#supergirl prompts

[ghostbsuter]

He'd moved to metropolis on a whim.

The city was big, he's earning good money via commissioned things (most people come to him for cosplay actually, who knew that knowing how to build a sci-fi gun that doesn't even work would be this wanted??) and he's got a nice apartment!

Superman and Supergirl were the active heroes, he didn't need to involve himself anymore with the world of heroes, he would continue as a civilian. It was better this way.

So how come LexLuthor, of all people, what is his luck?, sends him an invitation to LexCorp AND once declined, seemed to have created some sort of energy absorbing weapon that directly zoomed in on his immediate whenever around?

Civilian life is one thing.

Being rescued via Super for the 9th time is another.

"Hey Danny." Supergirl grins, they're floating to the side as Superman deals with Lex.

"Hey, Supergirl." Danny replies with a sigh, holding his bag.

[proneterror204]

When Pariah Dark was alive he was a kyptonian warlord. In kryptonian history it is known that in medieval kypton there was a king so mad with power that he burned all the temples, declared war on the gods, and seduced a young chronomancer to bend time in his favor. It is recorded that the kryptonian god of death, dan-el, struck him down for his crimes and arrogance and threw his soul into the unknown to suffer eternal undeath.

[satoshy12]

Allspeak Danny + Dc

Danny has acquired Omnilingualism/All-Tongue/Allspeak.  He could speak any language fluently, which helped him in school, even if he changed languages while speaking a few times.

Mr Lancer cried in joy as Danny spoke fluently in Latin, French and Spanish.

So, while attending a space convention, he overheard a girl complaining about it to her sister about how awful the event was.

His desire to listen to what the Guide had to say was so strong that he couldn't stop himself and asked them to be quiet.

It didn't occur to Danny that he spoke Kryptonian to the girls. The mother language of the girls, who were the super heroines Supergirl and Powergirl.

Danny then listened and followed the tour guide, ignoring the two girls completely. Who were totally shocked. 

He then used his powers and was gone after the convention closed.

Leaving behind Supergirl and Powergirl, who really wanted to talk to him.

[ekingston]

A chef!AU, maybe? In any case, a story in which Kara and Lena meet through one of them preparing/serving/etc food for the other and build their relationship based on that.

(also on ao3.)

“I’m telling you, Alex. It’s her.”

At three pm on a Tuesday their restaurant is characteristically dead, save for the one lone customer Kara is spying on from behind the kitchen doors. The woman is perched, a little perilously, on a barstool at the counter. It’s the one that’s closest to their register, the one with the wobbly leg that Alex keeps telling Kara to fix. One of her red-soled heels is dangling from an impatiently bouncing left foot.

“This is the fourth time this week she’s come in here,” Kara says. “You don’t think that’s just a little bit suspicious?”

Alex shrugs, fully committed to her task of mincing onions. “Maybe she’s just a big fan of Italian food.”

“No way,” Kara says. “No woman who looks like that would put something in her mouth that wasn’t clearly marked gluten-free and vegan. Give me your phone.”

Alex rolls her eyes dramatically as she elbows it over. “Tell me again how you’re totally over Siobhan.”

“Oral sex isn’t a moral issue!” Kara takes a decisive breath while she unlocks her sister’s phone with practiced ease. “Whatever. Water under the bridge.”

“Uh-huh.”

“A love for pasta also doesn't explain why I heard this woman answer a call yesterday with a different name than the one that’s on her credit card,” Kara points out, before snapping a quick picture through the porthole window.

“Okay, now you’re being creepy,” Alex says.

“Shut up,” Kara tells her. “I’m texting Winn.”

Kara eyes the woman at the counter while she waits for his reply. The subject of her suspicion—Lena, she’d called herself on the phone; Tess Mercer, it had said on her mastercard—twists a soft-looking lock of dark hair around her finger as she studies their menu. The way the sunlight sets it ablaze almost makes Kara take a second picture, purely for its artistic merit.

Alex dabs at her onion-induced tears with the cuff of her sleeve. “Let it go, Kara,” she sighs.

“Let it go? Let it—” Kara whirls back to face her, throwing her hands up in frustration. “Do you want The Tower to end up like Winn and James’ steakhouse? Or are you fine with getting swindled by this—this… villain?”

“Of course not.” Alex looks at her like she’s stupid. “But even if this woman is your so-called ‘food influencer’, what do you suggest we do about it? It’s not as if we can bully her into giving us a fair review.”

Kara squares her jaw and sets her fists firmly on her hips. “No,” she declares, her tone grim. “But we can teach her a little about journalistic integrity.” She blows at a lock of hair that’s fallen in her face. “And also, possibly, credit card fraud.”

Alex narrows her eyes at her. “Kara,” she warns, putting down her knife. Her voice is low and cautious, as if she’s talking to the rowdy raccoon that moved into their dumpster three weeks ago instead of to her baby sister. “Let’s just take a breath and think about this for a m—”

Kara is already gone, the doors to the kitchen swinging closed behind her. Sliding into the cluttered space behind the counter, she crosses her arms and then drops her elbows on the bar, leaning what she belatedly realizes is probably a little too close to her adversary. She’s close enough to make out the individual downy hairs on her chin and the lines in her painted lips, which are still pursed thoughtfully in what Kara is sure would look like an attractive pout to someone who didn’t know any better.

But Kara knows so much better.

“Let me guess,” she remembers to get out, much less biting than originally intended. “Today you’ll be having the fifth entrée down the list.”

As soon as their eyes meet over the miniscule amount of space left between them, Kara knows leaning in was a fatal mistake. Her nemesis blinks up at her with wide, startled eyes that remind Kara of the glass pebbles she finds on the beach on her morning walks, not-quite-blue and not-quite-green, and for a moment Kara’s brain sputters out as if someone abruptly turned off the flames that kept it cooking.

But the woman recovers fast, like the scheming scoundrel that she is. She guiltily shutters her eyes behind thick, charcoal lashes, and Kara’s temper revives at the observation that her enemy isn’t as good of an actress as she thinks she is.

“I’ve actually been thinking of breaking my own rule,” she says, with a smile that lands somewhere between self-deprecating and apologetic. “I may give in and order the same thing you served me yesterday.” Kara goes hot all over with righteous indignation at the rich timbre of the woman’s voice, the almost flirtatious lilt it takes on when she adds, “I haven’t been able to stop dreaming about it.”

Kara pulls back a little in an effort to escape that curious gaze, the enticing scent of the woman’s perfume. It’s sweet enough to drown out even Alex’s mountain of onions. “I know what you’re doing,” she blusters.

The—frankly unfairly beautiful—soulless grifter stares at her, stricken. “I’m—I’m sorry?”

“You should be,” Kara says. “I know who you are.” And then, as if she’s putting down the last card in a game of Uno, “Lena.”

The woman goes very still for a moment, and then the corners of her lips tug down in a bitter semblance of a smile. “I see,” she says. She’s rigid, regal; she’s royalty perched on a wobbly wooden stool. “And am I to assume that’s enough for you to turn down my patronage?”

Kara’s resolve wobbles, too. She hadn’t expected her adversary—Lena, she now knows—to roll over so easily. “Well, yeah, obviously,” she flusters, her energy suddenly too large and lumbering in the face of Lena’s deference. “Winn and James are family.”

“Family.” There’s a flicker of wistfulness in Lena’s voice, before confusion colors her features. “So the cold shoulder,” she says. “It’s personal?”

Kara scoffs. The fraudster doesn’t even remember the names of her latest victims. Typical. “It was their steakhouse that you razed to the ground last month,” Kara reminds her.

Lena blinks at her. “The establishment just up the road?” She raises a critical eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure they set themselves up for failure when they decided to name their restaurant Misteak.”

Kara huffs. Her air quotes are appropriately vicious when she says, “They were doing just fine before your slanderous ‘review’ went viral.”

Lena does a remarkably convincing impression of someone who is genuinely flabbergasted. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“Liar.”

Lena’s shocked laughter is bright but brief. It’s the first time Kara has heard her laugh. It’s maddeningly attractive and deeply annoying.

“Okay,” Lena says. She folds her arms in front of her chest and leans back a little in her seat, unaware of its delicate disposition. A smirk tugs at one corner of her mouth. “Tell me,” she says, her eyes narrowing. “Who do you think I am, exactly?”

Kara leans in close again, refusing to allow Lena to get the upper hand. She’d like to wipe that smirk from Lena’s face—manually, if need be—preferably, even, if it means she’d get to smudge that infuriatingly immaculate lipstick with her thumb—

“You,” Kara charges, in an effort to drown out that unhelpful thought, “are a fraud. You call yourself a ‘mystery food critic’ on TikTok, but really you’re blackmailing businesses into buying a favorable review.”

“Hey, um.” Alex has followed her out of the kitchen, holding her phone. “So. Winn texted back, and he says—”

But Lena laughs again, her guarded posture melting down to unmistakable relief. “I’m so sorry,” she says, her voice a high warble. “That sounds awful. And also extremely illegal. Have you reported this person to the authorities? I can get you in touch with an excellent lawyer, if you’d like.”

Kara doesn’t know if she feels more outraged or confused.

…Or possibly some secret third thing.

“So you’re telling me—” Kara barks out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re saying you’re not her.”

“This, ehm— Tic Tac person?” When Lena’s dark lashes flutter, something in Kara’s chest flutters too. “No.”

Impossible. “Then why have you been in here every day this week?” Kara interrogates, the full force of evidence she’s collected behind it. “When neither one of us has seen you here even once, since we opened?”

Alex rolls her eyes. “I told you I wasn’t sure whether I’d seen her here before,” she points out. “Also, Winn says—”

“Oh please,” Kara scoffs, her eyes fixed on Lena, who has propped her elbows on the counter again, closer now than she’d been the last time their eyes met. “As if you could forget a woman as beautiful as—” Kara’s gaze drops to Lena’s mouth, unbidden, when Lena parts those rude, ruby lips. “...You.”

Alex stares.

Kara swallows.

Lena blinks; two times fast, and then again, after a beat, slow and sticky, her eyes darkening.

“So you may as well come out with it,” Kara croaks out what little remains of her anger. “There’s something you want more than our fettuccine.”

Lena’s cheeks have turned a treacherously charming shade of pink. “I suppose you’re right about that one, at least,” she admits after a beat.

In Kara’s peripheral vision, Alex frantically slides her hand across her throat. Kara frowns at her, telegraphing a wordless what is your problem but finding no satisfactory answer in the crimson shade her sister’s face has taken on.

“Yeah, well,” she says, almost disappointed, fumbling to fill the space left by Lena’s confession. “I’m telling you right now that it’s never going to happen.”

Alex clears her throat with startling force. “Winn wants to know,” she says, reading from her phone, “Who’s the hot chick?”

When Kara returns her gaze to the woman on the other side of the counter, she gulps. Lena is somehow even closer than she was before. She’s also fully propping herself up now on the laminate surface between them, granting Kara a glimpse of freckled cleavage that in no possible universe could be interpreted as unintentional.

“So,” Lena drawls. “What you’re saying is you’re not going to give me your number?”

Kara’s throat is suddenly very dry.

“Huh?” she manages, but only just barely.

“I was hoping,” Lena says slowly, that maddening smirk once again tugging up the corner of her mouth, “that you’d maybe like to—”

Lena shifts in her seat, crossing her legs in what is bound to become a devastatingly seductive pose, but the barstool decides in exactly that moment that's it’s finally had enough. Lena yelps as it gives out beneath her with a dramatic snap, one of its rickety limps flying across the floor as if celebrating its first taste of freedom, and Kara’s never considered herself to be very quick, but here she is anyway, on the other side of the counter in what feels like less than a second, one hand gripping Lena’s forearm, the other slipping smoothly around her waist.

“—fuck,” Lena gasps up at her. She feels good, in Kara’s hands, slight but pleasantly heavy, like the santoku knife Alex has forbidden Kara from touching ever again. “Well,” Lena says. “That’s. Perhaps not the way I would have phrased it, especially in front of your friend—”

They both glance over at Alex, but she’s disappeared, the swaying of the kitchen doors the only indication she was ever there.

“O-kay,” Kara says.

Lena grins. “Okay?”

Kara mentally rewinds the conversation and feels her ears burn at the realization of what she just agreed to. “I mean,” she amends. “We could, maybe, grab something to eat first?”

Something devious sparks in Lena’s terrifyingly gorgeous face. She glances down at Kara’s arms before blinking back up at her again and smirking. “I thought you already had.”

And, goodness gracious.

Kara is about to be in so much trouble.

[innamorament0]

Based on this Twitter prompt

https://twitter.com/CE0ofFURINA/status/1742958819624591453?t=VOJUTMOLCwa7mZRe4eW63w&s=19

[the-witchhunter]

DP x DC: Animal House

Danny can apparently shapeshift, and that’s great!

or it would be great if it wasn’t for the fact he got stuck as an eldritch cat. On the plus side, he can talk to animals like this. Downside: He lacks thumbs and his powers seem to be on the fritz. 

Luckily, he got picked up by the Waynes who seem to think he is some kind of alien cat. It’s actually pretty cool. Lots of soft things and window spots to soak in some sunlight, and, hell, the homemade cat food actually tastes pretty good.

Plus he’s been making friends!

Alfred the cat and Titus are his favorites. Ace is cool but he’s more like an uncle figure. Batcow is chill, but Jerry the turkey is an asshole. Then Dick brings his dog Haley aka Bitewing, so Jason brings his dog Dog, and the whole batfamily of pets is there vibing with Danny.

Then a family emergency happens requiring all hands on deck. Everyone is out of the house and even Alfred is too busy in the Batcave keeping an eye on things to pay attention to the animals. So that can mean only one thing...

Party time!

Danny invites all the DC animals that I remember exists. Krypto the super Dog, Comet the Super Horse, Streaks the Super Cat, Beppo the Super Monkey, Rec the Wonder Dog, and of course Bobo T. Chimpanzee aka Detective chimp, the worlds greatest detective, and the alcoholic ape that’s going to supply the whole party with booze

That’s right, Danny is hosting an animal rager at the Wayne manor, and between his malfunctioning powers, the other super powered animals, and a lot of alcohol, things are going to get WEIRD

[theriu]

Thinking about how every story where some guy travels across dimensions involves him meeting a bunch of himself with different unique traits, and then one of them is just “you but a girl.” And you know what, it would be frankly hilarious to me if there was a story where dude goes to other dimensions and every alternate version of him is a woman. Surprise, he is the token guy variant of a usually-female character. :D

[fyonahmacnally]

Thank you to @rainbow-rebellion for the amazing prompt!

“W-Wait…you’re going to Midvale this weekend? You’re spending the 4th of July in Midvale? With the Danvers? The same place I am going?” Lena asks, voice an octave higher than usual as her panicked green eyes dart between her computer screen, her cell phone, and the woman sitting in front of her. “K-Kara didn’t mention anything at lunch yesterday.”

Oh fuck! Lena thinks. This can’t be happening. Sam knows me too well. This is a disaster. Fuck! That’s it, I have to find an excuse not to go. 

Sam’s hazel eyes scan her boss and longtime friend’s face with a smirk. “Well, that’s because she just asked today. I ran into her on the sidewalk on my way back from lunch with Andrea. She invited the two of us as well as Ruby, but Rubes is going to be with her friends all weekend. So, it’s just Drea and I.” 

Shit, Andrea will be there as well. Goddammit, Kara. Drea knows me better than Sam! Gay panicking. You’re gay panicking. Okay, it’s fine. Everything is fine. You’re fine, Luthor. Get it together. You’ve hidden your pining for years. You can handle a weekend with your friends. 

The brunette CFO raises a brow in question, an act picked up from the raven haired genius over their years of working together. It’s obvious the youngest Luthor is panicking over the presence of two of her oldest friends. No, she’s full on gay panicking. Sam does her best to stifle her laughter for Lena’s sake, but just barely. “Why are you being so twitchy about it, Luthor? Drea and I have been going to game nights since I moved back to National City. Besides, all of us already know you have the hots for blondie.”

The L-Corp CFO grins as she watches Lena’s posture shift from nervous to defensive. The entirety of their friend group knows Kara and Lena have been pining over each other for years. Sam is more than aware of the reason her friend is being squirmy about her and Andrea spending the weekend in Midvale. Lena knows she and Andrea know her better than the rest of their friends. The two of them know her every little tell and both of them live to give her shit about it. 

Sam gives the youngest Luthor one final devilish smile before leaving her office. Lena knows she is absolutely fucked with the Arias and Rojas duo.

Lena does her best to put things out of her mind after her conversation with Sam. The first two days of her week fly by. It’s suddenly Wednesday, she’s finished her work for the day, and is currently standing in the middle of her walk-in closet trying to figure out what to pack for her four day weekend in Midvale. 

The past few years with Kara around have provided a crash course in “comfy clothes” as the hero calls them. She has even accumulated a lot more casual clothing, but it doesn’t mean she has figured out how to pack for a holiday weekend, much less one held primarily outdoors. Honestly, she never really had holiday weekends while growing up with the Luthors. How the hell is she supposed to know these things? 

She sighs and glances down at her watch, she should have been finished packing hours ago.

Kara will be at her penthouse any minute and she has exactly three things packed – her toiletries, her tablet, and her glasses. They are supposed to leave at 7:00 pm, which is exactly 45 minutes from now. There is absolutely no way she will have all of her shit done by Kara’s proposed departure time. 

The Kryptonian wants to beat everyone to her childhood home to help Eliza set-up for all the guests. Lena pulled out all the stops and tried her best to get out of going after learning Sam and Andrea would be there, but the lovable reporter wielded her deadly pout and any further attempt died on her lips. So here she is, packing her suitcase. She was originally excited for the trip. It was supposed to be relaxing, but now she’s certain she will spend the entirety of the trip tense as a mouse in a room full of cats. 

Lena sighs, again. She can already feel her anxiety climbing and shakes her head. Get yourself together, Luthor. Accept the fact you’re the mouse and will be tormented by two very devious cats. Fucking Sam and Andrea.  

She gets lost in her thoughts. The next thing she knows, warm arms wrap around her waist causing her to shriek like a banshee. Once she calms down and wrangles her heart out of her throat, she smacks Kara for scaring the hell out of her quickly followed by shaking her now aching hand. They tag team her packing and get it done much faster than she would have alone. Unfortunately, she let her heart eyes cloud her judgment and allowed her years-long crush to take care of her swimwear for the weekend. There is no doubt in her mind she is going to regret this decision later as she has no idea what awaits her.

You are a fucking gay disaster, Luthor. Useless, pining queer disaster. 

Unfortunately, Kara Danvers is her kryptonite. Lena Luthor cannot say no to that woman. It’s impossible.

Read the rest on AO3 - link at the top.

[lgbtimelords]

a fanfic i'll never write, part 3:

couldn't have loved me better

Kara sees the woman lying, bloody and dirty, in the tower’s medical and sighs.

Not another one, she thinks. One was one too many.

Bizarro. Overgirl. Red daughter.

Once is a mistake. Twice is a pattern. Three times is a habit. Four times is… fucking ridiculous.

She doesn’t have time for this. She really doesn’t.

She’s still too tired from her trip to the Phantom Zone. She needs to write that non-existent article for Andrea. She wants to sleep, a day- maybe two. She promised Alex a sister’s night with Kelly and Nia a lunch together. She wants to eat way too many boxes of potstickers until her stomach hurts and wants to watch a movie. She needs to call Eliza, maybe fly over to Midvale, too. She needs to answer all the pilling up texts from James, Lucy and Cat. But all she wants to do is curl up in her bed and cuddle with Lena- not that she’d ever voice that wish.

She wants to go back to that time before the reveal when touching was simple and normal. A hand on Lena’s back. A hug to say hello. A hug to say goodbye. Lena’s hand on the crook of her elbow as they walked together. Fingers through dark hair when it got messy. Fingers pulling up her glasses when they fell to the tip of her nose. Touch was… a thing. Their thing.

Now, other than the emotional and aching hug after Kara’s return, they haven’t touched. And Kara desperately wants to.

Half of it she blames it on her own need to know Lena is actually alive, actually here. And that none of the nightmares she went through in the Phantom Zone were real. She wants to make sure Lena’s heart is actually beating behind her ribs, make sure her head isn’t playing tricks on her and the heartbeat she hears isn't just an illusion. She wants to put a strand of hair behind her ear and make sure it’s as soft as always.

But Lena is careful and unsure around her— and it hurts her a little bit. Although she gets it, she’s unsure too. She’s not sure where they stand. And Kara’s restless nights, she’s too drained, physically and emotionally, to have such an important conversation with Lena right now. And by the heavy dark circles under Lena’s eyes and the way she keeps rubbing the back of her stiff neck, Kara guesses she’s as tired as her.

But now, after being rudely woken up at five am, she watches as Lena takes the woman’s arm- the woman that looks exactly like her- and softly wraps a bandage around it. It’s the softness that Lena does it with that makes Kara stop.

Her fingers softly trace the place where there’s a deep cup in the woman’s arm with a white-ish cream before she delicately wraps it. She does it with the one on her arm, then moves into her wrist- before she’s carefully cleaning a nasty cup above the woman’s brow, Lena’s face too close to her face. It almost looks like Lena is leaning in to kiss her and Kara wants to scream.

“You shouldn’t do that,” she says bluntly, making Lena jump, a hand on her chest as she moves away from the woman, “she should be okay after a while under the sunlamps.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” she says, extending a tablet to Kara, “her blood work and every other test we’ve done so far came back human.”

“What?”

“I’m waiting on Alex to come by with the DNA test results but…” Lena trails off, unsure of her own next words.

Kara huffs- half laugh, half disbelief. She throws herself in the chair next to Lena’s computer. Or more like the tower’s computer that Lena is always using and because of that had taken the name of “Lena’s chair”. Lena’s computer. Lena’s side of the tower. Kara likes to hear that.

“That’s a new one,” she says, looking curiously at the woman, “I was half expecting a fight as soon as she woke up.”

“Well, I wouldn’t lose hope just yet,” Lena says, smirk on her face, “this still seems to be one version of you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” she smirks at Kara, “I just think you can be a little hot headed darling, that’s all.”

“Me? Hotheaded,” she gasps, “okay now you’re lying.”

“Oh, so it’s a lie that you used to say punching first, questions later?”

Kara groans again and throws her head back, making herself spin a little in the chair, “I hate that you and Alex talk a lot now. It’s unfair.”

Lena is smiling, that soft and kind smile Kara loves so much- and just when she moves her mouth to answer her, the woman on the bed is groaning loudly. Lena turns around, her face covered in worry, as she gently puts her hands on her shoulders- stopping the woman from moving around.

“Where’s everyone?” Kara whispers, as she hands Lena the syringe she wordlessly asked for.

“Alex should be here any minute, I sent Brainy home because he looked exhausted.”

Lena effortlessly inserts the syringe into the IV and the blonde goes still in the bed again. Now that she’s closer to her, Kara can see that while she does look like her, her face is somehow... different.

There’s some freckles in her face Kara knows she doesn’t have. Her hair is maybe one or two shades darker and there’s a lot of tan lines, one on her face clearly marking her nose, and on her body, she can see the lines of a bathsuit on her shoulders and one tiny scar of a vaccine on the side of her arm.

Her body is not as solid as Kara’s either, she notices when she helps Lena turn the woman to her side so she can tend to the wounds on her back. There’s muscles on her arms and back but they’re not as defined as hers, neither are her abs- they’re more like a soft line on her belly instead of the six pack she possesses.

It’s weird. It looks like her, except that when you look at her, she doesn’t.

“Do you want to have dinner?” Lena asks, as she sits down in one of the sofas in front of Kara, after checking and rechecking the vitals of the woman lying in bed.

“It’s five thirty am, Lena." She’d laugh, if she wasn’t so worried about the fact that the brunette has been neglecting her health again.

“Oh,” she sounds surprised, even as she checks the clock on the wall to confirm that, yes, it is five in the morning. She looks at Kara confused, “What are you doing here then?”

“Alex called. Said she needed to go out and you needed help.”

The answer is just Lena pressing her lips together, “I told her not to call you. You need to rest.”

“Lena-”

“-Kara,” she interrupts, “you’re exhausted. I know you are.”

“It’s okay,” she says, and wishes she could reach out and touch her hand. Be brave enough to do something as simple as to touch someone’s hand. “I want to be here.” With you.

Lena is hesitant but nods anyway.

“Really early breakfast then?”

Kara smiles, “Well, I won’t say no to that.”

They walk side by side, Kara’s pinky touching Lena’s- and she’s gathering all the streghtn inside herself to grab Lena’s hand when a loud gasp makes them turn around.

The woman is sitting up on the bed, the bandages on her arms turning red as she moves her hands up to her throat. She’s coughing and coughing and her back is so arched as she bring her head to her raised up knees that Kara wonders if it’s painful.

“Don’t move too much,” Lena says, walking closer to her and grabbing a water bottle on one of the tables.

It's like the words click a switch on the woman's mind and as quickly as her stiff muscles allow her, she wraps her arms around Lena as soon as she sees her. The woman's hands make a fist on Lena's clothes and her face hides in the crook of Lena's neck.

“My love,” she chokes out like a prayer.

[pippytmi]

If you are possibly still doing song promts, not sure if you're into country music however, "Unforgettable" by Thomas Rhett is a very cute, romantic song that I believe will suit Supercorp very well, thank you.

It is a warm, sticky summer night, and the stars have never been clearer.

Kara watches them, wistful and maybe a little buzzed, stretched out in the back of her pickup while Alex flicks bottle caps below at the guys. James and Winn don’t even notice; they’re still arguing over whether they should take whiskey shots or shotgun beers, both staunchly on opposite sides of this dilemma.

“Hey,” a thought occurs to Kara suddenly, “where did Sam go?”

“To find Lena, I think,” Alex says, squinting at her next target with halfhearted commitment as she leans over the side of the truck. When she throws the next cap, it misses Winn entirely. “Damn. Open another beer, Kara, I need another shot.”

“Who’s Lena?” The name is somewhat familiar, but Kara can’t place it immediately.

“The Luthor girl. Sam’s friend, you know her.” Alex leans back to root through their cooler, and comes up with two more beers. “She’s the one who flaked when Sam tried to set up that double-date, remember?”

“Right, and I had to third-wheel you guys all night.” Kara sits up in order to scan the crowd curiously, one question at the forefront of her mind: “Is she related to Lex Luthor?”

“Yes, that’s why I said the Luthor girl,” Alex says like one might say keep up. “She’s his half-sister or something, I don’t know.” She uses the bottle opener on her keys to pop open one of the beers, handing it over to Kara and immediately moving on to her own.

Kara takes a distracted swig as she continues to look out into the crowd. The lights strung through the trees offer very little in terms of visibility, and it’s hard to make out faces. “I didn't know he had a sister,” she says.

“It's not something he exactly advertises.” Alex takes a re-do of her earlier shot now that she has a fresh bottle cap, and this time it nails Winn right on the side of the head. “Hey, losers! Quit fighting and come get a drink!”

“Not unless you have some beer cans we can shotgun!” Winn shouts back.

“No, no, he means we need some Jack Daniel’s,” James interjects, and they’re off again, shoving playfully at each other’s shoulders as if they are going to push each other into the bonfire.

Alex rolls her eyes. “Boys,” she says derisively. “Let’s get Nia instead, she deserves a drink far more than they do.” She reaches over to bang at the truck’s backseat window. “Wake up, sleeping beauty!”

“Whoa, watch it!” Kara almost spills her drink in her haste to bat Alex’s hand away. “Take it easy. I just got her all fixed up.”

“Oh sure, when Siobhan takes a baseball bat to the glass it’s all fine and dandy, but I can’t even give it a tap?”

Kara crinkles her nose. “She thought it was her ex’s car in the dark, come on. You can’t blame her for that.”

“You are also her ex,” Alex says impatiently.

“But not the ex she was trying to get revenge on,” Kara points out. “She even apologized to Brittney. I think you should, too.”

Alex gives her a dirty look. “For the last time, I will not call your car that.”

“Don’t be a hater, Alex.”

“Don’t be a fucking weirdo, then—”

Before Kara can even enact her own revenge for that comment, she is briefly blinded by one of two flashlights aimed at her face. Beside her, Alex yelps and covers her eyes.

“There you guys are,” Sam exclaims. “I got lost trying to remember where we were. Why did you park so far away?”

“To keep our drinks from the masses, mostly,” Alex says, and she hops up over the side of the truck to pull Sam into her arms. “And for privacy.”

“Ew,” Kara says, and Alex glares at her over her shoulder.

“For Nia, who is sleeping.”

“Still?” Sam grins, momentarily distracted, when Alex presses a kiss to her cheek. “I wanted to introduce her to Lena.”

Just like her name, Lena Luthor has something about her face that strikes Kara as vaguely familiar. Something in the shine of her eyes in the moonlight, in the way she bites on her bottom lip, in the slope of her nose and the cut of her jaw and the hint of a dimple in her cheek. Kara has never laid eyes on Lena Luthor before, but she finds herself unable to look away.

The only reason Kara even realizes she's been staring at Lena too long is when she hears her name:

“And this is Kara, she's Alex’s sister. She drove us here.”

Now it's Kara's turn to be stared at—or more accurately, scrutinized. “While drunk?” Lena says.

Kara snaps back to reality. “I'm not drunk,” she hastily denies, lest that somehow affect her chances with impressing Lena (coincidentally, something she had not been concerned with until this very second). “I've only had two beers, I'm practically sober.”

But when anyone else might be skeptical, Lena merely tilts her head curiously. “Okay, if you say so,” she says in a manner that’s almost…amused. Kara counts it as a win, either way.

“So are beers all we have around here?” Sam asks. “Clearly, Lena and I need to catch up to everyone.”

“We also have whiskey,” James chimes in, while Winn makes a show of gagging.

“Yeah, just beer and whiskey,” Alex affirms. “Kara did the shopping, so….”

Kara bends down to lift up their cooler as if it’s a treasure chest. “We also have Mang-O-Ritas,” she says magnanimously, passing it down to James to pop open.

“Just a regular beer for me, then,” Sam says. “Lena will have the Mang-O-Rita.”

“I’ve never had one before,” Lena says, crossing her arms and leaning against the side of the truck as Sam procures her drink. “Are they any good?”

Kara jumps off the truck in order to fully join their circle (and, okay, closer to Lena. Maybe). “They’re awesome. Don’t listen to whatever Alex tells you, she will 100% drink three of these in one sitting.” 

“Only when there’s no other option,” Alex protests.

Lena cracks open her can and takes a cautious sip. “Hm,” she says. “That’s…vile.”

“Poor little rich girl,” Sam coos. “Always such a snob about your liquor.”

“Excuse me for preferring a glass of red over this,” Lena says, but she takes a longer drink immediately afterwards, and Kara falls a little bit in love.

It's always been like that, really—Kara falls in love like breathing air. Eliza used to call her a hopeful romantic because she never liked the term hopeless romantic. (“There is nothing hopeless about finding beauty in everything,” Eliza would promise as she kissed Kara's head. Alex would always be nearby gagging, of course).

Eventually, as the fire begins to die down, they break out the whiskey bottle for shots. Lena, Kara can't help but notice, grimaces at the taste in a way that shouldn't be as cute as it is.

“I need a palate cleanser,” Winn gasps afterwards, ever the drama queen. “Stat.”

“I’ve got one right here for you, it's called Bud Light,” Alex quips.

“Blegh.”

And while Alex and Winn playfully tussle, Kara’s gaze drifts past them and back to Lena. Lena, surprisingly, is looking right back.

“You have grass stains on your jeans,” Lena tells her, and quickly looks away.

Kara glances down. “Oh,” she says, “yeah, it’s the hazard of working on a farm.” She actually got the stains from kneeling down to pet a puppy on the way here, but the farm thing sounds better. “So what do you—” 

She never manages to get the question out, because two cars down, someone screams bloody murder and Kara reflexively whips out the pocket knife in her boot. Everyone else is equally alert, until:

“It’s just fucking Mike Matthews again, falling off that eyesore he calls a truck,” Alex scoffs. 

“Again? They need to impound that thing,” James says.

Kara is about to chime in with her own horror story about Mike’s truck when she feels a tap at her shoulder; Lena waits until Kara whirls around, befuddled, before she asks,

“Can you pour me another shot?”

Kara blinks. Then blinks again. “Yeah,” she says, even though Winn is the one holding the whiskey bottle. “Yeah, of course.”

Winn gladly relinquishes the bottle when Kara asks, and he and James walk down to Mike’s group to “see if they can help” (i.e. gossip). Sam and Alex take advantage of the chaos to sneak away together (probably to make out somewhere). And Kara is left, terrifyingly enough, alone with Lena Luthor.

Lena coughs after downing the second shot, frowning down at her cup like it’s wronged her. “That is still…not good.”

Kara tries to hide her smile as she looks down, nudges an empty beer bottle away. “Why drink it, then?”

“I don’t know.” Lena pauses to chase the taste away with her Mang-O-Rita before musing, “To get out of my comfort zone, maybe. But then again, pretty much everything here is out of my comfort zone.”

“Oh, I get it,” Kara says. “Rich girl pretending to be normal. It’s very Maid in Manhattan. Or…whatever the opposite of that is.”

“You are…definitely drunk,” Lena says with the tone of someone two seconds from laughter.

Kara vehemently shakes her head. “Nope, no, absolutely not.”

“Mm, you kind of seem like you are,” Lena says.

“I am not, and I can prove it to you.” Kara cradles the whiskey bottle to her chest and prepares herself: “I can do the running man.”

“And that proves you’re not drunk how?”

“Because it's going to be the most flawless dance you've ever seen,” Kara says, immediately kicking her leg out in a shaky attempt, and Lena’s laughter explodes until she is actually hunched over with the force of it.

“Oh, God, please do that again.”

“I'm not sure I like your reaction,” Kara sniffs, taking a mock-defensive step back. “I don't want to do it now.”

“No, come on, I loved it. Really,” Lena says. Her Mang-O-Rita has spilled into the grass, and she has to stoop down to pick up the can, ruefully shaking it when she notices it's empty. “Maybe I need to slow down. Is there somewhere we can sit?”

“Yeah,” Kara says, waving the whiskey bottle to beckon Lena to follow, and she guides her to the back of the pickup. She shrugs off her jacket, laying it out for Lena to sit, and Lena gives her a small smile when she does; it feels like they’re in their own world, kept company only by the stars and the occasional crackle of the dying bonfire.

“So you work on a farm?” Lena has to lean slightly against Kara to get comfortable, and Kara holds her breath to keep from jumping.

“Yup, my parents’ farm,” Kara barely remembers to answer. “Nothing glamorous like you and your brother, I'm sure.”

“I didn't know you knew about…that,” Lena says.

Kara shrugs, feels her shoulder directly move against Lena’s. “Kind of hard not to,” she says apologetically. “I mean, the Luthor name is on just about every business in town.” She twists the whiskey bottle between her hands, listens to it slosh. “If it helps…none of us care about that.”

“Really,” Lena says, disbelievingly but still light enough to invite a follow-up, which Kara wastes zero time in grasping.

“One hundred percent,” Kara promises. “We never judge a book by its cover. Not even,” she pauses to whisper this next part, “people who stand up their dates on a dreaded double-date with their sister.”

Lena gasps. “That was not you.”

“It was,” Kara laughs, just self-conscious enough to slick her hair out of her eyes. “Didn’t Sam tell you?”

“No—all she said was you were fun,” Lena says. “And she promised to try and set me up again, another time.” She shifts, now fully shoulder-to-shoulder against Kara. “Oh my God. Is that what tonight is?”

“Alex didn’t tell me anything,” Kara wonders, “but it would make sense…”

Lena scoffs. “This would be a horrible date,” she says, almost to herself. Then, hurriedly, “Not because of you, but because of everything else. The drinks, the place, the…lack of indoor plumbing…” 

“So you’re too good for whiskey, tailgate parties, and porta potties,” Kara lists off. “Hm. I don’t know, Lena. This date is off to a rough start.”

“Oh, shut up.” Lena reaches across their bodies for the whiskey bottle, and her fingers tangle with Kara’s as she takes it. Lena uncaps it and takes a swig, coughing as soon as she lowers the bottle, and Kara smiles even if Lena can’t see it.

“What happened to slowing down?”

“That was before I realized this was a date,” Lena says without a lick of shame. “Sue me—I’m nervous.”

“You don’t have to be,” Kara says softly, and she shuts her eyes, inhales the smoke of the fire and the sweet, floral scent of Lena’s perfume. “We can just be friends, too. No pressure.”

“And you’d be okay with that?” Lena asks, her voice quiet but undoubtedly curious. “Am I not the kind of girl you want to date?”

Kara immediately straightens up. “Are you kidding? I would marry you, probably, if I could. In a good way,” she hastens to explain. “In a…general, you-seem-like-the-kind-of-nice-to-marry. Hypothetically.”

Lena exhales, and there’s a hint of a smile in her own voice when she says, “You’re coming on awful strong for a first date, Kara Danvers.”

“Sorry.” Kara slumps against the floor, sighing as the whiskey finally starts catching up to her, leaving her slightly dizzy and uncoordinated as she stares up at the night sky.

But then Lena is moving, twisting until she is half-hovering over Kara, beautifully framed by moonlight and the haze from the fire beside them. “I can’t promise marriage yet,” she says, “but I think I can do a second date.”

Kara blinks, slowly, and her grin forms before she can even try to hide it. “Really?”

“Only if I can choose the place,” Lena says. “And if you never make me drink that awful margarita again.”

“Deal,” Kara says, making room for Lena to squeeze in beside her, light-headed for a whole new reason as Lena rests her head on Kara’s arm. “But I really think you should give the Mang-O-Rita another try. Just, for the record.”

“Shhh, don’t ruin this,” Lena says, tapping Kara’s mouth with her finger, and Kara keeps on smiling.

(And later, when they’ve sobered up, Kara will kiss Lena goodnight; later still, Lena will deny that she tasted of that damned Mang-O-Rita, but only Kara will know the truth).

[natalievoncatte]

Lena was in the dark in more ways than one.

The lights in her penthouse were all dark save one, a night light in her en suite to ensure that she didn’t take a fall if she got up. Swirling the edge of a migraine, she’s grown tired of an again-delayed product launch and the hoary halls of power and their patriarchs. Few things frustrated her more than the spiteful condescension of old men clinging to a world with all the success of a man trying to gather all the sand in a desert through chapped fingers.

Few things annoyed her more.

One of those things, she could give no name. Since Lena had realized Kara’s identity, things had been tense between them. Mostly in a pleasant way; they had been feeling out this new normal, Kara tentatively broaching this or that topic to add to brunch chats and lunchtime gossip.

“Oh,” she’d say, “that last alien hit pretty hard,” as if being knocked clean through a fertilizer plant by a blow to the head were part of her commute.

To Lena it was all new, but there was something else with it. Something neither of them dared to name, some friable, delicate new shape that they could only feel by its edges. It began with Kara bombarding Lena with friendship. Fresh breakfasts hand-delivered at hypersonic speeds. Daily lunches. For the last month, Kara had spent every weekend at Lena’s, or vice versa.

Lena’s penthouse had a guest bedroom. Kara’s place had a bed and a sofa. Comfy, but it was no bed. That was how the dance began. The first steps were hesitant, the dancers circling each other without breaking the barrier. A token argument about who gets the bed, only for them both to share it. And once they’d shared it at Kara’s place, it made no sense for Lena to confine a living space heater to the guest room.

They didn’t discuss, or analyze, or talk it out. No boundaries were ever set, and so the dance continued. What started as two people curled up in a big king bed on opposite sides became the pair of them entangling during the night, then skipping the pretext and curling up with each other before the lights went out.

It was driving Lena insane. Kara never pushed, not really, and yet it just seemed to happen. It was as if her best friend was daring her to take the initiative. The morning when Lena awoke to find Kara’s arm protectively curled about her waist, her thumb hooked on the waistband of Lena’s lounge pants, she’d almost turned over and said something.

The excuse she made was that Kara needed her sleep after the pummeling she’d taken that afternoon. That Lena enjoyed how Kara grazed the pad of her thumb over Lena’s hip bone was incidental.

Lying in the dark, Lena knew that Kara had arrived by the sound of the balcony door opening and didn’t bother to call out to her. Still dressed in her suit, Kara peeked into the bedroom, her movements tentative, somehow almost birdlike.

She came back a moment later with a cool, damp cloth for Lena’s forehead and a few murmured questions, before excusing herself.

“Darling, you can stay,” Lena sighed. “I want you to.”

“Okay,” Kara whispered back, lightly seeping stray curls from Lena’s eyes. “I need to change. No peeking.”

And why would you be worried I’ll peek? Lena thought. A platonic Best Friend isn’t going to peek. Best friends don’t do that, just like they don’t nuzzle into each other on the couch. If Lena were Kara’s best friend, then Lena wouldn’t be looking so much, so openly. Admiring Kara’s smile and her biceps and the way her abdominal muscles strained those button-downs.

She wouldn’t be thinking so much about the touches, the way she’d sat in Kara’s lap for hours at a time or how Kara had carried her to bed or how Supergirl had lingered to cradle her post-rescue, well past the point of safety.

Lena wasn’t aware she was peeking until she’s already started. Kara’s suit had taken care of itself; it was her work clothes she needed to discard. When Lena turned over, there was the broad expanse of Kara’s beautifully muscled back, flexing deliciously as she pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms.

Because Kara kept multiple sets of PJs at Lena’s place.

In Lena’s bedroom.

Because this wasn’t the first time this had happened.

Lena turned back, knowing with certainty that Kara knew. She must have heard the creaking of the mattress and the soft whisper of skin on silk sheets and the rapidity if Lena’s traitorous heart.

When Kara climbed in with Lena, the world shrank around the pair of them. Kara swept immediately to the boundary tonight, gathering Lena in her arms, hands finding spots just on this side of chaste, and their bodies molded together.

Lena was finally able to get some sleep.

When she awoke, later, Kara stirred with her.

“Zhao,” Kara muttered.

Lena froze, blinking in the dark. That wasn’t a nonsense word; it was Kryptonian.

“Come back. Zhao,” Kara muttered, as Lena stirred. She didn’t seem to be properly waking.

A nickname?

Lena couldn’t remember when she’d started calling Kara Darling, though she increasingly wished she had.

Dear diary, it was on this day at this date that I admitted my feelings to myself before wrapping them in cardboard and then in concrete and then in steel before shoving them somewhere deep down.

Kara, for her part, had tried a few pet names but most were one offs, never quite fitting. She’d even called Lena “buddy” once before Lena had cut that shit off with an arched brow.

Lena stilled. She could deny Kara nothing, and so drifted off to sleep.

By some quirk of fate, they woke almost at the same time. Lena was still groggy and bleary-eyed when Kara’s sky-blues flitted open, bringing more light than the sun itself. She shifted in the bed without letting Lena go and began to murmur something in Kryptonian, cutting herself off as that last sharp, buzzing word tumbled from her lips.

The only world froze. Kara stared at Lena with wide eyes, and the sudden tension between them made both women go rigid, neither willing to move, to break it.

“You called me that in your sleep,” Lena finally whispered. “Zhao. What does it mean?”

Kara was unusually pale.

“Oh, it’s sort of a term of endearment in Kryptonian. It means, um, ah…”

Lena sighed, cracking a soft smile. “Kara, I’m not fluent by any measure, but I know enough Kryptonian to know what Zhao means.”

“Oh,” Kara whispered, barely more than a short and sharp exhale.

“Even if I didn’t,” Lena whispered, locking eyes with her. “Your hand is literally on my ass right now.”

“Oh. Um. Golly. I’m sorry, I…”

Kara started to pull back. Lena gently took hold of Kara’s wrist and held her hand there. Her heart fluttered not only at the strength in Kara’s forearm but how those steel cable muscles went slack beneath her touch.

Lena swiveled her hips.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Kara whispered.

“Oh, trust me, I’ve got that covered,” said Lena.

Kara shivered. “No, I mean… I don’t know what to…” She swallowed hard, her throat bobbing.

Lena pressed in closer, until the space between them was more a theoretical concept than an actuality.

“Just say what you want to say.”

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

Lena snorted a laugh, briefly ashamed at her inner dork, and afraid that Kara would take offense.

“Kara, you’ve been sleeping over every weekend with your hand in my pants for months. Yes, I will be your girlfriend.”

Kara grinned, starting to sit up.

“Come on, zhao,” said Kara.

Giving their partner a nickname/having their partner give them a nickname.

[finemealprompt]

DP x DC Prompt #54

Supergirl floats in the air, aimlessly. She's trying not to cry, but she feels like she can't do anything right. She's never fast enough, strong enough, good enough. How can she call herself a hero?

A girl in a red suit joins her in the air.

"Hey," the girl asks, face hidden from view under a helmet. "Wanna talk about why you're floating in the air all by yourself?"

[ekingston]

For the fic game: Kara and Lena meet in a book store as they're about to pick the same book. It's the last one so they kind of fight over it, each trying to prove why the book is important to them

(Also on ao3.)

Kara doesn’t recognize her at first. She’s wearing jeans, for one, and it’s not as if Kara is checking her out, per se, but she’d be a liar if she said she isn’t a tiny bit mortified when she realizes the backside she’s been admiring belongs to none other than Lena Luthor, the tech mogul, philanthropist and all around human marvel who Kara is no longer allowed to talk about to her sister, for some reason. She’s just. Here, in the bookstore around the corner from Kara’s office, browsing the stacks as if that’s a thing people still do even when they could probably afford to, like. Buy up Amazon, or something. 

Kara makes an honest effort to stop ogling Lena’s ass in favor of figuring out whether she should say something to her. She hangs back, reaching to adjust her glasses before becoming worried her nervous fingers may knock them down and accidentally reveal more than just the fact that Lena Luthor’s butt looks terrific in jeans. She changes her mind, hastily shoving her hand in her pocket instead, but not before she thwacks it into an inconveniently located display, sending a selection of Dummies guides flying in every direction. 

Kara is already scrambling to pick them up by the time the sound of it reaches Lena’s ears, already on her knees and flustered by the time Lena turns around. 

“Oh!” Lena says, her eyes wide and startled. She’s wearing a pair of glasses herself, huge and heavy-rimmed. “Oh!” she says again, eyelashes fluttering, and then, “I know you.” 

And she doesn’t, see, that’s the thing. Not really. Kara has only met Lena three times, and at least two of them were under less-than-ideal circumstances. Kara wouldn’t blame Lena if she didn’t remember her at all, especially when she technically wasn’t even Kara during the second one of those meetings, when she had plucked Lena’s wobbling chopper from a surprisingly unfriendly sky.

(Lena today looks lovelier even than she had looked during that hectic, disheveled encounter, which, in spite of the fact that Lena had been sort of busy surviving her own attempted murder, had been rather extraordinary, in Kara’s opinion. Alex was somewhat less impressed, even after the third time Kara patiently explained it to her.)

Kara tries to give Lena a smile that’s as intelligent and put-together as she can manage under the current circumstances. “Yeah, um.” She rises to her feet, keeping her fingers carefully folded around the books she’s retrieved from the floor. “It’s Kara—”

“Kara Danvers,” Lena finishes with a small, quizzical smile. “Of Catco magazine. Of course.”

And Kara can’t for the life of her figure out why it’s so ridiculously flattering to have this amazing woman place her immediately like this, or why her own name sounds so much prettier when it’s spoken with that peculiar, impeccable diction Lena Luthor has, rolling from lips that are free of the red tint Kara has become accustomed to seeing. This is out-of-office Lena Luthor, Kara realizes. A Saturday morning Lena Luthor, who loiters, perhaps even moseys, who lingers in bookstore aisles long enough to make even the densest version of Kara Zor-El realize (eventually) that she is, in fact, blocking her access to the very section Kara had come here for.

It’s also a Lena Luthor who smiles at her with genuine kindness. It crinkles the skin at the corners of Lena’s eyes just slightly, just an utterly captivating smidge. “That’s quite a selection,” she tells Kara, her voice warm with humor. 

Kara blinks at her a few times, and then asks, elegantly, “What?”

Lena gives the books in Kara’s strangling grip a sharply amused glance. Dad’s Guide to Pregnancy for Dummies, Kara discovers when she follows Lena’s gaze, and also Ukulele Exercises, Catholicism, and, perhaps most incriminatingly, Raising Goats. For Dummies, naturally.

“Well,” Kara says. “That certainly paints a picture.” 

Lena is grinning, now. “It looks like you have quite the weekend ahead of you.”

Kara rallies. “Don’t judge,” she chides with a cordial glare. “We all have our own ways to relax and unwind.”

“We do.” Lena’s laugh is melodious. “However I’d argue most of them don’t involve siring baby goats.”

“You would say that,” Kara improvises with a surreptitious look at Lena’s shopping basket, “But I bet your choices are actually more unconventional than mine.” 

When Lena’s cheeks promptly flush a dusky pink, Kara fights the urge to lower her glasses a little and get a closer look — because she’s almost sure that, tucked underneath To Paradise and The Song of Achilles, she just spotted a copy of the very book Kara herself came here to buy.

The very, very sexy, very queer book Kara came here to buy.

(It’s for research.)

(Kara is interviewing the author on Monday.)

(The fact that Kara is also a huge fan of her work is irrelevant.)

Lena deflects Kara’s remark after only a moment’s hesitation. “Kara Danvers,” she drawls, smoothly placing her body between Kara and her intended purchases, “reporter for Catco magazine.” Kara gulps when Lena aims a single severe eyebrow at her, because this woman’s casual nudge a month ago accounts for an easy ninety percent of the reason Kara now holds that position, and she hadn’t held it last time they spoke. Lena chides, sounding scandalized, “Are you asking me about my weekend plans?”

“No!” Kara shouts. “I would never be so forward, or cross that— I mean. Journalistic integrity is—” She flails, just a little, just for a minute or so, and then she blurts, “Is that a copy of T. Mercer’s Tickled Ink I saw in your basket?”

Lena goes very still, her former fluster hidden away behind a flawless mask of cool composure. A flutter of movement in the muscle at the hinge of her jaw is the only indication she hasn’t gone full Nora Fries. This is objectively terrible. Kara has terrified a perfectly adorable Saturday morning Lena Luthor, and now she has anxiety. 

“‘Cause I’m, um,” Kara attempts. She takes a breath. Anything to defrost Lena Luthor, maybe make her smile at her again. “I’m. Actually here for that one, myself.”

Lena’s eyes focus sharply, but her shoulders also ease, like, a millimeter, maybe even a millimeter and a half. “I’m sorry,” she says, and Kara’s already bursting forth to assure her she’s the one who should be apologizing when Lena finishes, flinching, “I think I got the last copy they had.”

Which is, hmm. Inconvenient, Kara wants to file it away as, but in truth it’s a little bit more than that. Because there’s the interview, on Monday. And this is the first in-person interview the author has ever agreed to, after countless emails and under strict order of secrecy regarding her real-life identity, and Kara already feels a kinship with her because of that. And Kara’s read her book, obviously, read all of them, the day they came out in fact, but she doesn’t have a physical copy of this latest one yet, and she’d really like to have the author sign it, maybe even add a little dedication saying Kara is her most persistent fan or something like that.

“Oh,” Kara says.

It gets Lena to soften her posture again, at least. “Are you—” Lena hesitates, seems to need a moment to muster her resolve. “Are you familiar with her work?”

Kara needs a moment too, mainly to stop being distracted by the observation that one of Lena’s eyes seems to be slightly less green than the other so she can choose her next move wisely. Kara can’t tell her the truth, she decides — if she gives away how much she loves the author, she ruins her chances of getting a physical copy before the interview. 

Also Lena may start doubting her journalistic integrity, which, gosh. Kara can’t even stand the thought.

“Yeah,” she says. Lena’s eyebrows rise in question. Not good enough. “I mean, a little?” Kara amends. She sends up a prayer for forgiveness and closes her eyes. “It’s pretty run-of-the-mill escapist fodder, I guess.” 

Lena’s eyes also shutter, behind long, thick lashes. “Oh,” she says. “Right.” They’re a deep inky black, even without her usual makeup. They form a pretty neat contrast with, you know, with the delicate pallor of her cheeks. She gives Kara a stiff little smile. “More of a guilty pleasure, then.” 

“Sure,” Kara says with a miserable sigh, “Her romance arcs are actually a little… trite, you know?” Kara presses her lips together in an effort to keep her bottom lip from wobbling. Okay, that actually hurt to say.

Lena’s hum is unexpectedly shrill. “Trite,” she echoes, the color returning to her cheeks, and good — Kara almost has her where she needs her. Bolstered by Lena’s obvious distaste, Kara breathes out a final volley. 

“Yeah,” she cries, “plus,” she lies, “the characters are—” just say it “one-dimensional, their motivations completely mystifying and ever-changing.” Lena is practically scowling now, fortifying Kara’s breaking heart with hope her betrayal will be worth it, in the end. “It’s also pretty obvious she has no idea how to write a proper ending,” Kara finishes with a whimper, convinced she’s stuck the landing.

Lena folds her arms in front of her body, the gesture only mildly impeded by the shopping basket looped around her wrist. “You sure seem familiar with her work,” she says. “For someone who claims to hate it so much.” 

Kara freezes. “Hmm?”

Lena narrows her eyes at her.

Kara blows out a slow breath through her mouth and sniffs, her eyes still dripping. “You don’t want that book,” she pouts in a childish last-ditch effort.

Lena’s voice is every bit the CEO Kara had first faced safely ensconced in her cousin’s shadow. “And why is that?”

“It’s, well—” Kara clears the remaining phlegm from her throat. “It’s not… for you. Trust me.”

Lena huffs out a disbelieving laugh. “You barely know me.”

“Well.” Kara takes a breath, searching the ceiling for her next clue. Gotcha! “I know you’re not gay.”

Lena’s mouth and eyebrows all curve in different directions, a face journey so fascinating Kara just stares at it for a couple of beats. Her features eventually settle in an expression that reads as— comical derision? Kara isn’t sure, it’s so complex. Lena Luthor is a very complex woman. “I mean.” Kara panics. “Are you?”

Lena opens her mouth and blinks a few times before actual words come out. “I suppose that depends,” she finally says. 

Kara’s terrified to ask, but also she absolutely has to know the answer. “On what?”

There’s that severe eyebrow again. “On whether we’re on the record yet,” Lena says simply.

Kara’s stomach lurches. “No,” she says. “Listen.” She tugs at her collar, suddenly uncomfortably aware of the supersuit beneath her button-down. “I’m here on my day off,” she assures her. “I’m not— and. ‘Yet?’ We don’t have, like, anything scheduled, or—”

“Don’t we?” Lena interrupts her tailspin. Kara watches her, uncomprehending, as Lena fishes the copy of Tickled Ink from her shopping basket before setting it gently down on the floor. “Can I borrow that pen?” She gestures elegant fingers at Kara’s breast pocket and the pen is in Lena’s hand before Kara remembers she’s not supposed to use superspeed when she’s in her civvies. 

Lena blinks between Kara’s position a respectful couple of feet away and the pen in her hand for a couple of seconds before she starts flicking graceful strokes of ink onto the title page. “Seems like we both have some introductions to make,” she muses, and then she angles the book so Kara can read what she’s written.

Kara stares at the inscription.

Tess Mercer, it says, in a pleasing, loopy script, echoing the name of the author printed just below it. And above, To my dear friend and most oblivious fan,

“Should I make it out to Kara Danvers?” Lena asks, eyeing the collar of Kara’s shirt where Kara has been tugging at it. “Or to Supergirl?”

-

“For me?” Kara asks, already blushing under Lena’s fixed attention and the color of her voice. 

When they eventually sit down for that interview two days later, opting for lunch at a cozy café, Lena’s fingers find Kara’s own when she discloses she’d been meaning to buy the book for Kara all along, reminding Kara one of her emails had mentioned she owned only a digital copy. 

“I’ve always preferred a good paperback, myself,” Lena tells Kara with a wolfish grin, sliding a wrapped gift across the table between them.

Flirting is the title. For Dummies.

“Oh yes,” Lena croons.

Kara swallows when she tears the paper to reveal a lurid yellow cover.

“Figured it might come in handy,” Lena says before taking a big, toothy bite. “You know." She winks. "For your big interview.”

[toxinoire]

Kara never thought of it when Lena first asked her this question.

"What if someone says; in like a few years maybe, I'd be...gone?" Lena asks, staring at the distance.

Kara got confused at this question. But decided to answer anyway. "Well, I'd most likely, punch them or something. I'm not letting that happen."

Lena chuckled. "You're right...I guess it's just another existential crisis."

"Want to talk about it?" Kara asks softly. Lena just smiles at her. "No, darling. It's alright. It's just one of those times."

"Well, if you need anything...food, movies, a hug, I'm right here."

Lena laughs and nods. "Got that."

She didn't ask that question for no reason. She isn't sure if Kara already figured this fact out already, but their time is limited. Because Kara won't die unless she gets killed with Kryptonite or the day the yellow sun flying over them dies.

Lena knows there's a chance that Kara's life could be at stake at any given moment, but at the same time...there's a possibility that she could have Kara for the rest of her life. While Kara won't have Lena, nor the rest of their family for the rest of her life.

See here's the thing, Kara knew that. But ignorance is a bliss, as they say. She pretends that the day won't come.

But...maybe she indulged herself too much.

Because right now, Kara, swear to Rao, drops the car she's currently carrying as her eyes widen in fear. Through a window, not that big, but big enough for her to witness it firsthand.

Lena, sweet, gentle, beautiful Lena, with a knife pierced through her neck. She heard the enemy responsible for it, the one who's back is facing the window, laugh. Fucking laugh. Kara and Lena make eye contact through the window, Lena smiling gently, softly, warmly, at her. Muttering something no human could hear, but Kara heard so clearly. Her voice as soft as her gaze.

"I love you."

Kara barges in, breaking the whole wall, she rushes to her, hoping she could still save her. Hoping she wouldn't lose her. She can't lose Lena, she just can't.

However, it was too late. The knife stabbed a very fatal spot, and Kara witnesses Lena drop to the ground.

Kara can no longer hear her heartbeat.

"Aww, look at Supergirl. The Paragon of Hope, looking hopeless-"

Before this asshole can finish, Kara pushes him, actually pushes him off the broken wall, she hears him scream and plummet down, but she doesn't care.

"Lena?"

Nothing.

"Please, no. No. Fuck. Please don't leave me, don't take her too, please." Kara tries to get help, but to no avail.

Lena Luthor's death was publicly announced two days later. Many were happy at the fact that there was not a single Luthor left. The Superfriends grieved in their own ways. At least some people in the city actually acknowledged what Lena did for the world and paid their respects. The Superfriends tried to comfort Kara. She appreciates it, of course, but it won't bring Lena, Kara's...everything, back to her.

Now everywhere she goes, Kara just sees Lena.

She would try to go to Big Belly Burger, she just remembers that time they celebrated Lena's birthday there. Noonan's? She just sees Lena's smile when Kara gives her coffee from that place. The park in National City? That time Lena used her magic fully for the first time. CatCo? She remembers every hall Lena ever walked in. She sees a book? She remembers Lena giving her one.

Her own apartment also reminds her of Lena, all the times they had there. Certain foods remind her of Lena. Everything around her is now just a ghost of Lena. Even fucking kryptonite reminds her of Lena.

She's everywhere Kara goes.

No one in the city realized how much Supergirl was so torn over the loss of Lena Luthor.

Some dickwads actually thought she was happy about it, which some idiot reporter asked her one day.

"You must be really relieved that the last Luthor is no longer a threat."

Kara stays silent, yet her eyes emmit everything she wants to say.

Kelly holds back an angry Alex from hitting someone, but Kelly herself is yelling about how insensitive that was, about how this reporter is disrespecting the dead, about how they forgot that Lena worked with Supergirl. Both Brainy and Nia list down everything that Lena has done to save the city.

Kara? She's been silent, before taking a deep breath, looking at the reporter, knowing there are cameras surrounding her, she says,

"This world is nothing without her."

Then, she flies away, higher into the blue skies and screams.

Would you look at that, world. There's a Luthor that successfully broke a Super.

[innamorament0]

Happy Birthday to our favourite scientist and Kara's wife <3

[amelia-queen-black]

Kara: Physically yes, I could fight a bird. But emotionally? Imagine the toll.

Barry: *nods frantically*

Alex: *wonders how her sister manages to fight anyone*

Oliver: *hardly remembers a time when killing a bird was difficult*