#sock theif

[thatgirlforever5]

ELP no 😂

[fizzigigsimmer]

Steve’s got elfin blood. It’s boring. He’s good with plants and animals like him, but even ordinary humans can do that. His bloods not even thick enough to journey to the fae realm without getting a major skin burn from passing through the barrier. He always figured he’d end up with another elfling or maybe a human witch like his mom. In his wilder dreams he thought maybe some kind of nymph. Elves and nymphs get along well together and there’s a long history of cooperation between their clans. He never thought he’d end up with a shifter, and even if he had he’d never have thought even in his wildest dreams that it would be a dragon shifter.

Billy Hargrove is a dragon, and dragons are… they’re a lot. All of those stories about dragons razing cities, horeding treasure, and abducting helpless victims to stash them away in towers, they come from a place. Dragons are extremely powerful and when they go bad it’s bad for everybody. Even the good ones get away with shit just because there’s no easy way to stop something bigger than a house with impenetrable scales. Before Billy came to the academy Steve had never even met a dragon because they’re so preoccupied with accumulating power that they rarely leave the fae realm. Steve was crossing the quad headed for the astrology tower with Tommy when the sky above them darkened, a large shadow passing over the sun. One by one the heads of students and professors had looked up towards the sky to watch as the dragon had descended from the clouds and circled the castle mound, its huge wings churning up a furious wind with every stroke.

It had been difficult to tell with the sun in his eyes, but the dragon was blueish with scales that shimmered with hints of green and gold like the bottom of a stream in summertime. He’s gorgeous, Billy, in both shapes. It’s like he looked into the sun that afternoon and never got it out of his eye.

PART 2

[lesbianpasta]

@a-pretty-damn-good-narrator

I have an idea for a charater that might be interactable in the Jax rp real soon, but I want to just post about the idea.

A Rouge catfolk with 4 younger siblings. Their name is Socks, and they are 21. They are slightly notorious for being a thief but do not want her siblings to follow her footsteps. Socks have white fur, but black "socks" on her paws per her name. Socks look like a cartoon bomb went off in her face. She has folded ears and blue eyes.

Let's just say similar situations to Nera but different because Nera is a guard who had to take care of her siblings, but Socks is theif who needs to take care of her siblings. Other than that, they scarficed a lot for their siblings.

[moonlarked]

More kotlc incorrect quotes from Perchance!

Sophie, texting Wylie: I’m a theif.

Wylie: Thief.

Sophie: Theif.

Wylie: I before E except after C.

Sophie: Thceif.

Wylie: NO.

Biana: Sometimes I'll start a sentence and I don't even know where it's going. I just hope I find it along the way.

Linh: When do you usually go to sleep?

Sophie: Whenever I collapse is entirely up to the gods.

Stina: BWWAAAAAAAAAA! Oh, you hear that? That's the wrong opinion alarm.

Biana: That is not something you actually have installed.

Stina: Sorry, say again? I couldn't hear you over my alarm that YOU SET OFF with your WRONG-ASS OPINION.

Sophie: We’re kind of missing something guys.

Rayni: Cohesion?

Maruca: Teamwork?

Wylie: A general sense of what we’re doing?

Tam: And Dex is not here.

Rayni: Oh, and that, yeah.

Maruca: I'd roast you, but my mom says you can't burn trash.

Maruca: *slow-mo walks out of the room*

Tam: Real life should have a fucking search function, or something.

Tam: I need my socks.

Tam: Dandelions symbolize everything I want to be in life.

Maruca: Fluffy and dead with a gust of wind?

Tam: Unapologetic. Hard to kill. Feral, filled with sunlight, bright, beautiful in a way that the conventional and controlling hate but cannot ever fully destroy. Stubborn. Happy. Bastardous. Friends with bees. Highly disapproving of lawns. Full of wishes that will be carried far after I die.

Linh: Edible.

Dex: You know, studies show that keeping a ladder in the house is more dangerous than a loaded gun.

Dex: That's why I own TEN guns.

Dex: Just in case some maniac tries to sneak in with a ladder.

Tam: Hey, quick question. How petty am I allowed to be?

[rabbitsoverload]

now he may look innocent but he stole and is incubating my bloody sock, i need that sir hes pretending he doesnt have it so he can stash it with the rest of my socks he stole WHICH I HAVENT FOUND. my rabbit is a theif and a squirrel

[iamthunderhearmehowl]

Baulder's Gate 3 AU Halsin's Daughter: "Circle of Decay"

Description: All Faeryl wanted was her freedom – Her home was life was messy, abusive, and shrouded in secrecy. Being the bastard daughter of noble drow princess and an unknown father has caused the hierarchy in her house to become out of order. Because of this, she is treated like a house servant behind closed doors. However, in the public eye , she is one of the best escorts and spies of her Noble House. One day, during her older sister's engagement party, she finds out that her mother is selling her innocence to one of the highest bidders there. This causes her to spill wine on a guest, which in turn causes a downward spiral of events leading to her to run from the underdark. Once on the surface world, she makes her way towards Baulder's Gate where she meets Mol and Arabella. Two tieflings who work for “The Guild" doing their mercenary and heist jobs. The two take Faeryl under their wings and show her the ropes; they soon become and unstoppable team and are given a new mission: Kill the Eldest Son of House Vandree, Alistair, Faeryl's half brother. Unfortunately, the steps and misadventures needed in order to finish this mission push the girls to the edge as they struggle with reminants of their pasts.

Main Characters:

Faeryl:

Class: Druid / Circle of the Moon / Circle of Shadows

Race: Wood Elf / Drow

Age: 90 (ish)

Mol:

Class: Rogue / Theif / Assassin

Race: Tiefling

Age: 22

Arabella:

Class: Sorceress / Wild Magic / Shadow Magic

Race: Tiefling

Age: 20

Other Notes:

Faeryl is ( basically - even though she's hopping off the back of Halsin ) an OC - shes NOT cannon.

This takes place 10-ish years after the events of BG3

This is 100% a fan fiction and NOT cannon

This honestly started out with me making a character for my voice reel to practice - and what do you know Faeryl became a full fledge character in my head :')

The setting / events / information in this AU changes based off of new information I get on the main game - IT IS NOT A FINISHED WORK

Will I write out this fan fiction into an actual written series? Eventually - right now it's all out of order headcannons/ mainly because using my imagination to create this pulled me out of a deep depression (Lmao I almost went on a grippy sock vacation)

I currently have a rough draft written - it will take me forever but bear (lmao) with me

I know this doesn't get a lot of attention - I am screaming into a void - but I really do enjoy this AU I've created and if at least ONE other person enjoys it as well - I am happy.

The Links to everything are on my masterpost that is pinned to the top of my page! But I'll also link it below <3

Links:

Master Post -> ( Click Me )

All Content Page (holds every post regarding this AU) -> ( Click Me )

I'm also doing everything I can to make this accurate so if anyone has books / links / articles in regards to DND /BG3 please send them my way

Thanks <3

[apples-of-eden]

•°~Member introduction~°•

Hello sweetie pies! My name is Han or you can call me Moody, anything really ^^. I'm a 22 years old genderfluid who loves to read, write, sleep, draw, and Roleplay. I have known DL for 5 years now but actually made my first blog at the end of 2021.

Here is my main OC blog -> @metsu-san

•°~About the OC~°•

Name: Metsu Gamachi

Age: 18

Gender: Female

Ethnicity: British-Japanese

Sexuality: Bisexuality

Specie: Shape-shifter

Birthday: 11th of Jan

Sign: Capricorn ♑️

Blood type: O-

Height: 157.5 cm/ 5'2

Weight: 60 kg

Occupations: 2st year in Ryoutei Academy

Favorite food: Pizza, Candy.

Hobbies: painting, baking, dancing, annoying others.

(More info under the cut~)

•°~Appearance~°•

-> Turquoise doe eyes that shine with excitement. Shoulder length wavy red hair that is dyed with a pink color, matching the Rosacea on her cheeks with a band-aid that is on her nose all the time to hide a small scar. Her ears are littered with three grey piercings. Metsu also often let's her hair down with small piggy tails on the side giving her a childish look.

-> her body is in an inverted triangle shape but appears rectangular due to her clothing style. It's either showing off or covering her entire body, no in between. A usual dark tank top with a light tan jacket that she keeps off her shoulders, along with a pair of shorts that reach above the knees. In Contrast to that she wears sweat shirts and pants on lazy days.

-> The school jacket is always off shoulder or tied around her waist. She added another layer to the white shirt so it's not too see-through when it gets wet. The skirt is just a tad bit tighter than usual since she doesn't like how puffy it was. Also wears short socks so it's easy for her to take them off and run bare-footed.

•°~Personality~°•

A stubborn energetic childish girl in the body of an adult, that's a brief description. Metsu doesn't care about what people say, making her carefree and turn out weird. She is painfully blunt to the point of insolence, she says what's in her heart without a second thought and before she knows, words are out in a second.

Adventurous but riskless, she knows her body can regenerate itself so she uses and abuses that point unless silver or copper is added to the mixture, that's when she stops knowing that it will definitely kill her. Loud and talkative, she rambles all the time and she's more optimistic than she is nice, her way of speech leave other thinking of how strange of a person she is. Living up to be a shape-shifter, she blends quickly with her surrounding.

•°~Backstory~°•

Metsu's mother passed away after giving birth to her only daughter, leaving the father to take care of Metsu. Since he was a known painter, he didn't have to leave the house so much, which left him time to raise the little girl, except for occasional measures where he had to travel or leave for a few days.

When Metsu was 5 years old, a new woman, Taila, came to live in the rather quiet neighborhood. Although Talia was very much of a loner, it wasn't long until she took a liking on the sneaky cookie theif that would waddle in her back yard through a small opening in the fence between the houses.

The two adults, Datori and Talia, soon grew closer and got married after the incident when Metsu first became a shape-shifter because of a potion that Talia accidentally gave to the little child. What no one knew except for the small family is that Talia was from the wolf-clan and used that potion as a tranquilizer.

To get a better hold of her new powers, Metsu got trained for a short period of time under the guidance of the king of Vampires, Karlheinz. Due to her small age and how strict and sadistic her training was she developed a fear toward the vampire king.

One more memeber was welcomed to the family, an impure-blood baby boy, attached the memebers of the household even closer to each other until one faithful night when Talia couldn't contain her IED which ended her up killing her husband. It was all pure accident, horror filled Talia's heart; she was ready to runaway with her son in an attempt to keep Metsu from getting hurt too, but it didnt go as planned as the pink haired girl insisted on tagging along since she didn't want to stay dealing with everything alone. A bloody wound was left on Metsu's face when the panicked mother tried to push her away.

Soon a rumor spreads around. An old man is found dead in his house, two of the family members go missing, and a 12 year old girl denies all the accusations before moving out to another place. But there was no other place to shelter herself with but to go back to her previous guardian and seek out his help, which led to her joining the Sakamakis mansion after turning 17.

[starcchild]

✏️✏️✏️✏️

Eᴠᴇɴ Mᴏʀᴇ Iɴᴄᴏʀʀᴇᴄᴛ Qᴜᴏᴛᴇs Gᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀ!

Katrina: It’s quick, it’s easy, and it’s free: pouring river water in your socks! Carter: Why would I do that? Katrina: It’s quick, it’s easy, and it’s free!

——–

Katrina, texting Carter: I’m a theif. Carter: Thief. Katrina: Theif. Carter: I before E except after C. Katrina: Thceif. Carter: NO.

——–

Katrina: I think I just figured something out. I got to go. Carter: Aren't you forgetting something? Katrina: Uuh...*hesitantly kisses Carter's forehead before running out.* Carter: No, pay your bill! Damn, who raised you?

——–

Katrina: I’ve only had Carter for a day and a half but if anything happened to her I would kill everyone in this room and then myself.

——–

Katrina, hungover: Please tell me I'm imagining that I claimed I was king of the ducks. Carter: I would, but then I would be lying to the King of All Ducks.

——–

Katrina: You think you're smarter than everyone else. Carter: I don't think I'm smarter than everyone else. I know I am.

——–

Katrina: I think you're still suffering the effects of your party last night. Carter: All I drank was Redbull! Katrina: How many? Carter: Eighteen.

——–

Carter, very tired: Can I sleep in your bed? Katrina: *half asleep* Carter, this is a queen-sized bed. That means it’s for *gestures vaguely to herself* the Queen.

——–

Katrina: Carter likes to say ‘you can be part of the problem or part of the solution,’ but I happen to believe you can be both.

——–

Katrina: Everything will be ok. You can not stop it. Katrina: Everything will be fine. You have no choice. Carter: What the fuck kind of pep talk is that? Katrina: Ominous positivity.

——–

Carter: What are you doing here? Katrina: I could ask you the same question. Carter: I live here. This is my house. Katrina: I should probably ask you a different question.

——–

Carter: I have feelings for you. Katrina: Why? What's wrong with you? Are you sure you're okay?

[hungryhungrymuses]

The anon grinned eagerly as they were pulled along by Kasumi, more than happy to see the chunky cutie devouring enough ramen and food to drain their account. "No regrets here. If I can help a cutie like you enjoy herself and grow bigger, then it's money well-spent!"

"You say that not but when you got holes in your socks and are using a fridge box as clothes don't come crying to me!" The theif exclaimed, waving down the chef to take her bowls and bring her more, indicating them to keep the bowls coming. Where was she putting it all?

[enjoyyourdunghillbaal]

Derogatory, disrespectful behavior or conduct towards me begets derogatory, disrespectful names or assigned adjectives to the subject.

Example. you're a fag because the way you disrespect me is derogatory.

Fuck your beef industry. Fuck your dead lifeless cows. Fuck your pork. Fuck your fish. I'm keeping my hair.

You can have your clogged arteries and strokes and double chins and pig-eating, chinless assholes. I will not stand up for you.

Do you need feedback on your bugfucking and wirelick8ng without dye process too? Mr "secret seeker"? To go back and spellcheck? For what? So i "don't forget to include everyone" that i choose to walk away from? For the sake of My career as an unpaid slave writer so a piss-addict faggot can get rich off my downfall, misfortune, or poverty?

So you can know if your overhead drum microphone is on at soundcheck? What, faggot?

You ask for this from me, faggot, you seek me out and don't stop bothering people with your piss-addict, negative attention-seeking behavior. until you get what you want.

To empower yourself over me and undermine what belongs to me from birth. everything good or bad that exists without you in my life. Faggot.

It's not your responsibility to concern yourself with my conduct in my own home. This isn't colonial America in the revolutionary War, fucking lime-eating redcoat.

I'll take my chances regarding consequences with the law. You making things into a domestic violence issue because your a possessive micromanaging control freak without authority won't be tolerated. I'm not a fucking two year old, and you aren't my mom or my dad, and I don't live under your roof.

Stop seeking evil with me faggot. Noone is hiding anything from you or for you to expose for the sake of your piece of shit Australian international news gossip shitrags trashing the USA to the other world viewers, from a country that started out as prison exiles from england.

What ranged device would they find pointed at my home if they decided to seek out your source origin fsggot? The room starts creaking and reacts through the plastics, glass, televisions, mirror frames, wood or cloth or metal has no kinetic response. Everytime the thermostat kicks in and the electric fan starts.

Everything I fucking hate about you, so would any woman if she was subjected to your bullshit egotrip everyday.

jealous Little bitch.

Because of won't ball up in a fetal position every time you try to stick you fist in my face faggot? Because I won't flinch from you when you try to clech your shit up and make a fist faggot?

What about spellcheck? Who did you need me to look back for, more of the same Sodomy and gemmorah shit from you, Mr buttfuck?

Maybe I'm not your right hand. Or your jerkoff hand.

Take away your steroids and go jerk off to something other than asking me to provide for your beta boy cuck verbal abuse fetish. iron theif. stupid life-draining faggot.

Who else was in my room last night while I was downstairs outside at 4am? I clearly remember NOT using the last of the toilet paper.

Do you pull this shit with the president too during his press briefings or public speaking for our United States Citizens, faggot? You know, when your journalist troll friends start asking about personal shit in their private homes like camp david, trying to put the President on the spot?you know, making dickheaded off topic questions about his sock drawer? Was that meant for him, or me on the other side of TV land, faggot?

Do i look like a training dummy to you faggot? You sure look like one to me right now faggot. Where'd you get the key, faggot? Is that why I was barking at you faggot? Were the birds watching out for me and trying to get my attention faggot? You snooping through my car too faggot?

What about my stolen license plate? I already filed a report, you gonna try to claim a repo job faggot? It's in clear view of cameras too faggot. Because you had my place staked out to snoop around while I was outside? Huh faggot? What else did you do? Do I have to throw all my food out because your faggot ass tried to poison my food, faggot? No, that's not an inconvenience. What was this pill on my floor faggot? Cyanide? What if i took it to a lab. What would i find? Piss addict faggot.

What other cameras can see you in the hall, faggot?

Close curtains while I'm here, open them when I leave so you can violate peeping Tom conduct, faggot.

All just US secret service training at my life's expense to play bodyguard for some corrupt politician vs. some criminally insane asshole, huh faggot?

#piss-addict。

[yarnreader]

Episode 63: "A Slightly Shorter Episode" (5/23/17)

https://youtu.be/6KSfQ6sv-3I

You can find me on Ravelry, Twitter, Goodreads, Pinterest, and Google +.You can watch the podcast here on the blog, in the Ravelry thread for this episode in the group, or on Youtube.Show notes are here on the blog and in the Ravelry thread.You can join the Ravelry group, to keep up to date when new episodes are posted, blog posts (whenever I get back to that), and any KALs I host. Things mentioned in this episode:Books:Sabriel, The Theif, City of Ashes, Fellowship of the Ring, City of Glass, The Colette Sewing Handbook, and Two Towers.WIPs: Heilopath Vest, Cropped Sweater for Winter, Dumbledore's Warm Socks, Tis a Good Day for a Stretch of The Legs Cowl, Migra Mitts, Lonely Tree Shawl, Tracery Vest, and Fred and George Socks.TV Time: Kubo and the Two Strings, The Secret Life of Pets, Moana, Patorit's Day, In the Dark, The Little Prince, and Harlots.

[halleythecometcorgi]

I brought you your sock! j/k it’s my sock!

[eccentric-enby-entity]

@neatokeanosocks give me my fucking right shoe and my laces back or you'll regret it

[sparrowinged]

Half of this was done in 2019 and the other half was done in 2020

also I haven’t posted my art in SO long.

[coeurdastronaute]

Atlas: Moon

Previously on Atlas

They weren’t actually anything. 

Mine, Kara would bite, grab too hard, leave tiny bruises hidden beneath those dresses or slacks, all manner of yellow and green to red and purple to black and blue on the soft, hidden skin of Lena Luthor. Each said one word, over and over and over again-- Mine. 

Mine, Kara would ache, burrowing into Lena’s neck, holding her tighter than she should, clinging, as if Lena was pouring out of her hands, unable to be contained for too long. It was a desperate thing, to cling as she did, but Kara was learning she was a desperate being when it came to that Luthor. 

Mine, Kara would swallow and smile when Lena went to dinners with old friends, or with other CEOs trying to close deals and maybe close her. She grit her teeth and threw herself into her patrols or work for the night, not thinking about anything at all. 

Mine, Kara would beam proudly, standing on any stage or street, her own chest blaring the sigil of her people, her life, her blood, while Lena spoke earnestly and optimistically, dreaming and demanding a better today, and tomorrow. She could whip up a crowd in a hurry with her infectious need to do better. 

Mine, Kara would chant in her head as she held the CEO’s hips down to keep from squirming away from her tongue. 

But they weren’t actually anything. Kara didn’t get any part of Lena Luthor, officially. She had everything she took unsanctioned. She knew that Lena liked her coffee with a decent amount of creamer and more sugar that she wanted to admit. And that Lena liked the eye contact portion of sex. She craved Kara’s gaze and always found it until she couldn’t hold it. Kara gobbled it all up. She learned when Lena was stressed she ordered carbs and put on background noise in the form of trashy tv that was often turned off quickly when Kara appeared. She knew that Lena listened to loud, angry music when she worked out. She learned that Lena Luthor had a very strong desire to be cozy, much opposed to the demeanour she wore at work and in public. At home, she was cozy socks and leggings, old, soft shirts and sweatshirts from college, with warm blankets in every texture hiding near the couch. 

Those were the unofficial parts of Lena Luthor that Kara found herself knowing, despite not actively remembering when she picked them up. 

Mine, Kara whispered to herself in the middle of the night. The sweat dried between them, but they hadn’t moved from bed to clean up when they tired themselves into sleep. Kara fought against it, revelling in the feeling of Lena’s hand on her neck and jaw, herself asleep across Kara’s chest. Kara gripped Lena’s hip before rubbing her back, earning a sleepy hum. A soft, murmur and a nuzzling nose against the other side of her neck. 

The hero closed her eyes and took the time, she memorized every moment of it. Lena would be mad if she knew, which made her smile, but she didn’t care at all. She was greedy and possessive and jealous and absolutely taken. 

Maybe one day she would stay. It was a spoken rule, per Lena herself, that Kara couldn’t stay. She was aware enough to acknowledge that it was selfish, but Lena couldn’t allow herself the option of waking up with Kara, and as much as she hated it, Kara couldn’t handle a moment like that. That would break her. 

But that didn’t stop her from stealing as much time as she could. With Lena shifting her legs against her, tracing the soft little hairs in the dip of her lower back, circling the dimples that rested right above her bum. Kara was a theif, a purveyor of unofficial histories, a glutton. 

It grew harder and harder to extricate herself, and not just because she didn’t want to go. Lena clung, in her sleep. Lena couldn’t be close enough to another living, breathing being. If only Kara could get the wakeful Luthor to feel the same, she thought to herself as she began the process of pealing the CEO off of her. Lena Luthor was at least a good sleeper, a point of pride Kara had, in having a hand in tiring her. 

The light was dim, coming in from the hallway, but Kara surveyed the new galaxy of bruises on the Luthor’s pale back. They all said mine triumphantly. Kara pulled up the sheet and grabbed her clothes, dressing only in the hall so as not to bother the sleeping woman who shifted only slightly, turning over and mumbling into her arm. 

Before she left the penthouse, Kara put away the dishes and wiped the counters. She cleaned the wine glasses left on the coffee table and folded the blankets. 

Most importantly, she prepped the coffee maker, and left a note. 

It’s supposed to rain today. Are you ready to be mine? I can keep you. I’m ready for the job.

Kara propped it against the coffee mug and made sure the door was locked before heading for the balcony. Thunder rumbled in the distance and once again, she moved out of Lena Luthor’s orbit, eagerly awaiting the next time she’d pull her closer. 

XXXXXXXXXXX

They weren’t actually anything. 

But it was insane to Lena how much different ‘nothing’ was to ‘not anything.’ They were two very different concepts in her mind, because they were surely something, despite her better inclinations. But they weren’t actually anything, and they certainly weren’t nothing. No, Lena Luthor was deeply aware of the fact that she could not see Supergirl or Kara and not feel something. Sometimes it was lust. Sometimes it was joy. Most of the time though, it was a quiet kind of contentment that seemed to put her at ease in a foreign, addicting way.

It would have been easier if they had been nothing, if she hadn’t known what Kara smelled like after flying through the rain to come see her. If she didn’t know that Kara really liked not wearing socks when she was around, always kicking her shoes this way and that. If she hadn’t known the noise Kara made when her back was scratched. If she didn’t know what Supergirl tasted like or what she liked most to make her come. Or that she hated responding to emails. Or that she really liked bell peppers. 

Lena often beat  herself up for how stupid she had been and continued to be regarding Supergirl. She should have locked the balcony. She shouldn’t have turned around in that bar. 

But now she watched from a corner of a newly familiar bar as Kara laughed and played pool with her friends. Lena kept up with the conversation at hand, Jess and Sam arguing about the outcome of some show between drinks. 

She was too busy watching Kara, and the way her smile stretched across her entire face, the strong point of her chin, the glow in her eyes before adjusting her glasses. Lena licked her lips when she looked over, finally. Kara nursed a beer, her cheeks flushing pink with the heat, her friends mocking her for not paying attention. 

They were strangers once again, for now. 

There was no way Kara would want to stay that way. Lena didn’t even want to stay that way, she just didn’t want to have her heart broken slightly more. At least now, she was controlling it, the ache, the want, the need. At least now, by saying no, by dismissing it as anything of substance, she was breaking her own heart. It was significantly less than what she was certain Kara could have done to it. 

Lena didn’t have an answer because she couldn’t imagine it. But she could sit in limbo. It was safe there because she could lie and tell herself that they weren’t nothing, they weren’t anything, and even if it was something, something was the smallest thing in the universe if she wanted it to be. She could shrink something down into a piece of dust. 

She looked away when Kara met her eyes again. She drank her drink and laughed with her friends. 

Toward the end of the night, she placed her cash on the table and hugged Jess and Sam before making sure to meet Kara’s eyes once more. 

Come. 

Kara finished her drink as Lena left the bar. She checked her watch and knew who would be waiting at home for her. 

XXXXXXXXXX

The lights were out, but Kara knew that Lena was home. She hadn’t left home in a week with the accusations of her involvement with her brother’s newest scheme in Metropolis. But Kara knew. She heard the muffled and ragged sighs-- not crying, but rather exasperated hopelessness. Sam had stopped by already, dropping off food and promising Lena that things were going to be okay. Kara liked Lena’s friends. There weren’t many, but they were loyal and fierce. They did what Kara always wanted to do-- entered through the front door. 

The light from the television in the bedroom blinked slightly with whatever Lena wasn’t watching. Kara was late to the party. The stupid mission with the stupid alien jail and the stupid issues with the DEO. She wanted to run to Lena’s as soon as the news broke. But now she was late and maybe it was too late. 

The door on the balcony was locked and Kara tried not to be hurt by it, but she couldn’t help it. She was mostly human, and she felt Lena pulling away with the breeze, as if she’d be gone if Kara breathed again. 

So she didn’t. Kara sat on the balcony and waited patiently, dialing Lena’s number and listening to the vibrations inside. 

Maybe she would always be on the outside of Lena Luthor’s life. Maybe this was an apt and brutal metaphor for what was happening. But that didn’t stop her from trying again. And again. And again. Everyone else quit Lena. Kara wouldn’t, she couldn’t-- and if she could, she would never. 

In her heart, deep within the very fabric of her being, Kara knew what her destiny was when it came to the CEO. She was ready to acknowledge it. She was ready to embrace it. She was ready to sit outside on the balcony because it was what Lena needed. 

Maybe Lena would never be able to need her. Kara smiled to herself and dialed again. She didn’t care. She was going to be the one person in the entire universe that Lena could count on and trust. This was her destiny, and she’d take whatever Lena could give her. 

She took a break after the fifth call, scrolling through some emails but making a face and ignoring them. The door behind her opened a second later and she fell back, half on the balcony and half inside Lena’s penthouse. She winced and looked up at Lena, smiling softly but not standing up. 

Clad in Kara’s old sweatpants and sweatshirt, both of which eclipsed her limbs and hung protectively over her smaller frame, Lena took a deep breath and smiled slightly back. She sat on the ground and rested her head on Kara’s shoulder, two forces facing each other and not moving. Lena pressed her forehead into Kara’s neck and cradled her head sweetly.

Kara kept her hands rooted against her own stomach. 

She closed her eyes and kissed Lena’s forehead earning another sigh. This one was not like the other’s though that she’d overheard for the past few hours. This one was not defeated, but rather alive and tired. It was something. 

XXXXXXXXX

Maybe it was cruel to do, but Lena didn’t care. She wanted to be cruel. She wanted to take it out on everyone around her. When her father surfaced and implicated her, she felt the anger and rage well up within her to a degree that nearly broke her bones. She thought she hated someone before, but it was nothing compared to this. And the hoops she had to jump through to prove his lies, the way they looked at her, the things they said-- all of her years of hard work vanishing because of a psychopath. 

It was cruel, but it was masochistic as well. 

With barely a look back, Lena tossed Kara’s pants to her on the bed and walked out of the bedroom. Her body didn’t feel tired enough yet, and Kara was too… Kara. Too sweet, too kind, too understanding, too eager, too loving. Lena wanted to hurt. She paused to grab something to drink before heading to the gym across the penthouse. 

Kara paused in the doorway, but the music in her headphones was too loud and she was too good at ignoring important things. 

Lena lifted heavy things until her muscles didn’t work, and when they collapsed, she moved to the next group, hopeful that she wouldn’t be able to move in the morning. Hopeful that there was enough self-hate and bitterness in her to enjoy the pain that was coming, because fuck everyone else. Fuck Kara’s sister, and how she looked during questioning, how she looked when Lena lawyered up. Fuck Kara’s soft approach and checking on her. Fuck Kara’s eyes that considered Lena could do what her father said. 

Sweating and drowning in it, almost unable to walk down the hall, Lena was afraid to take off her headphones. If she did, maybe she’d hear Kara, and then she’d be stuck in the gym until she disappeared. But as she strained her ears she realized she was alone, and she hated it. 

Lena paused at a bag with food in it on the kitchen island. Kara’s small note was left beside it. There was a box, in Lena’s closet. It was full of Kara’s notes. It might look like a box of scrap paper, as Kara rarely had paper, just whatever was around-- napkins, envelopes, ripped paper bags. 

Eat something. I am in love with you. I thought I should let you know Before you run away. I’ll run too, with you, after you. Either one. Both. 

She tapped the note against her lips after reading it a dozen times. That complicated things immensely, she realized. If she was going to leave a note, it would say something similar, only she would never write it. Never. 

XXXXXXXXXX

Sometimes Kara wanted a girlfriend. 

She thought she sometimes had one, but then Lena, as if sensing her even thinking of the word, would disappear within the labyrinth of her own fortress. Kara didn’t mind. She was good at mazes, and she wouldn’t have been falling in love with Lena Luthor if she wasn’t Lena Luthor. That meant she would love everything. 

But sometimes, Kara really wanted a girlfriend-- to dote on her, to take her out, to take care of her when she was deathly ill. It wasn’t often, but she was quite the baby when she wasn’t optimal health. 

The sea of tissues around her bed seemed to ebb as she added to it and pulled the blankets up tighter around her shoulders, shivering against the non-existent cold that seemed to grip her bones. At least she wasn’t throwing up anymore though. There was that victor--

Kara reached for the bowl by the bed and when she came to after emptying her already empty stomach, she cursed the ship and Sara for dragging her into the deep reaches of the galaxy and exposing her to whatever alien illness this was. She’d let Sara have it soon enough. And it would be epic and, uh-oh. She grabbed the bowl again. 

Defeated and aching, Kara collapsed back into her bed and drifted into an uneasy sleep. 

If she slept, it could go away. If she slept she could dream that she had a girlfriend who would take care of her when she was like this, and do that thing, her mother once did, where she played with her ear and rubbed her back. Kara smiled, slightly delirious at the memory and the comfort it provided. 

But she didn’t want a girlfriend. She wanted a Lena. She wanted a Lena Luthor who loved her and rubbed her back, even when she was feverish and had a puke bucket. 

But the Lena she had wouldn’t look at her some days. 

Somewhere in her dreams and wanting, Kara heard her door open and coughed as she tried to sit up, he words stuck there. It was just her Lena. She smiled at the hallucination. It was kind of her illness to give her what she wanted. So often she’d been convinced that she couldn’t have anything nice. It would be nice to feel Lena now. 

Cool hands ran over her forehead and she smiled, her eyes refusing to open. The hands moved to her cheeks and her neck. The hands tugged her out of the bed and stripped her down in the bathroom before heaving her into the shower awkwardly. She braced herself on the wall and looked around, but found no hands and no body, just warm water, streaming down on her and making her feel so much cleaner than she had been in two days. Slowly, she washed. It wasn’t terribly effective, but she was warm, finally. That was a nice feeling. 

The hands returned and wrapped her in a towel. Kara smiled at Lena and furrowed. Hair in a messy bun, she had a mask on, but she was Lena. It was her eyes. Kara knew those eyes. But when she tried to speak she was hushed. Kara let Lena dress her, slipping into fresh clothes for the first time in days. 

When she made it back into her bedroom, she found it cleaned. No more tissue ocean. No more bucket. There were different sheets on the bed and her night stand was refreshed with liquids and medicines. Lena guided her to the bed and tucked her in, careful to administer the next dose of medication, rubbing her back as she took it. 

Kara was certain she was delirious. She was certain her body was falling apart and would never work again. But her Lena, her dream Lena tucked her in and Kara drifted off to the sounds of her apartment being cleaned. 

She wasn’t sure of the time or space, or if she was truly awake, but she let hands tug her closer, and she rolled over, gripping at the body in her bed while hands rubbed her back and ear. Kara smiled into Lena’s chest and inhaled her smell, her congestion clearing slightly. 

When she woke, fully woke, two days later, her apartment really was clean. Clean sheets were folded and stacked on the couch, groceries were left in the fridge. 

A vase of flowers sat on the island in the kitchen with a little note. 

You’re kind of a baby when you’re sick. I might run. I might want you to not let me. Feel better. 

Kara sighed and fiddled with the card. She coughed a little and smiled into her chest. It hadn’t been a dream. It’d been better. 

XXXXXXXXXX

There were few things Lena wanted to do less than going to the National City Chamber of Commerce Annual Art Night Gala. It was frankly too long, both in title and in content. She’d rather go to the dentist. Honestly. She had great teeth and liked the dentist. She’d rather go to the DMV, despite not having a car. Nothing really jumped to mind as to what she wouldn’t rather be doing than going to the stupid Gala. 

But she bought a table and filled it with her favorite people in hopes that it would make it more tolerable. 

Once more, she hadn’t counted on Kara Danvers to make everything worse. 

Lena first caught the reporter near the entrance, talking excitedly to a local charity president, jotting a few things down in her notebook. It was her bare back that really infuriated Lena. It was her dress that dipped and showed off the sculpted contours of her spine and the muscles of her shoulders. Three strings ran over the skin there, holding the black sily garment to her. Lena hated it. She hated the way she felt and the way her chest tingled at the sight. 

Now she certainly didn’t want to be there. It’d been weeks of rare sightings and weeks of floating around each other. Weeks of quick meetings and infrequent conversations. Weeks of something changing and Lena hating that she was the one that did it. 

And more than anything, she always hated that she felt warm and gross and gooey when she looked at Kara Danvers and earned a smile. And Kara knew it. Kara fucking knew how hard it was for Lena to not fall in love and she went around wearing something like that. 

Lena couldn’t stop looking at the reporter as she sat at the bar and ignored the gentleman hitting on her. She didn’t want to. She didn’t want to look and she couldn’t stop. But Kara’s hair looked soft and that dress accented her curves and her shoulders and Lena wanted to be the person who walked over and placed her hand on the small of Kara’s back, right where the fabric split, to trace her spine with her thumb. Nothing was stopping her except the deep-rooted fear of loving Kara Danvers. 

As if they were strangers, as if Kara hadn’t left bruises on Lena’s thighs the night before, as if Kara hadn’t asked Lena to fix her computer a few days prior and they laughed and watched shitty movies and had take out on her couch. As if Lena hadn’t asked Kara to stay. Kara walked through the crowd and slipped past Lena, her fingertips burning a hand across her lower back as she moved to excuse herself. Lena held her breath and felt the heat curl through her blood, up through her chest. 

It felt unfair, that Kara touched her and Lena was stuck gripping her drink tighter than should have been allowed. 

There was actually no where else Lena wanted to be, she realized, than sitting a bar with Kara Danvers watching her from across the room. 

XXXXXXXXXX

It was like a bubble, a stolen moment in time that popped when real life intruded. But Kara craved the bubble. She craved the normalcy of it. She craved Lena Luthor, and when Lena didn’t let Kara leave, she stretched time as long as she could. The weekend was coming to an end though, and eventually phones would need to be turned back on. But from Friday evening until Monday morning, Kara was not leaving the bubble, and she certainly was not going to do anything else but show Lena Luthor how to be in love. She could teach her. She already knew how, just never wanted to believe in anything of the sort. 

From her spot on the couch, Kara watched as Lena tied her hair up in a loose bun before going back to the task at hand of making dinner from scratch. Pots were simmering and steaming on the stove, the island was covered in bowls, though it was an organized kind of chaos. It smelled divine. When Lena looked over, Kara continued to hide behind her book, stretching and adjusting her legs slightly, lazing away the day. 

Music played softly from a phone on the counter while Lena wiped a little sweat from her brow. She looked like she was enjoying herself-- carefree and relaxed, amused and eager, happy and committed to creating something delicious. Kara knew she was a food snob, but she didn’t know she could cook. That was a pleasant surprise. 

Lena moved like a dance. She wore old shorts and an older sweatshirt, the sleeves pushed up tightly on her elbows. Her feet slipped across the floor of the kitchen, the fuzzy socks acting as skates that she enjoyed using to move quicker around the room. Kara watched from the couch and sipped the tea that had been prepared and left for her on the coffee table. Lena liked to make too much tea. And she set it down and ran her hand over Kara’s head while she read, pushing her glasses down the bridge of her nose and earning a giggle. 

Kara watched politely, sneaky and quiet. 

Lena Luthor was cooking her dinner, and Kara hadn’t a care in the world. Let time stand still, let the Earth stop moving. She didn’t even want to eat it, just wanted to watch Lena cook, happily and fulfilled. 

But Lena caught her looking, and Kara hid behind her book once more with a smile. 

XXXXXXXXX

Mine. 

Lena whispered it to herself as Kara slept atop her. She massaged her neck and rubbed the tip of her ear softly. She was in love with Kara’s ears. They were perfect and cute, and a tiny part of her that Lena could keep. 

In the bed, as dawn approached, Lena closed her eyes and imagined what it would be like to call Kara Danvers her’s. 

She could. She should. 

Mine, she tasted the word. Kara rolled away, tucking into the pillow, tugging Lena’s arm as her own blanket. 

She wouldn’t stay. She couldn’t. 

But she let herself have a few more minutes of Kara’s warm back and the smell of her sheets. 

Mine. It was a statement she already knew to be true. Kara was her’s. Kara wanted to be hers. Kara wanted Lena so badly that she was willing to take what she gave, which sometimes was nothing and at the best, was just barely hopeful. Lena didn’t deserve someone like that, and Kara certainly deserved better. 

But the possessiveness, the eagerness to be with Kara, it never went away. She was attracted, but more than that, she wanted to be in love. 

Mine, Lena murmured and smiled, resting her nose against Kara’s shoulder.

NEXT

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