night air. Kara squeezes her eyes shut, her head spinning, trying to block out the overwhelming sensations.

After a long, heavy moment, she slowly turns around to face Lena. Her eyes, wide and vulnerable, search Lena’s face, looking for answers. “From what?” Kara whispers, her voice barely audible, but loaded with the weight of her unspoken fears.

Lena rises onto her tiptoes, her lips brushing Kara’s cheek, her breath warm against her skin. She kisses away the last remnants of Kara’s tears, soft and slow, before her mouth hovers just inches from Kara’s, the space between them charged with an almost unbearable tension.

And then, slowly, Kara’s hands move, hesitantly at first, but then with more certainty, coming to rest on Lena’s hips. Lena’s breath catches as Kara’s touch sends a surge of warmth straight through her, igniting every nerve. Kara’s grip tightens, fingers curling into the silk of the kimono, and the sensation of Kara’s strength and tenderness combined leaves Lena feeling utterly exposed. Her pulse quickens, her skin humming under Kara’s touch, as if the connection between them has set her aflame.

The city lights below seem to dim, the sounds of the world fading away until there’s nothing left but them—just the two of them, the rhythm of their breathing in sync, the electricity humming between them.

“From this,” Lena whispers, her lips barely grazing Kara’s. Silence stretches between them, heavy with the weight of unsaid things. Kara inhales sharply, the space between them charged with an unbearable tension. And then, with a breathless sigh, Lena closes the distance.

Kara‘s lips are soft, trembling at first, but they meet Lena’s with a hunger that’s been building for what feels like a lifetime. The kiss is slow, languid, but there’s a fire behind it, something raw and unspoken that neither of them can fully articulate. Kara’s fingers tighten on Lena’s hips, pulling her in closer, and Lena’s hand finds the back of Kara’s neck, her fingers tangling in her hair as they lose themselves in each other.

The city below fades into nothing, and for this moment, for this breath, they are all that exists.

[autisticlenaluthor]

Lena

TW: mentions of drowning, dissociation, 4-year-old Lena in intense distress, and witnessing a dead body

The sky above the lake is painted black with a heavy brush– cut through only by the gray clouds rumbling above it. The moon, which used to be so clear, now hides behind the fog. It pokes out every so often to make the smallest of appearances, reminding Lena it’s still there.

At night the trees, all tall and stocky, look more like people than plants. They’re skinny giants with lanky limbs and their eyes are stuck on the little girl standing at the shore. It’s all Lena can seem to think about– how the air is so cold and her mom isn’t holding her anymore. She’s alone again as they watch her, waiting for the right moment to pounce. 

Her mom always tells her monsters aren’t real. She checks the closets and under the bed every night before bedtime just in case. She always tells her they’re safe.

But the glimmering water they spend every Sunday dipping their toes in just swallowed her whole and sucked up all the air bubbles with her. The waves they paddled in together under shining skies had turned dark and suddenly, the world was upside down. 

The lake was their spot. The water belonged to them. And now, her mom belongs to the water. 

Lena stares straight ahead of her, as she’s done since the sun was still shining, and holds pieces of her swimsuit in her fingers.

The material is mostly dry now. It hangs loose on her body– the damp spots making her shiver whenever they meet her skin. Mom had told her she would grow into it. Lena isn’t sure. 

She isn’t sure that the trees won’t come to life and finally attack. Isn’t sure she’ll ever be able to move again. Isn’t sure if any of this is real at all or if it’s just another bad dream she needs to wake up from. 

Lena hopes it is. She hopes her mom is at the other end of it– ready to pick her up and rock her back to sleep. 

As Lena tries to find the strength to pull her swimsuit away from her, she can hear something crunching behind her. It sounds like footsteps in the gravel only louder. It makes her wonder if the Monster Trees have decided to come for her– if they think she isn’t aware of their plans to take her too.

“Hey!” A deep voice calls out to her. “Hey, are you alright?” 

More footsteps approach. They’re shining a light now too – a big one. It makes Lena shiver even harder and her stomach twist. When did it get so cold? 

“Hey– kid.”

Slowly, Lena turns her head and wrinkles her eyes at the white beams hitting her. There’s an ambulance in front of her– over by the edge of the trail. It looks like the ones that sometimes drive by their cottage, to the house at the end of the road where Mrs. Porter lives. Mom says it’s because she’s so old, she gets sick very easily now. Sometimes, she needs help making it to the doctor. 

“Hey…” The voice softens. 

Lena squints at it– the light is getting unbearable– and tries to step backward. But her legs have forgotten how to move and the stones beneath her are so slippery. She stumbles in her haze and her feet slide beneath her. She falls hard onto her bottom. 

A noise escapes as Lena looks down at herself. Her fingers dig into the sand, grasping piles of pebbles and sea glass.

“It’s okay– I’m not gonna hurt you.”

But it does hurt– her legs and her arms and her eyes and everything else. There’s pain shooting through her hips– the rocks are so hard. And as Lena’s fingers tighten around the pebbles, cutting deep into her skin, she can feel her face getting hot. Her jaw clenches and quivers beneath the tension so hard it feels like it might snap in half. 

She should be crying, Lena thinks to herself. 

It hurts worse than it did when she fell off her scooter in the street last week. But the tears don’t fall. It’s like her brain can’t remember how. 

“Oh… sweetheart, you okay?”

When Lena looks up, she sees the man with the voice crouching down in front of her. He’s wearing big green pants and an orange vest that glows in the dark. They crinkle when he moves– like plastic bags being smushed together. 

“Are you cold?” He asks, holding out a silver square for her. When Lena doesn’t move, he unfolds it and it transforms into some sort of tin-foil sheet. “It’s okay– you can stay there. I’ve just got a blanket in case you’re chilly. Sound good?” 

Lena releases her grip on the pebbles and stares at him. 

Even in the darkness, it’s clear how pale she is. Her face is ghastly and white– it’s as if it’s never seen the sun before.

“My name is Kieran,” the man continues. “I drive that big truck over there with my friends. I’m just here to make sure you’re alright and to give you some help.” 

He waits for a moment then slowly approaches. Kneeling down at Lena’s side, he drapes the blanket over her shoulders. It’s thin and crinkly like an old sheet– laid on so softly it hardly touches her.

Goosebumps are covering her arms and legs. She must’ve been out here all day, he thinks. 

“Here, kiddo… just want to warm you up a bit. We don’t want you catching a cold, do we?”

The blanket is big enough that it wraps around Lena’s front and falls behind her in a bunch. Lena glances at it for a second then looks back at the man. 

Behind him, two other grown-ups are stepping out of the ambulance. They pull out something that looks like a tall bed on wheels with straps going across it. They look at her for a moment and pause, saying something to the other that she can’t quite hear. But they don’t go to her– they walk to the water. To her mom. 

“Hey,” Kieran says when he catches her looking. “Hey… can you tell me your name?”

Slowly, Lena reaches for the blanket, wishing she could pull it tighter. She tells herself to move and tries to remember how her arms used to feel before this morning, when they still knew how to follow directions. But they soon fall beside her, unable to hold the material for more than a second. 

“Were you here with your family?” Kieran asks. “With your mom?” 

Mom. Lena’s stomach twists at the word. It makes her feel like how she gets when she’s been sitting in the car for too long. 

She furrows her brow ever so slightly and the tiniest whine escapes her. Her head is hurting– it feels too tight.

Puzzled, Lena looks at the man. She stares at him with her knit brow and hard eyes, waiting for him to read her mind. 

“You’ve still got your goggles on, hun,” he says. He stays seated on his knee and tilts his head, smiling at her. “Can I take them off? Is that why you’re makin’ noises?”

When Lena doesn’t say anything, he extends his hand slowly towards her face. Vaguely, she can see it approaching. She knows she should flinch. He’s so much bigger than she is. So much bigger than her mom. But she can’t move. 

So she sits stoic as the elastic band pulls the hair that’s dried against it. It peels slowly away from her like a hundred bandaids being removed at once. But after a moment, Lena can feel a pressure around her forehead release. 

“That must feel better, aye?” 

Lena looks straight past Kieran at the other two grown-ups in green pants and orange vests. They’re still walking the stretcher down to the lake, talking to each other in hushed voices, muffled by the wind. They’re going for her mom, she thinks, they’re going to find her. 

“Oh… no, you don’t wanna see that,” Kieran mumbles. 

He catches Lena’s semblance of attention again and this time makes sure to keep it. 

He whisks her up into his arms with a grunt as he stands back up, and keeps her securely wrapped in her blanket. 

“You’re being such a brave girl, you know that?” He coos, settling her on his hip. “You’re so brave.”

He brushes a piece of damp hair out of Lena’s face as he speaks and smiles softly at her. She’s so light in his arms, bundled up in the tin-foil sheet made for someone three times her size. It engulfs her completely– leaving only her head exposed to the world. 

“It’s all gonna be okay, yeah?”

For a second, Kieran looks past her at his partners. They wade into the abyss, water sloshing onto the shore behind them. Through the darkness– it’s hard to see more than the glow of the orange vests growing further and further away. But as they lock the stretcher onto the edge of the shore, he makes sure to bounce Lena ever so slightly to turn her away from it.

“Do you like rhymes?” He asks her. “Or songs?” 

Lena tucks her chin to her chest and releases a long exhale. Her eyes are starting to sting from being held open all day.  

“Why don’t we do some songs?” 

He looks at her pale skin and the few freckles scattered across her nose. Her white chapped lips, cracked around the edges from being left out in the cold for so long, and the bags that hang below her eyes. And as the paramedics go deeper into the water, he watches how she stares directly below her, not looking at anything in particular, and takes in her green eyes. He tries to imagine what might be behind them– the memories of what she’s seen. The moment when her mother went under. The hours of looking and waiting for her to return, all alone in the frigid air, with nothing but a soggy swimsuit and goggles on her forehead.

She must’ve known she wasn’t coming back, he thinks. No kid could stand there for twelve straight hours and not know. 

“Do you like…” 

Kieran pauses for a moment, then starts to sing. 

“Theeeee wheels on the bus go round and round,

round and round,

round and round.” 

He bounces Lena gently to the rhythm as he goes through the lyrics, his words hardly above a whisper. It’s just loud enough that Lena will hear him, just loud enough that she’ll have something else to focus on. 

“The wheels on the bus go round and round,

all through the town.

The wipers on the bus go–” He stops for a moment and gives Lena a poke. “How do they go?” 

She continues to look past him with her empty stare as he fills in for her and rocks her from side to side to show the motion.

“Swish swish swish

 swish swish swish,

The wipers on the bus go swish swish swish,

All through the town.” 

“What comes next?” He asks her. “Is it the babies on the bus? What do the babies on the bus do?”

In the distance– there are red and white lights poking through the trees. The first true signs of another ambulance coming to take back the woman in the lake. Lena’s mother. 

But Kieran keeps going with the song, even when Lena looks away from him. Even when she stares at the lights with more awareness than he’s seen from her all day. He just turns her around again and finds another rhyme, another story, another anything to keep her with him. 

“You’re alright, darlin’,” he says. “It’s all gonna be alright. We’re gonna take you on the truck in a minute and my friends are gonna check you out– make sure you’re not sick. And then you’ll get some stickers and you’ll get to turn on the big lights if you want. But it’s all gonna be okay.”

Lena doesn’t know if she believes him. She wants to. But everything is so wrong. 

“Now… let’s do another song,” Kieran thinks aloud. “That always helps my little girl when she’s feeling scared.”

He adjusts Lena in his arms, takes in a breath, then starts again. 

“Hush little baby don’t say a word,

Papa’s gonna buy you a mockingbird”

No, this isn’t right. 

“And if that mockingbird don’t sing…”

Lena can feel her face getting hot. There’s something sharp in her throat– her belly is twisting again. 

“Papa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring”

Her face is wet now. Silent tears creep from her chapped eyes for the first time all day. They make her cheeks burn with irritation and she wants to rub them– no, she wants her mom to wipe them dry the way she had this morning when Lena bumped her knee jumping off the sofa.

“And if that diamond ring is brass, 

Papa’s gonna buy you a looking glass”

Lena can see herself back at home– sitting in bed with her comforter bunched up around her chest. She can see her eyelids drooping, see her mom’s hand holding hers, trailing her thumb across her wrist, as she sings her to sleep. 

“And if that looking glass gets broke,

Mama’s gonna buy you a billy-goat”

Lena sees it so vividly she can almost feel it. Her fluffy pink pillow beneath her head, her teddy bear tucked under her arm, and her mom kissing her forehead as she allows sleep to gently embrace her. 

This isn’t right, Lena thinks. Her mom is supposed to be here. She’s the one who should be singing. She’s the one who should be holding her. 

Lena’s breathing increases rapidly. She squirms in Kieran’s grasp– she wants to be put down. She wants to go home. She wants her mom. She wants her now.

With a whine, Lena turns her head and tries to wriggle out of his arms. 

But what she sees behind her– it makes her freeze all over again. 

The grown-ups in orange vests are out of the water. They’re wheeling the tall bed back towards the ambulance and there’s a woman on it. Her mom. Her mom is on the bed.

Lena whimpers. It can’t be her mom.

This woman is soaking wet. Her orange hair looks black– it cascades over the side of the stretcher, stringy and thick, all clumped together, dripping onto the beach a thin dark liquid, which leaves a trail behind it. This woman lays there on her back, frozen and still, like she should be sleeping.

But she isn’t. Her eyes are wide open.

Lena makes a noise and tries to lean away from Kieran. Her heart is starting to pound– she can hear it in her ears. Big and loud like a drumline, drowning out the sounds of everything else. 

“Hey– hey, come back to me.” 

The older man’s voice is foggy and distorted. 

Lena sniffs as she leans further. She just doesn’t understand it– how her mom could turn so white and why her lips are so blue. It isn’t right– it isn’t her.

Her mom is supposed to be pretty like a princess. She’s supposed to be gentle. But now, she looks like the monsters Lena’s always been so afraid of. The ones she saw that night on the telly when she was meant to be sleeping and crept into the living room while her mom was watching a movie. She’d caught one glimpse and sprinted right back to bed so they wouldn’t be able to catch her, then hid under the covers, shaking, until she fell asleep. 

Lena sniffs again, whining through her fast-paced cries. 

Her mom is a monster and still, Lena wants to run to her. She wants to throw herself on top of her frigid body and shake her until she wakes up. Until she’s no longer sleeping with her eyes open like she’s frozen in time, paralyzed in the last second of her true existence twelve hours ago. 

Lena wants to hug her. She wants to bring her back to life. She knows she can– she knows if she could just be allowed to try, she could do it. 

So she fights with all she has to once and for all, throw herself right out of Kieran’s arms. She hurls her body forward– determined to run to her Mom one last time. She’s going to get to her. She’s going to fix her. She knows she can– she knows it, she knows it, she knows it. 

But Kieran’s too strong. He pulls Lena back and holds her even tighter, turning his body around again so she can’t see her anymore. 

He says something to her– something that’s supposed to be reassuring. But Lena can’t hear a word. 

Her fast-past cries turn into screams and she opens her mouth as wide as it will go, wailing with all her might. She sobs over Kieran’s attempts to calm her down, kicking her legs with all she has because if she’s hurting– he needs to be hurting too.

It’s gut-wrenching to watch. 

The cold air burns Lena’s throat and sears through her chest. Her cracked lips finally split from being open so angrily and each scream pounds in her temple upon its release. Her body is too tired for such emotion but Lena doesn’t care. None of it matters anymore. Her mom is gone. Her world is gone. 

So Lena does the only thing she can do– she cries. Even when snot bubbles from her nose and trails down onto her lips. Even when drool drips from her mouth, down past her chin. She cries so hard that Kieran thinks she might make herself throw up. He freezes a bit when Lena gasps for air with a heave so intense her entire body lurches upwards. Her shoulders shoot to her ears and her face scrunches up.

But all that follows is an even heavier sob. 

They get heavier and heavier until Lena’s entire body is shaking. Her screams grow raspy and strained– her vocal cords shot from the effort. 

Kieran tries to calm her down. He talks to her and rocks her, tightens her blanket then loosens it again– anything to make her more comfortable. 

But nothing works. Lena is utterly inconsolable. 

Behind them, the woman’s body is loaded into the rig. The crunching sound from earlier returns, only quieter this time, when the ambulance leaves to take her to the morgue.

Kieran tries not to think about what’ll happen afterward. When the autopsy is done and Jane Doe is identified– a social worker will have to decide what should happen to the little girl in his arms. They’ll place her in foster care or if she’s lucky, with a distant relative. Perhaps a grandparent.

At some point, one of his teammates approaches him, holding a small ratty backpack patterned with mermaids. They tap him on the shoulder to catch his attention. 

“We found this over by the benches,” The other paramedic says. She shines a flashlight on the tag on the inside, which is written on in neat cursive. “The name inside says Lena. Think it belongs to her?” 

“Lena…” Kieran says softly, shifting the distraught child in his arms. “Are you Lena?” 

Through her wails, Lena manages a nod. She gasps for air a few more times, her shoulders shooting up with each breath, then lets out a crackled whine.

“Oh, hun, it’s gonna be okay,” Kieran tells her. He rubs her back and tries to smile at her– not allowed to show that he wants to break right there with her. “Let’s get you checked out in the truck.”

[cardcaptorsakura96]