Kara & Lena: A Love Story

by riley_beckett

Summary:

More heartfelt moments from the lives of Kara and Lena.

A continuation of The Life of Kara and Lena series.

Notes:

I'm back and ready to write more stories about Kara and Lena. Happy Reading!

Chapter 1: Do I Have A Daddy?

They were all snuggled under a fuzzy blanket on the couch—Kara, Lena, and their five-year-old daughter—watching Moana for what felt like the hundredth time. Kara was on popcorn duty, Lena held the remote, and their daughter had the best job of all: cuddling right in the middle, exactly where she belonged.

About halfway through the movie, when Moana stood at the edge of the ocean, brave and curious, their daughter tilted her head up and asked, “Do I have a daddy?”

The question was so small, so soft, but it filled the room instantly.

Kara and Lena glanced at each other, eyes meeting over their daughter’s curls. They had talked about this moment. Practiced for it, even. But it still felt like the world had paused.

Lena moved first, pulling their daughter closer and resting her cheek gently against her curls. “You grew in my tummy,” she said, her fingers threading tenderly through the little girl's hair. “Someone very kind helped us—because they knew we’d be the best mommies. You were made with so much love, right from the very beginning.”

Kara leaned in, her hand joining Lena’s. “You have two mommies who love you more than anything. Some families have a mommy and a daddy. Some have two daddies. Some have just one parent. And ours?” She smiled. “Ours has two mommies. And lots and lots of cuddles.”

Their daughter blinked, thinking. “So... no daddy?”

Lena nodded. “Nope. No daddy. Just us.”

“And I grew in your tummy?” she asked Lena, poking a tiny finger against her stomach like she might find proof there.

“You sure did,” Lena chuckled, placing her hand over the same spot. “Right here.”

The little girl looked between them, still curious. “But... who helped?”

Kara smiled, brushing a curl away from her forehead. “Someone very kind. They didn’t stay, but they gave us the tiniest piece of magic to help make you.”

“Magic?” she asked, wide-eyed.

“Yup,” Lena said, exchanging a smile with Kara. “And then we waited and waited, and finally, you came along. You made us a family.”

Their daughter grinned, her curiosity satisfied for now. She wiggled back down between them and declared, “I love our family.”

Kara kissed the top of her head. “We do too, sweetheart.”

“And I love having two mommies.”

Lena’s eyes glistened as she whispered, “We love being your mommies.”

The movie continued, but the story that mattered most had already been told—wrapped in warmth, sealed with love, and settled in the safe space between them.

____________________________

It had been a long, quiet afternoon in the Danvers-Luthor home. But the peaceful mood shattered the moment their youngest daughter came through the front door—backpack hanging lopsided, shoes wet from puddles, and cheeks streaked with tears.

Kara was the first to reach her, crouching down and brushing damp hair from her face. “Sweetheart? What happened?”

She didn’t answer. She just dropped her bag with a thud and launched herself into Kara’s arms, sobbing.

Lena appeared behind them, concern flashing in her eyes as she took in the scene. She walked over and wrapped both Kara and their daughter into her embrace. “Darling, talk to us,” she said softly, placing a kiss on her daughter’s head.

Through hiccups and sniffles, their daughter finally whispered, “The kids at school said I was weird… because I don’t have a daddy.”

Kara’s heart twisted. She held her closer, rocking her gently while Lena stroked her back.

“They said every kid needs a dad. And when I said I have two moms… they laughed,” she mumbled into Kara’s shoulder.

“Oh, sweet girl,” Lena murmured, crouching beside them now. “I’m so sorry they said that. That wasn’t kind. And it wasn’t true.”

Kara nodded. “Families come in all shapes and sizes, remember? Some kids have one mommy. Some have two daddies. Some live with grandparents. What matters is that you're loved—and you are so very loved.”

“But why don’t I have a daddy?” she asked, looking between them with red, tearful eyes.

Lena’s voice was soft but steady. “When we decided to grow our family, we didn’t need a dad. Just like with your sister. Someone helped us, and that was all we needed to make you. And from the moment we knew you were coming, we loved you with our whole hearts.”

Their daughter was quiet for a moment, processing. Then Kara tucked a curl behind her ear.

“Can I ask you something, bug?”

She nodded.

Kara tilted her head. “If you did have a daddy… what do you think he would do that Mama and I don’t already do for you?”

Their daughter blinked, thinking hard. “Umm… maybe… lift me up high?”

Kara grinned. “You mean like this?” In one swift, practiced move, she flew straight up into the air, holding her daughter carefully as they hovered near the ceiling. The girl squealed and laughed, fear forgotten in an instant.

Lena watched from below, arms crossed and lips curved into a fond smile. “I’d like to see any dad top that.”

Kara gently landed again and placed their daughter back on the rug.

“Okay,” she admitted, catching her breath. “You do lift me high.”

“Anything else?” Lena asked, smoothing down her shirt.

The little girl furrowed her brow. “Maybe… fix stuff when it breaks?”

Kara raised an eyebrow. “Did you already forget Mama rebuilt the entire kitchen sink last week?”

“And rewired the light in your room?” Lena added, smirking.

“Oh yeah,” the girl said, clearly impressed with herself for remembering. “Okay… what about playing games?”

Kara gasped. “Excuse me, who played Unicorn Princess Battle for three hours yesterday?”

The little girl giggled. “You did.”

“And who made the unicorn voice with the glitter accent?” Lena asked, deadpan.

“You did!” she laughed.

Kara leaned forward, voice softer now. “See? Mama and I may not be a mom and a dad, but we’re your parents. We do all the things.”

Lena pulled her into her lap, hugging her tightly. “You have two people who love you beyond words. You’re safe. You’re supported. And you’re so wanted.”

Their daughter nestled against Lena’s chest, smaller now but content. “I’m happy you’re my moms.”

Kara wrapped her arms around them both. “We’re happy too.”

____________________________

Later that night, their daughters were tucked into bed. The house was quiet and still, the kind of calm that only came after a long, emotional day.

Kara lay on her back in bed, fingers lazily brushing over the sheet. She stared at the ceiling, lost in thought, until she felt the familiar warmth of Lena curling up against her—head on her shoulder, arm draped across her waist.

“You okay?” Lena asked, voice low and sleepy.

“Yeah,” Kara murmured, kissing her forehead. “Just thinking.”

“About earlier?”

Kara nodded. “Yeah. Seeing her so upset… it got to me. I know kids can be cruel without meaning to, but…” She sighed. “Sometimes I just wish the world were kinder.”

“It will be,” Lena said. “Because we’re raising girls who will help make it that way.”

Kara smiled, letting her hand drift through Lena’s hair. “You’re right.”

There was a pause. Then Kara’s voice dipped, hesitant. “Lee… do you ever wish you married a man instead?”

Lena sat up immediately, raising a brow. “Excuse me?”

Kara gave a sheepish laugh. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant… for the girls. Wouldn’t it have been easier? No awkward playground conversations. No mean comments. No weird looks.”

Lena stared at her, then slowly straddled her lap. “No, my love. I do not wish I married a man instead.”

Kara looked up at her, still a little unsure. “You don’t ever wonder if it would’ve saved them from… questions?”

Lena cupped Kara’s face in both hands, her touch warm and grounding. “No. Because what we have—what we’ve built—is beautiful. It’s real. And it’s worth every awkward conversation and every sideways glance. I’d choose you a thousand times over, Kara Danvers-Luthor.”

Kara’s breath caught, eyes softening.

“And,” Lena added with a smirk, sliding her hands over Kara's breasts, “as for being married to a woman? I wouldn’t trade this for anything.”

Kara grinned. “Yeah?”

Lena leaned in, her lips brushing Kara’s ear. “Why don’t I show you exactly how much I prefer being married to you.”

Kara barely had time to respond before Lena’s mouth found hers—slow, sure, and utterly intoxicating. The kind of kiss that melted thought and lit skin on fire. Lena’s fingers slipped under Kara’s sleep shirt, tracing over her stomach, moving upward with clear intent.

Kara groaned, hands finding Lena’s waist. “You sure know how to make a point.”

“Oh, I’m just getting started,” Lena whispered.

That night, their love burned steady and hot—two women, two mothers, two wives—utterly devoted, and completely enough.

Chapter 2: Panic Attack

The elevator doors slid shut behind them with a chime, and Kara leaned heavily against the wall, visibly worn down. The day before had drained her—flying civilians from a collapsing bridge, heat-visioning through steel beams, catching debris midair—until her powers gave out.

It was meant to be a simple day—just a quick elevator ride to Lena’s office for lunch.

Until the elevator jolted, then lurched to a halt.

The overhead lights flickered once, then steadied. But the car didn’t move.

Lena frowned at the control panel and pressed the emergency button. Nothing. She exhaled sharply. “Great. We’re stuck.”

Kara didn’t respond.

Lena turned—and her breath caught in her throat.

“Kara?”

Kara stood frozen, pale and tense, her fists clenched at her sides. Her chest rose and fell in sharp, shallow bursts, eyes darting rapidly across the walls like they were closing in.

“I never noticed how small this space was before,” she whispered, voice tight with panic. “Not being able to get myself out…”

Her knees gave out slightly, and Lena rushed forward, catching her before she hit the ground and easing her down. Kara didn’t resist—she was shaking now, breath coming in ragged gasps.

“It’s okay,” Lena murmured, sitting with her, both hands cradling Kara’s face. “You’re okay. You’re safe. I’m right here.”

Kara squeezed her eyes shut. “I can’t—there’s no air—it’s too close—”

The sight made Lena’s heart ache. Supergirl—fearless, unshakable—was unraveling in her arms, undone by something utterly human.

“Kara, look at me,” Lena said softly but firmly. She moved to straddle Kara’s lap, grounding her with gentle pressure. “I need you to take a deep breath with me. Just one. Can you do that?”

Kara’s eyes fluttered open, glassy with fear, but she gave the tiniest nod.

Lena inhaled slowly, audibly. “In,” she whispered, guiding Kara with her own breath.

Kara mimicked her, trembling but trying.

“Good. Now out.”

The first breath was shaky. The second, a little steadier. By the fourth, Kara’s shoulders had begun to loosen, the vise of panic easing enough for her to focus on Lena’s voice.

“There we go,” Lena soothed, brushing a thumb across Kara’s cheek. “You’re doing great, love. Now I’m going to ask you a few questions, okay? Just to help keep you here. With me.”

Kara nodded slightly, still tense but tethered to Lena’s calm presence.

“Tell me five things you can see.”

Kara’s eyes flicked around the small space. “You,” she said first, voice rough. “The necklace I gave you. My engagement ring. Your green eyes. The elevator buttons.”

“Perfect.” Lena tucked a loose curl behind Kara’s ear. “Now four things you can touch.”

“Your hair. Your skin. My sweater. The cold floor.”

Lena smiled. “Good. Three things you can hear?”

Kara closed her eyes for a beat, grounding herself. “Your voice. My breathing. The hum of the elevator.”

“Two things you can smell.”

“Your perfume,” Kara murmured, her mouth curving slightly. “And your shampoo. The vanilla one.”

Lena leaned forward, resting her forehead against Kara’s. Her chest swelled with affection. “Last one, my brave girl. One thing you can taste.”

Kara looked at her then, really looked. Her eyes shimmered—but not with fear this time. She leaned in, brushing her lips against Lena’s with exquisite tenderness.

“You,” she breathed.

Lena exhaled a soft laugh, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. She kissed her back slowly, lovingly.

And for the first time since the elevator had stopped, Kara didn’t feel trapped.

She felt safe.

****

The rest of the time passed in quiet stillness, the two of them curled into each other, wrapped in warmth and comfort as the world outside fell away.

“You know,” Kara murmured, her voice a breath against Lena’s shoulder, “it really helps me stay calm when you kiss me.”

Lena chuckled, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes. “Well then, I definitely don’t want you having another panic attack.”

She leaned in again, her lips finding Kara’s in a kiss that was slow and deep, a promise wrapped in warmth. They stayed like that, tangled in each other, sharing soft, grounding kisses until the elevator finally jolted back to life.

Kara looked up at the ceiling as it hummed to motion. “Guess we’re moving again.”

Lena smiled as she reached up to press the stop button. Click. The elevator eased to a halt.

“Maybe just a few more minutes,” she murmured. “I want to really make sure that you're okay.”

Kara grinned, eyes sparkling now. “I am,” she said, pulling Lena in. “But I wouldn’t mind a little more reassurance.”

Their lips met again—slow, smiling, certain. The metal box wasn’t a trap anymore. It was a cocoon.

And neither of them was in any rush to leave.

Chapter 3: Bully

Kara Danvers loved her job. She loved the rush of a breaking story, the feel of a fresh notepad in her hands, and the noise of the office that sounded like possibility. Being a journalist was her calling. She was good at it—more than good. She worked hard, told the truth, and believed in the people she worked alongside.

Which made Alyssa Cain a nightmare.

Alyssa had been hired two weeks ago, fresh from a flashy internship, all perfect smiles and glossy resumes. To everyone else, she was a breath of fresh air—polite, charming, always offering to grab coffee or help with copy edits.

But with Kara, Alyssa was poison dipped in honey.

It started subtly. Alyssa would “accidentally” delete Kara’s drafts from the shared folder and apologize sweetly. “Oops, Kara! I must’ve hit the wrong key! You’re just so organized—it’s hard to keep up.” She smiled like she meant it.

In meetings, she’d cut Kara off mid-sentence, only to repeat her point with different wording and get praised for it. “Kara was onto something,” she’d chirp. “Let me just build on it!”

To everyone else, Alyssa was sweet and eager. But when no one else was around, her claws came out.

“You really think that fluff piece is Pulitzer material?” she whispered once, leaning close with a faux-concerned smile. “Maybe stick to local cat rescues. It suits your vibe.”

Kara, used to handling everything from alien invasions to moral dilemmas, wasn’t sure how to handle this. Confronting a Kryptonite-wielding villain? Easy. Dealing with a passive-aggressive office sociopath who smiled while twisting the knife? Not so much.

She tried to talk to Nia one day after a particularly humiliating morning.

“She sent back my article and rewrote my lead,” Kara said. “And not even as a suggestion. She told Snapper I was falling behind on deadlines.”

Nia blinked. “Alyssa did that? Are you sure?”

Kara’s stomach dropped at the question. “Yes.”

Nia frowned. “It’s just… she’s so nice. She brought cupcakes yesterday for no reason.”

Kara nodded silently. That was Alyssa's whole game. Sweet to everyone—except her.

So she bottled it up, forced a smile, and kept her pain behind bright blue eyes.

****

Until one Thursday night.

She came home late again, wet from the rain, glasses fogged, heart heavy. She tried to sneak past the living room, but Lena looked up from the couch, eyes sharp with concern.

“Kara,” she said gently, “come here.”

Kara sighed and shuffled forward, letting herself fall into Lena’s arms like gravity had finally caught up.

“You’ve been off all week,” Lena murmured, brushing a hand through her damp hair. “Talk to me.”

Kara hesitated. Then the dam cracked.

“There’s this girl at work. Alyssa. She’s making my life miserable.”

Lena stiffened, holding her a little tighter. “Miserable how?”

Kara pulled back just enough to meet Lena’s eyes, her voice low and tired. “She makes these comments. Deletes my work, rewrites my stories, tells people I’m not pulling my weight. But when I told Nia, she just said, ‘She’s so nice.’ No one believes me.”

Lena’s expression hardened in a way Kara rarely saw outside boardrooms or press conferences. The softness replaced with fury just barely restrained.

“She’s targeting you,” Lena said flatly. “On purpose. And everyone’s too blinded by her fake smile to see it.”

Kara nodded slowly. “I didn’t want to bother you with it. You’re busy, and it’s just… workplace stuff. I thought I could handle it.”

Lena cupped her face, her eyes burning with a cold fire. “Kara. You are not supposed to handle that alone. No one gets to make you feel small. Not at work, not anywhere.”

“I just didn’t want to be dramatic,” Kara whispered.

“You’re not being dramatic,” Lena snapped. “You’re being bullied.”

Kara looked down, cheeks flushed with vulnerability.

Lena stepped back and paced, fury simmering just beneath the surface. “That girl thinks she can push you around without consequences. She doesn’t know who she’s messing with.”

“Lena—”

“No.” Lena turned back to her, voice sharp with resolve. “You are brilliant, and kind, and too damn good to be treated like that. And if Alyssa thinks she can hurt my girlfriend without me doing something about it…”

She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t have to.

Kara blinked, lips twitching into a tired smile. “What are you going to do?”

Lena tilted her head, already calculating. “Let’s just say I’m going to give her a reality check. One she won’t forget.”

****

The next morning, Lena Luthor walked into CatCo like a storm in heels.

Dressed in black cashmere with a coat that swirled behind her like a shadow, she didn’t wait at the front desk. She didn’t have to. As the owner of CatCo, Lena could go wherever she pleased—and today, she was on a mission.

She strode into the bullpen with practiced precision, each step echoing like a warning bell. Every head turned. Whispers rippled.

Alyssa looked up from where she was perched on the edge of Kara’s desk, chatting brightly with Nia and acting like she owned the place. Her eyes lit up when she saw Lena heading straight for her.

“Oh my god,” Alyssa breathed, smoothing her hair. “Ms. Luthor—what an honor. I didn’t know you’d be visiting today.”

Lena stopped a breath away, her icy green eyes scanning Alyssa from head to toe. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

“Yes,” she said smoothly. “I’m here to speak with you, Alyssa.”

Alyssa beamed, visibly puffing up. “Of course! I’d love to chat. Is this about my piece on corporate ethics? I’ve had a few ideas I’ve been meaning to pitch your team at LuthorCorp—”

Lena held up a hand.

“No,” she said sharply. “This isn’t about a pitch. And it’s not a friendly chat.”

Alyssa blinked. “I—I don’t understand.”

“You don’t need to,” Lena said, taking a slow step forward. “You just need to listen.”

Kara had stood by now, wide-eyed. “Lena—”

Lena brushed her fingers down Kara’s arm, the only softness in her expression. “I’ve got this, darling.”

Then she turned back to Alyssa—Lena Luthor, brilliant CEO, unapologetic genius, and fiercely protective girlfriend. And in that moment, she let the mask slip.

“Kara Danvers is not just one of the best journalists in this building,” Lena began, voice low and razor-sharp. “She’s also my girlfriend.”

Alyssa froze. Her smug expression cracked like thin ice.

“And I know exactly how you’ve been treating her,” Lena continued. “The deleted drafts. The passive-aggressive comments. The sabotage disguised as incompetence. All while batting your eyelashes and convincing everyone else you’re just so nice.”

She took another step forward. Alyssa instinctively leaned back.

“You may have fooled the others. But you don’t fool me.”

Alyssa tried to recover. “Ms. Luthor, I—I think you’ve been misinformed—”

“Don’t.” Lena’s voice dropped, lethal now. “Do not insult my intelligence by pretending.”

A hush had fallen over the room. Reporters and interns alike stared in stunned silence, none of them daring to breathe too loudly.

Lena’s gaze narrowed to a dagger point. “Let me be abundantly clear. If you so much as look at Kara the wrong way again, I will personally ensure that not only are you fired from CatCo, but you will never work in media again. Every door will close. Every bridge will burn. And I will light the match myself.”

Alyssa looked pale now. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard.

“There is nothing I wouldn’t do for Kara,” Lena said, voice cold as steel. “Nothing. And if you think I won’t go to war over her, you haven’t been paying attention.”

Silence reigned.

Then Lena straightened, brushing an invisible speck of lint from her coat. “Do I make myself clear?”

Alyssa nodded frantically. “Crystal.”

“Good.” Lena offered a thin, terrifying smile. “Now. Get away from her desk.”

Alyssa scurried off, nearly tripping over her own heels in her hurry to escape.

Kara let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Lena turned to her then, all the fire in her gaze melting into warmth. “Are you okay?”

Kara blinked up at her. “I—I think I am now.”

Lena tucked a strand of hair behind Kara’s ear. “You always protect everyone else, Kara. Let me protect you, too.”

Kara smiled, overwhelmed with emotion, and leaned in for a kiss—sweet and full of gratitude.

Across the office, no one dared say a word. Alyssa didn’t look up from her computer for the rest of the day.

And Kara? She finally felt like she could breathe again.

****

That night, they lay curled together beneath the glow of the bedside lamp, the covers draped loosely around their waists. The world outside had quieted, leaving only the hush of their breathing and the warmth of their bodies pressed close.

Kara rested against Lena’s chest, her cheek nestled over the steady rhythm of Lena’s heartbeat, as if drawing strength from it. Lena’s fingers moved in aimless patterns across Kara’s stomach, soothing and intimate, like a lullaby written in touch.

They didn’t need to speak. Not at first. Silence had never felt so full—so sacred.

But after a long, peaceful stretch, Kara lifted her head just slightly, her blue eyes shimmering in the dim light. Her voice was soft, barely more than a breath.

“Thank you.”

Lena looked down, her heart tightening with tenderness as she brushed a knuckle slowly across Kara’s cheek. “For what, my love?”

Kara smiled faintly, her expression earnest. “For today. For showing up for me. For standing up for me like some avenging goddess in heels and power. You didn’t just defend me, Lena. You made me feel like I mattered. Like I’m never alone.”

Lena’s gaze softened, her hand rising to cradle Kara’s jaw, thumb brushing across her cheekbone. “You’re not. Not as long as I’m breathing.”

Kara leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering closed as Lena held her like she was something precious. And to Lena, she was—she always would be.

“She won’t come near me now,” Kara murmured, her voice muffled as she nuzzled against Lena’s palm. “It’s like you marked me as off-limits.”

Lena raised an elegant brow. “I did.”

“And people are actually noticing. Nia apologized today. Said she didn’t realize how bad it was.” Kara looked up again. “I think they’re starting to see me now. Really see me.”

“That’s because you’re too kind,” Lena said quietly, brushing her thumb across Kara’s lips. “You never want to cause trouble, even when someone deserves to be drop-kicked out a window.”

Kara let out a laugh. “You’re very good at pretending to be scary.”

“Pretending?” Lena asked, feigning offense.

But Kara didn’t answer. Instead, she shifted, moving with a slow, fluid grace to straddle Lena’s hips. Her hands framed Lena’s waist, grounding them both. Her hair spilled around them like a halo as she leaned in, voice low and reverent.

“Watching you today was… so hot.”

Lena smirked, sliding her hands up Kara’s thighs, then around to the small of her back, anchoring her in place. “Yeah?”

“Very sexy,” Kara whispered, brushing her lips along Lena’s jaw, “You walked in like you owned the place.”

“I do own it,” Lena replied with a teasing grin.

Kara smiled, laughter dancing in her throat. “You know what I mean.”

And then she kissed her.

Slow. Deep. Deliberate. A kiss full of meaning, of devotion, of unspoken thank-yous and forever promises. Lena sighed into it, pulling Kara closer, her hands slipping beneath Kara’s shirt to feel the bare, smooth skin of her back.

“I love you,” Kara breathed between kisses, her voice breaking just slightly from the weight of emotion. “So much. You make me feel safe. Always.”

“I love you more,” Lena whispered, her lips brushing the words against Kara’s skin. “And I would burn the world down before I ever let anyone hurt you.”

****

The night unfolded like a love letter made of sighs and touches, tender and full of quiet reverence. They moved together with aching devotion, as if each caress was a promise and every kiss a vow. Lena touched Kara with gentle, deliberate love, as if trying to memorize her soul, and Kara responded with fierce tenderness, her lips stealing Lena’s breath like it was sacred.

Clothes were lost to the floor, the sheets tangled around them as their bodies moved in rhythm, guided by instinct and boundless love. Kara arched into Lena’s hands, moans falling from her lips like confessions. Lena trembled beneath Kara’s lips as they traced along her collarbone, moving down her body, learning her all over again.

They worshiped each other with every kiss, every sigh, every touch.

And when the storm passed, when passion gave way to quiet, they lay tangled in the aftermath, flushed and glowing. Kara curled into Lena’s side, her hand resting over Lena’s heart, their fingers intertwined between them, holding tight even in the stillness.

“Next time someone even looks at you the wrong way…” Lena whispered into Kara’s hair, her voice low and protective.

Kara let out a soft, contented laugh against Lena’s collarbone. “You’ll go full Luthor on them again?”

Lena smiled, pressing a kiss to Kara’s forehead. “Without a second thought.”

Kara lifted her head just enough to meet Lena’s eyes, her expression tender and full of love. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“You exist,” Lena said simply, brushing her knuckles down Kara’s cheek. “That’s more than enough.”

They lay there, bodies still humming from the closeness, hearts beating in a rhythm only they shared. Fingers remained laced, skin pressed together, warm and safe and wrapped in something deeper than words.

In that quiet, glowing moment—wrapped in each other and the safety they’d created—Kara felt weightless. And Lena, holding her close, knew with unwavering certainty:

As long as she had breath in her body, no one would ever hurt Kara again.

She would protect her—
fiercely,
unapologetically,
and always.

Chapter 4: Bath

The lights were low, the bathroom awash in candlelight. Dozens of tiny flames flickered along countertops and ledges, casting golden reflections on the tiled walls. The scent of lavender curled through the steam—calming, warm, and heady—wrapping itself around the two women like an invisible blanket.

Water lapped against porcelain, disturbed only by the soft, languid movements of bare skin gliding against skin.

Lena sighed, sinking back into Kara’s embrace, her back flush against Kara’s chest, their legs entangled beneath the surface. Kara’s arms circled Lena’s waist, hands splayed over her stomach, thumbs moving in slow, soothing circles.

Soft instrumental music floated through the speakers—low piano and swelling strings that seemed to pulse with the rhythm of their hearts.

Kara dipped her head, her lips brushing the crook of Lena’s neck with lingering tenderness. She didn’t rush. Her mouth moved slowly, tracing a path upward, over Lena’s jaw, until she kissed just below her ear.

“You smell like heaven,” Kara whispered, her voice low and rough with feeling. “Lavender. Warmth. You.”

Lena’s eyes fluttered shut. She tilted her head, granting Kara more access, and reached back to thread her fingers through Kara’s damp hair. Her grip tightened, possessive, as Kara pressed another kiss to her jaw.

“This…” Lena breathed, barely audible over the soft music. “This feels like the safest place in the world.”

Kara tightened her hold, pulling Lena impossibly closer, until not even the water could slip between them. “You are the safest place in the world to me,” she murmured, lips brushing skin behind Lena’s ear in slow reverence.

Lena’s breath caught. “You make me feel like I belong. Like I’ve always belonged… right here.”

Kara’s hand drifted up, cupping one of Lena’s breasts under the water, thumb brushing lazily over the soft peak. Her other hand slid along Lena’s thigh, tracing patterns. The intimacy of it—the warmth of their bodies, the steam, the soft sighs—made time blur around them.

With slow purpose, Lena turned in Kara’s arms, rising slightly to straddle her. The water rippled with the movement, waves lapping at the edge of the tub. Lena’s thighs parted, settling over Kara’s, bodies meeting again with an electric press of heat.

She cupped Kara’s face with both hands, thumbs stroking over cheekbones with reverent care. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“You let me love you,” Kara said, resting their foreheads together, breath mingling. “That was all I ever needed.”

Their lips met in a kiss that started soft but deepened quickly—open, slow, and greedy. Kara’s tongue slid between Lena’s lips, seeking and teasing, and Lena welcomed her with a moan that vibrated against Kara’s mouth. Their tongues tangled, battling for dominance in a rhythm that left no space for hesitation—only heat and hunger.

Lena rocked her hips slowly, the movement subtle but deliberate. Kara gasped against her lips as slick, wet skin slid against slick, wet skin. Lena’s hands roamed—down Kara’s neck, across her chest, fingers dipping just beneath the surface, skimming over firm curves and sensitive skin.

Kara’s hands gripped Lena’s hips, thumbs pressing into the softness there, guiding the slow grind of Lena’s body. One hand slipped between them, underwater, fingers finding the spot that made Lena gasp and arch forward.

Lena buried her face in Kara’s neck, moaning as Kara’s fingers moved expertly, slow and deep, teasing her open. Her breath came in stuttered gasps against Kara’s skin, warm and wet and desperate.

“God, Kara…” she panted. “You feel so—so good.”

“I want to make you come,” Kara murmured against her shoulder. “Right here. Just like this. Let me.”

Lena nodded, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open as Kara’s fingers worked in slow, deliberate strokes—building her, wrecking her. She rocked into the touch, hands digging into Kara’s shoulders for leverage, her moans growing louder, more erratic.

Kara’s thumb found the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of her, circling it with maddening precision.

Lena cried out, hips jerking as the pressure crested, the heat coiling tight in her belly snapping all at once. She shattered with a gasp and a cry, trembling in Kara’s arms, water splashing gently around them.

Kara held her through the aftershocks, kissing her temple, her cheek, her lips, whispering how beautiful she was, how much she was loved.

When Lena could finally breathe again, she cupped Kara’s face and pulled her in for a kiss—deep, messy, grateful. “You ruin me,” she whispered, smiling breathlessly. “In the best way.”

Kara grinned, flushed with desire. “Then let me keep doing it.”

*****

Lena continued to straddled Kara in the oversized tub, her thighs snug around Kara’s waist beneath the surface. Their bodies pressed close, slick and bare, hearts hammering in tandem. Steam curled around them like a secret whispered to the night, muting the rest of the world until there was only the heat between them, the hush of breath, and the hunger blooming in their eyes.

Kara’s hands slid down Lena’s back, then around to grip her waist, strong fingers curling in to pull her closer. Lena leaned in with a sigh, pressing their chests together, her hardened nipples brushing Kara’s in a friction that made them both gasp.

“You’re everything,” Kara breathed, voice low, reverent, and trembling with want.

Lena’s lips found hers in a kiss that started slow but quickly deepened—tongues meeting, teasing, then clashing in a slow, hot battle for dominance. Lena sucked on Kara’s lower lip before biting down, coaxing a groan from Kara’s throat. Their mouths moved with growing desperation, breathing each other in like they’d die if they stopped.

Kara’s grip tightened on Lena’s hips, grinding her down against her. Lena let out a moan that sounded like power and need wrapped in velvet. She rocked forward again, hips rolling deliberately, slow and teasing, sending ripples across the surface.

Kara’s mouth trailed down Lena’s jaw, then to her throat, sucking at the base of her neck before dragging her tongue over the thudding pulse there. Lena arched, fingers threading into Kara’s damp hair, tugging slightly—her body taut with anticipation.

“You make me ache,” Lena murmured, voice shaking. “Burn for you.”

Kara chuckled darkly against her skin. “Then let me make you come undone, again.”

Her hands drifted under the water, sliding up the insides of Lena’s thighs—slow, reverent, deliciously firm. Lena’s breath caught, a tremor running through her. Kara’s thumbs brushed over soft, sensitive skin beneath the waterline, fingers gliding closer to where Lena throbbed with need.

Lena surged forward, kissing Kara hard—hungry, filthy, beautiful. Their tongues battled again, wet and desperate, until Kara swallowed the gasp that tore from Lena’s throat the moment her fingers finally found her.

She slid her hand lower, middle finger parting Lena’s folds under the water with exquisite precision, circling her clit in lazy, teasing spirals. Lena’s body bucked forward, her nails digging into Kara’s shoulders as she gasped into her mouth.

Kara stroked her slowly, fingers slipping lower, then back up—drawing soft cries from Lena with every flick and press. The water lapped between them, their bodies rocking together, slick with steam and sweat and want.

“You’re so wet,” Kara whispered, voice wrecked with awe. 

Lena whimpered, her forehead falling against Kara’s, lips brushing hers with every ragged breath. “Please,” she begged. “More.”

Kara gave her exactly that—sliding two fingers deep inside, her palm pressed firmly against Lena’s clit. Lena cried out softly, the sound breaking in Kara’s mouth as they kissed again, wild and consuming.

Lena rocked against her hand, hips rolling, chasing the release building fast and hot inside her. Kara thrust in rhythm, curling her fingers just right, her other arm wrapped tight around Lena’s back to keep her grounded as her pleasure rose like a tide.

“I’m close,” Lena gasped, her voice cracking like lightning. “Kara—don’t stop—don’t—”

Kara didn’t.

She whispered against her lips, kissed her jaw, her shoulder, her temple—driving her fingers deeper until Lena shattered with a muffled cry, trembling in Kara’s lap, her orgasm rolling through her like thunder. Her body clung to Kara, muscles fluttering around her fingers, her cries soft and broken as she came apart.

Kara held her through every wave, pressing kisses to her lips, her cheek, her hair. She whispered words she couldn’t even remember afterward—just love, and awe, and how perfect Lena looked falling apart in her arms.

When Lena finally stilled, spent and panting, her cheeks flushed and damp with both heat and emotion, she blinked at Kara like she was something sacred.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Kara whispered, brushing her thumb over Lena’s cheek.

Lena smiled, then kissed her slow and deep, pouring everything she had into it.

And when she pulled back, her voice was a promise and a challenge.

“Your turn,” she whispered against Kara’s lips, already reaching for her under the water with wicked intent.

****

Lena didn’t wait for a response.

Still cradled in Kara’s lap, she let her hands drift down Kara’s slick chest—fingertips gliding over glistening skin, pausing to tease circles around her breasts. Her thumbs flicked over hardened peaks, slow and deliberate, and Kara gasped, her lips parting on a breathy moan.

Kara’s head fell back with a soft thud against the edge of the tub. Her hands flexed on Lena’s hips, desperate to ground herself as the sensation licked through her like fire. “God, Lena…”

“I love the way you say my name when you’re like this,” Lena murmured, voice dark and delicious. She dipped her head, her mouth finding Kara’s jaw and sliding down the column of her throat. Wet, open-mouthed kisses mapped a trail across her skin, each one a brand, each one a claim.

Her tongue flicked beneath Kara’s ear before she nipped at the tender flesh. Kara whimpered, hips arching up into her, body already strung so tight.

“So sensitive,” Lena purred, lips ghosting along Kara’s collarbone. “So responsive.”

Kara groaned, her entire body aching. Still, she didn’t rush. She couldn’t. Not with Lena looking at her like this—like she was sacred, like she was hers.

Lena shifted, straddling Kara more firmly. Their chests met—skin to skin, nipple to nipple—and the friction made them both shiver. Kara’s breath hitched as Lena’s hands slid into her hair and pulled her into a kiss that was deep and demanding.

Their tongues collided, hungry and hot. Kara pushed back just as hard, moaning into the kiss as their mouths battled for dominance. Teeth clashed, lips bruised, tongues moved in slick, unrelenting strokes until they were gasping into each other’s mouths, drowning in heat.

“Lena,” Kara begged, her voice raw. “Please…”

Lena pulled back just enough to look at her, flushed and breathless, her lips kiss-swollen and glistening. She looked like sin and salvation all at once.

“Lie back,” she whispered.

Kara obeyed, reclining into the warm water, her legs spreading in instinctive invitation.

Lena followed, settling between Kara’s thighs, her slick body gliding against hers in a sensuous slide. Water lapped at their waists, their breath the only sound now above the music still playing in the background.

Lena’s mouth found Kara’s again—this kiss softer, but just as deep. Her hand slipped down, past Kara’s stomach, fingers easing through the heat between her legs.

Kara bucked with a strangled cry, her hand flying to grip Lena’s wrist. “Oh—God—”

“That’s it,” Lena whispered, eyes locked on Kara’s face as she stroked her with slow, firm pressure. “Let me take care of you.”

Her fingers circled, then dipped—two sliding in with practiced ease, curling just right, hitting that spot that made Kara see stars. Her thumb worked over Kara’s clit in slow, deliberate circles, and the pleasure built so fast it made Kara dizzy.

Lena kissed her through it—fevered kisses, biting kisses, her free hand sliding up Kara’s body to palm her breast, pinching the peak between her fingers until Kara sobbed into her mouth.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” Lena breathed. “I want to feel you fall apart.”

She pumped her fingers faster, harder, curling deep, and Kara shattered—crying out, body bowing up from the water as the orgasm tore through her. Her hips jerked, legs trembling around Lena’s body, fingers digging into her back as she drowned in the wave.

Lena didn’t stop—not until Kara was gasping, begging, twitching from overstimulation. Only then did she slow, easing her fingers out and bringing them to her mouth, sucking Kara’s taste from them with a sinful moan.

“You taste like everything I’ve ever wanted,” she whispered.

Kara pulled her down into a kiss that was feral, teeth catching Lena’s lip before her tongue swept in to take over. She devoured her, poured her soul into that kiss. “You ruin me,” Kara whispered, cupping Lena’s face. “In the best way.”

“Good,” Lena said, smirking against her lips. “That’s exactly the plan.”

They melted together again in the water, slower now. Reverent touches. Soft laughter. The kind of intimacy born not just of lust but deep, aching love.

Kara’s fingers traced idle circles along Lena’s spine. “I could stay like this forever.”

Lena grinned and kissed the corner of her mouth. “Then we’ll drain the water… and fill it again.”

Kara laughed, and Lena kissed the sound right off her lips.

Chapter 5: Friends Don't

Everyone could see it.
The way Lena’s eyes softened whenever Kara walked into a room.
The way Kara’s voice always dipped just a little gentler when she said Lena’s name.

But Kara Danvers? She was the queen of denial.
And Lena Luthor? She’d built walls so high, not even X-ray vision could see past them.

Still, they danced on the line.

And they were so good at pretending not to notice the pull between them, they nearly convinced themselves it wasn’t there.

******

It started with coffee. Always coffee.

“Kara, I picked up your favorite,” Lena said one morning, setting a steaming cup of extra-foamy vanilla latte on Kara’s desk at CatCo. Her fingers brushed Kara’s for just a second too long.

Kara grinned wide. “Thanks! That’s so sweet of you.”

Lena shrugged, trying to play it cool, but her eyes lingered on Kara’s lips as she took the first sip.

“Friends bring friends coffee,” Lena told herself.

But friends don’t text each other goodnight every night.
Friends don’t sit on the couch so close their legs touch, neither moving away.
Friends don’t know exactly how the other takes their eggs or which Disney movie makes them cry.

Kara told herself she was just being friendly. That it didn’t mean anything.

So what if her heart beat a little faster every time Lena smiled?
So what if she memorized the exact scent of Lena’s perfume—jasmine and fresh linen?
So what if she flew halfway across the city at 2 a.m. because Lena called and didn’t say anything at all, just breathed, and Kara knew she needed her?

Friends don’t do that.
Not really.

****

Everyone else saw it.

Alex raised an eyebrow every time Lena came over and stayed too late.
Nia started taking bets.
Brainy calculated the statistical probability of “just friends” acting like… well, like that.

“Are you sure you’re not dating?” Alex asked one evening, watching them cook side by side in her kitchen—hands brushing, soft smiles exchanged like secrets.

Kara nearly dropped the spoon. “No! I mean—no. We’re just—just friends.”

Lena laughed a little too tightly. “Exactly. Just friends.”

Still, the signs piled up.

Once, Alex stopped by early with doughnuts and caught Lena leaving in one of Kara’s flannel shirts.
Lena smiled politely.
Alex didn’t say a word—just smirked and bit into her cruller like she’d just won something.

****

Nia had, in fact, started a betting pool.

“Fifty bucks says they’re secretly dating,” she told J’onn one afternoon at the Tower. “Or that Lena has a toothbrush at Kara’s place.”

“She has drawer space,” Brainy offered, without looking up from his calculations. “And based on their behavior, I estimate a 94.7% probability of a romantic entanglement they refuse to acknowledge.”

“You’re both wrong,” Alex said, arms crossed. “They’re pining. Tortured, mutual pining. No one commits that hard to a slow burn unless it’s real.”

The others stared.
“…How many romance novels have you been reading?” Nia asked.

Alex just shrugged. “Enough to recognize the signs.”

****

And the signs were everywhere.

At movie nights, Kara always saved the seat next to her for Lena—even if it meant sitting on the floor with a single cushion between them.
At game night, Lena always picked Kara as her partner—even when she was terrible at the game—and cheered like they’d won gold every time Kara got something right.

They shared desserts.
Lena brought Kara lunch every week—always with a handwritten note.

And once, Kara showed up to a debrief in a faded L-Corp t-shirt and a pair of black joggers that were unmistakably not hers.

Alex took one look and raised an eyebrow. “Rough night, or did you just raid Lena’s closet on the way here?”

Kara blinked. “What? No! These were just… on top of the laundry pile. And I was in a hurry.”

“Mmhmm,” Alex said, arms crossed. “So you just accidentally put on an L-Corp logo and sweats with the initials LL stitched into them?”

“They’re cozy!” Kara protested, tugging at the shirt like it might hide her.

Nia walked by, clocked the outfit, and grinned. “Tell Lena thanks for repping the brand.”

Kara flushed scarlet. “They’re just clothes!”

“Uh-huh,” Alex muttered, sharing a look with Nia. “Just like how you’re just friends.”

****

At the DEO party, they shared one too many slow dances.
Kara kept her hand on Lena’s waist a beat too long.
Lena’s fingers stayed curled in Kara’s even after the music stopped.

They didn’t notice the stares—but everyone else did.

Later, while Lena chopped vegetables in Kara’s kitchen and Kara stirred something on the stove, Alex asked again.

“Are you sure you’re not dating?”

Kara fumbled the spoon. “No! I mean, no. We’re just… friends.”

Lena’s laugh was tight. “Exactly. Just friends.”

Alex said nothing.
Just sipped her beer with a look.

Later, in the quiet of Kara’s apartment, that lie clung to the air like smoke.

Neither of them said it again.
But both of them felt it.

The weight of unsaid things.
The ache of something more.

****

It happened on a Friday night, halfway through a movie neither of them was watching.

They were curled together on Kara’s couch—Lena tucked under Kara’s arm, a blanket wrapped around them, the screen flickering across their faces.

Outside, the city was quiet.

Then, with a low pop, the power flickered—and went out, plunging them into darkness.

Lena startled, pressing closer before she could think—her hand clutching Kara’s sweatshirt, cheek brushing her collarbone.

Kara’s arm tightened instinctively.

The air shifted.
Charged. Quiet. Expectant.

When Lena looked up, Kara was already watching her.

No words. Just two hearts, beating too fast.

Their faces were so close, it would’ve taken more effort to pull away than to lean in.

So they didn’t.

Their lips met—slow and searching—the kind of kiss that held everything they’d never said aloud.

Kara’s fingers found Lena’s jaw, reverent.
Lena melted into her like she’d always belonged there.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless, Kara whispered, “Friends don’t kiss like that.”

Lena smiled, brushing her thumb across Kara’s cheek.
“No,” she agreed. “They really don’t.”

****

Later, tangled beneath Kara’s favorite blanket, Lena’s head resting on her chest, she whispered, “So… what are we now?”

Kara ran her fingers through Lena’s hair.

“Something we should’ve been a long time ago.”

Lena tilted her head, her lips brushing Kara’s jaw. “I’ve always been yours.”

“And I’ve always been yours too,” Kara whispered, pulling her in again—slower this time, deeper.

They stayed like that—wrapped around each other in a mess of limbs and laughter, passionate kisses and lingering touches, their hearts finally in sync.

Friends don’t fall head over heels.
Friends don’t look at each other like it’s everything.
Friends don’t memorize every freckle, every scar, every secret.
Friends don’t cross that line—and never want to go back.
Friends don’t fall in love...

But they did.

 

Chapter 6: Streaky

Notes:

https://i.postimg.cc/qMgL8GNr/Chat-GPT-Image-May-6-2025-at-08-39-49-PM.png

A photo created of Streaky!

Kara had always had a soft spot for animals.

It was a well-known, well-documented, completely unhideable fact. She couldn’t walk by a stray dog without stopping to pet it. Couldn’t ignore a hungry-looking cat curled up in an alley without offering it whatever snack she had on hand. Her phone was full of blurry photos of pigeons she’d befriended mid-flight, and she once made Lena pull over because she saw a turtle trying to cross the road.

So when Kara found a soaked, shivering kitten while flying over the waterfront during a late-night rescue mission, there was really only ever going to be one outcome.

She zipped down, scooped the trembling ball of fluff into her arms, and wrapped it in her cape.

“You’re okay,” she whispered, stroking its wet fur. “I’ve got you now.”

By the time she flew back to the apartment, she was cradling the kitten like it was something precious. Her heart was already fully committed.

She tried to be stealthy.

Really, she did.

But between the cat’s mews, the trail of water droplets on the hardwood floor, and the unmistakable hum of the hairdryer in the bathroom, Lena caught her within minutes.

Kara turned slowly, caught mid–towel-dry, the kitten blinking up at her like a tiny accomplice.

Lena stood in the doorway, arms crossed. “Kara. Is that a cat?”

“She was all alone!” Kara cried, holding the kitten up for inspection. “I couldn’t leave her behind. Look at her! She’s basically asking me to save her.”

The kitten let out a squeaky, perfect meow, then looked directly at Lena with big, trusting eyes.

Lena sighed.

“I’m not a cat person.”

But when the kitten blinked at her, then slowly crawled out of Kara’s arms to head-butt Lena’s shin, purring like a tiny engine, Lena didn’t push her away.

****

By day three, Lena was still insisting she wasn’t a cat person.

This, despite the fact that the kitten—who they’d decided to name Streaky, after Kara’s childhood pet back on Krypton—had already claimed Lena’s lap as her throne and Lena’s side of the bed as her personal kingdom.

“She keeps following me,” Lena said, sitting stiffly at her desk while Streaky stretched across her thighs, purring.

Kara leaned in the doorway with a smug smile. “She loves you.”

“She’s a cat. Cats don’t love anyone.”

Streaky rolled over, exposed her tiny belly, and batted lazily at Lena’s shirt hem.

Lena sighed. “Fine. She tolerates me. Excessively.”

Kara laughed, crossed the room, and dropped a kiss to the top of Lena’s head. “You’re such a softie.”

“Am not.”

But Lena’s voice was already gentler as she ran her fingers through the kitten’s fur.

****

A week later, Kara stood at the door in her Supergirl suit, arms crossed.

“She can’t stay home alone all day,” she said. “She’s just a baby.”

Lena blinked at her. “You want me to take the cat to work?”

Kara’s lip jutted out. “She’ll be lonely.”

“She’s a cat, Kara. They like being alone.”

“Streaky doesn’t,” Kara pouted. “She loves you. She needs you. I need her to be with you.”

Lena groaned. “You are impossible.”

But Streaky did end up going to work with Lena.

And, surprisingly, Lena loved it.

Her employees stared at first, confused and maybe a little terrified when their boss walked in with a sleek ginger kitten perched on her shoulder like a pirate.

But Streaky was quickly accepted. She sat on Lena’s lap during meetings, lounged on the windowsill of Lena’s office while she reviewed quarterly reports, and batted pens off her desk during tense investor calls, forcing Lena to pause and laugh.

It was, unexpectedly, the best kind of therapy.

Eventually, Lena bought her a little red cape to wear instead of a collar.

“It suits her,” she said, adjusting it one morning before heading out. “She’s got a flair for the dramatic.”

“She gets it from you,” Kara teased, wrapping her arms around Lena’s waist.

“You mean she gets it from you.”

“Touché.”

****

One afternoon, Kara arrived at L-Corp to surprise Lena for lunch. The moment she stepped into her girlfriend’s office, she froze.

Lena was sitting in her high-backed chair, turned slowly around like a Bond villain. Streaky was perched in her lap, purring as Lena stroked her head with delicate fingers. The cape fluttered slightly with each movement.

Kara burst out laughing. “Oh my god. You look like a sexy villain.”

Lena didn’t miss a beat. “That’s Madame Luthor, to you.”

“Terrifying,” Kara said, walking over to kiss her. “And so hot.”

Streaky, as it turned out, had a remarkable sense of judgment—one Lena found both amusing and deeply satisfying. The kitten quickly became something of a fixture at L-Corp, riding in with Lena each morning tucked into a sleek black cat carrier that Kara insisted on calling “the CEO limo.” Once inside, Streaky had free rein of Lena’s office—and the cat took her duties seriously.

She adored Jess, who now kept a drawer stocked with tiny treats just for her. The moment Jess walked in, Streaky would leap onto the desk with an expectant trill, tail high, rubbing her cheek against the assistant’s wrist as if thanking her for being the only other competent person in the building. Jess, ever efficient, gave a quiet chuckle and obliged her with a salmon-flavored bite.

But Streaky had no patience for arrogance. When certain board members or pushy executives barged into Lena’s office uninvited—usually men, usually loud—Streaky would leap down from her perch and hiss, her little red cape flaring behind her like a warning flag.

“Is your cat… hissing at me?” one CFO had asked nervously, pausing mid-rant about quarterly projections.

“She doesn’t like when people raise their voice in my office,” Lena said coolly, stroking Streaky’s fur once. “Neither do I.”

The man backed out shortly after, muttering something about rescheduling.

Kara found the whole thing hilarious. “You have a tiny feline bodyguard,” she whispered during a lunch visit. “Who knew Streaky was such a good judge of character?”

Lena arched a brow. “She has excellent instincts. I’m beginning to trust her opinion more than the board’s.”

****

Weeks passed, and Streaky officially became a part of their lives. At home, at the office, even during weekend movie marathons where she curled between them like the spoiled queen she was.

Lena, who once claimed she wasn’t a cat person, now had a dozen photos of Streaky on her phone. Kara caught her showing them off to board members more than once.

And Lena, being Lena, took her newfound devotion even further—donating a generous sum to several animal rescues and shelters across the city.

“Every animal deserves a good home,” she said softly one night as Streaky curled up between them on the couch. “Like she got.”

Kara leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You’ve got a big heart, Lena.”

“I think you’re rubbing off on me.”

Kara smiled, tugging Lena closer.

Streaky purred, and the two of them laughed, settling deeper into the couch with their tiny, caped companion nestled between them.

Their little family.

Complete.

Notes:

f you’ve enjoyed this story and want to help make a real-life difference — I’m an American currently living and working in Thailand, doing what I can to care for the many stray dogs and cats here. The weather can be brutal, and so many of these animals rely on trash to survive. A little bit of food and kindness can go a long way.

If you’d like to help, I’ve started a GoFundMe to provide food and basic shelter for them.
Even a few dollars can fill empty bellies. Thank you for reading — and for caring. ❤️

https://gofund.me/dc2fad4f

Chapter 7: In This Dress

Lena stood in front of the mirror, her fingers smoothing over the intricate lace that traced along the bodice of the dress. It was delicate—off-the-shoulder with subtle beading that shimmered as she turned slightly, catching the light. The train fanned behind her like a whisper, and for the first time in her life, Lena Luthor found herself speechless at her own reflection.

It didn’t feel like vanity.
It felt like disbelief.

She wasn’t supposed to get this.
This softness. This kind of love.

She blinked at herself, trying to imagine what Kara would see when she walked down the aisle. Would she cry? Would she smile that wide, sunshine smile that Lena swore could light entire galaxies?

And just as the thought crossed her mind—she felt them. Two strong, familiar arms wrapping around her waist from behind. Arms that had held her through laughter and panic attacks, through lazy Sunday mornings and nights she couldn’t sleep. Arms that felt like home.

“You look so fucking beautiful,” Kara whispered into her neck, her breath sending shivers down Lena’s spine. “But then again, you could wear a garbage bag and you’d still take my breath away.”

Lena's lips curved into a slow smile, her hands instinctively resting over Kara’s where they clasped her stomach. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I know,” Kara murmured, pressing a kiss just behind her ear. “But I couldn’t wait. I tried. I was going to be good. But I may have used my super hearing to find you and—God, Lena.”

Lena turned in her arms, careful not to trip on the hem. “You cheated?”

Kara looked properly guilty, but only for half a second. Then her eyes swept over Lena again, reverent and unblinking. “I’d break every rule for you.”

Lena rolled her eyes affectionately, but her voice softened. “You weren’t supposed to see the dress until the wedding.”

Kara reached up, brushing a curl from Lena’s cheek, her palm cupping her face like she was something precious. “I couldn’t wait that long to see my future. And I have never been more sure about anything in my life.”

Lena blinked rapidly, and Kara didn’t miss the way her throat bobbed as she swallowed emotion. “You really like it?” she asked, quieter now. “The dress?”

“I love the dress,” Kara said, stepping closer, resting her forehead against Lena’s. “But I’m in love with the woman in it.”

Lena’s breath hitched. “You’re such a sap.”

Kara grinned. “Only for you.”

They stood like that for a moment—silent, surrounded by fabric and mirrors and the quiet thrum of forever on the horizon.

Then Lena whispered, her voice barely audible, “You make me believe in things I used to laugh at.”

Kara smiled, her hands sliding down to Lena’s waist again. “Like what?”

“Magic. Soulmates. Happy endings.”

Kara leaned in, kissing her. “Good. Because you’re mine.”

And right there in the middle of a quiet bridal boutique, wrapped in satin and lace and arms she trusted more than gravity, Lena Luthor decided she didn’t need the aisle or the vows or the crowd to feel like she belonged.

She already did.

In Kara’s arms.
Forever.

*******

The morning had been a blur of makeup brushes, whispered nerves, and the occasional happy tear. The air held the weight of something sacred—like time was pausing just a little for them. Outside the windows of the garden estate, the sun began its descent, casting everything in a golden haze.

But Kara barely noticed the sunlight.
Her heartbeat was louder.

They stood back to back on the grand balcony, surrounded by the hush of blooming flowers and distant music.

Kara's hands were clenched at her sides, nerves tingling beneath her skin.

Lena's fingers twisted gently in the bouquet she held, a subtle tremble in her breath.

“On three?” Kara asked quietly, her voice laced with both excitement and awe.

Lena nodded, though Kara couldn’t see it. “On three.”

A beat passed.

Then, in perfect unison, they counted—

“One…”

“Two…”

“Three.”

They turned.

And both went still.

Kara’s breath left her in a stunned exhale. Her lips parted, but no words came. Lena looked ethereal—her dress sculpted to her like poetry, soft lace tracing down her arms, her dark hair swept back with jeweled pins that caught the light like stars. She was luminous, regal, untouchable—except she was Kara’s. Somehow, impossibly, entirely hers.

Lena stared, lips trembling with a smile. Kara stood like she belonged in the heavens—shoulders back, her dress sleek and modern with a flowing cape of sheer tulle, the gold lining catching in the light, subtle and strong. Her hair was curled over one shoulder, and her eyes—those impossibly blue eyes—were already wet with tears.

Kara reached out first.

Her fingers brushed Lena’s cheek, delicate and reverent, like she was afraid she might disappear. “God,” she whispered. “You’re… you’re everything.”

Lena let out a small, watery laugh. “I was about to say the same thing.”

Their hands found each other, holding tight.

Kara stepped closer, resting her forehead against Lena’s, breathing her in. “That day we met in your office. You smiled at me, and I thought, That woman could ruin me.”

“And I did,” Lena whispered with a smirk.

Kara laughed, tears slipping down her cheeks as she leaned in to kiss her—soft, deep, full of love that had been building since that first flirty conversation in dim lighting and stolen glances.

The world went quiet again.

Just Kara and Lena, both in white, wrapped in each other like a promise.

They kissed until the nerves disappeared. Until their hands stopped trembling. Until all that was left was certainty.

“I can't wait to marry you,” Lena breathed, brushing Kara’s tears away.

“You already have me,” Kara said, voice thick. “But yeah. Let’s make it official.”

They stood on the balcony a little longer, wrapped in arms and whispers and veils dancing in the breeze.

Two brides.
One love.
And the rest of their forever just waiting.

Chapter 8: Re-homing Lena

Kara and her colleagues had been at the bar for a few hours now. The energy was high, laughter rolled through the air like music, and Kara was happily nursing her fourth cocktail. The stress of the week melted away under the hum of camaraderie, and her cheeks were already pink from the alcohol and easy joy.

As the night carried on, Kara leaned against the bar, enjoying the clinking of glasses and the muffled karaoke from the other side of the room. She chatted with a few DEO agents before her attention drifted to a woman standing farther down the bar—a brunette, petite and strong-looking, with tired eyes and a kind smile. Something about her posture—guarded and sad—caught Kara’s attention.

They exchanged a smile, and Kara scooted over.

“Hi! I’m Kara,” she said brightly, dimples deepening as she offered her hand.

The woman blinked at the sudden burst of sunshine but shook her hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Elle.”

They started chatting, the music pulsing in the background. Kara, already buzzed and always kind-hearted, picked up on the heaviness in Elle’s voice.

“Are you okay?” she asked over the rim of her glass.

Elle sighed. “Honestly? Not really. Breakups suck—and this one was brutal.”

Kara’s eyes widened with sympathy. “Oh no! I’ve been there. It feels like your heart’s been tossed in a blender.”

Elle laughed a little, appreciating the mix of empathy and Kara’s ridiculous analogy. “Exactly.”

They talked a little more, Kara offering encouragement like a tipsy self-help guru. Elle gave a bittersweet smile. “I just want someone good, you know? Someone who actually sees me. Are you single, Kara?”

Kara blinked. “Oh! No, I’m not. I have a girlfriend—Lena. She’s the best thing in the whole universe.”

Elle smiled, though a flicker of disappointment passed through her eyes. “Of course you do. What’s she like?”

Kara lit up like a Christmas tree. “Lena is brilliant. Like ‘could build a spaceship with duct tape’ brilliant. And she’s gorgeous. And she has this way of looking at me like I’m the only person in the world. Plus, when I’m sad, she makes me feel better. She can always make me smile.”

Elle raised her eyebrows, clearly impressed. “She sounds amazing.”

“She is amazing,” Kara said with a dreamy sigh. “Wait—oh my gosh. I have an idea!”

Elle looked mildly alarmed. “That’s… not usually how people say that.”

Kara leaned in conspiratorially. “Okay, so you’re sad, right? And Lena is amazing. So what if you dated Lena?”

Elle nearly choked on her drink. “What?!”

“No, no, hear me out,” Kara continued, swaying just a little. “You need someone great, and Lena is great, and I love helping people. It’s like... I’m having her re-homed!”

“You’re going to re-home… your own girlfriend?” Elle asked, incredulous but somehow still charmed.

*****

Just then, Lena walked into the bar—sleek black ensemble, hair immaculate, presence magnetic. Her eyes scanned the room—landing almost immediately on Kara, who was grinning like a fool and gesturing wildly.

“Lena!” Kara beamed, waving both hands like a child spotting their mom at school pickup.

Lena approached with a smile, slipping an arm around Kara’s waist. “Hello, darling. I missed you.”

Kara melted instantly into her arms. “Lena! Guess what! We are breaking up!”

Lena froze. Her arm tightened around Kara’s waist, but her smile faltered. “Wha—what?”

Kara nodded solemnly. “We are breaking up. So you can date Elle!”

Elle, still holding her drink, nearly dropped it.

Lena stepped back slightly, visibly reeling. “I’m sorry, what?!”

Kara turned to Elle with a bright, encouraging smile. “Elle’s really sad! She had a bad breakup. And I was thinking, who better to help her feel loved and appreciated than you?”

Lena stared. “So your solution was to... end our relationship... and give me to someone else? Like a gift basket?!”

“No, not like a gift basket,” Kara offered. “I’m actually having you rehomed like a puppy!”

Elle raised her hands. “I did not ask for this! I was just talking about my ex, and suddenly I was being offered a supermodel genius.”

Lena slowly turned to her girlfriend—her very tipsy girlfriend. “Kara, sweetheart?”

But Kara was already stumbling away, waving. “Byeeee!”

Lena sighed and turned to Elle, handing off her drink with a sympathetic smile. “I am so sorry.”

Elle laughed, eyes wide. “It’s okay. She’s adorable.”

Lena gave a small nod, then hurried after Kara, her heels clicking across the floor.

“Kara Danvers!”

Kara turned immediately, pouting. “Lena! What are you doing over here? You don’t belong with me anymore. You belong with Elle now.”

She tried to push Lena away—gently, clumsily, like a kitten batting at a ball of yarn. “Go,” she whispered tragically. “Be happy.”

Lena stared at her girlfriend for a beat, then pulled her into a firm, grounding hug. “Kara. You’re mine, and I’m yours. That’s not up for negotiation.”

Kara melted into her arms, forehead pressed to Lena’s shoulder. “But Lena… she’s really sad. And you make me feel better when I’m sad. I just—” she exhaled, “—I want other people to feel that kind of love, too.”

Lena cupped Kara’s face, guiding her to meet her eyes. “That’s sweet, baby. It really is. But not everyone’s story is ours. And no one—no one—would get the version of me that you do.”

Kara blinked, tilting her head. “What do you mean? A better version?”

Lena laughed, soft and loving, brushing her thumb along Kara’s cheek. “No, silly. You bring out the best version of me. This version only exists because of you.”

Relief softened Kara’s features as a slow smile bloomed across her face. “I guess I got a little carried away trying to share the magic.”

“I appreciate the enthusiasm,” Lena teased, leaning in to kiss her. “But I’m not up for distribution.” Kara giggled. “Noted. No more rehoming.”

“Good,” Lena murmured, still close. 

Kara’s hand found Lena’s, their fingers lacing together. “It just sounded like a good idea at the time.”

“Well,” Lena said, pulling her closer, “how about we go home and forget you ever tried to give me away?”

Kara grinned, eyes bright. “Yes. Home. Where I don’t have to share you because you’re mine—all mine.”

“Every bit,” Lena whispered before kissing her again. The kiss deepened, slow and lingering, until Lena’s hands slid down to give Kara’s ass a playful squeeze.

Kara squeaked and pulled back, laughing breathlessly. “Lena!”

“I love you,” Lena said with a wicked grin.

“I love you more,” Kara replied, glowing. “Even when you’re inappropriate in public.”

“Especially then,” Lena quipped, wrapping her arms around her. “You’re my everything, Kara. And when we get home, I plan to remind you exactly how much.”

Hand in hand, they made their way out of the bar, their laughter echoing behind them like a song.

From across the room, Elle watched them go, a wistful smile tugging at her lips. A pang of longing bloomed in her chest—but beneath it, a quiet hope. Watching the love between Kara and Lena, so real and effortless, made her believe that maybe, just maybe, she’d find something like that too.

Chapter 9: Left Out

Lena Luthor had grown up in the shadow of marble halls and quiet disappointment.

As a child, she’d sit at the edge of the grand Luthor dining table, feet dangling above the floor, her fork held politely while Lionel poured something expensive for Lex and lavished praise on his “true son.” Lillian would offer a thin-lipped smile, glancing at Lena like she were a stray someone had taken in out of obligation.

She was never outright unwanted—but never truly wanted either.

Birthdays were afterthoughts. Invitations were passed down. Affection was rationed, reserved for those who shared blood in the “right” way. So Lena learned to survive on scraps—slivers of attention, rare moments of approval, the occasional lukewarm smile—and convinced herself it was enough.

At school, things weren’t much better. She carried the Luthor name but none of the warmth or magnetism that made other kids gravitate toward one another. They called her “Ice Queen” behind her back, laughed too hard when she walked by, and only picked her for group projects when the teacher insisted. Parties came and went without her name on the list. Sleepovers always seemed to happen when she was “out sick.”

She spent more recesses than she could count in the library, pretending she preferred it that way.

She became fluent in loneliness.

****

Until Kara.

God, Kara.

It started small—an extra chair at lunch, a coffee cup with “Lena” scrawled boldly on the side, like it belonged. Kara smiled at her like she meant it, and every interaction felt easy, uncalculated.

The first time Lena realized it was different—truly different—was at a game night at Kara’s apartment. She had been invited, which already felt like a win, but when she arrived, the only seat left was a hard stool shoved in the corner.

She moved toward it without thinking. Years of conditioning whispered that she didn’t belong in the center. She never had.

But Kara caught her by the elbow.

“Hey,” she said, cheerful and warm. “You’re sitting next to me.”

Lena blinked.

And sure enough, there was a spot—right in the middle of the couch, a blanket already draped over it like an invitation. Kara patted the space beside her and smiled like it was obvious, like it had always been meant for Lena.

So she sat—shoulder brushing Kara’s, something aching and fragile cracking open in her chest.

Later that night, when the others had left, Lena lingered at the sink, pretending to help with the dishes. Kara walked over and cupped her face, tilting her chin up.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” Lena replied a little too quickly.

Kara studied her, those impossibly blue eyes soft and searching. Then she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Lena’s forehead. A simple gesture—but it sent heat straight to the hollow places inside her.

“I hope you never feel left out,” Kara said softly.

Lena’s throat tightened. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I do.” Kara’s voice dropped. “Because I used to feel that way, too. When I first came to Earth—god, it was awful. Everyone looked at me like I didn’t belong. Everything was different. I know how isolating that can feel, and I never want you to feel that way.”

Lena froze—not because of Kara’s empathy, but because Kara didn’t even realize.

Didn’t realize that Lena had always felt that way.

That being left out wasn’t something new. It was the only constant she had ever known.

But from then on, Kara made it a mission.

If there was brunch, Lena was the first one invited. If the team made plans, Kara reshuffled the schedule until Lena could join. Movie nights featured Lena’s favorite snacks, and somehow, that ridiculous kale shake always showed up—despite Kara’s dramatic gagging every time Lena drank it.

Kara saved seats for her—literally and figuratively. She made space with every word, every gesture. She reached for Lena’s hand instinctively. She tugged Lena into her lap on long work nights just to whisper something ridiculous in her ear and grin when she blushed. She wrapped around Lena in bed like a protective shell, legs tangled beneath a blanket, as if she could hold her together with sheer warmth.

And slowly, something softened in Lena. Something healed.

****

One night, it all cracked open.

They were at a DEO celebration for Alex’s promotion. Music played. Laughter carried through the open doors. Kara was helping arrange a group photo, her sunny energy effortlessly organizing the chaos.

Lena stepped forward with the others, but one of the newer recruits nudged her aside.

“Sorry,” they said. “Just need the core group for this one.”

The words were casual. Dismissive.

Familiar.

Lena nodded, jaw tight. “Of course.”

She stepped back like she always had, her smile brittle as she retreated toward the edge of the crowd.

But Kara noticed.

She turned, eyes sweeping the group, and her smile faltered.

“Where’s Lena?” she asked, her tone no longer casual.

“She said it was okay—” someone offered.

But Kara was already walking away.

She found Lena by the balcony railing, arms crossed against the night air.

Kara slipped behind her and wrapped her arms around her waist, resting her chin on Lena’s shoulder.

“We can’t take the photo without you,” she said.

Lena laughed softly, humorless. “You don’t need me in that picture.”

“Yes, I do,” Kara said, turning her so their eyes met. “Lena, you’ve been made to feel like an outsider your whole life. But not with me. Never with me. You belong. You always belong.”

And when they returned to the group, Kara’s voice rang clear:

“If Lena isn’t in the photo,” she said, “then it’s not a photo worth taking.”

No one argued. No one dared.

Kara took Lena’s hand and led her back—not to the edge, but to the middle. To the place where she belonged.

****

Later that night, the city lights flickered outside their apartment windows. They were curled up on the couch, cocooned in a blanket, the hum of traffic muffled by the glass. Lena lay tucked against Kara’s chest, her fingers tracing slow patterns on her side.

“Kara?” she whispered.

“Mm?”

Lena tilted her head up and kissed her.

“Thank you.”

Kara blinked down at her. “For what?”

“For this. For always making space for me.” Her voice trembled. “I used to feel… invisible. Like I didn’t exist unless someone needed something or someone to blame. Like I was just… there, and no one really cared.”

Kara’s face fell, eyes full of aching sadness.

“I didn’t know,” she murmured.

“I know,” Lena said. “But that’s what makes it matter more. You didn’t know… And you still made me feel seen. With you, I’ve never felt left out. Not once. You see me, Kara. All of me. And that means more than I can ever explain.”

Kara kissed her again, slow and sure, full of promise.

“I’ll keep seeing you,” she whispered. “Every day. For the rest of our lives.”

And for the first time since she was a child, Lena believed it wasn’t just a nice promise.

It was the truth.

Chapter 10: Potstickers

It was a crisp spring afternoon, and Kara and Lena strolled hand in hand down a winding path in the park, their fingers laced together, occasionally bumping shoulders as they traded quiet smiles like they were sharing secrets only the two of them would ever understand.

It was peaceful. Perfect.

Until Kara suddenly halted, nearly yanking Lena to a stop.

“Oh my God,” Kara whispered, her eyes wide with childlike wonder. “Lena. Lena.”

“What is it?” Lena asked, half-concerned and half-amused, already recognizing that specific spark in Kara’s eyes.

Kara pointed dramatically across the grass.

Past a line of colorful flags and a folding table piled with flyers, a bold red banner flapped in the breeze, declaring:

“POTSTICKER EATING CONTEST!”

And below it—pure, steamy heaven. Dozens of trays stacked high with golden, shimmering potstickers. The smell alone made Kara’s knees weak. Her eyes sparkled like she’d just stumbled upon the Fortress of Solitude for the first time.

Lena groaned softly as Kara tugged her toward the sign-up table.

“Kara. No. Kara Danvers, absolutely not.”

“Why not?” Kara looked over her shoulder with those devastatingly innocent puppy eyes.

Lena raised a skeptical brow and leaned in to whisper, “You’re Supergirl.”

“So?” Kara pouted, already halfway to pleading. “I won’t use my super speed.”

Lena gave her a pointed look.

“I promise. I’ll chew slowly. I’ll even lose a few rounds on purpose if it helps,” Kara said, practically bouncing on her toes with excitement. “But Lena… unlimited potstickers.”

Lena sighed, the corners of her lips twitching with the effort not to smile. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I’m hungry,” Kara corrected, flashing her a radiant grin.

“You’re always hungry.”

“Exactly!” Kara spun around and cupped Lena’s face with both hands, lowering her voice to a dramatic whisper. “This is fate, Lena. The universe wants me to eat dumplings today. It’s giving me a sign.”

“It’s given you a bottomless stomach,” Lena muttered, but Kara was already kissing her cheek and scampering off toward the registration table like an overexcited golden retriever.

****

Ten minutes later, Lena stood at the edge of the growing crowd, arms crossed, lips curled in affectionate disbelief.

Kara was seated at the long contestant table, surrounded by burly men, a very determined-looking teenager in a bandana, and a few brave locals who already looked nervous. The table was lined with rows of potstickers, glistening like trophies.

When the whistle blew and the timer started, Kara didn’t hesitate.

She didn’t use her powers—at least, not the flashy ones. But she had a method: dip, bite, chew, swallow. Over and over. Efficient. Relentless. Like a graceful machine.

Like a beautiful, potsticker-devouring goddess.

Lena shook her head, laughing under her breath as she watched Kara in her element—cheeks puffed, eyes shining, her entire being focused on the joy of delicious food.

Beside her, a little girl nudged her mother and whispered loudly, “Mommy, she’s like a superhero.”

Lena smirked and muttered, “You have no idea.”

****

By the end of the twenty-minute timer, Kara had eaten one hundred and four potstickers.

She sat back in her chair, flushed and glowing with victory, her shirt mildly stained with soy sauce and her lips shiny with sesame oil. Around her, the crowd erupted into cheers.

“Did you see that?” someone shouted.
“She destroyed the competition!”
“Is she even human?” another whispered in awe.

Kids clapped, parents laughed, and a few people started chanting, “Pot-sti-ckers! Pot-sti-ckers!”

Kara beamed at them, cheeks pink from both excitement and overeating. She looked overwhelmed and a little bashful, her hand hovering over another untouched tray.

“Kara!”

She turned, immediately forgetting the potstickers when she spotted Lena weaving through the crowd toward her, holding a bottle of water and a napkin.

Lena reached her first, wiping a smudge from Kara’s cheek. “I am both impressed and slightly horrified.”

“That’s fair,” Kara said between gulps of water. “Do you think I won more potstickers?”

Lena rolled her eyes, though her expression was impossibly fond. “Kara.”

“What? A girl can dream.”

“Come here,” Lena said, laughing, and pulled her in.

Kara wrapped her arms around Lena’s waist, melting into the contact, potsticker breath and all. “Thanks for letting me do it,” she whispered against Lena’s ear. “This was seriously the best day ever.”

“You make it very hard to say no,” Lena replied, her fingers brushing the nape of Kara’s neck.

Kara smirked, her voice low. “Is that a challenge?”

But before Lena could answer, Kara kissed her.

Right there in the middle of the park—surrounded by families, kids, dumpling banners, and cheering strangers—Kara dipped Lena back into a passionate kiss. The crowd gasped, then roared with delight. Someone wolf-whistled. Others clapped and cheered like it was the championship moment of a love story they'd all secretly been following.

Lena let out a breathless laugh into Kara’s mouth, stunned and a little dizzy as she was lifted off her feet.

When Kara finally set her upright again, Lena was flushed and grinning like a fool, her hands still tangled in Kara’s shirt.

“You are ridiculous,” she whispered, her voice thick with affection.

“Yeah,” Kara said, eyes sparkling. “But I’m your ridiculous.”

Lena leaned in for another kiss. “Yes. Yes, you are.”

****

Later that night, Lena was curled up on the couch with her legs tucked beneath her, a blanket thrown over her lap, and a book resting lightly in her hands.

She was waiting for Kara.

The distant sound of the shower shutting off caught her attention. A few seconds later, Kara padded into the room—her damp hair tousled, face scrubbed clean, and proudly wearing the triumphant prize of the day: a slightly oversized T-shirt with bold red lettering that read
“Potsticker Champion 2025”
A cartoon dumpling on the front gave a gleeful thumbs-up.

Lena raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Kara struck a ridiculous pose, arms flexed like a wrestler. “I am the champion,” she declared. “Long live the Queen of Dumplings.”

Lena chuckled, setting her book aside. “What do you want for dinner, darling?”

Kara opened her mouth, eyes gleaming mischievously.

Lena held up a finger before she could speak. “No potstickers.”

Kara sighed dramatically, collapsing onto the couch beside her. “Fine. Tacos, please.”

That earned her a laugh. Lena pulled her in, wrapping her arms around Kara’s waist and tugging her into her lap with practiced ease.

Kara let herself be scooped up with a happy hum, curling sideways into Lena’s body like she belonged there. “Mmm. You’re warm.”

“You’re still slightly damp.”

“You like it.”

“No I don’t,” Lena said dryly, though she made no effort to push her off. She stroked Kara’s damp hair back from her forehead and kissed her temple. “So. Tacos?”

“Yes, please,” Kara whispered, the words barely audible as they brushed against Lena’s throat.

Lena smiled and combed her fingers through Kara’s hair. “Stay here. I’ll get dinner.”

Kara gave a whine of protest, squeezing her briefly before letting go. “Fine. But only because you promised me tacos.”

“And because you love me.”

“That too.”

****

By the time the doorbell rang half an hour later, Kara had taken full command of the couch, wrapped burrito-style in their fluffiest blanket, only her head poking out. She perked up like a puppy at the sound of the delivery, her nose already sniffing the air.

Lena returned carrying the takeout bags like sacred offerings, setting them on the coffee table. Kara sat up immediately, peering over the edge of her cocoon.

But then she paused. Her brow furrowed. Her eyes locked onto a small white box in Lena’s hands.

“What’s that?” she asked cautiously, as if it might be too good to be true.

Lena tried to hide her smile as she opened the lid and spun the container around. Inside, perfectly arranged and still warm, were six golden, gleaming potstickers—from Kara’s favorite little corner shop across town. The wrappers were delicate and seared just right, the scent unmistakable.

Kara squealed and launched herself across the couch like a missile, wrapping Lena in a tight embrace that sent them both stumbling back against the cushions.

“You didn’t!” Kara gasped.

“I did,” Lena laughed, grinning as Kara peppered her with kisses—cheeks, nose, forehead, anywhere she could reach.

“This is love,” Kara declared dramatically.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how that works,” Lena teased, laughing as she cupped Kara’s face in her hands.

But Kara just pulled her in for a kiss—deep, warm, and full of unspoken affection.

When they finally broke apart, Lena brushed her thumb over Kara’s flushed cheek. “You really are ridiculous.”

“And you really love me.”

“I do,” Lena whispered, her voice soft. “I really do.”

Kara beamed and reached for the food. “Now feed me tacos and dumplings, my queen.”

Lena rolled her eyes and handed her the chopsticks.

Kara popped the first potsticker into her mouth with a blissful sigh.

They spent the rest of the night tangled together on the couch, trading bites, kisses, and glances that said more than words ever could.

It was simple, soft, and absolutely perfect.

Chapter 11: Mother's Day

The cemetery was quiet, save for the rustle of trees and the occasional chirp of a bird hidden in the distance. Spring had brushed strokes of green and blossom across the grounds, but the stillness held a weight that no bloom could soften.

Two women stood side by side, hands clasped tightly. Sisters. Grown now, with lives and children of their own. But here, at the twin headstones that bore the names Kara Danvers-Luthor and Lena Luthor-Danvers, they were simply daughters.

The younger one knelt first, her fingers reaching out to trace the carved letters of Lena’s name. Her touch was trembling, her eyes already swimming with tears. “It still doesn’t feel real,” she whispered.

“I know,” the older one said, crouching beside her, a bouquet of white lilies cradled in her arms. “It still feels like they’ll come walking up behind us any second—Mom smiling and saying how much she loves the flowers, and Mama insisting on buying out the entire flower shop.”

That pulled a soft laugh from the younger sister, cracked and aching but genuine.

The older one smiled too, sad and wistful. “Mama always acted like the flowers didn’t matter. But she kept every single one.”

“She kept everything we gave her,” the younger added, her voice barely above a breath.

The older sister nodded, setting the bouquet between the two headstones. “I found a box in her closet after the funeral. Full of macaroni necklaces from elementary school—still wrapped in tissue paper. Fridge notes. That ridiculous glitter card we made her.”

“She cried when she got that,” the younger one said, her voice catching. “Said it was perfect.”

They both sat down on the grass, shoulder to shoulder, surrounded by the hush of spring air and memory.

“I miss them,” the younger sister murmured after a long silence. “So much. Especially today.”

“I do too,” the older said. Her voice was quieter now, cracked around the edges.

For a long moment, they sat in that shared ache, the absence of their mothers curling around them like a second skin.

“Do you remember how they used to dance in the kitchen?” the older one said suddenly, her voice turning gentle with memory. “Mom would put on those old songs and spin Mama around, even if she was elbows-deep in paperwork.”

“She’d pretend to be annoyed,” the younger one smiled through her tears. “But she never stopped smiling.”

“She never could. Not when it came to Mom.”

The silence wrapped around them again, but this time it felt warmer. Familiar.

“They taught us what love looked like,” the older daughter said. “Not the fairytale kind, but the real kind. The everyday kind. The kind that’s chosen—over and over again.”

The younger one nodded, her throat tight. “They showed us how to love our spouses and kids like that. With softness. And strength.”

“They were superheroes,” the older one whispered. “Even when they didn’t wear capes.”

The younger daughter leaned her head on her sister’s shoulder. “Mother’s Day is different now.”

“I know,” the older said, wrapping her arm around her. “But Mom and Mama are watching over us. And they’re together.”

And just then, a soft breeze stirred the air—gentle and warm. It wrapped around them like arms once had, brushing cheeks and tangling hair in a way that felt unmistakably familiar.

The younger daughter closed her eyes, a tear sliding down her cheek. “It’s them,” she whispered.

The older sister nodded, blinking back her own tears.

They sat there in silence, but it wasn’t empty anymore. It held them like a cradle.

Eventually, the younger one stood, brushing off her jeans. She lingered for a moment, then stepped closer to the headstones. Kneeling again, her fingers trembled as she reached out and whispered, “Happy Mother’s Day. We love you.”

She kissed the top of Lena’s stone, then Kara’s, pressing her lips to the cool marble with reverence. The older sister followed suit, laying a hand across both names as if to hold them one last time.

Hand in hand, the sisters turned to leave. Their shoulders brushed, their hearts both heavy and full. They didn’t look back—not because they didn’t want to, but because they didn’t have to.

They could feel them.

Always.

 

Chapter 12: Tipsy and Clingy

The bar was loud—just enough of a background buzz to make the booth Kara and Lena had claimed feel like their own little corner of the universe.

It had been Lena’s idea. A casual night out, she’d said. No work. No L-Corp. No DEO. Just drinks and each other.

Kara had agreed, albeit a little cautiously. Lena didn’t drink often, and when she did, it was usually with the elegance of royalty—poised sips of expensive wine, her posture perfect, her laughter subtle.

But tonight, Lena had discovered Long Island iced teas.

“I love you,” Lena slurred, her face pressed lazily into Kara’s shoulder. “Have I told you that? I do. So much. Like… if I were a cat, I’d bring you dead things to show you how much.”

Kara blinked. “That’s… really sweet. And horrifying.”

Lena giggled and snuggled in closer, winding her arms around Kara’s waist like she might float away if she let go. Her perfume was warm with a hint of spice, her laughter vibrating against Kara’s collarbone.

They were still in the booth—technically—but Lena had migrated into Kara’s lap twenty minutes ago, ignoring the amused glances from other patrons and the bartender’s smug grin. Clearly, they’d been clocked as “adorably gay couple number five” of the night.

Kara tried to maintain her posture, tried to look like she had control of the situation—despite the fact that Lena was now drawing invisible hearts on her thigh and whispering about how much she loved Kara’s “super muscles.”

“Babe,” Kara said, brushing Lena’s hair back from her flushed cheek. “Maybe we should head home. You’re… very affectionate right now.”

Lena blinked up at her. Her eyes were glassy but clear. Certain. “I’m allowed to be affectionate with my girlfriend,” she said, her voice firm and low, the word girlfriend rolling off her tongue like something sacred.

Then she grabbed Kara’s face in both hands and kissed her—deeply, thoroughly, like the world had fallen away and all that remained was Kara’s mouth and the need to taste it.

Kara made a surprised sound, but any protest vanished the moment Lena’s lips met hers. It was possessive and tender all at once—Lena kissing her like she had something to prove and something to protect. Kara’s hands flew to Lena’s waist, steadying them both as the heat built between them like a gathering storm.

She forgot everything—where they were, who might be watching, even the coffee cooling in her hands. It was just Lena: fierce and beautiful and all hers.

But then Kara’s eyes fluttered open, and she caught the barista across the room doing a not-so-subtle double take. A couple near the window was watching them with amused expressions, one of them raising their cup in a silent toast.

Reluctantly, Kara pulled back, breathless, cheeks pink, and lips tingling.

“Lena,” she whispered. “We’re in public.”

Lena looked entirely unbothered. “And?”

“You were practically—” Kara lowered her voice, scandalized, “—ravishing me in front of the muffins.”

Lena arched a perfect brow. “You didn’t seem to mind.”

“I didn’t,” Kara muttered, trying—and failing—not to smile. “But still.”

“You’re impossible,” she added, crossing her arms, though her tone was already soft with affection.

“I’m in love,” Lena said simply. She reached for Kara’s hand, threading their fingers together and lifting it to her lips. “And I had a terrible day. You make it better.”

Kara’s heart softened instantly. She leaned in and kissed Lena’s knuckles, her lips lingering. “Come on,” Kara said, standing and tugging Lena to her feet. “Let’s go home.”

“Home sounds perfect,” Lena murmured, leaning in for one more kiss—this one slower, sweeter. No less passionate, but far more intimate. She lingered there, breathing in Kara’s scent, her voice barely above a whisper. “Carry me.”

Kara blinked. “Carry you?”

Lena nodded, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Yes. I’ve had a dreadful day. My heels are cruel. And I deserve to be swept off my feet—literally.”

Kara chuckled, wrapping an arm around Lena’s waist. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I know,” Lena replied, already wrapping her arms around Kara’s neck. “Now prove it.”

Rolling her eyes affectionately, Kara bent down and scooped Lena into her arms bridal-style, drawing a delighted squeal from Lena that melted into laughter. The entire bar paused for a moment—but Kara didn’t care.

Lena curled into her without hesitation, resting her head on Kara’s shoulder, a hum of happiness escaping her lips. “I could get used to this,” she murmured.

“You’d better,” Kara said, lifting off into the sky with effortless grace. “Because I’m never putting you down.”

The city lights sparkled below, but Lena didn’t see them. All she saw was Kara—safe, strong, impossibly sweet Kara, who kissed her without shame and carried her home like she was something precious.

And for them, it was the most natural thing in the world.

****

By the time they landed on the balcony of Lena’s penthouse, she was nearly asleep in Kara’s arms.

“Babe,” Kara prompted softly.

“Mmm…” Lena mumbled, her forehead pressed against Kara’s neck.

Kara sighed with a fond smile and shifted Lena just enough to open the door, nudging it open with her foot and carrying Lena inside.

The lights were low, the apartment quiet and still.

“Home sweet home,” Kara whispered.

Lena didn’t reply—just let out a tiny, content sigh and nuzzled into Kara’s shoulder, her breath warm against her skin. Kara carried her all the way to the bedroom, nudging the door open with her hip and laying Lena down on the edge of the bed.

As soon as Lena touched the mattress, she whined and reached for Kara with sleepy, grabby hands. “No leaving. Stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Kara promised, brushing back a strand of hair sticking to Lena’s cheek. “But you can’t sleep in your clothes.”

Lena cracked one eye open, looking deeply unconvinced. “It’s Dior.”

“And it’s going to wrinkle,” Kara said solemnly.

Lena groaned and flopped backward dramatically. “Fine. But only because you asked nicely.”

Kara chuckled and knelt beside the bed, removing Lena’s heels one at a time.

“You’re so dramatic when you’re tipsy.”

“I’m elegant,” Lena slurred, lifting her chin. “And tragic. Like a beautiful heiress in a noir film.”

“You’re very beautiful,” Kara said, pressing a kiss to Lena’s ankle. “Hold still.”

Lena shivered under her touch, a smile blooming on her lips. “You always take such good care of me.”

“Of course I do.”

With gentle fingers, Kara helped her out of the dress and set it aside on a chair. Lena sat in just her bra and underwear, flushed and soft-limbed. Kara crossed to the dresser, grabbed the green silk nightshirt Lena liked, and slipped it over her head, guiding her arms through.

“I love you,” Lena murmured again, her voice thick with sleep.

“I love you too, Lee,” Kara whispered, smoothing the nightshirt over her hips.

As soon as she was dressed, Lena reached for Kara again. “Now you.”

Kara grinned and quickly changed into one of her oversized DEO shirts before climbing into bed. Lena immediately curled into her, pressing her face into Kara’s neck.

“Comfy?” Kara asked, brushing fingers through her hair.

“Perfect,” Lena mumbled. “Don’t let go.”

“Never,” Kara whispered, kissing her temple.

Lena’s breathing slowed, her fingers curled in the fabric of Kara’s shirt. She was nearly asleep when she mumbled,

“Hey, Kara?”

“Yeah?”

“If I were a cat… I’d still bring you things. Like a leaf.”

Kara laughed so hard she startled her.

“I’ll take it,” she said, holding her tighter. “I’ll take every weird, sleepy, affectionate part of you.”

In the quiet that followed, Lena smiled against her skin—already dreaming.

Chapter 13: Lena's Dark Day

Lena always took the day off.

No matter if the board demanded her presence. No matter what crisis called for her brilliance. Jesse knew to block it out every year in advance. It was the one thing Lena never bent on—the only day she refused to armor up.

The anniversary of her mother’s death.

Her real mother. The one who hummed lullabies… The one who smelled like vanilla and sea salt. The one who used to twirl her around the kitchen barefoot, even when the world outside felt cold and sharp.

She drowned when Lena was just a girl.

The memory was waterlogged—blurry around the edges, as if her mind had tried to protect her from the full weight of it—but the ache never faded.

And so, every year, Lena disappeared.

No phone. No people. Just silence.

But this year was different.

Because this year, Lena had Kara.

****

Kara had known the day was coming.

Lena had told her in a quiet voice, somewhere between a whisper and a warning.

“I’d like to be alone that day,” she had said, eyes not quite meeting hers. “Please don’t take it personally.”

Kara didn’t. But that didn’t make it any easier.

So, on the morning of the anniversary, Kara woke first. The sun was only just beginning to filter through the curtains. She turned to Lena—still curled under the blanket, her dark hair messy against the pillow, her face peaceful, but even in sleep, tight around the edges.

Kara leaned down and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her temple.

“I love you,” she whispered.

Then she left. Quietly. Respectfully.

After a quiet flight across the world, Kara returned just long enough to leave something behind.

In the kitchen, she set a bouquet of lilies and wildflowers on the counter—Lena’s favorites, a burst of color and softness. Beside them, a carefully wrapped box of delicate European pastries.

Kara couldn’t stay, but she made sure Lena wouldn’t wake to emptiness.

Later that morning, Lena padded into the kitchen, her steps slow and heavy, her eyes still puffy from sleep—and something deeper. Grief clung to her like a second skin, familiar and unyielding. But when her gaze landed on the flowers, she stopped.

A soft breath caught in her throat.

Of course Kara had done something. Of course her beautiful, thoughtful girlfriend had found a way to show love—even from afar. Even on the days that hurt the most.

The sight unraveled her. Tears welled in her eyes, unbidden but not unwelcome.

Lena reached out, fingertips grazing the delicate petals, then moved to the small, wrapped box beside them. She unfolded the paper slowly, reverently, revealing the still-warm pastry within. She broke off a piece and brought it to her lips. Rich chocolate spread across her tongue, bittersweet and tender.

For a moment, Lena felt something loosen in her chest. Something like breath. Something like grace.

She set the pastry down and turned toward the bookshelf. Her fingers found the spine of a worn, leather-bound photo album nestled between two weighty volumes on astrophysics. She pulled it free with care, as if it were a sacred artifact.

Because to her, it was.

****

Lena sat curled on the couch, the photo album resting gently in her lap. It was thin—because their time together had been short—but every photograph inside was a treasure. More valuable than all the wealth she'd ever accumulated.

She turned the pages with care, fingertips lingering on each image.

A windswept beach along the Irish coast. A sun-dappled picnic beneath a fig tree. Her mother, mid-laugh, eyes crinkled with joy.

Tears traced silent paths down Lena’s cheeks, steady and unstoppable. The ache in her chest was sharp, old, and intimately familiar.

For years, she'd carried this grief alone. Held it like a secret.

But not today.

Her gaze drifted toward the window, as if searching for Kara across the sky. She knew Kara would hear her—somehow.

Her voice trembled as she whispered, “Baby… I need you.”

****

Kara hovered just above the city.

She hadn’t gone far—only enough to give Lena the space she'd asked for. But she was listening. Not with her ears, but with something deeper. With her heart.

And when the whispered plea reached her—
“Baby… I need you.”
—Kara moved without hesitation.

The wind shifted. A heartbeat later, she landed softly on the balcony, her cape catching the breeze. She stepped inside, boots silent on the hardwood floor, already shifting out of the suit and into something softer.

Lena was still curled on the couch, the photo album open in her lap, her face streaked with tears.

She looked up—not speaking, but saying everything in one glance.

Kara was at her side in an instant. She dropped to her knees, gently taking Lena’s face in her hands.

“I’m here,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion.

Lena’s arms reached out instinctively, wrapping around her, pulling her close until their foreheads met.

Kara brushed a thumb across Lena’s cheek. “Can I kiss you?”

Lena nodded.

The kiss wasn’t soft. It was raw, urgent—a collision of grief and love and longing. A silent Don't leave me. Lena clung to her, kissing back with the same fierce need, her fingers tangled in Kara’s golden hair as if she could anchor herself there.

When they finally broke apart, their breaths came in shaky gasps.

Lena pressed herself into Kara’s arms, burying her face in her neck.

“I didn’t think I’d want anyone here today,” she whispered. “But you’re not just anyone.”

Kara held her tighter. “You’ll never have to face this alone again. Not as long as I’m breathing.”

Lena nodded, silent tears slipping down her cheeks.

“Stay,” she whispered.

“Always,” Kara promised, pressing a tender kiss to her hair.

****

They spent the rest of the day wrapped around each other, a quiet knot of limbs and love.

The photo album rested forgotten beside them until, Lena reached for it once more, her head nestled against Kara’s shoulder.

Her voice was low, laced with memory.

She spoke of her mother’s laugh—how it used to bounce off the tiled kitchen walls like music. Of warm, briny afternoons by the Irish Sea and the way her mother would rock her to sleep with bedtime stories.

Kara listened without interrupting, her only answers the quiet brush of lips on Lena’s temple, her jaw, and her shoulder. Each touch was a promise. I’m here. I’ve got you.

She drew circles along Lena’s spine, grounding her with every stroke.

The day was still heavy. The grief hadn’t vanished.

But something had changed.

Where silence used to echo, there was breath shared in tandem. Where pain once clenched like a fist, there was now the steady rhythm of a heart beating beside hers.

“She would’ve liked you,” she murmured. “No—she would’ve loved you.”

Kara smiled, brushing a loose strand of hair behind Lena’s ear.

"I would've loved her too," she whispered. "Because she gave the world you, and I get to love you."

A quiet breath left Lena’s lungs. She kissed Kara again—tender this time, like a prayer.

“Thank you,” she said. “For being here.”

Kara rested her forehead against Lena’s.

“I love you.”

And for the first time in years, the anniversary didn’t close in silence.

It ended in warmth.

It ended in love.

It ended in Kara’s arms.

Chapter 14: Her Voice

The battle had been brutal. Kara had barely flinched when the sorcerer’s blast struck her square in the chest, but when the spell fizzled into a shimmer and left her standing—unharmed, it seemed—everyone exhaled in relief.

It wasn’t until they got home that they realized something was wrong.

Lena found her pacing the kitchen, brows furrowed, lips parting as if to speak—but no sound came out. Kara opened her mouth again and again, but there was only silence. No whisper. No laugh. No hum that Lena instinctively leaned toward.

Panic welled in Kara’s eyes as she tried to speak, hands trembling as she reached for her throat. Lena dropped everything and crossed the room in two strides, cupping her face in both hands.

“Okay, okay,” she murmured. “You’re alright. We’ll figure this out. I’m right here.”

****

Alex confirmed it: the magic had sealed Kara’s voice, rendering her mute. Temporarily, they said. A week, maybe two.

Kara nodded, calm on the surface, squeezing Lena’s hand. She was still herself. Still strong. Still Kara. Just… silent.

Lena told herself it was fine. That she could handle this. Kara was alive. She could still hold her, still kiss her. Kara still tucked love notes into her laptop bag. She still danced with her in the kitchen, sock-clad feet sliding on the tile. She still curled up behind her on the couch, nuzzling into Lena’s neck like always.

But the silence…

It crept in like a fog—soft but relentless. Lena hadn’t realized how much she leaned on the sound of Kara’s voice. The grounding lilt during a stressful meeting recap. The husky rasp in the mornings that made Lena smile before her eyes even opened. The gentle, soothing cadence of Kara’s voice at night as they lay curled up in bed, talking about everything and nothing until they drifted off.

Now, it was just… gone.

No surprise, midday calls were where Kara asked what she wanted for dinner or told her she missed her. No low, teasing remarks whispered in her ear that made her toes curl. No “I love you” spoken like a promise, like a prayer.

Now Kara mouthed the words, and Lena understood—but it wasn’t the same. Her chest ached with the quiet.

****

One night, Lena came home shattered from a long, soul-bruising day. She hadn’t cried—not during the meetings, not during the media briefing, not even when yet another man explained her own tech to her like she was a child.

But when she stepped through the apartment door and didn’t hear Kara’s voice calling out to her, it undid her.

Kara appeared in an instant, her eyes brightening at the sight of Lena—then softening into concern. She crossed the room in a blur, barefoot and beautiful, and pulled Lena into her arms.

The kiss she gave her was slow and deliberate, a balm. Her fingers cradled Lena’s face, her touch grounding even as Lena’s breath caught and her shoulders shook.

“I’m okay,” Lena whispered, her voice tight with exhaustion. “Just a rough day. I missed you.”

Kara brushed a kiss across her forehead, nodding as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I kept reaching for my phone,” Lena said quietly, her voice cracking. “Just to hear you say something. Anything. You usually tell me I’m amazing. That I did enough. That I’m not alone.”

Kara’s lips parted instinctively, but no sound came. Her face crumpled for a split second—frustrated, helpless—before she gently took Lena’s hand and led her to the couch. There, she wrapped herself around Lena, holding her tightly, her lips trailing soft, reverent kisses across her shoulder, her collarbone, and her cheek.

Lena melted into her, letting herself be held, letting the quiet affection soothe the jagged edges of her day. But the ache didn’t fade.

She missed Kara’s voice like a phantom limb—present in memory, absent in reality. A piece of her is still gone.

****

It happened the following morning.

Kara woke alone in bed, sunlight peeking in through the curtains. Half-asleep, she reached instinctively for Lena’s side of the bed, her voice raspy with sleep.

“Lee…”

She froze.

The word had come out.

She bolted upright, heart pounding. Her throat tingled as she swallowed, and she tried again—softly, hesitantly.

“Lena?”

No silence. Just her voice—whole, real.

She practically flew out of bed.

Lena was already in the kitchen, barefoot in Kara’s oversized sweatshirt, stirring milk into her coffee as the sun spilled through the windows. She didn’t hear Kara enter.

She felt her instead—strong arms wrapping around her from behind, lips brushing her shoulder.

And then—quiet, shaky, but real:

“I love you.”

Lena froze, the mug forgotten.

She turned slowly, barely daring to believe it.

Kara’s eyes were wet, shining with emotion. “I love you,” she said again, tears slipping down her cheeks. Her voice was low, raw from disuse, but the most beautiful sound Lena had ever heard. “God, I missed saying it. I missed you. I saw you every day and kissed you every night, but it wasn’t enough. I couldn’t tell you. And it hurt.”

Lena launched into her arms, burying her face in Kara’s neck.

“Never stop talking again,” she whispered, sobbing. “Please. Never.”

Kara kissed her then—desperate and deep, a kiss made of longing and relief. One hand tangled in Lena’s hair, the other pressed firmly against the small of her back like she couldn’t bear to let go.

Lena kissed back just as fiercely, pouring every ache and longing into the press of her lips. When they finally broke apart, breathless and tear-streaked, she cupped Kara’s face and whispered, “Say it again.”

“I love you,” Kara breathed, and then again and again, kissing Lena’s cheeks, her forehead, and her lips. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

****

That day, Kara followed Lena around the apartment, talking nonstop—about her dreams, the article she’d been reading, and the dog she’d seen outside. She wouldn’t stop talking.

And Lena wouldn’t stop smiling.

That night, tangled together in bed, Kara whispered “I love you” into Lena’s skin like the words had been waiting inside her, desperate to be released. She said it against Lena’s neck, her collarbone, and her breast until Lena was gasping and clinging to her, pulling her closer.

And Lena?

She never got tired of hearing it.

Not once.

Chapter 15: Miss July

The calendar arrived on Lena’s desk in an innocuous manila envelope.

She hadn’t been expecting it—certainly hadn’t asked for it—but judging by the DEO seal stamped on the back and the mischievous little note from Alex scribbled across the top ("Enjoy, Luthor"), Lena had a very good idea of what was inside.

Still, she opened it. Curiosity, after all, was a deeply ingrained Luthor trait.

The calendar was glossy, professional, and filled with people she recognized: Nia in a glittering catsuit surrounded by stardust effects, J'onn smirking in an unbuttoned tactical vest, and Brainy awkwardly flexing next to a stack of books.

And then came July.

Lena stared.

Kara—her Kara—stood on a beach at golden hour, sunlight catching every ripple of toned muscle along her abs, arms, and thighs. Her tiny denim shorts were unbuttoned and rolled at the waist, offering a scandalous peek at the red bikini bottom beneath. The matching halter top tied behind her neck and strained deliciously across her chest. Her hair was loose and wild, curling with sea spray, and her grin? Pure, radiant.

The caption under the photo read:

Miss July — Heat Vision Not Required.

Lena’s jaw tensed.

It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate the photo. She absolutely did. In fact, she might need a moment alone with it later. But for now? The knot twisting in her stomach was less about lust and more about mine.

She knew people were going to see this. Everyone would see it. Thousands of copies—hanging in offices, dorm rooms, and probably in the DEO locker room. People would stare. People would ogle. People would want her girlfriend.

Lena Luthor was many things. But gracious when it came to sharing?

Not one of them.

****

That night, Kara bounded into the apartment, grocery bags in one hand, that same carefree summer smile on her face.

“Guess what?” she called out as she kicked off her shoes. “The calendar finally dropped! Alex said the response has been insane—we already hit our first donation goal and—”

She stopped cold.

The calendar was open on the counter. July in full, glorious display.

Lena stood in front of it, arms folded, expression unreadable.

Kara blinked. “...You okay?”

Lena’s eyes didn’t move from the image. “You look beautiful.”

Kara smiled softly. “Thank you.”

“And strong. And radiant. And—" Lena flipped the page with deliberate care, “—half-naked.”

Kara’s eyebrows rose. “You knew it was for charity.”

“I did.”

“You helped me pick the bikini.”

“I did.”

“You said it was tasteful.”

“It was.” Lena’s voice dipped lower. “Until it was printed on glossy paper and distributed to every hormonal human in National City.”

Kara fought a grin. “Oh my God. Are you… jealous?”

Lena turned, her eyes sharp, voice cool. “I don’t like people looking at what’s mine.”

Kara took a slow step forward. “I didn’t realize you were so possessive.”

“I’m not,” Lena said. “Except when it comes to you.”

Kara closed the space between them, one hand bracing on the counter behind Lena, boxing her in. “So what are you going to do about it?”

Lena’s fingers slid along Kara’s exposed arm, over the muscles flaunted in that photo, her breath catching. “I’m going to remind you who you belong to.”

Kara’s smile turned wicked. “Please do.”

****

Dinner would have to wait.

Lena tugged Kara’s shirt off like it had personally offended her, as though stripping away the image burned into everyone else’s mind. She claimed Kara with every kiss, every slow press of her body, every mark she left behind. Kara, breathless and laughing, let her—reveling in the intensity.

When Lena finally pulled back, flushed and panting, Kara whispered against her lips, “Should I tell Alex I'm skipping the autograph signing?”

Lena narrowed her eyes. “You will not be signing calendars.”

Kara laughed, her voice low and husky. “I love when you get like this.”

Lena’s fingers threaded through Kara’s hair, tugging just enough to make her shiver. “Good. Because the next time you pose half-naked for a calendar, I get to be the photographer.”

Kara arched a brow. “Jealous again?”

“No,” Lena said, voice like velvet and steel, “I just want the unedited versions for myself.”

****

Lena didn’t mean to eavesdrop.

She had a meeting scheduled, reports in hand, and every intention of walking straight to her office. But as she passed near the break room, a conversation caught her attention—and froze her in place.

“Did you see Miss July?” A young voice laughed. “Those abs. Is it unprofessional to say I’d risk my life for a woman like that?”

“I volunteer as tribute,” someone else chimed in. “The bikini? The hair? I didn’t even know Supergirl could look like that.”

“You think she’s single?” a third asked.

The first voice snorted. “No way. But maybe her girlfriend’s a pushover.”

That was the moment Lena stepped into the doorway.

Silence.

Three employees froze mid-coffee pour. Another half sat on the counter, paling rapidly as Lena Luthor fixed them with a cool, calculated smile.

“I’m sorry,” she said, voice smooth and sharp, “did I just hear my girlfriend being objectified like a swimsuit model in the middle of my office?”

No one breathed.

Lena walked slowly into the room, heels echoing like thunder. “To clarify: the woman you’re discussing so... generously?” She locked eyes with the junior researcher, who looked ready to faint. “She’s mine.”

A beat of absolute stillness.

“And in case there’s confusion,” Lena continued, “I don’t share. Ever.”

The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.

“I expect a higher standard of professionalism,” Lena said coolly. “If that’s unclear, I’m sure HR would be happy to assist.”

She turned and walked off, back straight, smile razor-sharp.

****

By the time she reached her office, she was already texting.

Lena: Come to my office. Now.

Kara: Am I in trouble?

Lena: Just get in here, Miss July.

Seconds later, the door opened. Kara poked her head in, cheeks tinged pink, smile teasing. “You rang?”

Lena didn’t look up. “Shut the door.”

Kara obeyed, stepping inside. “What’s going on?”

“I overheard some of your admirers questioning whether or not you’re single,” Lena said, standing. “Or if your girlfriend is a pushover.”

Kara winced. “Oof.”

“Don’t worry,” Lena said. “I set them straight.”

Kara stepped closer, her hands settling on Lena’s waist. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Lena replied, though her fingers curled into Kara’s back. “I just needed to see you. To remind myself you're mine.”

Kara smiled. “Babe… if you’re going to need some loving every time someone says something scandalous about me, I’m not sure even my superhero stamina will be able to handle it.”

Lena gave her a look. “Oh really?”

Kara leaned in, brushing her nose along Lena’s jaw. “Jealous Luthor is kinda hot, though. Dangerous. Unpredictable. Very bend-me-over-the-desk energy.”

Lena’s breath hitched as Kara’s lips ghosted over hers.

“So…” Kara whispered, voice low and suggestive. “Am I getting scolded? Or claimed?”

Lena's answer was a kiss—deep, lingering, filled with fire.

When she finally pulled away, her voice was a husky promise. “Why not both?”

Chapter 16: Hands Off the Suit

Lena sat at her desk, fingers flying across the keyboard as she put the final touches on a presentation for a board meeting she had absolutely no interest in attending. She was all sharp lines and focused precision—until Jess walked in, a stack of folders in her arms.

“Morning,” Jess chirped, depositing the files with practiced ease. “Quarterly projections, R&D updates—oh, and something else I thought you might want to see.”

She grabbed the remote from Lena’s desk and flicked on the television mounted on the far wall. Live news coverage lit up the screen: a collapsed overpass, flashing lights, emergency personnel everywhere, and at the center of it all—Supergirl.

Kara.

Lena’s posture softened at once, a warm smile tugging at her lips. Even through the screen, Kara looked radiant—blonde hair tousled in the wind, cape billowing behind her, her stance proud and confident in front of the wreckage. Hands on her hips, eyes bright, she looked like hope itself.

Her girlfriend. Her hero.

Lena felt the tension ease from her body just watching her. Kara’s voice carried over the broadcast, calm and reassuring, as she answered a reporter’s questions. She was stunning. Poised. Glowing.

“Supergirl saves dozens after overpass collapse—no fatalities reported.”

Lena's heart swelled with pride.

And then it happened.

The reporter—a tall, overly polished woman with glossy lips, cascading curls, and a blazer tailored within an inch of its life—stepped too close. She laughed too loudly, leaned in too far, and radiated a confidence Lena instantly found infuriating.

“Oh no,” Jess muttered, already sipping her coffee.

“I just have to ask,” the reporter gushed, eyes wide with faux innocence, “Can I feel your supersuit?”

Kara blinked. “Oh. Uh—sure?”

Lena’s eyebrows shot up. She leaned forward in her chair.

Kara, ever the gracious public figure, extended her arm politely.

“Thank you so much!” The reporter squealed, placing her manicured fingers on Kara’s forearm and slowly sliding them upward—past her bicep, all the way to her shoulder.

“This is incredible. This material is... something else,” she purred. “So smooth. Is it alien fabric?”

Kara chuckled awkwardly, “Something like that.”

But the woman wasn’t done.

Her fingers then moved to Kara’s hair—Kara’s hair—brushing lightly along the golden strands like she had every right.

“I can’t believe your hair’s this soft. Is that a Kryptonian thing too?”

Lena stood before she even realized she had moved, remote clenched tightly in her fist.

Jess slowly lowered her coffee cup. “And here we go.”

“Do we know what news station that is?” Lena asked, eyes never leaving the screen.

Jess blinked. “You’re not serious.”

Lena’s tone was clipped. “Find out.”

Without waiting for a response, Lena clicked the television off with finality. The screen went black, leaving only Lena’s reflection staring back—jaw tight, lips pursed, jealousy simmering just below the surface.

Jess cleared her throat, glancing down at the untouched stack of folders. “I’ll, uh… just circle back on those.”

Lena didn’t answer.

****

Hours later, the sky outside Lena’s penthouse glowed a dusky orange, the last of the sunlight slipping beneath the skyline. The room was quiet—still—except for the clink of ice against glass as Lena poured herself a second whiskey.

Then—whoosh—a subtle ripple of air broke the silence.

Kara floated through the open balcony doors, cape catching the breeze as she touched down lightly on the floor.

“Hey,” she said softly.

Lena didn’t look up from the couch. “Welcome home.”

Kara stepped inside, slipping off her boots as she crossed the room. “You saw the interview?”

“Mmhmm.” Lena sipped her drink without turning. “I watched some overly ambitious anchor grope you on live television.”

Kara winced. “I wasn’t being groped. I was being polite.”

“She touched your hair, Kara.”

“I panicked!”

Lena finally turned, arching one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “You can bench-press a school bus, but you couldn’t get away from one overeager news anchor?”

“I didn’t want to cause a scene,” Kara said, sheepish. “It gets... awkward when I swat people away.”

Lena stood, slow and deliberate, setting her glass down with a clink. “Next time? Swat.”

Kara’s lips twitched. “You’re really jealous.”

Lena didn’t hesitate. “Of course I am. Do you have any idea what it’s like watching someone touch you like they have the right?”

Kara stepped in, closing the distance until their breath mingled. Her hands settled on Lena’s waist, steady and sure. “It didn’t mean anything,” she said, voice low but certain.

Lena’s eyes searched hers, then softened as her voice dropped to a velvet murmur. “Damn right it didn’t.”

Her fingers curled at the edge of Kara’s suit. “Well. Since the public’s apparently allowed to manhandle you… I think it’s only fair I get a turn.”

Kara laughed, her chest fluttering under Lena’s touch. “By all means.”

Lena’s hands moved with purpose—slow, reverent—gliding over the fabric that clung to Kara’s shoulders, tracing down her chest and along the strong lines of her arms. The same suit that had been touched by someone else—but Lena’s touch was different. Deliberate. Possessive.

“I love how it fits you,” Lena whispered, her lips brushing along Kara’s jaw like a promise. “But I love it even more when it’s on my floor.”

Kara’s breath hitched. “Then help me take it off.”

Lena slid one hand around to the small of her back, drawing her in until they were flush, heart to heart. Kara leaned in, lips brushing gently—soft, electric—before Lena kissed her with a slow-burning intensity that made Kara’s knees weak.

It wasn’t just passion. It was a claim.

Kara melted into her, fingers tangling in the silk of Lena’s blouse, heart pounding as Lena deepened the kiss. It was tender, yes—but fierce. Emotional. Hungry.

When they finally broke for air, Kara’s forehead rested against Lena’s. “Just for the record… your touch is the only one I want.”

Lena smiled, fingertips skimming along Kara’s jaw. “Good. Because if you let anyone lay a hand on you again, Kryptonite will be the least of their worries.”

Kara laughed, breathless and flushed. “God, I love you.”

“Then show me,” Lena whispered.

And Kara did—again and again—until the suit lay forgotten on the bedroom floor, and Lena’s jealous heart was quieted by every kiss, every whispered I love you, and every perfect reminder that Kara was hers.

Chapter 17: The Way You Glow

The hum of rain tapped at the windows, a steady rhythm against the quiet hush of the apartment. Inside, Kara sat curled on the couch, legs tucked beneath her, eyes fixed not on her tea but on the woman across the room.

Lena stood by the kitchen island, completely in her element. She wore one of Kara’s old sweatshirts—it hung loose, slipping off one shoulder—and her dark leggings disappeared into fuzzy socks. A tablet rested in one hand; the other danced through the air, a conductor orchestrating her thoughts as she spoke.

“—and once the quantum field stabilizes, the energy flows through the core in a completely self-sustaining cycle. It’s elegant, really. Like a—like a heartbeat.” Her voice vibrated with awe. “I ran the projections twice to be sure and even built a small-scale prototype this morning. The readings are perfect, Kara. It could be the key to zero-loss power systems. Can you imagine?”

But Kara hadn’t heard a word.

Not truly. Not the technical marvels or brilliant breakthroughs. Not because she didn’t care. She cared deeply—about all of it.

But more than anything, she was mesmerized by her.

Lena came alive when she was passionate. Her voice, usually poised and deliberate, lifted with excitement, accented tones curling with every syllable. Her hands fluttered, expressive and uncontrolled, and her eyes—God, her eyes—sparkled like starlight.

To the world, Lena Luthor was steel and brilliance. A fortress of intellect in designer heels.

But to Kara?

She was this—fuzzy socks, glowing, incandescent with joy. Her soul poured into every word, and Kara couldn’t look away.

She smiled, slow and spellbound.

“…Kara?”

Lena’s voice pulled her back. She’d stopped mid-sentence, blinking at the lack of response. “Are you even listening to me?”

Kara blinked, caught mid-reverie. Her smile widened as she set her mug aside and stood.

Crossing the room with quiet intent, she stopped just in front of Lena.

“No,” Kara confessed, eyes locked on hers. “Because I can’t stop watching you.”

Lena’s breath caught.

Kara lifted her hands, cradling Lena’s face, her thumbs tracing the delicate edge of her jaw. “You change when you talk about something you love,” she murmured. “Your whole body moves. Your voice dances. Your eyes… they light up, Lena. It’s like watching the stars align.”

A flush spread across Lena’s cheeks. Her lips parted, words forgotten. She looked away for a moment, overwhelmed, but Kara was already leaning in.

The kiss was slow, reverent.

Lena melted into her instantly, hands sliding around Kara’s waist, pulling her close. Kara deepened the kiss, her mouth soft and searching, savoring the taste of something distinctly Lena.

She kissed her like she was drinking sunlight.

Lena made a sound in the back of her throat, her fingers tangling in Kara’s golden hair. Kara’s hands traveled, one resting at Lena’s hip, the other brushing beneath the hem of the sweatshirt, fingertips grazing warm skin.

“I love you like this,” Kara whispered between kisses—one to Lena’s lips, another at her jaw, and another at her temple. “So open. So alive.”

Lena buried her face in Kara’s neck, whispering against her skin, “I talk about quantum fields, and you somehow make it romantic.”

Kara chuckled, her breath warm. “Everything about you is romantic.”

Lena laughed, pulling back to meet Kara’s gaze, eyes shining. “You really didn’t hear anything I said, did you?”

“Not a single word,” Kara admitted, grinning shamelessly. “But you looked really, really beautiful while you said it.”

Lena rolled her eyes, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her fondness. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Hopeless,” Kara agreed, resting her forehead against Lena’s. “Hopelessly in love.”

Lena hesitated, just a beat—then leaned in and kissed her again, this time slower, deeper, a kiss that said thank you, that said I’m yours. When she pulled away, her voice was softer.

“You make me feel like I matter,” she whispered. “Not just for my mind. Not just for what I build. Not for my wealth. But for… me.”

Kara cupped her cheek again, her voice thick with feeling. “You do matter. More than anything. Watching you talk about something you love… it’s like watching love itself come to life.”

Lena blinked, tears threatening behind her lashes. “How do you always know what to say?”

“I don’t,” Kara whispered. “I just say what I feel.”

****

They stayed there for a moment—touching, holding, and kissing like they were the only two people left in the world. Lena’s hands slid beneath Kara’s shirt again, fingers tracing circles along her back. Kara leaned in to kiss her shoulder, then her collarbone, and then finally her lips again.

Eventually, Kara led them back to the couch. Lena curled into her lap, her head resting against Kara’s shoulder. Their arms tangled, their legs intertwined, lips brushing against cheeks, foreheads, and the curve of a jaw.

The tablet lay forgotten on the kitchen counter.

Whatever brilliant discovery Lena had made could wait.

Right now, all that mattered was this:
The soft cadence of rain.
The warmth of skin against skin.
Two hearts, in perfect sync.
Home.

Chapter 18: Skin To Skin

Lena woke with a smile on her face before her eyes even opened.

Sunlight filtered lazily through the curtains, warm against her skin. Beside her, the familiar weight of Kara’s body was draped half on top of her, one strong leg tangled between hers, Kara’s nose pressed to her throat, lips parted with soft breaths against her neck.

Saturday.

Naked Day.

Lena bit her lip and grinned, her heart already fluttering.

It had started as a joke—an innocent comment Kara made one particularly exhausting Friday night: “I wish we could just spend an entire day naked and not think about anything but each other.”

Lena, ever the quick one, had arched a brow and replied, “Why don’t we?”

Now it was sacred. A ritual. A reprieve. Clothes off. Hearts open. Skin on skin, all day long.

Lena shifted slightly, her bare thigh gliding against Kara’s, and Kara let out a content sound in her sleep, nuzzling closer. Her hand, already resting on Lena’s stomach, slid lower instinctively, curling possessively just above her hip.

Lena chuckled and leaned in to kiss the crown of Kara’s messy golden hair. “Good morning, sunshine.”

Kara hummed, her voice sleep-rough and adorable. “Mmm. Is it that time already?”

“Time to get naked,” Lena teased, lips brushing Kara’s cheek.

Kara cracked one eye open and smirked. “We’re already naked.”

“Then we’re ahead of schedule,” Lena whispered, sliding her fingers down the smooth curve of Kara’s spine. “You know how much I like to be efficient.”

Kara laughed and stretched like a cat, the sheet slipping from her body to reveal golden skin, lean muscle, and all the dips and curves Lena could never stop craving.

“You’re staring,” Kara murmured, but there was no real protest in her voice.

Lena let her fingers trail over Kara’s hip, lingering. “Of course I’m staring. I have the privilege of seeing Supergirl like this. Glowing. Beautiful. And completely mine.”

Kara flushed at that. “I love Naked Day.”

“I love you naked every day,” Lena replied, pressing her mouth to Kara’s collarbone. “But especially Saturdays.”

****

They didn’t rush out of bed.

Instead, Lena rolled Kara beneath her, their bodies meeting in a delicious tangle of limbs and heat. She took her time mouth-mapping a path down Kara’s chest, fingers dancing over ribs and skin. Kara’s hands tangled in Lena’s hair, tugging her into a kiss that began sweet and turned hungry.

They kissed like they hadn’t seen each other in weeks, even though they'd been tangled up just hours earlier.

Time didn’t matter on Naked Day. Only hunger. Only love. Only the way Kara’s breath hitched when Lena whispered her name.

Eventually, they made it to the kitchen—still flushed and breathless, hair tousled, cheeks glowing.

Kara busied herself with pancake batter while Lena leaned against the counter, arms crossed beneath her bare chest, clearly enjoying the view.

“You know this is cruel,” Kara said, glancing over her shoulder. “You, standing there naked, looking like that.”

“I’m just following the rules.” Lena smirked. “And admiring the scenery.”

Kara turned back to the stove. “You should flip that pancake before it burns.”

“Don’t distract me,” Kara warned, though her voice was already betraying her.

Too late.

Lena stepped closer, grabbed the whipped cream, and sprayed a little puff on each of her nipples. “Oops.”

Kara froze, spatula suspended in midair. “Lena…”

“What?” Lena said, all faux innocence, dragging a single finger through the cream. “Want some?”

Kara was across the kitchen in a heartbeat.

Her tongue was hot and slow as she licked the whipped cream off Lena’s breasts, making Lena gasp and grab for the counter, knees trembling. Kara took her time, hands anchoring Lena by the hips, eyes full of heat and reverence.

“Breakfast’s getting cold,” Lena managed to whisper, breathless.

“Let it,” Kara murmured against her skin.

Eventually, they ate what was left of the pancakes—barely half-finished—before retreating to the couch.

*****

Later, Kara read aloud from a novel, her voice soft and melodic.

Lena was stretched out across the couch, head resting in Kara’s lap, fingers absently tracing patterns along Kara’s thigh. Every so often, her touch would drift a little higher—teasing, distracting.

Kara tried to focus on the words, but Lena’s fingertips burned trails into her skin.

“I thought you liked this book,” Kara teased, her voice a little strained.

“I do. But I like touching you more.”

Kara set the book aside, her smile crooked. “Then come here.”

Lena straddled her in a second, their mouths colliding in a kiss that was equal parts worship and wildfire. Kara’s hands roamed Lena’s back, up into her hair, then down again to the curve of her ass, pulling her closer with a groan.

Gone was the crisp CEO with biting remarks and sharp suits. On Naked Day, Kara had this version of Lena—the one who clung to her like a vine, whispered love between kisses, and giggled when Kara carried her from room to room.

This day wasn’t just about sex, though there was plenty of that.

It was about permission. Closeness. Touching just to touch. Kissing just because they could. Feeling everything, without hurry or filter or interruption.

Later, wrapped up together on the balcony under a blanket, skin still tingling, they watched the sun melt into the horizon.

Lena curled into Kara’s side, her head tucked under her chin and her hand over Kara’s heart.

“Best tradition we’ve ever made,” Lena murmured.

Kara pressed a kiss into her hair and held her tighter. “Second best.”

Lena looked up, lips pink and kiss-swollen. “Oh? What’s the first?”

“Falling in love with you.”

Lena rolled her eyes, but the smile that broke across her face was blinding. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I’m lucky I have you,” Kara whispered, tilting her chin up for one last kiss.

It was long and slow and full of everything they didn’t need to say.

After that, they sat in silence—skin against skin, the world fading away.

As it always did when they were together.

And naked.

Chapter 19: Dangerous Game

Summary:

Alternative Universe—Boss and Employee Fic

The bass of the club pulsed through Kara’s veins like a second heartbeat, syncing with the slow, deliberate sway of her hips.

She knew exactly what she was doing.

Her golden hair fanned out as she tossed her head back, the dim light catching it just right, making her look untouchable. Her mouth was parted just enough to tease and to invite, and the brunette behind her—tall, dark, and stunning—fell willingly into Kara’s rhythm, hands sliding lower over Kara’s hips, pulling her in tighter.

But Kara didn’t even look at her.

Her eyes were fixed on someone else.

Across the club, in a private roped-off booth above the floor, Lena Luthor sat like a queen with a blade tucked behind her smile. Black silk shirt open just enough to show a hint of collarbone, sharp-cut blazer hugging her curves, legs crossed, fingers curling around a lowball glass filled with something dark and expensive. Her expression was unreadable. Except for the fire in her eyes.

Kara smirked.

That fire was for her.

She let the other woman spin her, then pressed her back against the woman's chest. The move was slow and sensual. Kara let her hands slide down the woman’s arms, fingers grazing bare skin, her lips brushing her shoulder—pure, shameless teasing. She dipped her hips low, body grinding just enough to draw attention. To draw Lena’s attention.

She didn’t have to check. She felt Lena’s eyes burn into her. Every move was a dare.

You say you don’t want me? Kara thought. Then watch what you’ve given up.

Lena’s grip on her glass tightened until her knuckles whitened. She tried to hold it together. Tried.

But Kara knew the signs.

The sharp inhale through her nose. The tension in her jaw. The way her fingers flexed—once, twice—like she was resisting the urge to shatter her glass or leap over the railing and drag Kara out by the hair.

Kara leaned into the brunette’s ear, smiling sweetly as she murmured something that made the woman laugh—fingertips gliding over the woman's bare waist, all for Lena’s benefit.

Lena’s drink hit the table hard.

She stood.

And the crowd knew better than to get in her way.

Like a dark angel descending from above, Lena strode through the crowd, deadly in heels, power in every step. Kara saw her coming and held her ground, lips curling in a dangerous little smile. Her heart was pounding, but she didn’t back down.

She wanted this.

Lena didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to.

Her hand wrapped around Kara’s wrist—firm, unforgiving—and Kara’s breath caught. The other woman blinked in confusion as Lena pulled Kara away without a backward glance, the crowd parting like they could feel the danger rolling off her in waves.

The moment the door to the private lounge slammed behind them, Kara was shoved against the wall—not gently.

Lena’s body pinned her there, one hand still gripping her wrist, the other braced beside Kara’s head. Her eyes blazed with fury. Possession. Want.

"You want to play this game?" Lena growled, her voice low and lethal. "Then you better be ready to take the consequences."

Kara gasped, electricity rushing through her veins.

“Wasn’t much of a game,” Kara whispered, baiting her. “You already lost the second you let me walk out that office door looking like this.”

Her voice dripped with heat.

And Lena snapped.

Their mouths collided, hungry and punishing. Kara moaned, hips arching into Lena, arms locking around her neck. Lena kissed her like she was mad. Like she hated how much she wanted her. Like she wanted to punish her for making her feel anything at all.

Kara’s fingers tangled in Lena’s dark hair, pulling, demanding. Lena bit her bottom lip hard enough to make her gasp—then soothed the sting with her tongue, owning her, tasting her.

“You think dancing with someone else would make me forget what it feels like to have you kneeling in front of me?” Lena snarled between kisses. “You think it wouldn’t drive me insane knowing that every inch of you—every look, every moan—wasn’t mine tonight?”

Kara whimpered, her head tipping back.

“Lena…”

Lena’s hand slipped beneath Kara’s dress, gripping her thigh, hiking it up around her waist. Kara clung to her, breathless, wrecked already. And Lena wasn’t close to finished.

Her fingers found Kara’s panties and shoved them aside, teasing slick heat.

“You think you’re in charge, Miss Danvers?” Lena purred, her voice venom-sweet. “That’s adorable.”

She thrust two fingers deep, and Kara cried out, legs shaking. Her nails raked down Lena’s back, digging into the expensive fabric of her blouse.

Kara's head fell back as Lena set a relentless pace—curling, thrusting, and grinding her palm just right. Kara’s body arched, pleasure blooming fast and hot. Lena’s mouth found her neck, biting hard, then kissing it gently—claiming every inch she touched.

“Say it,” Lena growled. “Say who you belong to.”

“I’m yours,” Kara gasped, hips rolling into every thrust. “Only yours.”

Lena’s other hand cupped her jaw, forcing their eyes to meet.

“You don’t flirt with anyone else,” she breathed. “You don’t let anyone else touch you. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” Kara moaned. “God, yes, Lena—please don’t stop—”

Lena didn’t.

She held Kara up as her body shattered, her climax slamming through her like lightning, her cries muffled by Lena’s mouth devouring her.

But even after Kara came undone, Lena didn’t let go.

She lifted Kara like she weighed nothing, pinning her against the wall again with bruising strength. Kara clung to her, flushed and wild and desperate for more.

Lena kissed her—really kissed her now. Deep, slow, lingering. Like she wanted to memorize every taste. Her hands roamed Kara’s sides, up over her ribs, cradling her with reverence as if to balance the hunger that still burned in her eyes.

Kara nuzzled against her, breathless. “You’re not supposed to fuck your assistant in the club, Ms. Luthor.”

Lena chuckled darkly against her skin. “You’re not just my assistant.”

“No?” Kara teased, her voice still ragged with desire.

“No,” Lena murmured, brushing a kiss to her temple, her chest rising and falling. “You’re mine.”

Kara smiled, lazy and satisfied and completely wrecked.

“You know,” she whispered, pulling Lena in by the collar, “if that’s what jealousy gets me… I might have to tease you more often.”

Lena’s answering kiss was brutal—possessive and punishing, a silent promise that Kara would pay for every second of that stunt.

But Kara didn’t stop.

She thrived on pushing Lena to the edge.

Because nothing thrilled her more than watching Lena lose control.

And Lena? Lena might’ve fought it, might’ve tried to stay composed—but in the end, she always gave in.

Because there was nothing Lena loved more than Kara.

Chapter 20: This Is What Pride Feels Like

The streets of National City pulsed with life — music and laughter rolled through downtown like a heartbeat, a river of color winding past buildings draped in Pride flags. Vendors handed out beaded necklaces and rainbow popsicles. The sky above was a brilliant blue, almost the exact shade of Kara’s eyes.

Kara twirled in a circle, arms outstretched, her rainbow cape fluttering like a banner. Her cheeks sparkled with glitter, rainbow stripes painted with love across her face, and a crown of flowers nestled in her golden curls. She looked radiant. Free.

And Lena? Lena looked at her like she was the sun itself.

She wore tight black jeans and a shimmering rainbow top that caught every sliver of light. Her dark hair was braided with strands of red, orange, and violet, and tiny gem stickers sparkled near her eyes like stardust. Kara had painted a rainbow heart on her cheek that morning — Lena had giggled the entire time, and now, every time Kara spotted it, she beamed and pulled her close.

They had barely let go of each other all day.

Lena’s hand fit snugly in Kara’s as they walked the parade route, weaving through crowds of friends and strangers alike, all laughing, dancing, and shouting with joy. Nia towered in platform boots and waved a trans pride flag like a queen presiding over her people. Alex and Maggie wore matching “Love is Love” tank tops and kept stealing kisses behind oversized sunglasses, utterly smitten.

But Kara and Lena weren’t trying to be subtle. Not today.

Kara leaned into Lena’s side constantly, nuzzling her hair, kissing her temple, brushing her fingers over Lena’s knuckles as if she couldn’t bear not to touch her. And Lena gave just as much — sliding her hand beneath Kara’s cape to cup her girlfriend’s ass, whispering flirty nonsense in her ear that made Kara blush brighter than her face paint.

They were happy. Gloriously, unapologetically happy.

****

As the sun dipped lower, the energy of the day softened — the music mellowed, and Kara turned to Lena with a smile that melted everything else away.

“Come with me.”

Before Lena could answer, Kara scooped her up in strong arms. The crowd erupted in cheers as she lifted off, cape billowing like a flag of joy. Lena clutched her instinctively, but her face was lit with wonder, not fear.

They rose above the city, just past the clouds, where the streets glowed below in a breathtaking mosaic of color and love. The sky around them blushed pink and violet, the air cool and quiet compared to the celebration below.

Kara wrapped her cape around Lena’s shoulders, snug and secure.

“Don’t want you to get cold,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to Lena’s lips.

Lena leaned in, folding herself around Kara, her arms wrapped tightly at her waist. For a long moment, they simply floated there in silence, wrapped in each other, letting the weightless peace surround them.

Then Lena whispered, voice trembling, “When I was a kid… I used to dream about this.”

Kara pulled back just enough to see her face, brows gently furrowed.

“Flying?”

Lena shook her head, eyes glistening. “No. This. Being seen. Celebrated. Safe.”

Kara held her gaze, heart full. “Pride?”

Lena nodded, slow and sure. “I’d catch glimpses on TV — rainbow flags, drag queens, girls kissing girls like it was the most normal, joyful thing in the world. And I wanted that so badly. But I didn’t think I was allowed to. I thought I had to be something else. Quiet. Controlled. Straight. Perfect.”

She exhaled, raw. “I didn’t even say the words out loud until I was much older. And even then… it felt like I was performing. Like I had to apologize for who I was. Or bury it. Completely.”

Kara cupped Lena’s face, brushing a tear from her cheek. “You don’t have to hide anymore.”

“I know,” Lena said, a fierce kind of love burning in her eyes. “Because of you. You taught me that love isn’t something to be ashamed of. That joy doesn’t have to be quiet. You make me feel like I can be… everything. Loud. Glittery. Messy. Queer. Soft. Madly in love. And all of it is okay.”

Kara’s voice caught. “You are everything.”

Lena let out a watery laugh. “I used to be terrified of people knowing who I really was. But now? I want the whole damn world to know. I love you, Kara Danvers. I love you with every color in my soul.”

Kara kissed her then — deeply, slowly, a kiss full of light and gravity, threaded with everything she’d ever felt for Lena. The kind of kiss that left no room for doubt.

The cape cocooned around them. Below, the city pulsed with rainbow lights, confetti, and music. Above, the two of them floated in a quiet, sacred space, untouched by anything but love.

Lena pulled back just enough to whisper, “Thank you. For letting me be me. For loving all the pieces — even the ones I used to keep buried.”

Kara rested her forehead against Lena’s. “I love every piece. Every scar. Every sparkle. Every sharp edge and soft corner.”

And then, they kissed again. Longer. Deeper. The kind of kiss that made Lena sigh into Kara’s mouth, the kind that promised forever.

Below them, Pride raged on — wild and brave and electric.

But high above the city, in a hush of wind and light, Kara and Lena held their own kind of celebration. Love without fear. Love without apology.

Love that soared.

Because they could.

Because they were free.

And because, finally, Lena Luthor was loved exactly as she was.

Chapter 21: Drenched in Love

The storm rolled in fast—black clouds slicing the sky with jagged veins of lightning. Rain battered the city like war drums, loud and merciless, the streets below slick with chaos. And in the heart of it all, Supergirl tore across the skyline in streaks of red and blue, trying to hold everything together with bare hands and fading strength.

Inside the penthouse, Lena watched through the window, her hands clenched at her sides. With every flash of lightning, her breath caught. Any moment could be the one Kara didn’t dodge fast enough.

She knew Kara didn’t feel cold like humans did. But discomfort was still discomfort. And Kara had already given too much.

It had been hours. Too long.

So when the balcony doors creaked open, Lena was already moving.

Kara stumbled in, her suit soaked and clinging to her body, cape heavy and dragging behind her. Her golden hair was plastered to her face, water sliding down the curves of her arms and legs. Her skin shimmered, pale and trembling.

“Hey,” Kara rasped, her voice hoarse. “I’m okay.”

But she was swaying.

Lena crossed the room in a blur.

“Oh, darling…”

Kara tried to smile, tried to stand tall, but her knees gave just slightly—and Lena caught her before she could fall.

She cupped Kara’s face, activating the suit’s release. It shimmered away, leaving Kara bare and glistening in the low light. Rainwater traced the contours of her body, but Lena was already wrapping her in a thick towel, already holding her close, already burying her face in Kara’s neck.

“You’re freezing,” Lena breathed, her voice breaking.

“I’ll warm up,” Kara whispered. “There was an accident on the bridge—I couldn’t leave them—”

Lena didn’t let her finish.

She kissed her.

Hard.

Desperate.

Their mouths collided, Lena’s fingers diving into Kara’s wet hair, pulling her closer, anchoring her. Kara melted against her with a soft sound, her body sagging in relief.

“You’re not supposed to come home like this,” Lena said against her lips. “Not like this.”

“But I do,” Kara whispered, clinging to her. “Because I have you to come home to.”

That shattered Lena.

She kissed her again—slower now, deeper. Then she guided Kara across the room, every movement careful, reverent.

****

The bathroom was warm, already hazy with rising steam. The clawfoot tub stood half-filled, lavender oil curling through the water like silk.

Lena let the towel fall from Kara’s shoulders.

“You didn’t think I’d let you come home to nothing, did you?” Lena murmured.

Kara turned to her, still trembling. “You knew I’d be cold.”

“I knew you’d try to deny it,” Lena replied, stepping close, brushing Kara’s hip with the back of her fingers.

She helped Kara into the tub, lowering her carefully. Kara sank into the water with a groan, her body finally releasing tension as the heat embraced her.

Then she felt Lena kneel beside the tub.

Still fully dressed, Lena dipped a cloth into the water and began to cleanse her. Slow, deliberate strokes over her chest, down her arms, and across her thighs.

Kara watched her, lips parted, heart hammering.

“You always take care of everyone else,” Lena whispered, drawing the cloth in languid lines over her skin. “Let me take care of you. My brave girl. My love.”

“Lena…” Kara exhaled, aching with emotion.

Lena leaned in, pressing kisses to Kara’s collarbone, her shoulder, and the edge of her jaw. Every touch was deliberate. Worshipful.

Kara’s eyes fluttered shut. “Join me?”

Lena didn’t answer with words. She simply stood and began unbuttoning her blouse. One button at a time.

Silk slipped from her shoulders. Her pants followed. Then her underwear.

Kara’s breath caught.

“You think I’m letting you out of my sight tonight?” Lena said, stepping into the tub. “Think again, Supergirl.”

She sank behind Kara, drawing her in, chest to back. Their skin met, heat against heat, and Kara exhaled like she could finally breathe again.

Lena kissed her temple.

“I love you,” she said, her voice quiet but unwavering.

Kara turned and found her mouth in the dark.

The kiss was molten—slow at first, then deeper. Their tongues met and lingered. Kara shifted, straddling Lena’s lap, hands exploring, needing to feel more than just skin—needing to feel alive.

Water sloshed around them. They didn’t care.

“You make me feel loved,” Kara gasped. “Safe. Like I’m more than just—”

“You are more,” Lena said, dragging kisses along her throat, over her heart. “You don’t have to be invincible with me. You don’t have to carry the whole damn world.”

Kara moaned as Lena pulled her closer, their bodies pressing tighter.

“I’ve got you,” Lena whispered. “Let go. Let me have you.”

And Kara did.

They stayed tangled in heat and kisses and whispered confessions until the water cooled and the world outside fell silent.

****

Later, wrapped in thick towels, Lena dried Kara off with slow hands and lingering touches.

“I’ve never been taken care of like this,” Kara said softly, eyes glistening.

“You deserve to be,” Lena replied, fierce and loving. “You deserve everything.”

In bed, cocooned in warmth and moonlight, Kara pressed her face into Lena’s neck.

“You always say I save the world…”

Lena stroked her back. “You do.”

“But you’re the one who saves me.”

Lena didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.

She kissed Kara until the last echoes of thunder faded, until Kara’s breathing evened and peace finally settled over her.

Chapter 22: Stamina: Disabled

Lena collapsed onto the mattress with a dramatic exhale, her body slick with sweat, her chest rising and falling in ragged waves. She turned her head, breath catching at the sight beside her: Kara, lying there serene and untouched, not a hair out of place. Barely winded.

Lena let out a hoarse laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Kara turned, that maddeningly adorable dimple appearing like dawn. “What?”

“I’m wrecked. Absolutely obliterated. And you look like you could bench-press a mountain.”

Kara’s grin widened as she propped herself on one elbow, leaning over her with infuriating ease. “Super stamina. Kryptonian perks.”

Lena glared, pouting. “I wish I could wear you out. Just once. For science and ego.”

“Oh?” Kara teased, eyes dancing. “Sounds like someone’s on a mission.”

Lena’s fingers trailed slowly down Kara’s side, making her flinch and shiver. “Both.”

Then it came—that glint. The one that always meant trouble. “Actually…” Lena pushed her tousled hair back, a slow smirk curling her lips. “I think I have a plan.”

Kara laughed nervously, dropping back to the pillows. “That’s your ‘evil genius’ face.”

“I prefer ‘brilliant strategist,’” Lena said, tracing Kara’s abs with her nails. “And I’m very, very committed to this experiment.”

****

A week later, Kara opened the bedroom door—and froze.

The room was cloaked in candlelight, shadows flickering across the walls. A red glow washed over everything like sunset, warm and strange. Black silk sheets shimmered beneath the tinted light, and Kara felt it immediately: a shift deep in her bones. No pain. Just… absence. Her strength, that constant thrum beneath her skin, was quiet. Muted.

Her brow furrowed. “Is that…?”

“Red sun emitters,” Lena said, stepping from the shadows.

She wore a black silk robe that clung to her curves and parted at the waist to reveal nothing beneath. Confidence radiated from every slow step. Dangerous intent gleamed in her eyes.

“Customized for intimacy,” she said, her voice honey-smooth. “Isolated to this room. No outside interference. Just you. Just me.”

Kara blinked. “You weaponized our bedroom?”

Lena closed the distance, sliding her palms up Kara’s chest.

“Technically,” she whispered, “I made it fair.”

Kara’s knees nearly gave out—not from fear. From need. From the sudden vulnerability, the raw anticipation curled through her.

“Your stamina won’t save you tonight.”

And with a firm push, Lena had her on the bed.

“You’re mine, Supergirl.”

****

What followed was a study in surrender.

Lena straddled Kara like she owned her—and in this moment, she did. She tugged the shirt off Kara in one slow, teasing motion, letting her nails drag across heated skin. Kara, normally so confident, was panting already, caught off guard by how real everything felt under the red sun.

“Oh, you’re flushed already?” Lena teased, grinding down against her, relishing Kara’s groan. “That’s adorable.”

Kara tried to speak—tried to respond with something witty—but it turned into a gasp as Lena’s lips claimed her throat, then her collarbone, then lower. Every touch burned. Every kiss was a revelation. Kara arched into her, helpless and hungry.

“You feel everything, don’t you?” Lena murmured against her skin. “No invincibility. No alien endurance. Just nerves and skin and desire.”

“Lena—” Kara gasped, back arching.

“Do you want me to make you feel good?” Lena whispered, dragging her tongue along the shell of Kara’s ear.

Kara shook her head wildly, moaning as Lena’s hand slid between her legs.

“Good,” Lena growled. “Because I plan to ruin you tonight.”

****

Lena dragged her through wave after wave, tearing cries from her throat, wrecking her in the most exquisite ways. Kara clutched at the sheets, at Lena’s body, at anything she could reach—her invincibility gone, and in its place: raw, human hunger.

There was a moment where Lena’s restraint broke—where the teasing gave way to frantic need. She rode Kara with abandon, their bodies colliding in slick, breathless rhythm. Their mouths met again and again, desperate, open-mouthed, teeth clashing, lips swollen. Lena moaned into her, clutching Kara like she never wanted to let go.

“I love you,” Kara rasped, hoarse and shaking. “God, I love you.”

Lena stilled, forehead pressed to Kara’s, both of them trembling. “I love you too,” she whispered. “More than I’ve ever known how.”

They kissed again, deeper now—lingering, reverent. A kiss that wasn’t about lust anymore. It was about home.

And still—they weren’t finished.

****

By the third round, Kara’s entire body ached. Muscles quivered, and breath came in stuttering gasps. Her hair clung to her skin. Even blinking felt like work. She tried to move—and whimpered.

Beside her, Lena let out a satisfied laugh. Her skin glowed, her breathing ragged—but her smile was all victory.

“Fuck,” Kara managed. “You did it.”

Lena turned to her with lazy grace, brushing damp strands from Kara’s forehead. “Did what?”

“You wore out Supergirl.”

Lena grinned, eyes full of pride and something far more tender. “You’re welcome.”

Kara stared, dazed and drenched in love. “I didn’t know I could feel like this. Is… is this how it feels for you?”

Lena’s smirk softened into something unguarded. She leaned in, kissing Kara’s lips, her cheek, and the edge of her jaw.

“Every time,” she murmured. “But with you? It’s more. You’re not just anyone, Kara. You’re everything.”

Tears stung behind Kara’s eyes, but she didn’t look away. “You’re dangerous, Luthor.”

“And you’re mine,” Lena whispered.

Kara smiled, exhaustion melted by joy. “Let’s never turn those lights off.”

Lena chuckled, curling into her. “Don’t worry. They’ll always be within reach.”

And in the hush of that red-lit room, as limbs tangled and hearts beat in sync, love pulsed like a second sun.

Chapter 23: That Fucking Mouth

The first time Kara Danvers swore, she was barefoot in the kitchen, chopping vegetables while Lena prepared the salad.

It was domestic bliss—quiet music, the clink of silverware, and the low hum of their easy rhythm. Kara’s sleeves were rolled up, her glasses slipping down her nose, and Lena was so caught up in watching her that she nearly missed it.

The salad bowl slipped from Kara’s hands.

“Fuck!” Kara hissed, catching it easily with super speed before it hit the floor. “God, that was close.”

Lena froze mid-step, her grip tightening on the bottle of vinaigrette.

Kara had said, "Fuck."

Kara, who apologized to bees and used phrases like “oh goodness,” had just dropped an F-bomb in the middle of their kitchen like it belonged there.

She hadn’t said it in anger. Just a raw, unfiltered fuck—careless and hot as sin.

Lena didn’t say anything—didn’t trust herself to—but she felt it in every nerve ending. Her whole body lit up like a live wire. She clenched her thighs, heart skipping, breath hitching in the kind of way that made her feel thirteen again and hopelessly turned on.

Kara didn’t notice.

Or so Lena thought.

It happened again a few days later. Kara reading something infuriating on her tablet: “This is such bullshit.”

Then, while sparring with Alex: “Kick his fucking ass, Alex!”

Each time, Lena stiffened, pretending nothing was wrong while her body betrayed her—heat rising, blood rushing, mouth going dry.

It wasn’t just the swearing. It was Kara swearing. That golden, good-hearted voice dipped in something dirty and wrong and perfect. It was like watching a choir girl moan. Like seeing an angel unbutton her blouse.

By the sixth or seventh time, Lena was wrecked. She couldn’t look at Kara without hearing that voice again—sharp, commanding, sinful—and the way it slid right through her like molten heat.

And Kara, damn her, started to catch on.

****

One night, wrapped in the hush of their bedroom, Kara was pressing lazy kisses along Lena’s bare shoulder. Her hand drifted down Lena’s spine in slow strokes, her body warm and relaxed beside her.

“Mmm,” Kara hummed against her skin. “This feels so fucking amazing.”

Lena whimpered.

She didn’t mean to—it just slipped out. A raw, unfiltered sound of need that vibrated from her chest to her toes.

Kara’s hand stilled.

She lifted her head slowly, her voice husky. “Lee?”

Lena turned away, burying her face in the pillow. Her cheeks were burning, her heart thudding.

Kara edged closer, her voice dipping lower, velvet-soft but laced with something new—dangerous curiosity. “Wait... do you like it when I swear?”

Lena didn’t answer.

Kara smirked. She knew now.

“Oh, baby...” she purred.

Lena groaned and rolled onto her back, flinging her arm over her eyes. “Don’t make me say it.”

But Kara leaned over her, slipping a thigh between Lena’s legs, brushing right against the heat.

“Tell me what it does to you. When I say those filthy words in your ear.”

Lena dropped her arm, eyes dark with want. “It... it short-circuits me. Every time. I don’t know why—hell, I don’t care why. It’s your voice, your mouth, saying those words... I get wet just hearing it.”

Kara’s pupils blew wide. She grinned, all heat and promise. “Oh, Lena... I’m going to ruin you with this fucking mouth.”

****

From that night on, Kara weaponized it.

She whispered filth into Lena’s ear during breakfast, while washing dishes, in the car, and in Lena's office.

One moment Kara would be smiling and playing on her phone. The next, leaning close, murmuring:

“I want to get on my knees under this desk and eat you out until you forget your own goddamn name.”

Lena nearly choked on her coffee.

Kara sent texts during the day like

You’re wearing those tight black pants. I want to rip them off with my teeth.
You taste so fucking good, baby. I can still taste you on my tongue from last night.
I bet you’re clenching those thighs right now. Are you dripping for me?

Lena would sit frozen at her desk, flushed, thighs pressed together like a schoolgirl.

At home, it was even worse.

Kara would sneak up behind her while Lena was brushing her teeth, hands sliding around her waist, mouth brushing her ear.

“I want to bend you over this sink and fuck you until your legs forget how to work.”

Lena whimpered, mouth full of toothpaste.

And at night?

Kara devastated her.

She’d spread Lena out on their bed like a secret, running her tongue over skin, lingering, teasing.

“Look at you,” Kara would murmur, lips skimming over Lena’s hip bone. “So fucking responsive. I haven’t even touched your pussy yet, and you’re already soaked for me.”

Lena would tremble, desperate.

“Tell me how you want it. You want my fingers, my mouth? You want to come once, or should I make you scream for three?”

And Lena, wild-eyed, would whisper back everything Kara wanted—needed—to hear.

“You make me crazy,” she’d gasp. “Every time you talk like that, I fall apart.”

Kara didn’t just talk dirty—she worshipped Lena with it.

She made her feel desired. Powerful. Loved.

Because through all the filth and fire, Kara never stopped being hers.

****

Afterward, when Lena was draped across her chest, breathless and boneless, Kara would run her fingers through her hair, kiss her temple, and whisper:

“You’re everything to me. I love you so fucking much.”

Lena, grinning into Kara’s shoulder, would murmur, “I think I need to buy you a curse word calendar.”

Kara laughed. “I’d read you one every night like a bedtime story.”

Lena pulled her closer, smiling against her lips. “You and that fucking mouth.”

Kara just smirked and kissed her again—fierce, lingering, and full of love. “Damn right.”

Chapter 24: A World Without You

One moment, she’d been drifting to sleep beside Kara—warm breath against her neck, strong arms holding her safe, their fingers entwined beneath the blankets like an unspoken vow.

The next, she was standing in the middle of her penthouse.

But it wasn’t hers. Not really.

It looked the same. The same skyline out the window. The same furniture. But the feeling was different.

Cold.

Lifeless.

There were no cardigans slung over chairs, no pair of glasses left haphazardly on the nightstand. No lingering scent of Kara’s shampoo or the quiet hum of her laughter in the halls. The space was immaculate. Soulless. Clinical. Like a showroom no one lived in.

And outside, the world was worse.

She walked down the street—no one met her eyes. People turned away, crossing to the other side. Whispers followed her like shadows. Disdain. Fear. The stain of her last name clinging to her like smoke.

At L-Corp, her assistant flinched when she spoke. Conversations stopped when she entered a room. People nodded out of obligation, not warmth.

And at CatCo—where so many smiles used to live—Nia barely looked at her. Just a stiff "Miss Luthor" before ducking away.

No texts from Alex. No calls from J’onn. No invitations. No inside jokes. No family.

Just loneliness wrapped in glass walls and pressed suits and long hours that meant nothing.

Lena had never felt so empty.

And then came the final blow.

She was walking without purpose, drifting like a ghost, when she saw Kara in the park.

Radiant as ever.

Laughing. Laughing like sunlight breaking through clouds.

But not with her.

Another woman sat beside Kara, paint on her jeans and a sketchbook in her lap. They were close. Intimate. Familiar. Their knees touched. Their fingers brushed. And when Kara leaned in and kissed her—

Lena stopped breathing.

It was the kind of kiss that shattered her. Not because it was new—but because it was familiar. Kara kissed this woman the way she kissed Lena. With warmth. With love. With knowing.

And then Kara laughed again.

Her whole face lit up.

She looked happy.

Unburdened.

Like Lena had never existed.

And the worst part—the part that made Lena's stomach twist into knots—was the way Kara’s eyes slid past her. A polite glance. No flicker of recognition. Just… nothing. Like Lena was nobody.

Like she’d never been somebody.

Like she had never once been loved by her.

It wrecked her. Absolutely wrecked her.

The kind of heartbreak that leaves you hollow. Not sobbing—but silent. Frozen. Like your soul has been scooped out.

She stood there, paralyzed, watching Kara walk away with someone else. Watching her entire world disappear like smoke.

And then—

The world cracked.

A violent flicker. Pressure behind her eyes. A shudder went through her chest like the universe was resetting itself.

And she woke up.

****

Lena jolted upright in bed, her breath ragged, her chest heaving like she’d run a marathon. Her nightgown was plastered to her skin, soaked through with sweat. Her hands shook as she pressed them to her face.

It had felt real.

Not just a nightmare. But a cruel trick of her mind.

A world where Kara didn’t even know her. Didn’t love her. Not anymore.

Where Lena was alone. Hated. Forgotten.

She hadn’t realized she was crying until a warm hand brushed a tear from her cheek.

“Baby?” Kara’s voice was thick with sleep, gentle, and concerned. “Hey—hey, what’s wrong?”

Lena turned sharply, breath catching. And there she was.

Kara.

Sleep-tousled hair. A worried crease between her brows. Beautiful and real.

“Kara,” she whispered. Her voice cracked, her throat raw. “You’re here.”

“Of course I’m here.” Kara sat up fully now, eyes wide. “Lena, what happened?”

Lena lunged forward, burying herself in Kara’s arms like she could climb inside her and hide there, a broken sob ripping free from her chest. Her whole body trembled as she clung to Kara like a lifeline.

Kara held her instantly, tightly. “I’ve got you,” she whispered over and over, her voice steady even as worry tightened her chest. “I’ve got you.”

“I was in a world without you,” Lena choked out. “You didn’t know me. You didn’t look at me. You were with someone else. You were happy.”

“Oh, love…”

“I was nothing there. Just cold. Just work. People hated me. No friends. No laughter. Just silence and pity and fear. I didn’t even realize what was missing until I saw you—with her—and it killed me. You kissed her like you kiss me. You looked at her like you loved her.”

Kara’s arms tightened. “Sweetheart…”

“You walked right past me. I tried to speak; I wanted you to see me—but you didn’t. I was invisible. Like I’d never mattered. Like I never even existed to you.”

Kara gently pulled back, just enough to cradle Lena’s face in her hands. Her thumbs wiped away fresh tears as she stared into those storm-filled eyes.

“Listen to me,” Kara said, her voice shaking with emotion. “There is no world—none—where I don’t love you. There isn’t a version of me in any timeline, in any multiverse, that wouldn’t fall for you. That wouldn’t choose you.”

Lena let out a broken sob and surged forward, pressing her lips to Kara’s in a desperate kiss. Kara kissed her back with steady, grounding passion—pouring her love into every movement, every breath.

“You’re real,” Lena whispered, forehead resting against Kara’s. “You’re here. I couldn’t bear it, Kara. That version of life… it was hell.”

“You’ll never have to live in that world,” Kara whispered back, wrapping her arms around her tightly. “I’m here. I’m yours. Always.”

Lena nodded, the tears still falling, but slower now. “Don’t let me wake up without you.”

“You won’t,” Kara promised. “You never will.”

They settled beneath the blankets again, Lena tucked close to Kara’s chest, their legs entwined. Kara’s fingers stroked softly through her hair as Lena slowly began to breathe easier.

“I love you,” Kara whispered into the dark.

“I love you,” Lena echoed hoarsely. “I don’t want any other world. Just this one. Just you.”

“Always,” Kara murmured, holding her close. “Forever.”

And she did.

No matter the world. No matter the nightmare.

This was real.

Kara was hers.

And nothing could take that away.

Chapter 25: A Brat and a Billionaire

Lena didn’t look up when the lab door hissed open.

She didn’t need to.

The soft whoosh of air. The warm shift in pressure. The unmistakable flutter in her chest. All signs that someone very much not human had entered her space.

“Hi, love,” Kara chirped, already bounding across the lab with a paper bag in hand and sunshine in her smile.

Lena didn’t even flinch. “Working.”

Kara pouted, floating up behind her. “But I brought you lunch.”

“Not hungry.”

“You need to eat.”

Lena finally glanced up—and immediately regretted it. Kara was floating upside down now, her ponytail dangling toward the floor, her smile wide and infuriatingly adorable.

God, she was cute.

Lena looked back down at the simulation on her tablet. “Can it wait an hour?”

No response.

Then—

Zoom.

A gust of air as Kara zipped around the lab, rearranging Post-its to say FEED ME, slipping a thermos into Lena’s hand, and unwrapping a sandwich before hovering just in her periphery.

“Done waiting.”

Lena pinched the bridge of her nose.

“You could go patrol,” she offered.

“Did already.”

“Catch up on your article?”

“Published. Trending.”

“Read a book?”

Kara leaned forward, chin in hands, levitating mid-air directly over Lena’s workstation. “I’d rather watch you.”

Lena’s lips almost twitched. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m in love,” Kara corrected with a wink. “And very under-cuddled.”

Then the antics escalated.

Lena tried to ignore her. Truly. She did.

But how do you ignore someone alphabetizing your research binders in under three seconds? Or floating just out of reach to blow tiny freeze-breath puffs against your skin?

Or standing behind you and whispering, “Nice lace today,” with a knowing smirk—because she’d absolutely peeked through your clothes with her x-ray vision?

“Kara Zor-El Danvers.”

“Luthor-Danvers,” Kara corrected sweetly.

“Stop using your powers to annoy me.”

“Can’t help it. You’re so distractible. And hot.” She tilted her head. “Especially in black satin.”

Lena’s eye twitched.

Then the air shifted—again—and the hem of her pencil skirt fluttered upward in a gentle breeze that had no businessexisting in her sealed, climate-controlled lab.

“KARA!”

The breeze vanished.

Kara looked up at the ceiling like it had personally offended her. “Wow. You really need to call Facilities.”

Lena stood slowly, the tablet clicking against the counter as she set it down. She turned—cool and composed—walked across the room with predatory grace, and locked the lab door behind her with a sharp, deliberate click.

Kara straightened mid-air, suddenly very still. “What are you—”

Lena turned.

And gave her that look.

Kara floated down without being asked, feet barely touching the floor. “Oh.”

“Oh,” Lena echoed, her voice a low, dangerous purr. “You want to play?”

Kara swallowed. “Maybe?”

****

Kara wasn’t exactly afraid.

She was Supergirl, after all.

But Lena?

Lena in boss mode? Sleeves rolled, eyes cool and calculating, voice dripping with controlled mischief?

Yeah. That did make Kara nervous.

“You think you’re funny?” Lena asked, circling her slowly.

Kara rocked on her heels, pouting. “A little?”

“You think blowing cold air on me, complimenting my underwear with x-ray vision, and rearranging my desk is adorable?”

Kara grinned. “Well, yeah.”

Lena leaned in close, lips brushing Kara’s. “You want my attention?”

Kara nodded.

“You want my hands on you?”

Kara moaned. “God, yes.”

Lena kissed her. Once. Hard and claiming.

Then she stepped back. “You don’t get to touch me. Not until I say.”

Kara blinked. “Wait, what?”

“You want attention? You stand there and take it. Hands by your sides.”

“Lena—”

Lena stepped in again, grabbed Kara’s face in both hands, and kissed her like she meant to ruin her.

Kara’s knees buckled.

Lena didn’t let her fall.

But she did push her back against the counter, biting Kara’s lower lip before trailing kisses down her jaw, her throat, and her collarbone. “No flying. No hands. You will behave.”

Kara whimpered, gripping the edge of the counter like it was the only thing holding her upright.

Lena’s hands were merciless—gliding across abs that flinched under her touch, her mouth painting hot, wet trails across superhuman skin.

“You want me to make you come?” Lena whispered against Kara’s neck.

“Yessss.”

Lena smirked, eyes gleaming. “Begging already?”

Kara let out a shaky breath, her voice low and wrecked. “I can’t help it when it’s you.”

Lena leaned in, lips brushing Kara’s ear. “Oh, sweetheart… You haven’t even seen begging yet.”

She stepped back—just a pace—her gaze sweeping slowly over Kara’s flushed, trembling form, drinking her in like something exquisite.

“Strip,” she said softly. A command, not a request.

Kara obeyed, fingers fumbling slightly with her shirt and pants, despite her strength, her eyes never leaving Lena’s.

Then Lena sank to her knees—graceful, intentional—like it was her throne.

And Kara?

She forgot how to breathe.

Lena’s fingers skimmed up Kara’s calves, feather-light, tracing along muscle and heat. She pressed a kiss to Kara’s knee. Then another, higher up on her inner thigh, slow and deliberate, working her way up with maddening precision.

Kara’s hands clenched tighter around the counter.

“Lena…”

“I said no touching,” Lena murmured, her voice thick as velvet.

Her hands found red lace—barely there. Her favorite.

She looked up, lips curled. “You wore these on purpose.”

Kara nodded, cheeks flushed.

“Good girl.”

Kara moaned—actually moaned—at the praise.

Lena kissed along the waistband, teasing with her tongue just under the elastic, before sliding her hands up Kara’s hips, across her abs, nails scraping lightly and drawing out delicious tremors.

“Still so responsive,” she whispered, lips pressing just below Kara’s navel. “Even when you know you can’t break.”

“You’re breaking me,” Kara choked.

“Oh no, darling,” Lena said, rising slowly, dragging her body up Kara’s as she went. “I’m owning you.”

She slid her thigh between Kara’s legs, pressing just enough to make her squirm.

Kara gasped, her back arching—but her hands didn’t move.

Lena’s mouth was on her again—neck, shoulder, lips, the swell of her breasts. Her tongue moved like it was drawing a map of Kara’s undoing. Her hands pinned Kara in place against the counter.

“I should make you beg,” Lena murmured. “Make you tell me exactly what you want. How wet you are for me.”

Kara whimpered, her head tipping back.

“I should make you say ‘please’ until you forget your own name.”

Kara’s hips rolled against her thigh. “Please, Lena—”

“Oh, so soon?” Lena teased, shifting her thigh slightly. “We haven’t even reached the good part.”

She kissed Kara again—deep, consuming—then reached between them, dragging a single finger down Kara’s center through the lace.

Kara shattered.

Not literally. But it felt close.

Her knees buckled. Her arms trembled. Her entire body lit up like solar fire under Lena’s touch.

But still—still—her hands never left the counter.

Lena stepped back, flushed and glowing, breathing hard.

She looked like a goddess.

Or the devil.

Kara couldn’t tell the difference.

“You’ve been very good,” Lena said, her voice warm and thick. “Such restraint.”

“I’m dying,” Kara whispered.

Lena smiled.

And then—finally—she reached for Kara’s wrists, lifting them from the counter with reverent care.

“You can touch me now.”

Kara surged forward, gripping Lena like gravity didn’t exist. One hand tangled in dark hair, the other wrapped around Lena’s waist, kissing her like she needed to memorize her with her mouth.

Lena let her.

Kara devoured her.

And somewhere in the heat and friction and desperate hands, Kara growled against her lips, “Mine.”

Lena gasped. “Yours.”

“Say it again.”

Lena tilted her head back, baring her throat. “Yours. Always.”

****

By the time it was over, they were both a mess—flushed cheeks, swollen lips, breath coming in uneven gasps, legs trembling beneath them.

Lena, calm as ever, crossed her arms, her gaze sharp. “Think you can behave now?”

Kara blinked, still catching her breath. “I—I think I need a minute.”

Lena’s expression softened. She cupped Kara’s face in her hands. Then she kissed her—soft this time, unhurried. No edge, no command. Just Lena.

“I love you,” Kara murmured against her lips.

“I know. I love you too." Lena whispered, tucking her face into Kara’s neck and breathing her in. “But you're still a brat.”

Kara smiled, her voice warm with affection. “Your brat.”

Lena pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, a smirk curling at her lips. “Damn right.”

Chapter 26: Even Superheroes Get Tired

The door slammed harder than Kara meant it to.

She winced at the sound, hovering for a heartbeat before her boots met the floor, leaving faint indentations in the rug. Her cape hung crooked off one shoulder, the hem torn and dragging. Thick, crusted green goop clung to her sleeve, congealed and stinking like sewage mixed with spoiled spinach.

She felt disgusting.
She felt heavy.
And she felt like she might cry.

Kara stood in the stillness of the apartment, jaw clenched. Her arms dangled at her sides, hands twitching—caught somewhere between wanting to punch a wall and curl into herself.

They were supposed to have dinner.

She and Lena had been looking forward to it all week. Homemade pasta, that fancy bottle of wine Lena had been saving, and Kara’s favorite chocolate mousse waiting in the fridge. She’d cleared her schedule, zipped through her last two rescues with extra speed, just to be here on time.

But the call came in—of course it had.

A sewer-dwelling alien parasite.
Aggressive. Slimy. Bitey.
And, naturally, it exploded.

Now she smelled like exploded alien guts, her hair was matted, her suit was sticky in places she didn’t want to think about—and worst of all?

It felt like she’d barely helped. The damage was done before she arrived, and the only thing she’d managed was missing dinner. Again.

“Kara?” Lena’s voice drifted down the hall. A few light footsteps followed, and then she appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, barefoot in leggings and one of Kara’s oversized college sweatshirts, a mug of tea in hand.

The second she laid eyes on her, the mug was set aside and forgotten.

“Oh, love…”

Kara didn’t speak. She just stood there—tired-eyed, grime-smeared, and wearing a frown that had nothing to do with physical pain. She wasn’t bruised. But she felt cracked in a way that was deeper.

Lena crossed the room in three swift steps and cupped Kara’s face, thumbs brushing over the dried alien residue like it didn’t matter. Her eyes searched Kara’s with a tenderness that made something inside Kara ache.

“You’re safe. That’s all I care about.”

Kara nodded once, blinking rapidly. “I’m fine. Just… exhausted. And kind of gross.”

Lena smiled and brushed a sticky lock of hair away from Kara’s face. “Come on. Let me take care of you.”

Kara didn’t argue. She followed Lena down the hall like gravity had shifted and was pulling her there. She stood quietly while Lena helped her undress, each movement slow and deliberate. First the boots, then the belt, and finally the ruined suit peeled from her body piece by piece.

Every time Lena touched her—fingers skimming her shoulders, brushing down her ribs, pausing at her hips—Kara felt a little more grounded. A little more like herself. And when Lena pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder, then the curve of her spine, Kara exhaled like she hadn’t all day.

“You don’t have to be Supergirl right now,” Lena whispered, her lips warm against her skin. “Just Kara. My Kara.”

The shower was already running—hot and scented with lavender. When the spray hit her, Kara let her head fall forward and simply stood there, letting it pour over her. She watched the green sludge swirl down the drain, but even as the filth rinsed away, the guilt and frustration clung to her like a second skin.

When she stepped out, Lena was waiting—towel in hand, a fresh set of pajamas folded neatly on the counter. She dried Kara’s hair with slow, sweeping motions, then helped her into her favorite flannel pajama pants and a hoodie that still smelled faintly like cinnamon.

Kara let herself be cared for, eyes fluttering closed when Lena kissed her damp forehead.

But she didn’t head for the couch. She moved straight into Lena’s arms.

Her hands wrapped tightly around Lena’s waist as she buried her face into the crook of her neck. “I had to leave right when we were about to sit down,” she mumbled. “We even had the candles lit.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

“It was a sewer creature. A literal sewer creature. It hissed at me in three languages and then exploded. Exploded, Lena.”

“I gathered,” Lena replied, with a small smirk tugging at her lips.

Kara pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. “It’s not exactly sexy coming home covered in alien slime.”

That earned a laugh—a real one. Lena’s fingers traced along Kara’s jaw as she smiled. “You always look beautiful to me. Even when you smell like outer space garbage.”

Kara chuckled, the tension in her shoulders finally beginning to melt. But her smile faded almost as quickly as it came.

“I love being Supergirl,” she said quietly. “I do. I know what it means to people. But sometimes I get… so tired. I hate missing time with you. I hate that the moment we make plans, the world decides to fall apart. And then I feel guilty for hating it. Because people needed help. And I chose this. So I should be okay with it.”

Lena’s hand cradled her cheek,“You’re not a machine, Kara,” she said. “You’re allowed to be frustrated. You’re allowed to miss me. That doesn’t make you any less of a hero.”

She kissed Kara’s temple, then her cheek. “You chose this life because your heart is so big—not because you don’t get tired.”

Another kiss, this time to the tip of her nose. “And you don’t have to justify your feelings to me.”

Kara inhaled shakily and leaned in, kissing her. It wasn’t desperate—it was steady and full, laced with gratitude. Her hands slipped into Lena’s hair, holding her close as their mouths moved slowly, like they had all the time in the world.

“Come,” Lena murmured against her lips. “I want to hold you."

She led Kara to the couch and lay down first, pulling Kara into her arms. Kara curled into her, limbs tangling instinctively. Her longer frame draped over Lena’s smaller one, but Lena didn’t mind the weight—she welcomed it. Held it. Cherished it.

Kara rested her head on Lena’s chest, listening to her heartbeat like it was her favorite song.

Lena’s hand slid up and down her back in a soothing rhythm, while her other hand cradled the back of Kara’s head. She pressed kisses along her forehead and across her temple.

Kara sighed. “Being a superhero is hard sometimes.”

“I know, darling,” Lena whispered. “But you don’t have to do it alone. Not ever again.”

Kara tilted her face up, seeking Lena’s lips again. They kissed like it was a language only they spoke—slow and deep, a shared breath, a promise without words.

“You always make it better,” Kara murmured, her hand sliding beneath the hem of Lena’s sweatshirt.

“And I always will,” Lena promised.

They stayed wrapped in each other, exchanging kisses like lullabies, letting the world fade away. And when Kara finally fell asleep in Lena’s arms—warm, safe, no longer burdened by green goo or guilt—Lena kissed her forehead once more and whispered:

“Even superheroes need someone to hold them.”

And Lena would always, always, be that someone.

Chapter 27: Under the Table, Over the Edge

The gala glittered with money and egos.

Strings of crystal lights hung from the ceiling like stars, champagne flutes clinked with elegance, and Lena was grace incarnate in a black satin gown with a slit that could end lives. Kara, ever the charming plus-one, was devastating in red—bare shoulders, high slit, lips glossed to a sinful shine.

They looked like polite dates. Just friends. Coworkers. Acquaintances, at best.

That was the game.

That was the agony.

They sat at a table of twelve, surrounded by dignitaries and CEOs, and smiled when expected. But under the pristine white linen of the tablecloth, Lena’s hand had found Kara’s thigh.

She wasn’t doing anything. Not really.

Just resting her palm lightly, fingers curled above Kara’s knee. Idle. Calculated. Maddening.

Kara shifted in her seat, her pulse already racing. Lena’s touch was branded heat.

“You’re tense,” Lena murmured, her voice low and unreadable. Her wineglass hovered at her mouth, eyes elsewhere.

“You’re…” Kara swallowed, trying to blink her brain into focus. “You’re doing it again.”

Lena’s fingers slid higher.

“Doing what?” She asked, gaze still forward.

“That thing,” Kara said, barely breathing. “Where you touch me and expect me not to melt into the chair.”

Lena chuckled—low, dangerous. Her fingers drew a line higher, a whisper of pressure that set Kara’s nerves alight.

“You’re trying to kill me,” Kara hissed, gripping the edge of the table.

“You’re overreacting,” Lena said coolly, swirling her spoon through dessert like her hand wasn’t halfway to ruining Kara in public.

Kara leaned in, lips nearly grazing Lena’s ear. “You’re licking a spoon while your hand’s between my thighs. I could snap this table in half.”

Lena squeezed. “But you won’t.”

And Kara wouldn’t.

Because Lena touched her like she owned her. Like she knew how Kara unraveled under the smallest pressure. And Lena—Lena was starting to fray too. Her smile cracked at the edges, her breathing shallow, her pupils dilated like a secret she couldn’t keep.

“You want me so bad, you’re about to bite through that spoon,” Kara whispered.

Lena didn’t reply. She just slid her thumb along Kara's underwear, teasing beneath the hem. Kara twitched.

“You think you’re subtle,” Kara growled under her breath. “But I can hear your heart stuttering.”

“And I can feel how wet you are through this ridiculous excuse for fabric,” Lena murmured back.

Kara drained her champagne in one gulp.

Their knees bumped.

Lena’s hand pressed harder.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” Kara warned.

“Only if someone looks under the table,” Lena breathed against her ear. “Or if you make that little noise you’re about to make.”

Someone across the table said Kara’s name.

She answered with a too-bright smile and a voice that didn’t shake—somehow—while Lena’s fingers continued to ghost over her underwear.

It took everything in Kara not to levitate.

Conversation swirled around them like white noise. Kara’s skin burned, her thighs clenched, and Lena’s hand stayed right where it was.

Kara dropped her napkin.

She bent low, close to Lena’s ear. Her voice was a dark promise. “You have five seconds to get me out of here. Or I’m dragging you behind that curtain and making you scream my name in front of all these people.”

Lena froze—just for a second.

Then she pulled her hand away, composed herself with terrifying grace, and stood.

“Follow me,” she whispered, holding out her hand.

No one blinked.

Two women, slipping away from a gala for air. Or a drink. Or a dance.

But Kara knew better.

****

The moment they slipped down the velvet-lined corridor and found the empty room, Lena kicked the door shut and pressed Kara against the wall—kissing her like she’d waited years just to breathe her in.

It was a collision—tongue, teeth, hands. Dresses riding up, friction blooming, restraint unraveling in real time.

Kara moaned into her, hands clutching Lena’s hips, needing more, needing everything.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” Kara gasped against her throat. “That hand under the table—Lena, I nearly exploded.”

Lena smiled before dropping to her knees like it was instinct.

Her palms glided up Kara’s legs—possessive, reverent, urgent. Kara’s breath caught. Her hands were buried in Lena’s hair.

“Lee—” she rasped, but the words vanished as Lena pressed her mouth to her core.

Kara arched. Her hips jerked forward. Her fingers tightened in Lena’s hair. The sounds coming out of her were nearly feral.

And when Lena moaned against her, Kara lost it. She yanked her up, devoured her mouth, desperate to taste herself on Lena’s tongue.

Then she spun them—Lena pressed to the wall, gasping, eyes wild.

“You planned this,” Kara growled into her neck, fingers already slipping beneath Lena’s gown.

“No underwear,” Kara muttered. “You came prepared.”

“I knew you wouldn't make it through dinner,” Lena panted.

“Baby,” Kara whispered, pushing deeper, her mouth on Lena’s throat, “you’re about to shatter.”

Lena cried out.

Kara kissed her, smothering the sound.

“I told you I’d make you scream.”

Lena clung to her like gravity. Her whole body trembled. Kara kissed her again and again, swallowing every moan, every broken breath.

“You’re mine,” Kara whispered, lips brushing Lena’s ear. “Tonight. Tomorrow. Every minute after.”

****

When it was over—when Lena’s knees gave out and Kara held her up, when breathing came in staggered bursts—they clung to each other, flushed, wrinkled, ruined.

Kara held Lena’s face, traced her thumb along her cheek, and kissed her again—this time slower. Soft. Loving.

“I love you,” Kara breathed, forehead pressed to hers.

Lena exhaled like it was being pulled from the center of her. “I love you more.”

They stayed like that—hands tangled, bodies still vibrating—until their legs could carry them again.

They slipped back into the world like nothing happened.

Still playing the game.

Only now they both knew:

One look. One touch.

And they’d lose themselves all over again.

Chapter 28: Sick and Loved

Lena Luthor was many things: brilliant, poised, devastating in a boardroom… and, as Kara Danvers had recently discovered, an absolutely impossible patient.

She’d woken up flushed and freezing, her throat raw, every inch of her body aching. But instead of resting like any sane person, Lena had dragged herself to the kitchen, wrapped in a blanket and indignation, squinting at her laptop like she could bully the fever into submission.

Kara had walked in and just stared for a moment.

“…Lena?”

“I’m fine,” Lena rasped, typing with shaky fingers and a tissue stuffed up one sleeve.

Kara blinked. “You’re not.”

“I have calls. A board vote. I need to review the projections for—”

Kara took the laptop gently from her and closed it.

Lena blinked up at her, bleary and insulted. “Kara.”

“You’re sick.”

“I’ve worked through worse.”

“You’re sneezing every ten seconds and wearing a blanket like a cape.”

“It’s cold.”

“Because you’re feverish.”

Lena straightened her spine like that would help her case. “I don’t need anything.”

Her knees buckled slightly on the next step. Kara caught her effortlessly.

“That’s it,” Kara said, her voice low with determination.

Lena tried to protest again, but Kara was already lifting her—arms secure beneath her back and knees, lips brushing her temple.

“Put me down,” Lena muttered, clearly offended.

“Nope.”

“This is dramatic.”

Kara grinned. “I’ve learned from the best.”

She carried her to the couch and settled her down with a stack of pillows and all the blankets in reach, one tucked behind her back with the precise skill of someone who had fluffed many pillows for sulking Danvers.

In a blink, Kara zipped to the kitchen. The soup was heated with a quick flick of heat vision. A tray appeared. Tea brewed. Napkins acquired. When Kara returned, it looked like a five-star sickroom—and Lena hated how much she wanted to cry.

****

Lena tried to resist. Truly. She grumbled at every pillow Kara rearranged, rolled her eyes at the heating pad, and insisted the soup wasn’t necessary.

But her voice kept cracking.

And when Kara sat beside her and offered a spoonful, Lena didn’t have the energy to fight anymore.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she murmured.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m… helpless.”

Kara tilted her head. “You’re not helpless. You’re human. And sick. And deeply loved.”

Lena froze.

She’d heard Kara say it before—I love you. But hearing it here, when she looked like hell and felt worse, cracked something open.

“Open up,” Kara coaxed gently.

Lena sighed dramatically, but she opened her mouth. The soup was perfect—of course it was—and it soothed the burn in her throat immediately. She let her head drop to Kara’s shoulder after the third bite.

“I hate this,” she muttered.

“I know.”

“I hate feeling like this.”

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” Kara whispered, brushing messy strands of hair back. “You don’t have to be composed or in control. You can just be Lena. And I’ll still love you.”

Lena closed her eyes.

Trust. That’s what Kara offered without conditions. Not pity. Not obligation. Just… love. A safe place to land.

She melted into Kara’s side with a sigh that sounded suspiciously close to surrender.

****

Later, when the fever spiked and the chills came back with a vengeance, Kara carried her to bed.

This time, Lena didn’t argue. She leaned into the embrace, let Kara help her change into one of her favorite shirts—Kara’s, oversized and soft—and didn’t so much as flinch when Kara wiped her brow with a cool cloth.

At some point, Lena drifted off. And when she stirred again, Kara was still there—propped up against the headboard with her arms open, waiting.

Lena burrowed into her instinctively.

“I love you,” Kara whispered, her lips brushing against her forehead.

“I know,” Lena breathed. “I love you too.”

They lay there, wrapped around each other. Every time Lena coughed, Kara rubbed slow circles on her back. Every time she winced, Kara kissed her temple. Her cheek. The line of her jaw.

“I don’t know how to let people do this,” Lena whispered, her voice hoarse. “Let someone take care of me. I was never taught how.”

Kara’s hand stilled for a moment against her back, then resumed its slow motion. “You don’t have to know how,” she said softly. “You just have to let me try.”

Lena swallowed hard, emotion catching in her throat. “You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted to let try.”

Kara pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “Then I’ll stay. For as long as you want me."

****

That night, Lena let herself be held.

No armor. No posture. No biting wit or polished smile. Just her—feverish, sniffling, exhausted.

And still, somehow, entirely loved.

Her head rested against Kara’s chest, the rhythm of her heartbeat lulling Lena into a sense of peace she rarely allowed herself. Kara’s hand moved through her hair with slow, tender passes. The kind of touch Lena used to flinch away from. Now she leaned into it like it was air.

Kara kissed her temple.

Then her brow.

Then the tip of her flushed nose, eliciting the faintest laugh from Lena, hoarse and surprised.

“You’re ridiculous,” Lena murmured.

Kara just smiled. “You’re my favorite person.”

She kissed her again, this time lingering at the corner of her mouth—affectionate, unhurried. And when Lena reached up, fingers curling into the fabric of Kara’s shirt, it wasn’t to push her away. It was to bring her closer.

She stayed like that, curled into Kara’s side, every inch of her aching but her heart unbearably full. She let herself be kissed, cared for, and protected.

She let herself be loved.

It was terrifying. And beautiful.

And in Kara’s arms, for the first time in a long, long while… Lena let go.

Not as the CEO of L-Corp. Not as a Luthor walking a tightrope of legacy and fear.

Just Lena.

Held. Wanted. Seen.

And when sleep finally pulled her under, it wasn’t with the weight of exhaustion—it was with the ease of trust.

Maybe she could get used to this.

Maybe she already had.

 

Chapter 29: I Sleep Better With You

The penthouse was too quiet.
Too big. Too cold. Too still.

Lena didn’t like admitting it—not to herself, and certainly not to anyone else—but without Kara there, the silence gnawed at her. It echoed through the halls and hung in the air like a weight pressing down on her chest. The space they’d built into a home felt hollow, stripped of something essential.

She hadn't really slept since Kara left three days ago.

Kara had been called away to help with a breach—another multiverse-level crisis on Earth-2 that required the combined strength of the Arrowverse’s best. Lena didn’t know all the details. Kara never shared everything, not because she didn’t trust her, but because she wanted to spare her the burden. Lena let her go every time because she knew Kara had to, even if each goodbye stretched tighter than the last.

She’d smiled when Kara kissed her farewell. Told her to be safe. She promised she’d hold things down until she got back.

But as soon as Kara was gone, something inside her began to unravel.

****

On the fourth morning, Lena stepped into L-Corp dressed to kill: sleek black dress, sharp heels, and lipstick the color of blood. Her hair was twisted up immaculately, her posture unyielding. But she moved slower than usual. Her grip on her coffee was unsteady. Her focus kept slipping.

Jess glanced up from her desk and blinked.

“You look like death, Miss Luthor.”

Lena gave a tight smile. “Just haven’t been sleeping.”

Jess’s look softened. “She’ll be back soon.”

Lena only nodded and disappeared into her office, shutting the door before her expression cracked.

The day passed in a blur of meetings and emails. Lena kept her head down, drowning in work, driving herself forward on adrenaline and sheer stubbornness. But in the quiet spaces between distractions, Kara’s absence screamed in the back of her mind.

****

That night, the city glowed outside the penthouse windows. Lena stepped into the darkened apartment, dropped her purse on the entry table, and stood still, her body unmoving while her eyes scanned the familiar layout.

Two mugs sat on the kitchen counter. A blanket lay crumpled on the couch. Kara’s slippers remained by the bed.

Everything looked the same. But none of it felt like home.

Lena didn’t turn the lights on. She moved to the couch, sank into the cushions, and curled toward the window, her legs tucked beneath her. The skyline sparkled against the glass, but it barely registered.

She just sat there—still, silent, frayed at the edges.

She was so damn tired. But her body refused to rest.

Because Lena didn’t just miss Kara—she needed her.

Kara was her calm, her rhythm, the thing that steadied her in the chaos. Without her, Lena felt unmoored, drifting further from herself with every hour that passed. Even when she closed her eyes and begged for sleep, her mind refused to slow. Kara had become the hum beneath her skin, the beat she moved in time with. Without her, Lena’s world felt off-kilter.

She didn’t hear the wind outside. But light flashed across the glass like a meteor streaking past.

A second later, the balcony door slid open with a faint whoosh, and Kara stepped inside.

Her boots vanished as her supersuit dissolved into cotton and bare feet. Her eyes scanned the apartment—searching, urgent—and then found Lena.

Kara’s heart clenched.

Lena looked like a ghost in the moonlight. Pale, motionless, her face drawn with exhaustion. Even across the room, Kara could see the toll the last few days had taken.

She barely had time to breathe before Lena stood up on shaky legs.

And then Lena moved—no hesitation, no words—just a desperate surge of motion as she crossed the floor and collapsed into Kara’s arms.

Kara caught her instantly, wrapping her up like she’d been waiting forever to do so. Lena clung with everything she had—arms locked around her shoulders, her face tucked into the crook of Kara’s neck, her body molded tightly against hers as though trying to crawl inside her skin.

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to.

Kara held her closer, burying her face in her hair and kissing the side of her head.

“Oh, baby,” she whispered, her voice fraying at the edges. “You’re exhausted.”

“I know,” Lena murmured, barely more than a breath.

Kara leaned back just enough to look at her—and it knocked the wind out of her.

Lena’s eyes were bloodshot. Her skin was pale. Her lips were dry. She looked like she hadn’t eaten, hadn’t rested, and hadn’t existed in her own body since the moment Kara left.

“You need to take care of yourself when I’m gone,” Kara said, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Lena’s eyes flicked up, her voice trembling. “I can’t sleep without you.”

The words hit Kara like a blow to the chest. "Lee."

Lena shook her head against her neck, her voice raw now, breaking open. “I try. I really do. But it’s like… My body doesn’t believe you’re coming back. I can’t shut off. I can’t stop thinking. I can’t breathe right. Not without you. I lie there, and I just… wait.”

Kara kissed her again—her cheeks, the corner of her mouth, the line of her jaw—kisses meant to soothe, to ground, to say, I’m here, without needing the words.

“I’ve got you,” she whispered, and in one smooth motion, she lifted Lena into her arms.

Lena didn’t resist. Her legs wrapped around Kara’s waist. Her arms clung tighter. She nuzzled into her neck like she’d finally found air again.

****

Kara carried her to the bedroom, nudging the door closed with her foot. She set Lena down on the mattress and climbed in beside her, pulling her close, their bodies tangling instantly in the way only muscle memory allows. Lena pressed against her chest, her ear finding Kara’s heartbeat like a compass returning to north.

Kara held her tight—one arm looped under Lena’s shoulders, the other hand stroking slowly down her back.

“Rest now, my love,” Kara murmured.

“I can’t breathe without you,” Lena whispered.

Kara kissed her forehead. “You can,” she said gently. "You're stronger than you think, sweetheart."

Lena let out a shaky exhale, and for the first time in days, it didn’t feel like it would break her apart. Her limbs began to loosen. The tension in her back melted into the bed. Her grip on Kara’s shirt relaxed, her hand resting against her chest instead.

Her breathing slowed.

Her heartbeat steadied.

Wrapped in Kara’s arms, pressed to the one person who could reach past every wall she’d ever built, Lena finally began to sleep.

Kara stayed awake longer, watching her. Memorizing the curve of her lips, the way her brow softened with each passing breath, and the quiet peace that returned to her features as sleep took hold.

She kissed her again, slow and quiet, right above her brow.

“I’ll always come home to you,” she whispered.

And with Lena in her arms, Kara finally closed her eyes, too.

Because this was home.
This was love.
And it was everything.

Chapter 30: Cue the Explosions, Between My Legs

The first firework cracked across the sky just as Lena let her head fall back with a soft, breathy moan.

Kara didn’t even glance at the window.

She was too focused—lips sealed around the inside of Lena’s thigh, tongue dragging slow, deliberate heat up toward the ache between her legs. Her hands gripped Lena’s hips like they were the only anchor she needed, keeping her in place, holding her steady as her mouth worked with maddening precision.

“God, Kara,” Lena gasped, nails digging into the leather of the couch. “The view—”

“I have the best view in the city,” Kara murmured, her voice thick with want, eyes locked on the wet heat just inches from her mouth. “And it’s right here.”

She dipped back down, licking a stripe through Lena’s folds that made her hips buck up into Kara’s face. Kara groaned, one arm sliding under Lena’s thigh to hold her still as she buried her tongue deeper, licking like she was starving—like this was the only thing that had ever mattered.

Another firework exploded behind the floor-to-ceiling windows—blue and gold blooming wide—but Lena’s eyes rolled back in her head for an entirely different reason.

“Kara—fuck, oh—don’t stop—”

That was the last thing Kara intended to do. She sucked hard on Lena’s clit, then eased off just enough to speak, voice husky and rough. “You taste so good, baby. Been thinking about this all day.”

She slid two fingers inside—slow, slick, and deep—and Lena shattered.

Her hips surged off the couch, thighs trembling against Kara’s shoulders, a desperate whimper caught in her throat as Kara fucked her with slow, purposeful strokes, her tongue working in tandem. It was too much. It was everything.

Lena was unraveling—quick, helpless, beautiful.

The fireworks raged on behind them, but Kara never looked up. She didn’t need the sky when Lena was coming apart beneath her hands.

She curled her fingers just right—just that perfect press—and Lena cried out, high and sharp and ruined.

“Kara!”

It hit her in waves. Legs shaking. Heart pounding. Back arched. Her entire body tensed and then collapsed against the couch, chest heaving, hair damp with sweat.

Kara crawled up her body slowly, like a cat stalking prey, and kissed her hard—deep and messy, letting Lena taste herself on her lips.

“Still want to watch the fireworks?” Kara whispered against her mouth, breathless and smug.

Lena let out a hoarse laugh, tugging Kara fully on top of her, their bare legs tangling.

“No,” she rasped, pulling her in for another kiss. “I already saw stars.”

And Kara grinned against her mouth—already thinking about round two.

_______

Another firework cracked outside—bright white bursting into red against the night sky—but Kara didn’t see it.

She couldn’t even think straight.

Lena had her spread out on the cool sheets of the bed, windows wide open, the sound of the city celebration echoing in the background—but all Kara could hear was her own breathing and the low, wicked sound of Lena's voice against her skin.

“You’re trembling,” Lena murmured, lips brushing just above the waistband of Kara’s panties. “Is it the fireworks, darling? Or me?”

Kara arched, breath catching. “You know damn well it’s you.”

Lena smirked, dark and satisfied, and slowly dragged Kara’s panties down her legs—kissing as she went, licking the inside of her thighs like a promise and a threat. Her hair tickled Kara’s skin, but it was her mouth that burned.

Kara was already soaking, already panting—and Lena hadn’t even touched her where she really wanted it yet.

“God, Lena, please—”

“Oh, we’re begging tonight?” Lena teased, licking a slow line up her inner thigh. “Go on then. I want to hear it.”

Kara whimpered, hips lifting. “Please touch me. Please.”

Lena gave her what she wanted—but not all at once.

She kissed her first. Just a kiss. Then another. Then her tongue—slow, torturous flicks—until Kara’s hands were fisting the sheets and her hips were grinding helplessly toward that perfect mouth.

Lena wrapped her arms around Kara’s thighs, holding her down, keeping her right there as she buried her tongue deep and sucked hard on Kara’s clit.

Kara’s back arched off the bed with a broken cry.

“Fuck—Lena—don’t stop, don’t stop—”

Lena didn’t.

She devoured her—ruthless, messy, hungry. Her mouth worked with practiced perfection, licking and sucking like she meant to leave Kara wrecked for days. And then—then—she slipped two fingers inside, crooking them just right.

Kara screamed.

It tore out of her—raw, filthy, primal. She shook apart against Lena’s mouth, thighs clamping around her head, hands flying to her hair like she needed something—anything—to hold on to while her entire body shattered.

Fireworks exploded outside—colors lighting up the room in flickers of red, white, and blue—but Kara’s vision had already gone white.

She came with Lena’s name on her lips, over and over, breathless and beautiful and utterly undone.

And Lena didn’t stop until Kara went boneless beneath her, twitching from overstimulation, gasping for air.

She kissed her way up Kara’s trembling body, licking the taste of her off her lips, and straddled her waist, eyes dark and smug.

“Happy Fourth of July, baby,” she whispered, voice thick with satisfaction. “You sparkled.”

Kara just stared at her, dazed and breathless.

“Round two?” Lena added, already kissing her again.

Kara groaned.

“Light me the fuck up.”

Chapter 31: I See It. I Want It. I Got Her.

Lena Luthor never begged.

She didn’t wait. She didn’t pine. She didn’t ask.

She took.

With money. With power. With ruthless precision. Lena was a woman who bent the world until it broke beautifully in her hands.

She’d conquered industries, toppled empires, and built her kingdom from steel, intellect, and fire.

But now?

Now Lena Luthor wanted Kara Danvers—and she was going to have her.

She didn’t have to say it. Kara felt it in every smoldering glance, in every brush of Lena’s fingers that lingered a heartbeat too long. In the way her voice wrapped around Kara’s name like it belonged in silk sheets and whispered promises.

Lena didn’t chase. Lena claimed.

And tonight, Kara felt it in her bones—she had been chosen.

****

It began innocently enough. A gala. Another black-tie fundraiser Lena pretended to care about. She arrived in emerald silk—tailored within an inch of sin. Kara wore powder blue—simple, soft, and open-backed. Meant to blend in.

But she never stood a chance.

Not under Lena’s gaze—dark, slow, deliberate. Undressing her across the room. Owning her without a word.

Then a congressman leaned in. Too close. Laughing at his own jokes.

Kara smiled politely. Laughed softly.

And Lena moved.

Not out of jealousy—but certainty.

She stepped in, her palm gliding down Kara’s bare spine like she was already memorizing it. Her breath brushed the shell of Kara’s ear.

“She’s with me.”

Kara’s body jolted. The congressman turned pale and vanished like he’d never existed.

Kara spun to face her, flushed and breathless. “Lena…”

Lena’s eyes dragged down her body like a slow burn. “I’m done pretending.”

She leaned in, her voice low and intoxicating. “You’ve been mine for a long time, sweetheart. I just think it’s time everyone else knows it.”

Kara’s heart skipped. “You—Lena—”

Lena’s hand slid lower, cupping Kara’s ass with a grip that was all ownership. “You don’t want me?”

The challenge crackled between them.

Kara whimpered, “I do.”

“Good,” Lena purred, her voice like silk dragged over skin. “Because I see it. I like it. I want it.”

She licked the corner of Kara’s mouth, smug and slow.

“And now, darling? I got it.”

And then she kissed her.

Not soft. Not sweet.

Possession.

Tongue. Teeth. Hunger. Lena kissed like she was claiming a prize, and Kara melted into her, helpless. By the time they parted, Kara’s lipstick was gone, her pupils blown, and her thighs pressed tightly together.

“Lena,” Kara gasped, “we’re in public.”

Lena arched a brow. “You wore that dress and thought I’d behave? You knew exactly what you were doing.”

Kara didn’t argue.

Lena’s hand lingered at the base of her spine, possessive and greedy. “Elevator. Now.”

****

The moment the doors shut, Lena pounced.

She kissed Kara like she meant to break her apart and piece her back together. Tongues tangled. Teeth grazed. Kara’s back slammed against the mirrored wall, a moan caught in her throat.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Lena rasped, trailing hot kisses down her neck. “You walk into my life all sunshine and righteousness—and all I could think about was ruining you.”

Kara whimpered, her fingers twisting in Lena’s dress. “Then take me.”

“Oh, baby.” Lena’s grin turned feral. “That was the plan the moment I saw you.”

She shoved a thigh between Kara’s legs and ground upward. Kara gasped, her body arching to meet it.

“So eager. So wet. All for me.”

Kara nodded frantically. “Always for you.”

“Say it.”

“I’m yours.”

Lena’s eyes darkened. “Damn right you are.”

****

They didn’t make it to the bed.

Lena kicked the penthouse door closed and spun Kara against the nearest wall.

The dress was gone in seconds.

Kara was a vision—golden skin, flushed and begging, her breath catching as Lena kissed down her chest. Her bra barely existed before Lena pulled it down, taking a nipple between her teeth until Kara screamed.

“Mine,” Lena growled.

“Yours,” Kara sobbed, her legs locking around Lena’s waist.

“You’ll always be,” Lena promised, dragging down Kara’s soaked panties and thrusting two fingers inside her like she’d been waiting years.

Kara arched with a broken cry. “Fuck—Lena—”

“That’s it,” Lena breathed, mouth pressed to Kara’s neck. “Take it. Let me wreck you.”

Her fingers moved in a relentless rhythm. Her thumb circled Kara’s clit with expert pressure. Kara clung to her, sobbing her name like a mantra, her body shattering again and again.

But Lena wasn’t done.

Not until Kara was trembling. Oversensitive. Owned.

She stripped, finally, bare and radiant in the low light. Kara, sprawled on the bed, reached for her like salvation.

“Please,” she whispered. “I need you.”

Lena climbed over her, straddling Kara’s thigh, slick against slick, grinding in slow, cruel rolls.

“Beg for it.”

“I need you. I need to be yours.”

Lena smiled like a wolf.

“You already are.”

She thrust against her, and both of them came hard—shaking, moaning, writhing. Sweat-slick. Tangled. Ruined.

Owned.

****

Later, Kara lay limp and blissed-out, her head on Lena’s chest.

“So…” she mumbled. “You always get what you want, huh?”

Lena ran her fingers through her curls, smug and soft. “Always.”

Kara smiled lazily. “Even me?”

“Especially you.”

“You’re insatiable.”

“You haven’t seen Insatiable yet.”

Kara giggled—then winced. “I can’t move.”

“Perfect,” Lena whispered, brushing her lips along Kara’s shoulder. “That means I did it right.”

Kara sighed, eyes fluttering closed. “You claimed me.”

Lena’s voice was a purr against her skin. “No, darling. I own you.”

And Kara—sweet, superpowered, indestructible Kara—smiled like she’d never been happier to be had.

Because Lena Luthor saw her.

Wanted her.

Took her.

And now?

Now she had her.

Forever.

Chapter 32: The Girl Behind the Counter

Summary:

AU universe

The little coffee shop on the corner of 12th and Maddox didn’t look like much from the outside—just a rust-red awning faded from sun and rain, a crooked chalkboard sign that changed daily with ridiculous puns like You Mocha Me Crazy and Better Latte Than Never. Half the letters were smudged by the breeze or a careless shoulder, but it never failed to make Lena smile, even if only on the inside.

She had discovered the place by accident—ducking in from a downpour with her phone dead and a headache blooming behind her eyes. She didn’t expect much. Probably weak coffee and too-loud music. A distracted teenager behind the counter and bitter espresso that would sit like regret in her stomach.

What she found instead was comfort.

Not just the physical kind—the kind that seeped into her skin and settled beneath her ribs. It was in the worn couches in the corner, in the mismatched mugs on the wall behind the register, in the low hum of conversation that filled the space without ever becoming overwhelming.

And then there was Kara.

The first time Lena saw her, she was laughing. Laughing at something a coworker had said—head thrown back, dimples on full display, blonde ponytail bouncing as she leaned against the counter like she belonged there more than the espresso machine ever could.

It was disarming.

Kara.

That was the name on the hand-stitched name tag pinned slightly crooked to her apron. That was the name the regulars used, the one the other baristas called out with easy affection. That was the name Lena couldn’t stop saying in her head as she sipped her latte and watched the girl behind the counter scribble something—maybe a doodle, maybe a quote—on the cup of the next person in line.

Lena didn’t do coffee shops.

She didn’t do routines.

She definitely didn’t do blushing, flustered, overthinking glances at girls who smiled at everyone but somehow made her feel like she was the only one in the room.

And yet—she came back. The next day. And the one after.

After the third visit, Kara remembered her order.

By the fifth, she asked how Lena’s week had been and meant it.

By the seventh, Lena realized she hadn’t even tasted the coffee before her heart sped up the moment Kara looked at her.

She was addicted. But not to caffeine.

Kara always made her drinks personally, even when there were three other baristas behind the counter and Kara wasn’t technically on register. Always with a smile. Always with a little flourish of foam art that made Lena’s lips twitch in amusement.

It started with simple hearts. Then came flowers. Once, there was what Lena swore looked like a cat wearing glasses. Every cup was a love letter in steamed milk.

“I think this one is blushing,” Lena said one morning, lifting the cup and tilting it so Kara could see the heart outlined in blush-pink sugar crystals.

Kara’s face bloomed red instantly. “Maybe it’s inspired by someone.”

Lena raised a brow. “Is that so?”

Kara ducked her head, suddenly focused on wiping an already clean counter. “Just a theory.”

After that, it became ritual.

Every morning, Lena would arrive—precisely 8:07, always in black, always in heels. Kara would glance up from whatever she was doing and light up like Lena was the sun breaking through the clouds. They would talk. Laugh. Flirt in the safest, most disarming way Lena had ever known.

And she kept coming back.

Not for the coffee. Not even for the art.

For her.

Then, one overcast Wednesday afternoon, Lena arrived later than usual. The shop was quieter, the end-of-day lull settling in. Kara was still behind the counter, hair a little mussed, sleeves pushed up her arms.

She handed Lena her usual—oat milk cappuccino, cinnamon dusted just so, an artful heart spiraling at the edges of the foam like it was turning in on itself.

But there was something else tucked beneath the sleeve.

A note.

Lena paused. Slid it out.

Would you maybe want to go out sometime?

The handwriting was a little crooked. The ink slightly smudged.

Lena looked up.

Kara stood a few feet away, biting her bottom lip, nervous and bright-eyed and completely exposed. Her fingers were twisting the end of her apron, and she looked ready to flee or faint or both.

Lena smiled. A real one. The kind that softened her whole face and made her feel sixteen again.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

****

Their first date felt like exhaling.

They walked through the park, eating gelato and comparing flavors. Kara went for mint chocolate chip and got brain freeze. Lena went for hazelnut and smirked the whole time like she’d just discovered a weakness and had every intention of filing it away for future use.

They talked for hours. Not just the easy things—movies, books, favorite late-night snacks—but real things, too. Family. Loneliness. The strange ache of feeling like you’re always performing for the world and never being fully seen.

And somehow, Kara saw her.

That truth settled in Lena's chest like heat. Like a key turning in a lock she hadn’t realized was there.

They reached a quiet stretch of the park—just trees and lamp-lit pathways, the night wrapped around them like a held breath. Kara’s hand brushed hers. Light. Testing.

Lena didn’t let go.

She intertwined their fingers instead—steady, sure. And the way Kara looked at her when she did… God. Like Lena had given her something precious. Like this tiny thing, this connection between palms, was the beginning of something neither of them had dared to name until now.

They stopped walking somewhere near a fountain, where the water spilled in graceful arcs and everything felt suspended in time. Kara turned to face her, eyes searching, lit up by the gold wash of the streetlamp above them.

Lena had kissed her fair share of women. She knew the choreography—knew how to lean in, how to flirt, how to charm with just a glance. But standing there, with Kara looking at her like that, all the practiced moves vanished. All she could feel was her heart, pounding too loud in her chest. All she could see was the way Kara’s lips parted just slightly, the way her breath caught like maybe—just maybe—she was feeling it too.

“Can I—” Kara started, her voice barely more than a whisper, filled with nerves and hope.

“Yes,” Lena said, before she could overthink it.

And then Kara kissed her.

It wasn’t perfect—not at first. Their noses bumped, and Kara let out the softest, most endearing laugh against Lena’s mouth. But then their lips fit together like they were always meant to. Kara kissed like she meant it. Like she’d thought about it. Like she’d imagined this moment and now that it was real, she was going to feel every second of it.

Lena melted into it.

Because Kara kissed her like she wasn’t afraid to be vulnerable. Like Lena wasn’t someone to conquer or impress—but someone to savor. Someone to hold.

Lena had kissed women who knew what they were doing. But no one had ever kissed her like they were trying to learn her.

Kara did.

Her hands cradled Lena’s face, fingertips brushing her jaw with a reverence that made Lena’s eyes sting. Her mouth moved slowly—curious, tender—like she wasn’t in a rush. Like she wanted to remember the exact shape of Lena’s lips, the way she sighed into the kiss, the way her hands curled around Kara’s waist and held on.

And Lena?

She gave in.

She let the kiss open her, let it pull her deeper—tongues brushing, breath shared. She tilted her head, parted her lips, kissed Kara back with a hunger she hadn’t expected to feel for someone who made her feel this safe.

It was careful, but it burned.

When they finally pulled back, they didn’t move far. Lena’s forehead rested against Kara’s, both of them breathing hard, lips still inches apart.

Kara was smiling, and Lena—Lena was stunned.

Not because she didn’t expect to like it.

But because she hadn’t expected to feel it. Not like this. Not in her bones. Not in the quiet places she kept hidden.

She swallowed. “That felt like…”

Kara’s eyes searched hers, “Like what?”

“Like something I didn’t know I was missing until just now.”

Kara smiled—tender, a little awed—and leaned in to press her forehead to Lena’s. “You make everything feel different. Better.”

Lena closed her eyes, her hands still resting lightly on Kara’s waist. “I don’t want this to be a moment,” she murmured. “I want it to be the start of something.”

“It already is,” Kara whispered.

Lena tilted her head and kissed her again—slower, deeper, with a kind of reverence that made Kara sigh into her mouth like she never wanted to stop.

And later that night, when Lena lay in bed with the city quiet beyond her windows, she touched her lips and smiled.

Not because she’d been kissed.

But because, for the first time in a long time, she felt like she was finally falling toward something real.

****

A week later, it was nearly midnight when Kara texted her:

The shop’s closed. Come over. I want to show you how to make your drink the right way.

Lena didn’t bother to reply. She was already slipping into jeans and pulling her hair up, throwing on her leather jacket as if her body had been waiting for an excuse to be near Kara again. Ten minutes later, she was standing in front of the darkened storefront, the city humming quietly around her.

Inside, the shop glowed like a secret—just the low overhead lights and the amber wash from the espresso machine’s display. Kara was behind the counter, hair in a messy bun, flour dusted across the front of her apron like she’d been doing something completely unrelated before Lena had said yes.

The moment Kara saw her, she smiled like she’d been holding her breath and could finally exhale.

Lena stepped in, letting the door swing shut behind her. The air was thick with the scent of roasted beans, vanilla syrup, and something that smelled like cinnamon and longing.

“I’m not built for manual labor,” Lena warned dryly, tugging off her jacket and draping it over a stool. “If you expect me to grind beans and get grinds in my manicure, we’re going to have words.”

Kara laughed and crossed the space to meet her, holding out a black apron like a peace offering. “You’ll survive,” she said, eyes dancing. “And I promise, you’ll be the cutest barista who’s ever set foot in here.”

Lena raised a sculpted brow as she took the apron, slowly tying it around her waist. “You flirt like it’s your job.”

Kara took a step closer, until Lena could feel the heat radiating off her skin. “I work in customer service,” she murmured, eyes flicking briefly to Lena’s mouth. “And you’re my favorite customer.”

Lena tried to hold on to her composure, but it unraveled the second Kara touched her hand—steady, deliberate—pulling her toward the espresso machine. Kara didn’t let go as she positioned her behind the counter, standing so close Lena could feel her heartbeat through her shirt.

Kara reached for the milk pitcher and placed it in Lena’s hand. Her own slid around Lena’s, her body flush against Lena’s back, arms circling her waist to guide her movements. Lena felt every breath Kara took, unhurried and deep, lips brushing the shell of her ear as she spoke.

“Now swirl the pitcher,” Kara said, her voice low, intoxicating. “Feel that texture? That’s the magic.”

“Uh-huh,” Lena breathed, trying—and failing—not to shiver as Kara’s fingers slid up her arms like a whisper. It wasn’t just about coffee anymore. Not even close.

Kara turned her slightly, still close enough to kiss, her smile teasing but charged. “You’re a natural.”

“You’re distracting,” Lena replied, her voice lower now, laced with something molten. But she was smiling too.

“Am I?” Kara whispered.

And that was it. The moment burst like a dam breaking.

Lena surged forward just as Kara leaned in—mouths meeting in a kiss that erased everything else. No more espresso machines, no more lessons. Just lips and heat and wanting.

Lena’s hands fumbled for Kara’s apron, yanking her in by the ties, desperate to close every inch of space between them. Kara moaned into her mouth, her fingers threading into Lena’s hair as the kiss deepened—hungry, slow, and unrelenting. Their bodies pressed together, the metal edge of the counter digging into Lena’s back, but neither of them cared.

Kara’s hands slipped under Lena’s shirt, sliding over the bare skin of her spine—sure, reverent. Lena gasped into her mouth, teeth grazing Kara’s lower lip before she kissed her deeper, messier.

“You’re going to ruin me for every barista,” Lena managed between kisses, her voice breathless.

“You’re already ruined,” Kara murmured, her mouth trailing kisses down Lena’s jaw, her throat, the hollow of her collarbone. “You show up every day for heart-shaped foam. Don’t lie to me.”

Lena laughed—a low, breathy sound that turned into another gasp as Kara’s teeth scraped lightly against her neck. “Shut up and kiss me again.”

They stumbled back, half-walking, half-collapsing into the back room—the old worn couch creaking under their weight as they fell into it. Aprons tangled, fingers tugged at buttons, mouths never staying apart for more than a second.

Lena had never been kissed like this—like she was both wanted and cherished, like someone couldn’t decide whether to worship her or devour her. Kara kissed her like she knew every crack in her armor and loved her more for it.

They made a mess.

A beautiful, sinful, cinnamon-sweet mess of kisses and touches and heat that simmered into something heady and real.

They didn’t make coffee that night.

Not really.

But they made something just as strong.

****

Later, nestled together in the quiet of the shop’s back room, Lena rested against Kara’s chest, her fingers drawing idle patterns just beneath the hem of Kara’s shirt. The air buzzed with the scent of espresso and cinnamon, and the hum of the refrigerator filled the silence between kisses.

Lena shifted slightly, brushing her lips against Kara’s neck. “Tell me the truth,” she murmured. “Do you always drag your customers into storage closets and kiss them breathless?”

Kara’s laugh vibrated against her skin. “Only the beautiful, brilliant ones who make me forget how to steam milk properly.”

Lena huffed a quiet laugh and tilted her face up to meet Kara’s gaze. “Good answer.”

They stayed there a while longer, limbs tangled, the world muted around them. But eventually, Kara glanced at the wall clock and let out a reluctant sigh.

“As much as I’d love to keep kissing you here until sunrise…” she brushed a strand of hair from Lena’s cheek, “...this room is not exactly five-star accommodations.”

Lena raised a brow. “I don’t know, there’s a certain charm to it. Broken shelves, industrial lighting, the faint smell of burnt coffee beans…”

Kara smirked, but her eyes were full of affection. “I was thinking maybe… you could come back to my place.”

Lena’s breath hitched—not from nerves, but anticipation. “Yeah?”

Kara nodded, a little shy all of a sudden. “I’ll make you coffee in the morning. Real coffee. No crooked foam hearts. Okay, maybe a little crooked. But made just for you.”

Lena smiled so wide it ached.

Kara hesitated, then gave a shy little shrug, voice softer now. “I was thinking maybe... I could make coffee for my girlfriend in the morning.”

Lena didn’t miss a beat.

She stepped in, eyes bright, hands sliding into Kara’s back pockets like she already belonged there. “You could start tonight,” she whispered, and kissed her—slow and sure, like a yes sealed with lips.

Then they rose together, hands clasped as they stepped out into the quiet street, the first hints of dawn curling over the city skyline.

And though the shop door locked behind them, something else had opened—wide and electric and impossible to ignore.

Kisses in the dark. Coffee in the morning. Something real.

Chapter 33: The People Who Love Her Most

The smell of burnt popcorn filled Kara’s apartment.

“You said you knew how to use a microwave,” Lena said, nose wrinkling as she opened the kitchen window.

“I do,” Alex called defensively, yanking the smoking bag out and tossing it in the sink. “That was just... bad popcorn.”

“That was user error,” Lena replied, fanning smoke away from the alarm. “It says two minutes on the bag. You put it in for five.”

“I like it extra crispy!”

Kara, standing in front of the smoke detector with a dishtowel, sighed. “You set it to potato, Alex. The popcorn button is literally right there.”

“Oh, sure,” Alex muttered. “Now you’re microwave experts.”

Lena arched a brow. “Kara owns maybe three kitchen appliances, and two of them are decorative. This is the hill you want to die on?”

From the couch, Kara huffed. “That microwave’s been with me since college. It’s practically family.”

“It hums like it’s possessed,” Lena said.

“It’s charming!”

Alex held up the scorched bag. “It tried to kill the popcorn.”

Kara waved smoke toward the open window. “Okay, popcorn murder aside, can we just agree that Alex isn’t allowed near my microwave unsupervised anymore?”

“I was trying to help,” Alex muttered.

“By setting off the fire alarm,” Lena said. “Truly heroic.”

“Okay, Miss Luthor,” Alex shot back. “Forgive me for not being a billionaire scientist with a fridge that makes mood-specific playlists.”

Lena smirked, grabbing another bag and tossing it at her. “Two minutes. Not a second more.”

Alex caught it one-handed. “Yes, ma’am.”

Kara just smiled. This was her chaos—and she wouldn’t trade it for the world.

****

Alex and Lena exchanged a look. It was the kind of look Kara had come to fear—and, strangely, love. A shared language of raised eyebrows and half-smirks that only developed between two people who had united for a common cause.

And that cause was her.

Kara sighed dramatically and flopped onto the couch next to Alex. “You’re both monsters.”

“No,” Alex said, reaching for the bottle of wine on the coffee table. “We’re just the smarter halves of your relationships.”

“That makes no sense,” Kara argued.

Lena leaned over the back of the couch and handed her a wine glass. “It absolutely does. I’m your girlfriend. Alex is your sister. We’ve seen behind the curtain.”

“Exactly,” Alex added. “Like that time you tried to sneak an entire pie into the DEO by stuffing it under your shirt. We saw.”

“I was hungry!”

Lena sat down on Kara’s other side, wine in hand. Kara took her glass, still scowling.

“I think it’s sweet that you thought that would work,” Lena added.

Kara squinted at both of them over the rim of her glass. “When did you two become so... coordinated?”

Alex leaned back, smirking. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the third time we both had to talk you out of launching yourself into space without a plan?”

“Or the night you said you didn’t need backup and nearly got vaporized by a lightning cannon,” Lena added.

“Or the very famous ‘Kara can definitely pull an alien parasite off herself’ incident,” Alex said with a mock flourish.

Kara groaned. “Okay, okay. I get it. I am... occasionally reckless.”

“Pathologically,” Alex offered.

“Impulsively,” Lena echoed.

“Emotionally,” Alex continued.

Kara threw a pillow at both of them. “You guys are the worst.”

They burst into laughter, the kind that filled every corner of the room. Kara hated how much she loved it. Not just the sound, but what it meant.

She’d been afraid at first—really afraid. Her sister was the the most important person in her life, and Lena... Lena was everything. The idea of the two of them not getting along had haunted her more than any alien invasion.

But instead of tension, there was teasing. Instead of competition, there was camaraderie. They’d bonded instantly, to her simultaneous joy and complete mortification.

It didn’t help that both of them were frighteningly smart, or that they seemed to derive great joy from comparing notes—often about her.

“Hey,” Kara said after a beat, nestling deeper into the couch cushions. “You guys ever think about how weird this all is?”

Alex tilted her head. “What part?”

“I mean—” Kara gestured between them. “Lena Luthor and Alex Danvers. Sitting on my couch. Teaming up to bully me.”

“Affectionately,” Lena corrected.

“Supportively,” Alex said.

“Strategically,” Lena added.

“Okay, now you’re rehearsing,” Kara muttered.

“We meet weekly,” Alex deadpanned.

“Oh my god.”

Lena leaned in and kissed Kara’s cheek. “We just love you.”

She followed it with a kiss to Kara’s hand, fingers curling around hers.

Alex slapped her knee. “And we’re never letting you forget it.”

Kara blinked, caught in the middle of their affection, helpless to resist smiling even as she groaned again.

“You love it,” Alex said.

Lena's thumb brushing lazily along the back. “You get to have the people who love you most in the same room.”

Kara paused, eyes drifting to their intertwined fingers. “Yeah,” she said, voice quieter now. “I really do.”

Alex noticed the shift and nudged Kara’s shoulder. “You’ve got a good thing going, Supergirl.”

Kara smiled back, heart full. “Yeah. I really do.”

There was a pause—comfortable, familiar. The kind of silence that didn’t need to be filled.

****

Then Alex broke it.

“So, about game night next week—”

“Oh no,” Kara groaned. “Don’t tell me you’re planning that again.”

“What?” Alex said innocently. “Charades was fun.”

“Charades was a disaster. Lena guessed you were ‘Kryptonian with menstrual cramps’ after two seconds.”

“In my defense,” Lena interjected, “you made a very dramatic face.”

“Because you threw out your back during round one!”

Alex pointed at her wine glass. “That was the bourbon talking.”

“You tripped over the foot stool,” Kara said flatly.

Lena was trying very hard not to laugh. “I’m just saying. I’d rather play that again than sit through another viewing of Sharknado 3.”

“It’s a classic,” Kara insisted.

“It’s a war crime,” Alex countered.

“I need new people,” Kara mumbled.

Alex looped an arm around her shoulders. “You’re stuck with us.”

Lena leaned in on her other side. “Forever.”

She kissed Kara’s cheek again, lingering a second longer this time.

Kara blinked at both of them, caught between exasperation and that deep, anchoring joy that came from being loved like this—teased and known and held all at once.

She wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“Fine,” she muttered, wrapping her arms around both of them. “But next time, I get to pick the game.”

“Deal,” Alex said.

“Absolutely,” Lena agreed.

Kara narrowed her eyes. “No sarcasm.”

They both looked suspiciously innocent.

She didn’t believe them for a second.

But that was okay.

They were hers. Her sister. Her girlfriend. Her people.

Chapter 34: I Own You. Act Like It.

The rooftop party pulsed with music, a string quartet playing something upbeat and polished in the background while servers weaved through with trays of champagne. The city skyline glittered behind Lena as she stood near the edge of the gathering, laughing at something one of the board members said—some charming British man with a little too much product in his hair and way too much interest in her.

He wasn’t the first.

Kara stood across the space, her champagne flute untouched, the bubbling liquid slowly going flat between her fingers as she stared. Her gaze had rarely left Lena all night. Not because she didn’t trust her—of course she did—but because apparently no one else knew Lena was spoken for. Or maybe they did and just didn’t care.

First, it had been the CFO from LuthorCorp’s London office, murmuring something in Lena’s ear that made her laugh. Then the CEO of an energy conglomerate had sidled up behind her, placing his hand a little too low on her back while pretending to point out some obscure building in the skyline. Lena had shifted away politely, as she always did, but Kara had seen it. The way his eyes lingered. The way he looked at her—like he knew he couldn’t have her but wanted to try anyway.

And now? Now this guy—Board Member Number Three—was practically preening for her attention, holding court like he had a shot in hell. He leaned in, closer than necessary, his arm brushing hers as he handed her a second glass of champagne, even though her first was still full.

Kara’s jaw flexed.

Lena accepted the drink with polite ease, ever the diplomat. Her smile was practiced, charming, the kind she reserved for social events like these—professional but just warm enough to keep people wrapped around her finger. She was a natural at this, always had been. But that didn’t make it any easier to watch.

Kara’s stomach churned with something sharp. Jealousy. Possessiveness. A primal urge to fly across the rooftop and remind everyone exactly who Lena belonged to.

She didn’t move. Not yet. But her grip tightened around the champagne flute in her hand.

The man leaned in again, whispering something into Lena’s ear. Lena tilted her head, humoring him with a raised brow, but Kara saw the flicker in her expression. She was uncomfortable. Annoyed. Trapped.

And still, she played nice.

Kara’s thumb pressed into the crystal stem of her glass.

Another man joined the group—a younger one this time, maybe in his late twenties, with a sharp jawline and the cocksure attitude of someone used to getting what he wanted. He slid in effortlessly, offering Lena a wink and a smile that Kara wanted to knock off his face. He didn’t even try subtlety. His eyes dragged down Lena’s body like it was his goddamn right.

That was it.

The stem snapped between Kara’s fingers with a sharp crack.

A few people near her turned at the sound, startled, but Kara quickly masked the broken glass with a napkin, her expression neutral—too neutral. She’d cracked the glass clean in half like it was paper. Champagne dripped between her knuckles.

She needed to move. Now.

Kara set the ruined flute on a passing tray and stalked forward, threading through the crowd like a predator cutting through the brush. She didn’t care how it looked. Didn’t care if people noticed the sudden intensity in her walk, the purposeful gleam in her eyes. Her gaze was locked on Lena.

And Lena?

Lena clocked her instantly.

Her eyes flicked up mid-sentence, lips curling into a knowing, wicked smile like she felt the storm coming her way. Kara could see the amusement dancing behind her eyes. She knew Kara was seething. She knew she was being watched like prey.

And she was enjoying every second of it.

“Darling,” Lena purred, turning to face her fully. Her voice was silk, her tone just short of teasing. She held out her hand without hesitation, arm extended in invitation. “There you are.”

Kara didn’t waste a second.

She took Lena’s hand, fingers curling around it firmly, possessively. Then she stepped in close—closer than any of those other assholes had dared—and wrapped her arm around Lena’s waist, anchoring her like she was something Kara owned.

“Hey, love,” Kara murmured, the pet name a pointed declaration as much as anything else. Her eyes didn’t leave Lena’s, but she felt the energy shift around them. A hush. The board member stepped back. The young flirt’s smirk faltered.

Good.

Let them watch. Let them remember.

Lena leaned into her touch effortlessly, her body molding against Kara’s with natural ease like they belonged together—and they did. Her hand rose to rest lightly on Kara’s chest, fingers tracing the edge of her blazer, playful and knowing.

“Something wrong?” she asked, arching a brow.

Kara’s smile was all teeth. “Not anymore.”

****

The man looked startled, backing off slightly when Kara didn’t move aside. His bravado faded, replaced with something sheepish as he blinked at the two of them, then cleared his throat awkwardly. “Ah, I didn’t realize…”

“You do now,” Kara said, her voice still sweet but sharpened like a blade beneath the surface. There was no mistaking the steel in her tone. “She’s taken.”

Lena chuckled under her breath, not even trying to hide the amusement that lit up her features. She took a slow sip from her drink, eyes glittering with something dangerous and beautiful. Her body tilted subtly into Kara’s hold, but Kara could feel it—the tightness in Lena’s spine, the restraint in her poise. Every line of her was composed, but beneath it, Lena was burning just as much as Kara was.

She was playing with fire. And Kara was about two seconds from snapping.

“You were staring,” Lena murmured under her breath, her voice like smoke, smooth and heavy with intent. A new song drifted through the rooftop speakers—slower, sexier—and a waiter floated by with a tray of hors d’oeuvres that neither of them noticed.

“Can you blame me?” Kara’s voice was low and hungry. Her fingers flexed on Lena’s hip, gripping a little tighter, possessive. “You’re letting them think they have a chance.”

“I’m making connections,” Lena said, utterly unbothered, though her eyes said otherwise. They sparkled with mischief, knowing exactly what she was doing. “It’s a fundraiser, baby. These men fund the labs that let me save lives.”

“They also want to fuck you.”

Lena arched a brow at Kara’s bluntness, lips parting in faint surprise—but she didn’t look away. She didn’t flinch. Instead, she leaned in even closer, her lips brushing Kara’s ear as she whispered, “And you don’t?”

Kara’s jaw clenched so tight her molars ached. Her control was slipping fast.

Lena knew exactly what she was doing. The low-cut dress, the sharp heels, the way she let her laugh spill like champagne—measured, effortless, lethal. She was putting on a show, and Kara was the one being baited. Everyone else saw Lena as a fantasy.

Kara knew she was hers.

Another man approached—bold, grinning, his confidence practically oozing off him as he inserted himself into their orbit like he had every right. “Lena, you look…” His eyes dragged slowly, shamelessly down her body. “Absolutely radiant tonight.”

Lena didn’t skip a beat. She replied with a raised eyebrow, head tilted in polite amusement, but her tone was cooler now—measured. “How kind of you.”

But that didn’t matter.

Kara saw the way his gaze lingered, saw the way his breath hitched when Lena brushed her hair behind her ear, and saw the way he looked at her like she was something to own. Something to win.

Rage flashed white-hot behind Kara’s eyes.

That was it.

Kara didn’t need to speak.

Kara reached out and took Lena’s hand—firm, commanding. The movement startled Lena just enough that her glass slipped from her fingers, landing neatly on a nearby tray as a server passed by. She didn’t resist, not even a little, but her brows lifted, caught off guard as Kara pulled her with sharp, determined steps through the crowd.

Lena stumbled in her heels, catching her footing quickly, her free hand gathering the side of her dress as Kara practically marched her across the rooftop. The partygoers blurred around them, murmurs trailing in their wake.

“Kara—what are you—”

“I’ve had enough.”

Kara didn’t look back.

The possessiveness thrummed through her like electricity—hot, aching, clawing beneath her skin. She didn’t care how many people were watching. She didn’t care about the whispers. All she cared about was the way Lena’s skin burned under her palm, the way her pulse jumped where their hands met, and the way Lena followed her with breathless anticipation that only made Kara’s blood boil harder.

Kara’s heart pounded in her chest. She’d tried to be patient. She’d tried to smile and sip her champagne and trust that it would pass. But seeing those men swarm Lena like wolves, seeing Lena play her dangerous little game with all that fire in her eyes—it had lit something in Kara that she couldn’t smother anymore.

She needed Lena. Now.

And she was done pretending otherwise.

****

Before Lena could respond, Kara yanked her in, strong arms wrapping tight around her waist as wind whipped past them in a sharp whoosh. Lena barely had time to gasp before they were airborne, the rooftop shrinking beneath them. Her breath caught in her throat, a laugh tumbling out unbidden—half thrill, half disbelief—as the city turned into a blur of lights and motion.

“Kara—!” she tried, hair flying, nails digging lightly into Kara’s shoulders.

But Kara didn’t slow. She didn’t speak.

She just flew.

The wind kissed their skin as buildings streaked beneath them, their apartment rising into view in the distance like a beacon. Lena’s heart thundered in her chest, not from fear, not from the speed, but from the weight of Kara’s silence—hot and heavy and intense. She was being carried like a prize, like a possession. Like a woman who belonged to someone who wasn’t interested in sharing.

The second Kara’s feet hit the balcony, she shoved the doors open with a gust of air, still holding Lena tight. Kara carried her like a force of nature—straight inside, through the living room, like nothing else mattered.

“Kara,” Lena said breathlessly, arms tight around her neck. “You’re being dramatic.”

Kara didn’t answer.

She kissed her.

It was brutal—mouth crashing against Lena’s like she couldn’t get close enough. There was no hesitation, no teasing. Just need. It hit Lena like a match to dry kindling, her whole body arching into it, gasping into Kara’s mouth as they slammed against the hallway wall. Kara caged her there, one hand gripping her thigh, the other tangled in her hair.

“Mine,” Kara growled against her lips, the words scraping deep from her chest. “I own you.”

Lena moaned, her head tipping back against the wall. “Fuck.”

Kara pulled back just enough to lock eyes with her, and Lena swore the air left her lungs. Kara’s pupils were blown wide, blue sparking with fire.

“So act like it.”

Lena’s lips parted, breath caught somewhere between shock and arousal. Her pulse pounded beneath Kara’s hand.

She didn’t get a chance to respond.

Kara lifted her effortlessly—one arm under her thighs, the other behind her back—and carried her down the hall like Lena weighed nothing. The possessiveness in her movements, the tight grip, the dark fire in her gaze—it made Lena’s head spin.

Kara kicked the bedroom door open and dropped Lena onto the bed, following her down in one fluid, predatory movement. Her hands were already on the zipper of Lena’s dress.

It came off in seconds—not torn, not ruined, but peeled away with reverence and urgency, like Kara had waited all night and could finally breathe.

Lena lay back on the sheets, propped on her elbows, hair wild from the wind and Kara’s hands, chest rising and falling fast. Her eyes were dark and heavy-lidded, her mouth kiss-bitten, and her skin flushed. She looked utterly wrecked—and Kara hadn’t even touched her properly yet.

Kara’s gaze roamed her like a storm brewing—hungry, desperate, reverent. She crawled up Lena’s body, lips brushing her collarbone, her sternum, and the inside of her thigh.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” Kara whispered, dragging her mouth along Lena’s jaw. “Do you see the way they look at you?”

Lena arched, a hand sinking into Kara’s hair. “I see the way you look at me.”

“Damn right you do.”

And then Kara devoured her.

The kiss was rougher this time, open-mouthed and messy, tongues tangling as Kara’s hand slid down her stomach and between her legs. Lena broke apart the second Kara’s fingers touched her—her whole body jerking, a sharp cry escaping her lips. Kara caught it with her mouth, kissing her through it, not relenting for a second.

One hand pinned Lena’s wrist to the bed above her head while the other moved with punishing precision.

“You drive me insane,” Kara growled, her lips hot against Lena’s neck, biting down just enough to make her gasp. “Smiling at them like that.”

“I wasn’t—ah—smiling at them,” Lena panted, voice wrecked.

Kara thrust her fingers deeper. “Then who?”

Lena’s eyes fluttered open—blazing, raw. “You.”

Everything paused.

Kara stilled over her, chest heaving, eyes locked with Lena’s.

That was all it took.

The jealousy melted into something else—still possessive, but worshipful. Kara kissed her again, slower this time, as if apologizing for the anger, for the doubt. Her hands softened only slightly, the touch still intense but now steeped in love.

She didn’t stop until Lena shattered beneath her—hips jerking, mouth open in a silent scream, fingers clawing at Kara’s back as wave after wave took her apart.

Kara held her through all of it, whispering nothing and everything into her skin. I love you. Mine. Only mine.

By the time Lena collapsed against the mattress, she was trembling—legs twitching, cheeks flushed, lips parted around uneven breaths. Kara lay down beside her, drawing her close, wrapping her up in limbs and warmth.

Their skin was slick, hearts pounding. They didn’t speak for a while.

Kara traced lazy circles into Lena’s hip, nose buried in the curve of her neck.

“You okay?” she murmured eventually, brushing sweat-damp hair off Lena’s cheek.

Lena opened her eyes, glassy and dazed, and smiled like Kara had given her the world. “Better than okay.”

Kara grinned, wide and smug. “Good. Because next time someone so much as looks at you, I’m flying you out of there mid-sentence.”

Lena let out a hoarse laugh, tugging Kara in for a kiss. "Mmm… my fiercely jealous little alien."

“Yours.”

Lena kissed her again, slower this time. “Always.”

Chapter 35: Skin and Sin

The sun dipped low over the cliffs, casting the secluded cove in amber and shadow. Waves lapped lazily at the sand, the tide brushing against jagged rocks that formed a half-circle of privacy around the hidden beach. They’d found it purely by accident—Kara flying Lena along the coastline when she caught the glint of water tucked beneath the cliffs. And Lena, eyes gleaming with curiosity, had whispered, “Down there.”

That had been hours ago.

Now, the sun was sinking behind them, casting molten gold across Lena’s shoulders as she sat beside Kara on the sand. Their sandals were tossed nearby, half-buried in the dunes. Empty wine glasses leaned in the breeze. And Kara… was nervous.

Lena turned toward her, one brow arched in that knowing way—amused, intrigued, and trying not to let it show.

“What?” Kara asked, glancing sideways.

“You’re squirming.”

“I’m not squirming.”

“You’re absolutely squirming,” Lena murmured, brushing a kiss over her shoulder. “And I think I know why.”

Kara blinked. “You do?”

Lena’s smile curled wickedly. “Because I suggested skinny dipping.”

Kara opened her mouth. Closed it. Then laughed softly. “Okay. Maybe. I just… I’ve never—”

“Not even once?” Lena sat back on her heels, delighted.

“No! I mean—what if someone sees?”

“No one’s going to see.” Lena inched closer, folding her legs beneath her. “You said yourself—we’re miles from the nearest town. You did a full perimeter sweep. This place is ours.”

“I did, but—”

“Kara,” Lena purred, crawling forward, eyes flicking to where Kara’s thighs shifted in the sand. “You can literally break the sound barrier. But a little skinny dipping has you blushing?”

“I’m not blushing,” Kara muttered, even though she absolutely was.

Lena smirked. “Then you won’t mind if I do… this.”

She kissed her—slow, full pressure, no hesitation. Her tongue swept across Kara’s bottom lip, her hand curling behind her neck, deepening the kiss until Kara exhaled into her mouth. And when Lena finally pulled back, just a breath apart, Kara’s eyes were wide and hazy.

“Still nervous?” Lena whispered.

Kara blinked. “A little.”

“Hm.” Lena kissed the corner of her mouth. Then her jaw. Then lower—down her throat, over her collarbone. “Maybe this will help.”

She shifted into Kara’s lap, straddling her, hips settling with a slow grind that made Kara gasp.

“I’ve seen how you look at me when I undress,” Lena murmured, her voice low and promising. “So right now, I’m going to take off everything. Slowly. Right in front of you. Then I’m going to walk into that water and wait.”

Kara caught her breath.

“Unless…” Lena trailed a hand up her thigh. “You want me to stay here. Take care of you first.”

Kara whimpered, already trembling.

“Because I will,” Lena whispered, rolling her hips again. “Right here. Under the sunset. My fingers inside you while you moan my name into the ocean breeze.”

Kara’s nails dug into Lena’s thighs.

“You’re already wet, aren’t you?” Lena teased. “And we haven’t even touched the water.”

Kara groaned, eyes fluttering shut as Lena kissed her again—harder this time, her teeth grazing Kara’s lip until her hands instinctively grabbed at Lena’s waist.

But just when Kara’s hands began to slip lower, Lena pulled back with a smirk. “No, no. Not yet.”

She rose in one fluid motion, the sea breeze catching the ends of her braid. Her eyes never left Kara’s as her fingers slid behind her back, tugging the knot of her bikini top. It slipped free with a shift of her shoulders, falling into the sand.

Kara’s breath hitched.

Then Lena’s thumbs dipped into her bikini bottoms. She eased them down slowly—inch by teasing inch—until they pooled at her ankles. She stepped out with deliberate grace, her silhouette gilded in sunset.

For a moment, she just stood there—bare, radiant, confident—letting Kara look.

Then she turned slightly, casting a glance over her shoulder, her smirk wicked. “Coming?”

Still stunned, Kara didn’t move.

Lena’s eyes flicked back, her voice a sultry murmur. “What if I asked nicer? What if I kissed you until you couldn’t say no?”

Kara whimpered. “That’s cheating.”

Lena’s smile widened. “You’re still wearing that swimsuit. Is that a no?”

That broke the spell. Kara scrambled to her feet so fast she nearly tripped. “That’s a hell yes.”

She fumbled with the ties at her hips, tugged them free, then unclasped her top. Lena watched with open satisfaction, lips parted, eyes roaming every inch like Kara was something precious she already owned.

Kara tossed her bikini into the sand and stepped forward—naked, flushed, and aching.

Lena was already wading into the water, hips swaying as the tide licked up her thighs. “Knew I could convince you.”

Kara followed quickly, feet splashing through the shallows.

“It’s cold,” she muttered with a shiver.

“Good,” Lena called over her shoulder. “You’re going to need cooling off.”

****

By the time Kara caught up, the water was waist-deep—warm where the sunlight had kissed it, cooler where it curled between her legs. Lena turned to face her, hair slicked back, droplets sliding down bare skin, her body glowing with salt, sea, and something wicked in her smile.

Kara’s eyes swept over her—completely naked, wet, and radiant. Nothing between them. No fabric. No boundaries. Just skin and heat and the ocean rising around them.

She surged forward, wrapping her arms around Lena’s waist, palms skimming the slick curve of her back.

“Took you long enough,” Lena murmured, her lips already ghosting against Kara’s.

“I’m here now,” Kara whispered—and kissed her.

Their mouths crashed together, hungry and hot, tongues tangling. Kara backed Lena into the tide, bodies sliding wet against wet, breasts brushing, nipples catching in a friction that sent lightning up her spine. Lena moaned into the kiss, fingers threading into Kara’s hair, nails dragging down the soaked plane of her back.

“You’re trembling,” Lena whispered against her lips.

“It’s the water,” Kara breathed.

“Liar.”

Kara growled, kissed her again—deeper, rougher—and then grabbed Lena by the thighs and lifted her. Water surged as Lena gasped, legs locking around Kara’s waist, bare heat grinding down against her stomach.

“Kara—”

“That’s twice you’ve called me a liar,” she murmured against Lena’s neck.

“Are you going to punish me?”

“Keep talking,” Kara growled.

She spun them easily, the ocean wrapping around them like silk. Lena clung to her, arms tight around her shoulders, breath hot and fast in Kara’s ear.

“You’re dangerous like this,” Lena whispered. “Naked and wet.”

“And completely at your mercy.”

“You think you’re not?” Lena’s voice turned low, teasing. She bit Kara’s earlobe lightly, then rolled her hips—bare and slow—pressing down hard. “I know you are.”

“Fuck, Lena,” Kara groaned, her head tipping back as water shimmered down her skin.

“I love it when you swear,” Lena purred.

Kara crashed their mouths together in a kiss that was all tongue, teeth, and filthy promise. Her hands slid down, gripping Lena’s ass, guiding her up as she backed them toward a submerged rock ledge. She found the edge by feel, never looking away from Lena’s face.

She set her down on the stone, their slick bodies still tangled, heat thrumming between them even as the ocean cooled their skin.

Lena gasped as her back met the cool surface—and again when Kara’s mouth trailed lower, over her chest, lips closing around one tight nipple, sucking hard. Her cry echoed across the cove. Fingers threaded into Kara’s hair, holding her there, body arching as Kara’s tongue teased and flicked.

The sea lapped around them, warm and restless, matching the rhythm of rising need as Kara moved lower—kissing a path down Lena’s stomach, parting her thighs with reverent hands.

When her mouth met Lena’s center, it was wet and relentless. Tongue dragging through slick folds—licking, sucking, tasting—until Lena writhed, hips lifting off the stone. Kara held her steady, her mouth working with precision, drinking down every desperate sound.

It didn’t take long.

Kara knew her—knew every breath, every twitch, every plea.

Lena shattered with a moan that turned feral, nails raking red lines down Kara’s back, legs trembling around her shoulders, sea and sensation crashing through her in waves.

Kara rose slowly, mouth slick, eyes dark with hunger. Lena grabbed her by the nape, dragged her in, and kissed her hard—tasting herself on Kara’s tongue, breath caught between them.

“Come here,” Lena rasped. “Your turn.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Lena growled.

She pushed Kara back onto the rock shelf, hands urgent, mouth trailing fire over wet skin. She kissed down her neck, across her chest, taking her time. Her tongue circled a nipple, then bit—just enough to make Kara gasp.

Then she moved lower.

She didn’t tease.

Two fingers slid inside with aching ease, and Kara arched, moaning, hips bucking. Lena’s mouth followed—trailing wet heat down her stomach, across her thigh, her voice a rasp between kisses.

“Fuck—Lena—”

“I’ve got you,” Lena whispered. Her free hand gripped Kara’s thigh, keeping her wide open and trembling. “Let go for me.”

Kara did.

She came with a strangled cry, hips stuttering, nails clawing at the rock, Lena’s name on her tongue as the sea seemed to still around them.

*****

Later, Kara held Lena close, one arm wrapped securely around her waist as she floated them gently through the shallows. Lena’s head rested on Kara’s shoulder, their wet, naked bodies pressed together, gliding across the surface as the last of the sun dipped below the horizon.

“I think I’m a big fan of skinny dipping,” Kara murmured, voice thick with satisfaction.

Lena laughed, pressing a kiss to Kara’s neck. “Told you so.”

When they finally drifted back to the sand, they curled together in the fading light—limbs tangled, salt drying on their skin, love woven into every breath.

“That was—” Kara started.

“Incredible,” Lena finished. “And we’re doing it again.”

Kara laughed, breathless. “How many places are on this imaginary list of yours?”

Lena smiled lazily, fingers tracing idle circles over her stomach. “Oh, it’s not imaginary.”

“You’re making a real list?”

“All the places I want to undress you. Touch you. Make you fall apart.”

Kara groaned. “You’re going to ruin me.”

Lena kissed her shoulder. “Good.”

And as the stars began to scatter across the sky, they melted into each other again—salt-kissed, blissed out, and entirely, unapologetically theirs.

Chapter 36: Slippery When Loved

Lena pushed open the front door to find the apartment cloaked in darkness—except for a faint glow slipping out from beneath the bathroom door.

Her heart skipped.

She’d missed Kara all day. Meetings had dragged, her inbox had been relentless, and every hour that passed only made her ache more for the comfort of her girlfriend’s arms. She kicked off her heels before crossing the apartment in long, purposeful strides.

She opened the door—and froze.

The bathroom was bathed in the flicker of candlelight. Dozens of small flames cast shadows along the walls, their light softening the edges of tile and mirror. The scent of lavender drifted through the air, lush and calming.

But Lena didn’t care about the candles.

She didn’t care about the music playing from the Bluetooth speaker in the corner.

Because standing in the middle of the room, barefoot and flushed from the heat of the bath, was the woman she loved more than anything—wearing nothing but a thin, loosely tied robe that left very little to the imagination. Kara's hair was pulled up into a messy bun, and the dim lighting turned her skin golden.

In one hand, she held a chilled bottle of champagne. In the other—two crystal flutes.

“Welcome home, baby,” Kara said, her voice low and thick with affection. Her lips curled into a smile that Lena felt all the way down to her knees. “I drew us a bath.”

****

Kara set the champagne and glasses down on the vanity with a quiet clink, her eyes never leaving Lena’s.

“Let me help you,” she murmured, stepping forward, hands already moving with a purpose that made Lena’s breath catch.

The first thing Kara did was undo the clasp of Lena’s necklace, letting it slide from her collarbone into her palm. She set it aside carefully, then reached for the buttons of Lena’s blouse. One by one, she undid them with maddening slowness—pausing after each one to press a kiss to the newly exposed skin. The hollow of her throat. The top of her breast. The curve just above her bra.

Lena’s eyes fluttered shut as Kara tugged the blouse off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Her bra followed, then her skirt, inch by inch peeled down over her hips, Kara’s lips tracking every exposed inch. By the time Kara was kneeling to pull off Lena’s underwear, Lena’s skin was flushed, her pulse thrumming, and her fingers twitching with the need to touch.

“God,” Lena breathed, tipping Kara’s chin up. “You’re going to kill me.”

Kara smirked and rose to her feet. “Not before you get in that tub.”

But Lena wasn’t ready to give in just yet. She reached for Kara, curling her fingers into the sash of her robe and giving it a slow, deliberate tug. The knot came loose. The robe slipped open.

And Lena exhaled like a prayer.

Kara stood bare and glorious in the candlelight—her skin glowing, her muscles taut, her nipples peaked from the cool air and anticipation.

“You’re perfect,” Lena whispered.

She pushed the robe off Kara’s shoulders and let it fall in a heap by their feet, forgotten on the warm tile. Her hands roamed without hesitation—across collarbones, down the slope of her breasts, over ribs and hips. She traced Kara like she was memorizing a constellation.

Kara leaned into her touch, eyes half-lidded, lips parted.

“You keep looking at me like that,” Kara said, voice thick, “and we’re never getting in that bath.”

“We’ll see,” Lena murmured, her thumbs brushing over the sharp jut of Kara’s hipbones.

Eventually—barely—Lena let herself be guided toward the oversized tub. The water was steaming, laced with lavender oil and something that shimmered faintly under the surface. Kara helped her step in slowly, hands lingering on her waist, her thighs, and the curve of her ass as Lena sank into the water with a sigh.

Then Kara picked up the champagne and slid in behind her, long legs bracketing Lena’s.

The moment they were settled—Lena’s back against Kara’s chest, her head tilted just enough to feel Kara’s breath against her ear—Kara popped the bottle with a celebratory pop, poured two glasses, and handed one forward.

“To nights together,” Kara said, clinking their glasses together.

“To my incredibly beautiful girlfriend,” Lena countered, taking a sip.

They drank, but the champagne was secondary. Lena tilted her head back, and Kara met her mouth, slow and teasing. Their glasses were set aside quickly—forgotten, abandoned on the far edge of the tub.

Kara’s hands found Lena’s waist, gliding up to cup her breasts under the water. Her thumbs rolled over her nipples, and Lena arched with a sound that was half-laugh, half-moan.

“Kara,” she gasped. “You—”

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” Kara cut in, nipping her earlobe. “Having you in my arms. Us in this tub. The way you melt when I touch you.”

Kara shifted behind her, the motion sending ripples through the water. One of her hands dipped lower, trailing down Lena’s stomach, fingertips teasing the top of her thigh.

Lena’s breath hitched. Her hips tilted.

“You’re not playing fair,” she whispered.

“Did I say I would?”

Kara's other hand slid back up, wrapping lightly around Lena’s throat—with enough pressure to claim her, to ground her. Her mouth was on Lena’s neck now, open-mouthed kisses trailing down toward her shoulder. Her teeth grazed skin.

Lena whimpered.

“Tell me what you want,” Kara murmured against her skin, her fingers slipping between Lena’s thighs.

Lena didn’t speak—couldn’t. She only gasped, one hand reaching behind to tangle in Kara’s damp hair, the other gripping the edge of the tub as her body arched.

Kara’s touch was slow but firm, coaxing, guiding. She knew Lena’s body like her own—every reaction, every rhythm, every sigh.

The water sloshed softly with their movements. Candlelight flickered wildly as Lena’s head fell back on Kara’s shoulder, mouth open, a low moan curling from her throat.

Kara didn’t stop until she had Lena trembling in her arms, until her thighs spasmed and she gasped Kara’s name like a confession.

Only then did Kara pull her in tighter, peppering kisses along her jaw.

“You’re unreal,” Lena breathed. “God, Kara.”

But Kara wasn’t done.

She reached for the champagne again, took a sip, and then used the edge of the cool glass to trace up Lena’s throat, over her jawline. Goosebumps rose in the trail. Lena shivered.

“Want to hear what I thought about while you were at work?” Kara asked, her voice husky and low.

Lena turned her head slightly, eyes heavy with lust. “Tell me.”

Kara did.

Every filthy, teasing thought. Every fantasy she hadn’t dared act on yet.

And as she whispered them into Lena’s ear, her hands didn’t stop exploring.

The bath was long, indulgent, and far from relaxing.

****

Kara set the champagne flute on the edge of the tub with barely a clink, her attention locked entirely on the woman in her arms. Her hands returned to Lena’s body like magnets—sliding over slick skin, down her ribs, pausing to tease and memorize the curve of her waist. Lena arched into the touch with a sigh that turned into a moan when Kara’s thumbs grazed a familiar place again, just beneath the waterline.

“I missed this,” Kara whispered into the shell of Lena’s ear, her lips brushing close enough to send shivers down her spine. “Missed you.”

Lena twisted in her arms, impatient, turning enough to capture Kara’s mouth in a kiss that was all teeth and want. It was hot and wet, tongues brushing, Lena’s fingers tangling in Kara’s damp hair as their bodies pressed together, water splashing up the sides of the tub.

“God, you’re insatiable,” Lena gasped between kisses, her voice ragged.

“You bring it out in me.” Kara’s grin was wicked, her hands already gliding lower again, guiding Lena to straddle her now. Water sloshed, bubbles clinging to their thighs as Lena sank into her lap.

Kara’s mouth returned to Lena’s neck, then lower, lips trailing across her collarbone, tasting her like a favorite flavor she couldn’t get enough of. Lena rolled her hips—slow, deliberate—and the way Kara exhaled, almost shakily, made Lena smirk.

"You like being in charge," Kara muttered, looking up through heavy lashes.

Lena reached down, took Kara’s chin between her fingers. “Only when it’s you I get to command.”

Their bodies moved in sync—slick skin sliding together, hearts racing, gasps swallowed by the next kiss. The water, still steaming, lapped around them like a second heartbeat. The only sounds were the subtle slap of limbs and water, the occasional clink of the glass, the breathless noises they dragged out of each other.

Kara pulled her closer, mouths meeting again, this time slower, more languid, like they had all night and no reason to rush.

Kara’s lips lingered at Lena’s throat, her tongue tracing a slow, possessive line along her pulse. The bathwater had gone tepid around them, but the heat between their bodies hadn't dimmed in the slightest.

Without a word, Kara stood, rising like some mythical goddess from the tub, water cascading down her skin. She offered her hand to Lena, who took it with a breathless little laugh, letting herself be guided to sit on the edge of the tub. The marble was cool beneath her, a delicious contrast to her flushed skin.

Kara knelt in front of her, eyes devouring every inch like it was a private feast. Her hands found Lena’s thighs, spreading them with ease, her thumbs brushing along tender inner skin with a deliberate slowness that made Lena squirm.

“Kara,” Lena said, her voice already wrecked.

Kara didn’t answer. Instead, she leaned in and kissed her way up the inside of one thigh, then the other, teeth grazing lightly, tongue trailing heat and promise.

Lena let her head fall back, one hand reaching behind her for balance while the other tangled in Kara’s damp hair. The tension between them spiked into something molten—need and trust and worship all wrapped into one.

When Kara finally tasted her, it was reverent. Focused. A deliberate kind of worship that left Lena gasping, heels digging into the edge of the tub, hips twitching uncontrollably under the rhythm of Kara’s mouth.

Lena's breath hitched as Kara’s tongue shifted pace—slower, firmer, teasing the edge of too much and not enough. Then Kara hummed low against her, the vibration hitting Lena like lightning.

“Oh god, Kara—” Lena’s voice cracked, her whole body tensing.

Kara’s hands held her steady, fingers pressing into the skin of Lena’s thighs, grounding her. She didn’t let up—just pushed further, deeper into Lena’s pleasure with unwavering determination.

Lena arched, breath ragged, eyes wild. “Don’t stop.”

Kara didn’t. She couldn't. She wouldn’t, not with Lena moaning her name like that, like she was something holy.

And when Lena finally shattered—legs shaking, cries echoing off the candlelit tile—Kara didn’t move until the last tremor passed through her.

Only then did she rise, kissing her way back up Lena’s body, slow and unhurried. Her hands found Lena’s waist, pulling her close again; the two of them pressed chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat.

Lena clung to her, trying to catch her breath, but Kara only kissed her—deep and thorough, like she wanted Lena to taste herself on her lips.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Lena breathed.

Kara smirked against her mouth. “You love it.”

Lena laughed, low and wrecked. “I really do.”

They stayed wrapped in each other for a long moment, the candlelight flickering across their bodies, champagne forgotten, the tub half-drained. And when Kara finally lifted Lena into her arms like she weighed nothing at all, water dripped from both their bodies as Kara stepped out, cradling Lena against her chest, leaving a trail of steam and candlelight in their wake.

Lena didn’t protest.

Not when she was carried to the bedroom.
Not when she was laid across the sheets.
Not when Kara leaned over her with that look in her eyes—the one that promised the night was far from over.

Chapter 37: Lena’s Hangover

The first groan of the morning wasn’t from the sun peeking through the curtains. It came from the tangled lump beneath Kara’s arm.

Lena made a low, grumbly sound—somewhere between a growl and a whimper—and buried her face into Kara’s side like it personally offended her. “Make it stop,” she mumbled, her voice hoarse and muffled by skin and duvet.

Kara blinked awake, looked around the apartment, and tried not to smile. “Make what stop?”

“All of it,” Lena hissed. “The light. The air. My brain.”

That was when Kara remembered. The party. The champagne. The way Lena had been absolutely dazzling in that dark green dress—and the way she’d downed three flutes of bubbly before Kara had even finished her first mini slider.

“You’re hungover,” Kara said with a mix of sympathy and amusement. She brushed Lena’s hair back gently to assess the damage. Her girlfriend looked miserable. And stunning. But mostly miserable.

“No shit, Danvers,” Lena grumbled, cracking open one eye. “You let me do this.”

“You said, and I quote, ‘Don’t be such a killjoy, Kara. It’s one night.’ And then you cheered to ‘a break from responsibility.’ I didn't stand a chance.”

Lena made a dramatic noise—half groan, half whine—and flopped back against the pillow, arm flung over her eyes. “Kill me.”

“Sorry, love. You’re stuck with me.” Kara leaned down to kiss her temple. “Hang tight. I’ve got a plan.”

Lena didn’t respond, unless you counted the pathetic sound she made, which might’ve been, “You’d better.”

****

Kara’s “plan” involved exactly what you’d expect from someone who’d never had a hangover but had studied their treatment like a final exam.

Step one: Gatorade. Every color. Every bottle she could carry. She flew back in through the balcony doors with two armfuls and landed beside the bed like a nurse in a rom-com.

Lena peeked out from under the covers with the wary eyes of a cryptid. “What is that, a rainbow of electrolytes?”

“It’s love. In overpriced plastic,” Kara said, kneeling beside her. She carefully set the bottles down and slid her arms beneath Lena to help her sit. “Come on. Time to hydrate.”

“I want death.”

“You get blue Gatorade instead,” Kara said cheerfully, twisting the cap and inserting a bendy straw like it was an offering. “Small sips.”

Lena obeyed, grumbling through her drink like it had personally betrayed her. Kara held the bottle steady, fingers stroking the back of her neck. “That’s it. You’re doing so good.”

When Lena finished the first bottle, she dropped her forehead onto Kara’s shoulder with a dramatic sigh. “Tell no one of this.”

“I’ll take it to my grave,” Kara whispered, kissing her hair.

She helped Lena lean back onto the pillows again, brushing another kiss across her cheek before flying off for step two.

****

Fifteen minutes later, Kara was back with a crinkled bag from Big Belly Burger that smelled like every poor life choice Lena had made in college. She groaned just smelling it—but her stomach gave a hopeful grumble.

“No,” Lena muttered, flopping across the bed again. “My stomach hates me.”

Kara settled beside her, unwrapping the burger. “You don’t have to move. I’ll feed you.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m perfect,” Kara said with a grin, tearing off a small bite and holding it to Lena’s lips. “Say ah.”

With the effort of a woman lifting an entire planet, Lena opened her mouth and took the bite. Chewed. Swallowed. Glared.

She then grabbed Kara's hand once more and drew it towards her stomach.

Kara chuckled, brushing her knuckles there lightly before offering another bite. “See? Not so bad.”

Lena mumbled something about betrayal but kept eating.

Between bites and sips of Gatorade, she remained plastered to Kara—her hand clutching the hem of her shirt, her cheek against her thigh, her entire body molded to the nearest available part of her girlfriend like a barnacle in a silk bathrobe.

“You’re clingier than usual,” Kara teased, running her fingers through Lena’s hair.

“I’m dying,” Lena muttered.

“You’re dehydrated.”

“I’m also in love with you, but right now even being in love is exhausting,” Lena added, flopping her arm over Kara’s lap like she couldn’t survive without full-body contact.

Kara laughed and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “I love you too…”

Lena closed her eyes, melting again. “Feed me more fries and call me beautiful.”

Kara grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

****

The day went like that.

Lena was a menace. A lovable, pitiful, impossible menace.

She groaned at everything—the sunlight, the TV, the smell of Kara’s shampoo. She declared war on one of the throw pillows for “mocking” her and tossed it dramatically to the floor. She complained when Kara shifted and muttered curses at the blanket for “not cooperating.”

And yet, every time Kara moved more than a few feet away, Lena whimpered.

At one point, when Kara left the room for 90 seconds to grab a cool cloth, Lena shouted after her, “Don’t leave me!"

Kara returned with a kiss to the cheek and a damp washcloth for Lena’s forehead. “You survived Lex. You’ll survive 90 seconds.”

“I wasn’t in love with Lex!”

Kara laughed so hard she nearly dropped the cloth.

By mid-afternoon, Lena had migrated from bed to the couch, draped in one of Kara’s sweatshirts with her legs tucked under a blanket and her hair tied up. She looked like a tech billionaire who had lost her fortune and decided to binge reality TV.

Kara handed her a new bottle of Gatorade and flopped beside her. “We’ve hydrated. We’ve fed you. Time for cuddles.”

Lena scowled but didn't disagree.

With a groan of theatrical effort, Lena crawled toward her, collapsing into Kara’s open arms like a starlet on her fainting couch. She tucked her arms under Kara’s hoodie, pressing their bodies together like puzzle pieces.

“You’re so demanding,” Lena mumbled.

“And you cling to me like Velcro,” Kara replied, kissing her nose.

“My head still hurts.”

Kara’s fingers found her temple again, massaging in slow circles. “What else do you need?”

Lena sighed. “Tell me I’m still a genius. And kiss me until I forget what suffering is.”

“You’re the smartest person I know.” Kara kissed her temple. “You’re not a mess.” Another kiss to her cheek. “You’re my Lena.” A third kiss, this time to her lips—slow, lingering, and full of everything Kara didn’t have words for.

Lena melted completely, curling tighter around her.

***

Later, they stayed like that until Lena’s eyes began to flutter closed again, her head heavy against Kara’s shoulder.

Kara carried her back to bed.

Lena didn’t resist. She just wrapped her arms around Kara’s neck and nuzzled in with a sleepy huff.

Kara tucked her in, placed a fresh water bottle by the bed, and then dimmed the lights with a wave of her hand.

“Come here,” Lena murmured, reaching out.

Kara climbed in beside her, immediately gathered into Lena’s arms even as Lena claimed she was too exhausted to move. They curled into each other, their legs tangled under the blankets, Lena’s hand resting over Kara’s heart.

“Thank you,” Lena whispered, her voice already fading into sleep.

“Always,” Kara murmured, brushing a final kiss over her forehead.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you more.”

And Lena, finally still, finally quiet, finally content—let herself drift off in the only place she ever wanted to be.

Wrapped in Kara’s arms, head pounding but heart completely full.

Chapter 38: Loving a Hero Isn’t Always Easy

Dating Kara Danvers meant living in a constant state of suspended tenderness.

Some days, it was magic—like falling in love with the sun and being lucky enough to hold it in your hands without getting burned. Kara made everything brighter. She laughed with her whole body, she loved fiercely, and she kissed like the world stood still just for them. But other days, dating Kara meant watching the person you loved vanish out a window with a gust of wind and the snap of a cape—and being left behind to hope she came back.

Lena stirred the last of her wine, her eyes lingering on the plate of untouched pasta across the table. The chair Kara had vacated minutes ago still sat pulled out, her linen napkin discarded beside her half-finished glass. One moment, they’d been mid-laugh, debating whether to start dessert or finish the wine. The next—Kara’s head tilted, her eyes sharpened, and the air shifted.

It always did.

Lena had learned to read it. The barely-there inhale. The flicker of concern behind blue eyes. The raised hand meant Kara was already elsewhere in her mind, already hearing something miles away. She was halfway out of the room before the comm in her ear even buzzed.

And now she was suiting up—quietly, efficiently.

“There’s a warehouse fire on the outskirts,” Kara said, tugging on one of her red boots. Her cape billowed faintly with the movement. “It’s contained, mostly, but it’s near chemical storage and—”

“You have to go,” Lena interrupted, her voice a practiced murmur.

Kara looked up at her from across the room, guilt flashing across her face.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can. I promise.”

Lena gave a brittle nod, but the words felt hollow. She wrapped her arms around herself, her gaze dropping to the untouched candle still flickering on the table.

Three dates had been interrupted this week alone. A coffee run was cut short when Kara flew off to stop a robbery. A movie night was paused indefinitely when an emergency pulled her across the city. And now this—dinner, their first real dinner in weeks—cooling on their plates while Kara suited up in the corner, sliding on her second boot, the red leather creaking softly in the quiet.

Lena blinked down at the glass in front of her, her reflection wavering in the wine. Maybe it was the late hour, or the long week, or the way Kara had been sitting across from her only minutes ago, fingers brushing hers, smiling so easily. Or maybe it was the ghost of last night’s half-watched movie, when they’d curled up under their favorite blanket on the couch, Kara’s body radiating comfort and safety and heat.

That memory—that feeling—was still warm in Lena’s bones.

****

And suddenly, she couldn't hold it in anymore.

“No,” Lena said softly, the word almost lost in the quiet.

Kara paused mid-step, boots now fully on, one hand halfway to the window. “No?”

Lena stood slowly, her hands clenched at her sides.

“I mean… do you really have to go? Right now?”

Kara hesitated, brows knitting. “Lena… if the fire spreads—”

“I know,” Lena said quickly, her voice a touch too sharp. She exhaled hard, taking a shaky step forward. “I know you’re trying to help. And I know it’s not even a major crisis. But even when it’s not, you still go. Every single time.”

Her voice broke. “Because someone always needs you.”

Kara stepped forward, her eyes softening. “I—”

“No,” Lena interrupted again, her hands flexing. “Please. Let me say this.”

She looked up, meeting Kara’s eyes.

“I love that you help people. I do. I love that you care so much it hurts. But sometimes I wish the world didn’t have so much of you. I wish you didn’t belong to them in quite the same way you belong to me. And I know that sounds selfish—”

She laughed bitterly, blinking back tears. “Hell, maybe it is selfish. But I’m so tired of waking up to cold sheets. Of lying when people ask me if I’m fine when you leave halfway through dinner. Of smiling while the world cheers for Supergirl when all I want is for Kara to come home.”

Kara’s face fell. Her hand dropped away from the window.

“I’m not saying don’t go,” Lena whispered. “I’m saying it hurts that you always do.”

Kara didn’t speak. She just looked at her—really looked—like she was seeing Lena for the first time in weeks. The way her shoulders curled inward. The tightness in her jaw, the shimmer in her eyes that spoke of every silent moment she never complained about.

Then her comm crackled.

“Kara? Fire’s mostly contained. Local teams are asking for backup if you’re still en route.”

Alex.

Kara raised her hand. Paused.

Then she lowered it again.

She tapped her comm. “Alex, I’m not coming. Let Kelly and the team coordinate. I’ll debrief tomorrow.”

A pause.

“…Copy that,” came Alex’s voice. No judgment. Just understanding.

Lena blinked. “You’re staying?”

“I’m needed here,” Kara said. “With you.”

She crossed the room in a heartbeat, closing the space between them. Lena didn’t flinch—she exhaled. A slow, shaky breath, like she was letting go of something she didn’t know she’d been holding.

Kara wrapped her arms around her and kissed her forehead first. Then her cheek. Then the edge of her jaw.

“I’ve got you,” she whispered against her skin. “You’re not second. You’re everything.”

Lena closed her eyes and leaned in, her hands gripping the edges of Kara’s suit. The first tear slipped free before she could stop it.

“I just want to matter,” she whispered. “Not to the world. Just for you.”

“You do,” Kara said, kissing her again—slow, full, honest. “You’re my home.”

They sank onto the couch together, the blanket tucked back around them. Lena curled into Kara’s lap, her fingers threading into Kara’s hair. Kara kissed her temple, her shoulder, and her neck—anchoring her with every brush of her lips.

“I hate that I made you feel like the world gets all of me,” Kara murmured. “But the truth is, the world only gets pieces. You’re the one who sees all of me.”

“I wake up sometimes,” Lena said quietly, “and you’re already gone. No note. Just silence. And I lie there wondering if you’ll come back whole or broken or—”

Kara kissed her before she could finish. She kissed her slow and deep, like an apology and a promise all in one.

“I will always come back."

Kara stood to peel off her suit slowly, letting each movement be deliberate—like every layer she removed was a wall falling away. When she was down to nothing, she moved back to Lena, eyes never leaving hers.

Lena met her there, fingers reaching for the hem of her own shirt, her breath catching slightly as she pulled it over her head. Kara helped with the rest—slowly, reverently—until there was nothing between them but skin and quiet promise.

When Kara settled beside her again, bare skin against bare skin, she cradled Lena gently, reverently. Her fingers traced the shape of Lena’s shoulder, her jaw, and the small of her back. Her mouth followed, leaving kisses in her wake.

****

They stayed like that, tangled beneath the blanket, until the world faded away. No sirens. No alerts. No masks.

Just Kara and Lena. Quiet, steady, present.

Later, Lena whispered into the hush, “You’ll catch heat for skipping the call.”

Kara smiled against her hair. “Alex will cover for me. The press will speculate. Let them.”

“You don’t care?”

“I care about you,” Kara said, lifting her head to kiss her again. “And tonight, I chose you.”

Lena smiled for real then—small, tired, but real. She kissed Kara again—slow, purposeful. A kiss that said thank you. A kiss that said, Don’t let go.

Because tonight wasn’t about duty or disaster or doing the right thing.

Tonight was about being loved.

And tonight, Kara stayed—right where she belonged.

Chapter 39: Say It Out Loud

The bar was loud. Not just the usual weekend buzz, but loud even for National City’s most popular alien dive. Karaoke was in full swing, and the Daxamite DJ was spinning some questionable late ‘90s Earth hits. The DEO team had taken over the back booths, celebrating the wrap-up of a long mission, and Kara… well. Kara had taken a few sips too many.

Alien rum wasn’t exactly known for going easy on Kryptonian physiology—especially not this particular brand, which glowed faintly blue and came with a verbal warning from the bartender.

But Kara had waved it off. The first sip had burned like wildfire, but she'd grinned through it—laughing as Alex dared her to take another, Nia cheering her on, and J’onn watching with that classic disapproving dad look he’d perfected over the years.

One sip turned into two. Then three.

And somewhere around the fourth, Kara forgot to be careful. Forgot to keep her volume in check. Forgot that their relationship wasn’t public yet.

Forgot everything but her.

Lena.

Until she stood up and promptly announced to the entire bar:

“I’m in love with Lena Luthor!”

Time didn’t just freeze. It shattered.

The music cut off mid-line. The bartender paused mid-shake. The crowd turned as one.

And Lena.

Lena, who had been casually leaning against the bar with a practiced air of indifference, had her eyes on Kara the entire night.

Lena froze.

Her expression didn’t crack—didn’t flinch, didn’t shift—but Kara saw it anyway. That flicker of panic behind her eyes. The way her fingers curled slightly around her glass.

Kara, suddenly aware she had declared her undying love to a bar full of strangers and all their friends, blinked.

“I mean—uh,” Kara tried to backpedal, flailing. “Not just Lena Luthor. I mean, yeah, she’s brilliant, and terrifying, and elegant in a way that makes you forget how to function. And she’s so hot. Like, painfully hot. And also smart—did I say smart? Like, stupid levels of smart. Like, ‘knows what all the forks are for at dinner’ smart. And she’s funny, and she’s patient,"she hiccuped, eyes wide. “She looks incredible in black... good with her hands... in bed she can—"

Kara was still mid-sentence—loud, unfiltered, and blushing furiously—when Lena stood.

She didn’t say a word. Just crossed the room with purpose, heels echoing like a warning shot.

One hand closed firmly around Kara’s wrist.

“Okay,” Lena said tightly, her voice low and controlled. “We’re leaving.”

Kara blinked. “Wait, I wasn’t—”

But Lena was already tugging her toward the exit.

Kara stumbled after her, casting a quick, apologetic glance over her shoulder. Alex had half-risen from her seat, eyebrows high, and Nia looked like she was trying not to scream into her drink.

The bar had gone pin-drop silent.

And Lena hadn’t said a single word to anyone.

Not yet.

****

The ride to Lena’s penthouse was silent.

Lena had all but hauled Kara out of the bar, fingers tight around her wrist, and hadn’t so much as glanced at anyone on the way out. No goodbye. No excuses. Just a pointed exit.

No one tried to stop them.

And when Kara had mumbled something about maybe flying home, Lena’s response had been curt and final: “Get in the car.”

So she had.

Now she sat stiffly in the passenger seat, hands knotted in her lap, staring at the blur of passing city lights and trying not to die from mortification. She could still hear her own voice echoing in her ears. She looks incredible in black... good with her hands... in bed she can—

God.

Her mouth tasted like alien rum and shame.

Lena said nothing. Her grip on the wheel was precise, knuckles pale with tension. She didn’t look over once. Not at a stoplight. Not even in the elevator as they rose floor by agonizing floor to the penthouse.

By the time Lena unlocked the door and stepped inside, her heels clicked too loud against the marble tile. Kara followed quietly, toeing off her shoes without being told, still a little off-balance but sober enough to feel every ounce of regret crawling up her throat.

She didn’t know what to say. Couldn’t even look Lena in the eye.

But the moment the door clicked shut behind them—

Lena turned.

And everything changed.

****

The door had barely clicked shut behind them when Lena turned.

She didn’t speak.

She didn’t hesitate.

She crossed the room in three sharp steps, grabbed Kara by the lapels of her jacket, and shoved her back against the door.

Kara’s breath left her in a stunned whoosh.

Lena’s eyes were wild—not angry, but electric. Lit from within. Her jaw was clenched like she was holding back something feral.

“Say it again,” Lena said, low and tight.

Kara blinked, still dazed. “W-what?”

“You said you love me,” Lena whispered, breath skating across Kara’s cheek. Her fists were still tangled in Kara’s shirt, holding her steady. Her body pressed close but not yet touching, but tense, vibrating. “At the bar. You said it. Say it again.”

Kara swallowed, heart in her throat. “I do,” she said softly. “I love you.”

Lena inhaled like it knocked the air from her lungs.

And then she kissed her.

Hard.

Hungry.

Claiming.

It wasn’t a question or a request. It was a promise detonating between them.

Kara’s hands flew to Lena’s waist, clutching the silk of her blouse, drawing her closer. Their bodies crashed together, Lena’s leg slipping between Kara’s thighs, her hands moving now—sliding up, gripping Kara’s jaw, tilting her head for a deeper kiss. She bit Kara’s lip, and Kara moaned, the sound raw and needy and entirely unguarded.

Weeks of secrets poured out of them—months of lingering glances, of silence over breakfast, of aching restraint behind closed doors. And now? Now Lena was kissing her like the world had already ended and this was all they had left.

Kara arched into her, hips shifting forward, her hands skimming under Lena’s blouse, fingertips brushing the curve of her waist. Lena was so warm, so solid against her, and Kara couldn’t stop touching—couldn’t stop wanting.

“Lena,” she gasped as their mouths broke apart, just for air.

Lena leaned in again, her breath skating hot along Kara’s throat as she murmured, “You said it in front of everyone.”

Kara’s head thudded back against the door. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that,” she said, voice shaky, cheeks still flushed. “I had alien rum, and I—I got caught up. I wasn’t thinking, and I was—”

“Drunk?” Lena interrupted, her voice sharper than her touch. Her hands slid beneath Kara’s shirt, fingers splayed wide as she dragged her nails up the ridges of her spine. “You were drunk… and you still told the truth.”

Kara nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “Because it is the truth. But it wasn’t supposed to happen like that. You deserved better.”

Lena pulled back just enough to catch her gaze, her eyes blazing, locked on Kara like she was trying to burn the apology out of her. “Stop.”

Kara blinked. “Lena—”

“Stop apologizing,” she said, firmer now, and the words landed like an order Kara didn’t dare defy. “You said the truth. You said my truth. You said, What I’ve been burying under a thousand layers of control.”

Kara opened her mouth again, but Lena wasn’t done. Her hands moved to Kara’s hips, tugging her forward until their bodies were flush. “Do you know what it did to me?” she asked, her voice softer now but no less intense. “Hearing it out loud? In front of everyone? People who didn’t even know what we were to each other?”

Kara swallowed hard. “I wanted it to be private. Special. You deserved that. I ruined it—”

Lena surged forward, kissing her again—fast and deep, like she was trying to replace every sorry Kara wanted to say with something far more permanent. Kara gasped into her mouth, her hands flying up to cradle Lena’s jaw, thumbs brushing along her cheekbones.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Lena breathed against her lips, kissing her again between every sentence. “You lit a match. And now I can finally breathe.”

Kara moaned as Lena’s hands roamed—slow, sure, reverent. One slipped beneath the waistband of Kara’s jeans, fingers brushing bare skin, while the other tangled in her hair, tugging her head back just enough to expose the line of her throat.

Lena didn’t rush. She kissed her way along Kara’s neck, pausing to suck at the hollow spot beneath her ear. Then, with deliberate care, she slid her hands under Kara’s shirt, removing it and letting it fall away.

Her lips traced a slow, worshipful path down Kara’s exposed chest, reaching the top of her breast, where her skin was warm and inviting.

Kara’s breath hitched. Her hands clutched at Lena’s back, the silk of her blouse wrinkling under her fingers. “Lena…”

“You think I care that you were drunk?” Lena whispered. “You didn’t slur it. You didn’t laugh through it. You said it like it cost you something. Like it meant everything.”

Kara looked at her, eyes glassy with emotion. “Because it does.”

Lena’s expression broke open then—soft, wrecked, and entirely undone. “Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“I’m in love with you,” Kara said, steady now.

Lena kissed her again—slower this time, deeper, and hotter than before. Kara shoved Lena’s blouse from her shoulders and let it drop, hands sliding to her back, palms mapping the bare skin there. Lena growled into the kiss, pressing Kara harder into the door with her hips.

“What am I going to do with you?" Lena whispered against Kara’s mouth, breath ragged.

Kara’s laugh was breathless, wrecked. “Guess I’m just full of surprises tonight.”

Lena pulled back just enough to look at her—really look at her—and Kara swore she could feel that gaze all the way down her spine.

“You are,” Lena said, her voice low and reverent. “Every single time. And I never want them to stop.”

Kara’s heart thudded like thunder. “Even the accidental bar confession kind?”

Lena's lips curved, dangerous and fond. “Especially those.”

Their eyes locked. The space between them crackled.

Then Lena surged forward again—hungrier, bolder—like the only plan that mattered now was this.

****

For a moment their kiss paused. Their foreheads pressed together, their breathing uneven, the heat between them still palpable but suspended. Kara’s hands trembled where they gripped Lena. Lena’s fingers curled tighter at Kara’s hips, like she wasn’t sure whether to pull her closer or just hold on.

Kara opened her eyes. Lena’s were already on her, wide and raw, lips kiss-swollen and parted in disbelief.

“This is happening,” Lena said softly, like she couldn’t believe she’d said it out loud.

Kara nodded. “Yeah,” she whispered. “It is.”

Then Lena surged forward again—hungrier this time, like that moment of stillness had only made her realize just how much she wanted it.

The kiss turned molten, all tongue and teeth and aching friction. Kara slid her hands beneath Lena’s blouse and pushed it from her shoulders, stripping it off completely. Her fingers made quick work of Lena’s bra, dropping it to the floor before she pressed open-mouthed kisses along her now bare collarbone. Lena hissed when Kara’s teeth grazed her skin...

They moved together across the room, Lena suddenly pressed back against the wall, her head tilting back as Kara’s lips traced a slow, worshipful path along her neck. Kara’s mouth dipped lower, down her collarbone and chest, to explore the bare skin beneath.

Lena gasped, her legs trembling. “Kara—”

Kara’s voice cracked against her skin. “I love your mind, your mouth, and the way you argue with everyone just to be right. I love you in heels, and I love you in my bed, and I’m going to keep saying it until you believe me.”

With a fierce grip, Lena grabbed Kara by the collar and yanked her into another desperate kiss—one filled with years of longing and quiet need.

****

They didn’t stop moving—hands and mouths guiding them, urgency turning molten as they stumbled toward the couch. Clothes trailed behind them in discarded pieces, forgotten in the wake of touch and need. By the time they collapsed into the cushions, they were completely bare—skin against skin, breathless and burning.

Kara straddled Lena, kissing her like she might never stop. Lena’s hands gripped her thighs, possessive and trembling, anchoring her like she was afraid she might disappear.

Eventually, the frenzy ebbed. Touch gentled. Kisses deepened. Lena leaned back against the couch, and Kara curled over her, their hearts pounding in perfect sync.

Lena ran her fingers slowly up and down Kara’s spine. “So… I guess everyone knows now.”

“Yep,” Kara rasped, smiling despite the flush still high on her cheeks.

Lena rested her forehead against hers. “Alex is going to be unbearable.”

“She already texted. Seventeen emojis. I think she’s thrilled.”

Lena laughed, breathless, and Kara kissed the corner of her mouth. “Say it again?” she whispered.

“I love you,” Kara said, without hesitation.

“Again.”

“I’m in love with you.”

Lena kissed her again—slower now, but just as sure.

And for the first time in a long time, neither of them felt like they were hiding.

Chapter 40: Whispers at the End of the Day

Kara never meant to memorize Lena’s nightly routine, but she had.

It started accidentally; those first few nights Lena stayed over when things between them were still new, still delicate. They hadn’t defined anything yet, hadn’t said the words, but something had already begun anchoring Kara in place. And every night, like clockwork, Lena would slip into the bathroom and begin the process of removing her armor.

The light would flick on. The faucet would run low. The cabinet would creak open. Kara could hear it from the bed, those soft, steady sounds that marked the end of Lena’s day.

The first night she lingered in the doorway; it wasn’t planned. She’d meant to ask if Lena wanted tea. Or maybe she’d just wanted one more kiss goodnight. But when she reached the bathroom, Lena was already there—standing in front of the mirror, back straight, expression unreadable except for the way her fingertips trembled ever so slightly.

Kara didn’t speak. She just leaned against the doorframe like gravity had drawn her there.

And Lena, without looking away from her reflection, started to talk.

“I think I made a mistake in the meeting today.”

Her voice was low, almost casual. She swept a cotton round across her cheek, slow and methodical, like she could wipe away more than just mascara. Her eyes tracked her movements but avoided her own gaze. Her lips pressed tight before she added, “I dismissed someone too quickly. He was trying to raise a concern, and I just… brushed him off.”

Kara hadn’t said anything. She didn’t know what to offer—not advice, not comfort. Just presence. She stayed right there, and Lena didn’t ask her to leave.

That was the beginning.

After that, Kara started showing up in the doorway more often.

Some nights Lena would ask her something soft and uncertain, like, “Was I too quiet at dinner?” or “Do you think I seemed cold to your sister?” Other times she didn’t ask anything at all, just let her thoughts unravel as she wiped the day from her skin, voice quieter than it ever was in boardrooms or interviews.

It became a ritual. One they never talked about. One that mattered more than either of them ever said aloud.

Kara learned Lena’s tells the slight drag in her motions when something weighed on her, how she avoided her own eyes on the hard days, and how she paused with the cotton round midair when words got caught in her throat. And Kara, always patient, would wait for them to come.

Even when Kara was exhausted from patrol or emotionally drained from a long day, she’d stay awake. Just long enough to hear the faucet turn, the cabinet door open, and the light flicker on. And she’d follow, barefoot and quiet, to the doorframe where she belonged.

Lena never acknowledged it out loud. But each time she glanced over and found Kara there, her lips curved into that quiet smile—so small, so real, like Kara was her secret made visible. It wasn’t the smile the world got. It was just for her.

And then came the night Kara almost didn’t get up.

She was already in bed, muscles aching, face tucked into the pillow. Her eyes had fluttered closed, her body heavy with sleep. But then she heard it: the clink of glass, the whisper of running water. And underneath it, Lena’s voice was barely audible.

“I think I was wrong earlier.”

A breath. A pause.

“I didn’t mean to shut you out.”

That was all it took. Kara rolled over, tugged the blanket back, and padded toward the bathroom, blinking sleep from her eyes. She found Lena at the sink, her face half-cleansed, vulnerability visible in the curve of her shoulder.

Kara came up behind her, slow and quiet, then wrapped her arms around Lena’s waist, pressing her body flush against her back. Lena stilled but didn’t pull away.

“You’re allowed to be tired, baby.” Kara murmured, her lips brushing against Lena’s neck.

Lena let out a slow exhale. “I just… I didn’t want to say the wrong thing.”

“You never have to be perfect with me.”

Lena met her gaze in the mirror, mascara still clinging to her lashes, and leaned her head back against Kara’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Kara turned her head and kissed her cheek soft and slow. Then another near the hinge of her jaw. A third, just behind her ear, where she knew Lena would melt.

It wasn’t just comfort. It was reverence.

****

After that night, Kara didn’t hesitate. No matter how late or tired she was, she waited for the ritual. Not because Lena needed her but because she wanted to be there. Because somewhere between skin care and whispered confessions, Kara had found her favorite part of the day.

Sometimes, after Lena finished, she’d turn and press a kiss to Kara’s lips. Featherlight. Lingering. Like a punctuation mark to everything she’d just said.

Other nights, the kiss came first, urgent and unfiltered. A way of saying thank you without words. A way of grounding herself in Kara when her day had been too loud, too heavy.

Kara never asked for those kisses.

She just received them.

Each one is different. Each one sacred.

She’d seen Lena at her strongest, back straight, voice sharp, commanding attention without even trying. But this Lena? The one in pajama pants and a loose tank top, a headband pulling her hair away from her face, speaking in that end-of-day voice that only Kara got to hear?

This was her favorite version.

The Lena who let herself be undone. The Lena who didn’t need to lead or defend or impress. The Lena who spoke freely, not to be fixed, just to be heard.

Kara didn’t always reply. Sometimes, she just pressed her forehead to Lena’s temple and listened. Sometimes, she kissed her shoulder or held her hand as Lena finished washing her face.

It didn’t need a name. It didn’t need anything but presence.

****

Now, Kara doesn’t count days the way she used to. Not by calendar dates or Supergirl missions.

She measures time by the clatter of skincare bottles. The swipe of micellar water. The hush of vulnerability wrapped in routine.

She counts the nights Lena has let her in.

And in those quiet moments when Lena’s voice is unguarded and Kara’s hand is holding hers, she feels it.

Love.

Now, Kara doesn’t count days the way she used to. Not by calendar dates or Supergirl missions.

She measures time by the clatter of skincare bottles. The swipe of micellar water. The hush of vulnerability wrapped in routine.

She counts the nights Lena has let her in.

And in those quiet moments when Lena’s voice is unguarded and Kara’s hand is holding hers, she feels it.

Love.

Not the explosive kind. Not the kind shouted from rooftops.

The kind whispered in the glow of the bathroom light and bare skin.

The kind folded between the lines of “Was I too quiet?” and “Thanks for staying up.”

And every night, as Lena wipes her face clean, Kara leans in.

To listen. To love. To kiss her goodnight with the kind of care that says—

I see all of you, and I love you.

Always.

Chapter 41: Always My Favorite Hero

The DEO buzzed with new energy. It wasn’t just the usual intel drop or alien encounter causing a stir—it was her.

A new superhero had landed in National City. She moved like certainty wrapped in spandex, her suit a sleek blend of crimson and midnight blue, her powers eerily similar to Supergirl’s strength, flight, and laser vision. But it wasn’t the powers that drew attention. She had presence. A name. Taryn. And she handled the spotlight like she was born in it.

Kara didn’t want to care.

But she did.

She’d been in the briefing room going over mission data when she heard Lena’s voice down the corridor, measured and amused. Curious. That curiosity made Kara pause.

Lena was meant to be at L-Corp. She shouldn’t be here, at the DEO, engaged in conversation with Taryn.

Kara’s vision darted past two walls without hesitation, catching sight of them.

Taryn casually lifted a heavy piece of alien tech with one hand, twisting it effortlessly while explaining its function. She smiled confidently, then took off, flying a few feet above the ground to demonstrate her speed and precision, looping graceful arcs that caught Lena’s attention and made her smile.

Later, when a nearby monitor flickered, Taryn’s eyes glowed faintly as she zapped the console with a quick beam of heat vision, repairing the circuit in seconds.

Lena clapped softly, clearly impressed.

Kara’s chest tightened.

It wasn’t that Taryn’s powers were stronger—Kara knew she held her own there.

But the ease and control Taryn displayed, along with the way Lena's face brightened with laughter and admiration, were striking.

“I came looking for Kara,” Lena said, her voice light as she stood with her arms loosely crossed, the rare spark of easy interest in her eyes.

“I’ve been trying to install a quantum energy converter in one of the new satellites,” Lena said, her tone animated. “But it’s been temperamental.”

“Let me guess, trying to sync the harmonics with a dual-core feed?” Taryn asked without missing a beat.

Lena lit up. “Exactly.”

“I love this,” Taryn grinned. “Someone who speaks fluent technobabble.”

Lena tilted her head. “Not everyone appreciates it.”

“I do,” Taryn said. “Deeply.”

Kara turned away.

****

Later that evening, back at the penthouse, Kara hovered near the kitchen counter, poking at the grilled cheese with a spatula. The edges were already blackened from distraction. The smell of scorched bread and melted butter hung thick in the air as she waited for Lena to get home.

The front door clicked open. Lena walked in, jacket slung over one arm, her cheeks flushed from the evening air. She looked effortlessly radiant, and it only made Kara’s chest tighten more.

“You’re home late,” Kara said without looking up.

“Sorry,” Lena replied as she slipped out of her heels, hanging her coat up with practiced ease. “Alex asked me to stop over at the DEO. Something about the new firewall integration.”

Kara flipped the sandwich onto a plate, though it was clearly beyond saving. “Did Taryn happen to be there?”

Lena paused for just a beat too long. “Yes. She was.”

Kara’s jaw tensed.

“She seems… impressive,” Kara said, the words brittle on her tongue.

“She is,” Lena said honestly, stepping into the kitchen. “Smart. Charismatic. Very capable.”

“And beautiful,” Kara thought silently. Taryn had perfect posture, a polished voice, and a sleek suit that eliminated any risk of tripping over a cape. She never spilled things on herself or accidentally shattered mugs because she forgot her own strength. Taryn didn’t snort when she laughed.

“She helped coordinate the satellite uplink calibration in under five minutes,” Lena added. “It was actually really impressive; she’s got a firm grasp of quantum particle phasing.”

Kara forced a tight smile. “Of course she does.”

Silence bloomed.

“She even got along with my mother,” Lena said offhandedly, reaching for a glass of water.

Kara stilled.

“You introduced her to Lillian?”

“It wasn’t planned,” Lena said quickly. “Taryn stopped by L-Corp to drop off some tech specs, and she brought me lunch, actually. Thai food. She overheard me mention once that I liked it.”

Kara said nothing, her expression unreadable.

“Lillian happened to be in the hallway and ran into her. They… chatted.”

Kara stared down at the countertop, voice low. “And your mother didn’t flinch. Didn’t sneer. Didn’t say something passive-aggressive about alien interventionism or humanity’s purity.”

Lena hesitated. “No. She asked Taryn where she got her boots.”

Kara let out a short, humorless laugh. “Right. Of course.”

For a moment, she remained silent, standing there with her fingers tightening around the edge of the counter, her jaw working silently. Then she turned away and began to pace slightly, her voice initially quiet.

“What if she fits better in your world?” Kara asked, the words almost a whisper before they gained momentum. “She’s elegant. Controlled. You wouldn't have to budget just to keep up with her metabolism. She probably doesn’t have a secret identity that gets yelled at by an overinflated editor-in-chief.”

She swallowed hard, back still to Lena. “She's perfect for you, Lena.”

Her voice cracked on that last line, but she didn’t stop moving.

“Kara—”

“She speaks your language, all that technical jargon you adore. She completes your sentences. I saw you laughing with her, Lena. You really lit up.”

Kara’s voice cracked at the edges.

Lena crossed the room in an instant.

“Kara,” she said placing a hand on her girlfriend’s arm. “Look at me.”

Kara didn’t.

So Lena reached up and tilted her chin, her fingers impossibly tender. “Kara Danvers. There is no one for me but you.”

Kara blinked, swallowing down the insecurity rising in her throat.

“I love you,” Lena continued. “All of you. Even the parts you think are flawed. I love the way you get excited about movie night and fly home too fast and knock half the popcorn across the room. I love that you trip over your own feet when you’re distracted and that you talk to cats like they’re people.”

“I do not.”

“You meowed at one last week,” Lena deadpanned.

“That cat judged me.”

Lena smiled, brushing her thumb over Kara’s cheek. “I love that you try so hard to hide when you’re nervous, but I always know. I love your heart. I love your hope. I love that you burn dinner because you’re trying to do ten things at once."

Kara’s shoulders sagged, the words sinking in slowly.

“She’s extraordinary,” Kara admitted.

“She is,” Lena admitted. “But she’s not you. She doesn’t curl around me in the middle of the night just to pull me closer. She doesn’t sing in the shower or squeeze my hand just before a speech because she knows I’m nervous. And she’s definitely not the one who makes me unravel with just her hands and mouth.”

Kara let out a shaky breath.

“She doesn’t wake me up at 2 a.m. because she dreamed we adopted a space puppy,” Lena added, her voice lighter now.

Kara looked up, sheepish. “That dream was so vivid.”

Lena leaned in. “You are the one I love. The one I choose. Every day.”

“But what if I’m not enough…” Kara whispered. “What if I keep screwing up? Saying the wrong things? What if I never look like someone who belongs at your side in a lab coat or a boardroom?”

Lena didn’t hesitate. She took Kara’s hands and pressed them to her chest.

“Especially then,” she said. “That’s when I want you closest. When you’re unsure. When you doubt. That’s when you need to remember I don’t love you for what you do. I love you for who you are.”

Kara blinked rapidly, moisture stinging her eyes.

“Taryn’s great,” Lena said calmly. “But she’s not the one who made me believe I’m more than just my last name. She’s not the one I want to spend the rest of my life with.” Kara stared at her for a long moment, the burn in her chest ebbing, the fear slowly receding.

****

Then she closed the distance, collapsing into Lena’s arms with a sigh that sounded a lot like relief.

They stayed like that for a while—quiet, close, breathing in sync—until the weight in Kara’s shoulders softened into something lighter.

Lena’s hand moved along Kara’s back.

“I wasn’t flirting, you know,” she said after a beat, her voice teasing but still threaded with tenderness. “She was just quoting my nanotech white paper.”

Kara pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, narrowing them playfully. “You blushed.”

“I did not.”

“You so did.”

Lena huffed, crossing her arms in mock indignation. “Fine. Maybe a little. I didn’t expect her to actually read my work, let alone memorize the appendix and ask intelligent follow-ups about the L-Corp phase field generators. It caught me off guard.”

Kara tried to pout but ended up grinning. “I read your work.”

“Yes,” Lena said, deadpan. “And you annotate it with little hearts in the margins.”

“Only sometimes,” Kara mumbled, cheeks pink. “That one time I drew us as lab mice was scientifically relevant.”

“It had speech bubbles.”

“You said you liked it!”

“I framed it,” Lena said with a smirk, closing the distance between them. “Next to your drawing of ‘Super Lena’ in a cape made of blueprints.”

Kara smiled sheepishly. “That one was accurate.”

Lena’s arms slid around Kara’s waist, drawing her in until there was barely any space left between them. Her voice was a whisper against Kara’s lips. “And you,” she said, “are the love of my life.”

Kara leaned forward until their foreheads touched, her breath catching. “You’re mine too.”

“Kiss me,” Lena murmured, her voice tender and full of need.

Kara didn’t hesitate. She tilted her head and captured Lena’s mouth with hers, the kiss unfolding slowly, deliberately, and deeply. It wasn’t rushed or desperate. It was grounding. The kind of kiss that said, I see you, that said, We’ve made it through. Lena’s fingers tightened at Kara’s back as their mouths moved together in a rhythm built on trust, on history, on everything unspoken between them.

It wasn’t about proving anything. It was about being.

****

Curled up together on the couch, Kara lay draped across Lena’s chest, the weight of everything melting off her shoulders as Lena held her close. Their legs were tangled beneath the blanket, a quiet mess of warmth and closeness. Lena’s fingers traced lines along Kara’s spine, slow and steady, like she was memorizing every inch of her.

She leaned down and kissed Kara’s forehead, lingering there for a moment, then pressed another kiss to her temple. “You’ll always be my favorite superhero,” Lena whispered against her skin, “my favorite everything.”

Kara let out a laugh, her breath brushing Lena’s collarbone. “Even when I leave my laundry in the dryer for three days straight?”

“Especially then,” Lena murmured, tucking a loose strand of golden hair behind Kara’s ear.

Kara lifted her head just enough to meet Lena’s eyes. Her hand slid up, resting over Lena’s heart. “I love you,” she said quietly, like it was sacred. Then, leaning in, she pressed a kiss just beneath Lena’s jaw and another against her neck.

Lena exhaled slowly, her hand cradling the back of Kara’s head, holding her there. “I love you more,” she whispered, lips brushing Kara’s hairline. “In every universe. In every timeline.”

Kara smiled, the kind of smile that softened her whole face. “That’s a lot of loving.”

“I’ve got a lot to give,” Lena said, eyes shining.

She tilted Kara’s face up, her thumb brushing along her cheek, and kissed her—slow and full, a kiss that spoke of quiet devotion and the safety they’d built between them. Kara responded with a sigh, fingers curling into Lena’s shirt, grounding herself in everything this was.

When they finally pulled back, foreheads resting together, Kara whispered, “How did I ever live without this?”

“You didn’t,” Lena said gently. “You just survived. Now we get to live.”

As they lay tangled in each other’s arms—
No Taryn, no crisis, no doubt.
Only love.
Only them.

Chapter 42: Two Weeks Too Long

The balcony door hadn’t even fully clicked shut behind Kara before Lena was running, almost stumbling, as if the last two weeks of aching absence had finally broken free in one desperate burst. Her body slammed into Kara’s with a force that stole her breath, pressed flush and burning hot against hers. The sharp intake of Kara’s pulse echoed in her ears, wild and unsteady. Before Kara could even catch herself, Lena’s lips claimed hers, making her skin tingle and pulse with electricity.

Kara’s hands shot up on pure instinct, fingers weaving into the wild tumble of Lena’s hair, clutching her as if she could hold her forever. The world beyond the glass dissolved into silence, leaving only ragged breaths and the frantic pounding of their hearts. The cool night air brushed their flushed skin, but the heat flaring between them was unbearable, chasing away every trace of chill.

Lena’s hands didn’t linger; they roamed with urgency over Kara’s back, fingertips tracing lightning across muscles taut beneath her suit. Kara gasped sharply when Lena’s nails scraped the tender spot where her shoulders curved to her neck—the sudden raw intimacy making her breath catch. Every movement was desperate and precise, as if both were trying to imprint the other onto their very skin after the painful stretch apart.

“God, it’s been torture without you,” Lena murmured, voice ragged and trembling, heavy with all the unsaid emotions from long days and empty nights. Her lips brushed again against Kara’s heated skin, seeking solace in the only place that ever truly felt like home.

Kara tilted her head back just enough to meet those radiant emerald eyes sparkling with longing and fire. A slow, shaky smile curved her lips. “I’ve thought about you every day. Every moment.”

Lena’s lips curled into a slow, sultry smile that promised retribution for every lonely second. “Good. Because I’m never letting you leave me again.”

She captured Kara’s mouth again, and this time the kiss was different—fierce, deep, a clash of soft and wild, and a silent confession of the ache they’d carried. Kara let her hands slip to Lena’s waist, fingers trembling as they brushed the edge of her sweater, hesitant but hungry for more.

****

Lena smiled as Kara slid her sweater upward, peeling it off and tossing it onto the floor, revealing bare skin that caught every shiver Kara tried to hide. Her hands brushed over the outside of Kara’s suit, tracing the warmth beneath the fabric, pulling her impossibly close until their bodies melted into fierce, urgent heat.

Lena’s eyes darkened with longing, a slow, sultry smile curling her lips. “Let me show you how much I’ve missed you.”

Kara broke the kiss, breathless. “Show me.”

Lena’s teasing smile was the only answer before she carefully deactivated Kara’s suit. The cool air kissed Kara’s exposed skin, but Lena’s hands were the wildfire chasing it away—warm, insistent, wandering over her stomach and curling around the sides of her ribs. Her thumbs stroked the curves beneath with a touch that made Kara’s breath hitch and her heart race.

Kara trembled as Lena’s mouth followed the path of her hands, lips brushing across her collarbone, each kiss sending fresh shivers cascading down her spine. The intoxicating taste of Lena was everywhere: sweet, warm, and addictive.

“Every second without you was agony,” Lena whispered, voice thick with unspent desire as she pressed a gentle, fiercely needy kiss to Kara’s throat, nipping lightly. “I want to remember every inch of you.”

Kara’s hands tangled in Lena’s wild, untamed hair, pulling her face up for a kiss both tender and fiery. “Then let me remind you.”

Their mouths met again, slow at first and deliberate, then bursting in waves of tension that electrified every nerve ending. Lena’s hands were relentless, sliding beneath Kara’s shorts, teasing the waistband of her underwear with tantalizing promise.

Kara shivered against her, hands roaming Lena’s back, tracing every curve with reverence and raw need. She felt the steady thrum of Lena’s heartbeat and the way her body melted into each touch.

Lena’s breath caught as Kara’s lips trailed down her jawline to her neck, lingering at the dip at the base of her throat. “Tell me what you want,” Kara whispered.

Lena’s fingers curled tighter in Kara’s hair, voice husky and breathless. “I want you. I want you close. Wrapped around me.”

Kara’s smile was slow, reverent, and full of promise. “Then you’ll have every inch.”

Their kisses deepened, mouths exploring, tongues tracing, and teeth grazing in a delicious, hungry dance of need and desire. Kara’s hands cupped Lena’s breasts, drawing gasps and urgent moans that echoed between them.

Lena’s hips pressed harder, seeking, needing every inch of Kara’s touch, every kiss igniting sparks that roared down her spine. Kara’s lips found hers again, slow and demanding, tasting every inch of her mouth as if memorizing the contours of her soul.

They moved as one in a desperate and perfect rhythm, skin sliding on skin, breath mingling, hearts pounding wild and free. Kara’s fingers traced lazy circles along Lena’s hip, coaxing her to arch closer, lips parting in a breathless invitation.

The space between them thickened, charged with a silent vow whispered through every touch and kiss. Lena’s nails raked lightly along Kara’s back, sending delicious heat spiraling deep inside.

“I need you,” Lena whispered, voice rough and ragged with want.

Kara answered with a kiss that stole her breath, fingers threading through her hair as she pressed in, claiming her mouth with fierce tenderness. Their bodies molded perfectly, tension unspooling in waves of fire and aching softness.

Every caress spoke volumes; every gasp and sigh was a sacred promise. Time lost meaning in the heat of their connection: lips on skin, hands exploring and holding, bodies moving toward a place where only they existed.

Their kisses slowed, becoming languid and searching, a dance of reverence and passion woven into one. Kara’s hands cradled Lena’s face, thumbs tracing the delicate curves of her cheekbones as their eyes locked—breathless, consumed.

“I love you,” Kara murmured, voice thick with love and desire.

Lena’s smile was soft and radiant. “I love you so much.”

The world vanished as Kara lifted Lena effortlessly, carrying her through the apartment. Their bodies pressed together, every inch a promise, every touch a declaration never again to be apart.

Chapter 43: The Softest Part of Me is You

Lena Luthor was the kind of woman who commanded every room she entered. Sharp suits, sharper eyes, and an aura that made people think twice before crossing her. She was the formidable CEO of L-Corp, a master strategist with a mind as precise as a surgeon’s scalpel. Many admired her, some feared her, and most simply stayed out of her way.

But then Kara Danvers walked into her life, and everything changed.

No one could quite explain it, but the shift was undeniable. The moment Kara appeared, the hard edges around Lena’s eyes softened. Her posture eased, her voice lost its practiced formality, and a rare, almost shy smile would curl at her lips. It was like watching armor dissolve in real time, revealing a woman who was vulnerable in a way she’d never allow with anyone else.

Her shoulders would lower, her gaze soften, and her whole frame lean without thought or hesitation toward the source of her light. Where Lena’s hands were usually deliberate and measured, with Kara they became instinctively tender. A simple touch on Kara’s wrist or the back of her hand seemed to anchor Lena, as though contact alone steadied her heartbeat.

The signs were everywhere if you knew where to look. The extra cup of coffee on Kara’s desk every morning, perfectly made, just the way she liked it, always seemed to arrive moments before she walked in, steam curling in the air. The way lunch would appear for Kara on the busiest days—no fanfare, no interruptions, just there because Lena had somehow made time, even if it meant rearranging her own schedule. And when Kara’s days were harder, when the weight of the world pressed too heavily on her shoulders, Lena wouldn’t just make time; she’d clear her day entirely. Every meeting canceled, every obligation pushed aside.

No one questioned it anymore. The instant Lena said Kara’s name with that low, almost protective note in her voice, her staff understood. Everything else could wait.

Sometimes Kara would appear in the doorway to Lena’s office, eyes tired and shoulders drawn, and Lena wouldn’t need to ask a single question. She’d simply cross the room, cup Kara’s face in both hands, and draw her close, holding her until the tension drained away. They might stay like that for minutes, or for hours, sunlight shifting across Lena’s office as the city outside moved on without them.

Even in public, Lena’s touch betrayed her. A lingering hand at the small of Kara’s back as she guided her through a crowded room. Fingers brushing the edge of Kara’s scarf on a cold day, adjusting it with unconscious care before her touch drifted along Kara’s jawline. And though Lena could command the attention of a room effortlessly, her eyes followed Kara as if tethered by some invisible gravity.

Everyone saw it the way the untouchable CEO seemed to bend without hesitation when it came to Kara Danvers. But what they didn’t see was how natural it was for Lena. How, with Kara, it didn’t feel like bending at all. It felt like breathing.

*****

Tonight was no different. They were at a gala celebrating a new innovation. L-Corp was launching a glittering event filled with reporters, dignitaries, and investors eager to bask in Lena’s brilliance. Lena moved through the crowd like a queen, her gaze cool and calculating, every word precise. Yet even amidst the swirling chaos, her eyes searched for one thing—Kara.

Kara stood near the grand marble staircase, radiant in a flowing sapphire dress that caught the light with every movement. Her smile was bright, open, and genuine, a striking contrast to Lena’s carefully curated exterior. When Kara’s gaze met hers, a subtle warmth flickered across Lena’s face, too fleeting for most to notice but impossible for Kara to miss.

As Lena crossed the room toward her, the buzz of the gala seemed to dim, the clinking glasses and polite chatter fading into the background until all that existed was the space between them.

“Darling,” Lena breathed, her voice dropping to a private murmur meant for Kara alone.

Kara’s eyes sparkled as she took Lena’s hand, weaving their fingers together. The touch was both electric and steady, grounding them. “You look amazing.”

Lena’s confident smile faltered, replaced by something softer, more unguarded. “I’m… not as amazing as you.”

They slipped away from the crowd, stepping through ornate doors onto a quiet balcony overlooking the glittering city skyline. Cool night air carried the faint scent of jasmine from the gardens below.

Lena pulled Kara close, her fingers tracing the line of Kara’s jaw with a touch both reverent and sure. She kissed her slowly at first, savoring the softness of her lips and the shiver that ran through her. The kiss was full of unspoken promises of protection, of tenderness, and of a love that defied every expectation Lena had once held about herself.

Kara smiled against her mouth, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. Her hands slid up Lena’s back, pulling her closer, as though trying to fuse them into one. They swayed together, caught in a moment suspended between reality and something far more profound.

Lena’s usual guarded nature unraveled with every touch. She cupped Kara’s face, her thumb brushing over her cheekbone, memorizing the way Kara’s eyes fluttered shut. “With you, I don’t have to be anyone else,” she whispered. “I don’t have to be the CEO, the Luthor. Just me.”

Kara’s fingers played idly with the collar of Lena’s dress, slipping beneath it to graze bare skin. “I love all of you,” she murmured, her breath warm against Lena’s neck.

Lena’s hands trembled slightly as they explored the familiar curve of Kara’s back, the fortress around her heart loosening. “You make me brave,” she admitted, voice raw. “Because with you, I’m never alone.”

Their lips met again, slower now, deeper, each kiss a quiet act of trust. Lena’s hands moved with a tenderness she never displayed in boardrooms or under the harsh glare of cameras. She traced the slope of Kara’s shoulder and the curve of her waist, mapping her like a cherished secret.

Kara’s touch answered in kind, soothing yet igniting a fire beneath Lena’s skin. Her whispered reassurances were a balm to Lena’s restless soul. “I’m here,” Kara promised. “Always.”

They finally parted just enough to look at each other, their breaths mingling, eyes bright with everything they didn’t need to say. Lena’s smile now was no shield; it was a beacon, open and real, carrying hope, love, and a rare sense of peace.

When they returned to the gala hand in hand, the room seemed somehow smaller, less intimidating. Lena moved not with the confidence of power, but with the quiet assurance of belonging. Kara’s presence softened her edges, lit her from within, and filled her with a joy no title or fortune could touch.

In the days and nights that followed, Lena found herself setting down the weight of her world whenever Kara was near. The formidable CEO who once wore armor without pause now allowed herself moments of laughter, of lingering touch, of stolen afternoons spent bringing Kara coffee or cancelling meetings simply because Kara needed to be held.

And everyone could see it—the way Lena’s gaze softened when Kara entered a room, the way her smile brightened, the way her steps seemed lighter. With Kara, Lena was no longer the woman the world demanded her to be. She was simply Lena, loved, cherished, and wholly hers.

In a world full of chaos, Lena had found her sanctuary in Kara. And that love, fierce, steady, and unyielding, was the most powerful thing either of them had ever known.

Chapter 44: My Favorite Everything

Kara was drunk.

Not just tipsy, not buzzed, wrecked. Full-throttle Kryptonian wrecked on something that shimmered green and purple in the glass and tasted like cherries set on fire. Nia had called it “alien rocket fuel,” and Kara, in her brilliant lack of judgment, had taken that as a challenge.

Now she was weaving through the bar like she was flying through molasses, her shoes sticking slightly to the floor, her blonde hair wild, and her smile far too bright for the dim, moody lighting of the downtown lounge.

Her target stood at the bar, lit by the faint glow of an overhead bulb.

Lena.

Unbothered. Unreachable. Untouchable.

Wearing a charcoal silk blouse tucked into high-waisted slacks, one manicured hand wrapped around a crystal tumbler of something clear and expensive, her other hand casually flicking through a message on her phone. The crowd pulsed around her, all elbows and chatter, but Lena stood apart, composed, polished, and entirely in her element.

Kara launched herself into her orbit.

She slid in behind her, arms sliding firmly around Lena’s waist, fingers dipping under the hem of her blouse. She pressed her face into Lena’s neck and inhaled dramatically, like Lena was oxygen and she’d been holding her breath since she walked in.

“Did you know,” Kara said, voice slurred but full of conviction, “you’re my favorite girlfriend?”

Lena blinked. She stilled for only a second before tilting her head with a knowing smirk. She set her drink down carefully, turned around in Kara’s hold, and arched one brow with clinical grace.

“Darling, I better be your only girlfriend.”

Kara grinned, eyes wide and delighted. “Obviously! Only! Forever only! But also my favorite.” She beamed and pressed a kiss to Lena’s cheek. Then to her jaw. Then lower, letting her mouth linger just under Lena’s ear. “Like, you’re the only one on the list, but even if there were others, you’d still win.”

“You’re very drunk,” Lena said, though her voice had gone warm and low, her hands slowly sliding around Kara’s waist, pulling her in tighter.

Kara kissed her, quick and eager. Then again, with more heat, hands skimming up Lena’s back beneath the silk. “You’re not just my favorite girlfriend,” she murmured between kisses. “You’re my favorite everything.”

Lena tilted her head. “Everything?”

Kara nodded, counting on her fingers while simultaneously trying to press Lena closer. “Favorite cuddler. Favorite hair. Favorite smell. Favorite brain. Favorite person to nap on...” She paused to brush a kiss across Lena’s jaw, making Lena shiver. “Favorite person to argue with, because you always win, and it’s hot.”

She grinned. “Favorite hands.”

Lena’s breath caught.

Kara’s fingers curled into Lena’s hips, pulling her forward, bodies flush. “You’re also my favorite person to have sex with.”

Lena blinked, startled, then entirely amused. “Kara.”

Kara looked utterly unrepentant. “It’s true. You’re... like... insanely good at it. Not just in a sexy way. In a know-my-body-and-my-soul way. You make me feel like I’m going to explode, and I want to.”

Lena’s hand slid up Kara’s spine, nails teasing lightly. “You want to explode, huh?”

“Only if it’s with you,” Kara whispered.

Lena leaned in, breath brushing the shell of Kara’s ear. “Do you want to go home,” she said, voice sultry and slow, “and I’ll remind you why I’m your favorite?”

Kara’s response was a breathless, “Yes. Please. Like... now.”

Lena didn’t hesitate. She downed her drink in one elegant motion, grabbed Kara’s hand, and led her toward the exit with a confidence that made Kara dizzy all over again.

****

The cool night air slapped Kara’s cheeks pink. The city buzzed around them with neon signs flickering across pavement, cabs honking, and couples huddled under awnings. Lena stood like a queen, and Kara clung to her side like a very affectionate, very horny, very drunk koala.

Lena hailed the car with a wave. Kara giggled when she nearly tripped, then grabbed Lena by the hips and pulled her in for a kiss that lingered far too long for public consumption. Lena didn’t seem to mind.

In the backseat, Kara crawled into Lena’s lap without hesitation, straddling her loosely, fingers playing with the buttons of Lena’s blouse.

“You’re also my favorite person to hold hands with,” Kara said, placing soft, wet kisses along Lena’s throat. “And to eat pot stickers with. And to touch. God, I love touching you.”

Lena smoothed a hand over Kara’s thigh, giving it a teasing squeeze. “That’s obvious.”

Kara hummed. “Favorite lipstick, too.”

“Favorite—lipstick?”

“The burgundy one. You wore it when you kissed me the first time.”

“You remember the color?”

Kara leaned in, dragging her lips along Lena’s jaw. “I remember everything about you.”

Lena swore softly in her throat, trying not to visibly lose composure while Kara’s hands slipped down to grab her ass, giving it a squeeze.

“Favorite person to fall asleep next to. Even when you hog the blankets,” Kara whispered against her ear. “Favorite sound when you moan. Favorite thing to wake up to. Favorite… everything.”

Lena kissed her quickly and desperately just as the car pulled up outside her building.

****

The elevator ride was chaos.

Kara had her hands all over Lena, kissing her neck, fumbling with the buttons of her slacks, and whispering hot nonsense against her skin. Lena was flushed, laughing, and trying to keep it together long enough to reach the penthouse without scandal.

The second the door opened, Kara slammed her into the wall.

Their kisses turned hungry. Heated. All teeth and tongue. Kara lifted Lena with one hand and pinned her in place with the other. Lena groaned, legs wrapping around Kara’s waist, fingers tangled in her hair.

They stumbled their way to the bedroom, leaving clothes like breadcrumbs.

Lena’s back hit the mattress, Kara’s body blanketing hers. They kissed like they were starving, hands everywhere—claiming, teasing, learning. Kara worshipped Lena’s body with open-mouthed kisses, and Lena gave back everything tenfold.

Later, tangled in rumpled sheets, Kara lay sprawled half on top of her, her leg hooked over Lena’s, both of them glowing with sweat and affection.

“You're also my favorite person to be ruined by,” Kara murmured, her face nuzzled against Lena's chest.

“Good,” Lena said with a laugh, threading her fingers through Kara’s damp hair. “Because ruining you might be my favorite thing.”

Kara smiled sleepily. “I love you.”

Lena kissed the top of her head. “You’re mine.”

“Always,” Kara whispered.

Lena tilted Kara’s chin up, brushing her lips across hers. “My favorite everything.”

They kissed again, slower this time, tender and lingering. Then again. And again.

Until sleep finally claimed them, bodies wrapped around each other, the weight of the night fading into warmth and breath and skin.

It was messy.

It was a lot.

It was love.

And neither of them would change a thing.

Chapter 45: Wrapped in Lena’s Care

Summary:

As Requested

Kara had always been indestructible in Lena’s eyes. She had seen her girlfriend soar into battle, crash through walls, survive fire, bullets, even things no human could endure. And each time, Kara would come home scraped and tired but still radiant, still unshakable. That was the rhythm Lena had gotten used to: worry coiled tight in her chest during the fight, then relief flooding through her the moment Kara walked back through their door.

But tonight was different. Tonight, Kara wasn’t glowing or steady or unbreakable. She was curled up in their bed, flushed and trembling, hair sticking damply to her forehead, and for the first time Lena was facing something she didn’t know how to fight: Kara was sick. Truly sick. Human sick.

It had started after a rescue when Kara had pushed herself too far, burning through every last ounce of her strength to save a collapsing building full of civilians. By the time she stumbled back to the Tower, she’d brushed off the way she swayed on her feet. “Just tired,” she’d said, with that stubborn little smile that never fooled Lena. But then she’d collapsed into a coughing fit that left her doubled over, her entire frame wracked with effort.

That was when Lena’s instincts snapped into place. She’d brought Kara home without argument, ignoring her protests that she’d be fine in an hour. Lena had done enough research into Kryptonian biology to know: when a Kryptonian’s powers were burned out, their body didn’t just recover instantly. They were vulnerable, fragile even. And that left Kara open to something she could never normally catch—germs. A plain, ordinary human cold.

****

Now Lena sat on the edge of the bed, brushing damp strands of hair back from Kara’s face. Kara stirred, blue eyes cracking open, cloudy with fever. “You’re staring again,” she rasped, her voice low and strained.

“Of course I am,” Lena said softly, fingers lingering against her cheek. “I’ve never seen you like this.”

“I don’t need fussing over,” Kara murmured, trying for reassurance, but the effort of speaking sent her into another coughing fit. Lena was already reaching for the water glass at her bedside, one hand cradling the back of Kara’s head as she held it to her lips.

“Slowly,” Lena urged, her thumb stroking across Kara’s hairline. “Sip, don’t gulp.”

Kara obeyed, leaning into her touch, and the sight twisted something deep in Lena’s chest. Kara, her invincible Supergirl, trembling in her arms, looking as breakable as anyone else.

Lena pressed a kiss to her cheek, lingering there. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t listen,” she whispered.

****

The soup was already simmering in the kitchen, homemade chicken broth Lena had thrown together the second they got home. She hated being away from Kara’s side for even a second, but she wanted her to have something nourishing, something grounding. When she returned with a steaming bowl, Kara gave her a sheepish look.

“You didn’t have to cook—”

“Hush,” Lena cut her off, setting the bowl on the nightstand. “What’s the point of being a genius billionaire if I can’t manage chicken soup for the woman I love?”

Kara’s cheeks flushed deeper, though Lena couldn’t tell if it was from the fever or her words. She coaxed Kara upright against the pillows, sliding in close beside her so she could spoon feed her in small bites. Kara resisted at first, rolling her eyes, but her resistance crumbled fast in the face of Lena’s persistence.

“You’re bossy when I’m sick,” Kara teased hoarsely, opening her mouth for another spoonful.

“I’m bossy all the time,” Lena returned, smirking faintly as she held another spoon to her lips.

Kara chuckled weakly, the sound breaking into a cough. Lena was instantly rubbing her back, murmuring soothing nonsense, kissing her temple between coughs as if kisses alone could steady her. Every time Kara’s body shook, Lena swore her own heart cracked a little more.

“Humans are ridiculous,” Kara muttered once she caught her breath, leaning into Lena’s shoulder. “All this—” she waved weakly at the tissues, soup, and fever— “just from germs? I fight alien monsters every week and this is what takes me down?”

Lena laughed, kissing the crown of her head. “Welcome to the human experience, darling. It’s brutal, but at least you get chicken soup out of it.”

****

Once the soup was finished, Lena guided Kara back down into the covers, tucking them up to her chin and smoothing them flat as if swaddling her. She pressed a lingering kiss to Kara’s hairline, her hand tracing lightly across Kara’s chest just to reassure herself that her heart was still beating strong beneath her palm.

Kara shifted, fingers fumbling until they found Lena’s hand. She squeezed weakly. “I hate that you’re worried,” she whispered, her eyes glassy with fever but full of affection.

“And I hate that you think I could feel anything else,” Lena said, her voice breaking with the intensity of it. She leaned down until their lips met in a kiss that was far from soft it was steady, grounding, full of everything Lena felt but could never put into words. Even fever-flushed and exhausted, Kara responded, her hand tugging weakly at Lena’s wrist as if to keep her there.

Lena deepened it just slightly, savoring the heat of Kara and the sweetness underneath it all. She kissed her once more, then again, trailing down to her cheek, the tip of her nose, back to her lips. Each kiss was a promise, a vow: you’re here, you’re mine, I love you.

When she finally pulled back, Kara was breathing hard but smiling faintly. “You love me too much,” she rasped, her voice wrecked but threaded with awe.

“Impossible,” Lena whispered back, her thumbs stroking gently along flushed cheeks. She kissed her again, featherlight, whispering against her lips, “I’ll never stop. Not when you’re flying, not when you’re fighting, and certainly not when you’re sick in bed with the worst fever I’ve ever seen.”

Kara’s laugh was faint and broken, but it was real. She nestled closer, letting Lena tuck her against her chest. “You make it sound like you don’t mind taking care of me.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Lena said fervently. “If I could, I’d take the fever from you in a heartbeat.” She stroked Kara’s hair back, kissed her temple, then her jaw. “Since I can’t, I’ll stay right here, making sure you have soup and water and every bit of love I have to give.”

Kara blinked back tears, overwhelmed. “You’re too good to me.”

“You deserve all of it,” Lena whispered, pressing another kiss to her forehead, lingering there until she felt Kara’s breathing steady.

Kara sighed, eyes slipping shut, but her hand never left Lena’s. She clutched it to her chest like a lifeline, her lips brushing Lena’s knuckles as she drifted.

And Lena stayed right there, her other hand tracing lazy patterns along Kara’s arm, kissing her hair every time she stirred, murmuring, “Rest, my love. I’ve got you.”

She sat through the night, ready with water, with a cool cloth, with open arms. For once, the world outside didn’t matter. All that mattered was here in this bed: Kara, safe, loved, cared for.

By dawn, Lena had memorized every rise and fall of her girlfriend’s breath, every small sound she made in her sleep. And though exhaustion tugged at her, Lena had never felt more certain of anything in her life.

Because Kara Danvers might be Supergirl to the rest of the world, but to Lena Luthor, she was simply the woman she loved. And she would take care of her through anything powers or no powers, sick or strong, forever.

Notes:

I am always open to requests!

Chapter 46: The Day We Couldn’t Kiss

The bar was buzzing with chatter, clinking glasses, and the familiar weight of easy company. Kara sat pressed against Lena in the booth as though she couldn’t bear a single inch of space between them. Her arm was slung possessively across Lena’s waist, fingers tracing lazy circles on the silk of her blouse, while Lena’s nails brushed along Kara’s back. It wasn’t just the way they touched; it was the way they looked at each other. Whole universes of devotion passed between their eyes like it was a private conversation no one else could hear. Lena’s chest tightened slightly at the thought of losing even a moment of this closeness, a premonition she tried not to voice.

When Kara leaned in and brushed her lips across Lena’s cheek, Lena turned just slightly, capturing Kara’s mouth with hers instead. The kiss lingered, unhurried, until Alex let out a groan loud enough to draw attention from the next booth over.

“Seriously? Do you two ever stop?” Alex teased, tossing a peanut into her mouth and shaking her head in mock disgust. “It’s like watching a rom-com in 4D.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Kara countered with a grin, already nuzzling her nose against Lena’s neck. She felt a flicker of longing for the warmth she was holding back but quickly brushed it aside, determined to act like this was nothing.

Across the table, Nia laughed, rolling her eyes. “I’m just saying, you two make the rest of us look tragically single. Or tragically less in love. There’s PDA, and then there’s whatever this is.”

Brainy tilted his head with analytical precision. “Statistically speaking, their level of physical contact exceeds social norms by approximately—”

“Don’t encourage them!” Alex cut in quickly, throwing him a look.

But Lena only smirked, turning her head toward Kara again, ready to press another kiss to her lips. A pang of dread laced through her chest as she thought of how empty the day might feel if she couldn’t have this closeness. Kara was already leaning in, eager and unashamed, when Alex’s voice sliced through the moment.

“That’s it. I dare you,” Alex announced, eyes gleaming with mischief. She leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Kara Danvers, Supergirl herself, I dare you to go one full day without kissing Lena.”

The entire table went still.

Kara’s head whipped toward her sister, blue eyes narrowing as though Alex had suggested she stop flying altogether. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously impossible for you,” Alex shot back smugly, voice rising with mock exasperation. “Do you realize what it’s like hanging out with you two? Restaurants, movie nights, game nights—it doesn’t matter. You’re always glued together, kissing like you’re the leads in some epic romance movie and the world is ending. Even when we’re saving the world, you sneak kisses. It’s exhausting!”

“Exhausting?” Kara’s jaw dropped. “We’re just affectionate.”

“Affectionate?” Alex laughed. “I watched you two kiss six times in the three minutes it took to walk from the car to the bar. Six! You kissed while Lena was still paying the parking meter!”

“You counted?” Lena arched an eyebrow, amusement and a flicker of panic mingling.

“Of course I counted,” Alex muttered. “I was traumatized.”

Nia was laughing so hard she nearly spilled her drink. “Honestly, I kind of want to see if Kara can actually do it. Can she resist Lena?”

Lena’s smirk faltered, her amusement draining into something closer to alarm. She tried to mask the tightness in her chest, but the thought of even an hour without Kara’s kisses sent her stomach sinking. “Wait. No kissing? For an entire day?”

“Twenty-four hours,” Alex confirmed, grinning like the devil himself, egging the others on to lean closer and tease Kara. “Think you’re up for it, sis? If you win, we will never bug you two about all the PDA again.”

Kara’s pride bristled. She never backed down from a challenge, especially not from Alex. Her chin lifted, eyes gleaming with determination. But for a fraction of a second, her jaw clenched as she realized how much she’d miss Lena’s lips too—a feeling she immediately pushed aside. “Piece of cake.”

The table erupted with cheers and laughter, some pounding the table, others shaking their heads in disbelief. Everyone except Lena.

Lena’s mouth parted in disbelief, emerald eyes wide as if Kara had just agreed to spend the day without oxygen. “Wait—you can’t be serious. Kara…”

But Kara was already nodding firmly, basking in the challenge, her internal struggle masked behind her usual confidence. “Totally serious. We'll prove you all wrong.”

Lena’s hand, which had been stroking Kara’s back, curled into a fist against her. Her voice dropped, tight and quiet. “Not a piece of cake for me.”

Kara barely noticed, too swept up in her own bravado. She leaned forward, bumping her forehead lightly against Lena’s, as close as she dared without breaking the dare. “We can do this, baby.”

But Lena had her doubts.

****

The next morning was unbearable from the very first breath.

Lena stirred awake to the comforting weight of Kara beside her. On any other morning, Kara’s lips would be the first thing she felt pressed to her shoulder, grazing her jaw, or sealing over her mouth in that lingering kiss that anchored her to the day. Instead, Kara only smiled down at her, fingertips sweeping a strand of hair from her face with nothing more than a casual touch. A flicker of longing ran through Kara’s chest as she tried to act as if it weren’t already painful to withhold her usual affection.

“Day one of the challenge,” Kara announced brightly, springing out of bed as if the whole thing were a race she’d already won.

Lena blinked up at her, still disoriented. “We’re not actually doing this…”

But Kara was already tugging a sweater over her head, smug determination written all over her face. “Breakfast?”

Lena lingered in bed, stunned. Her chest tightened with something she didn’t dare name. It was just a kiss. Just one kiss withheld. And yet it felt as if the oxygen had been siphoned from the room—like the single thing that made mornings bearable had been stripped away. She pressed her fingers to her lips, aching for the phantom trace of Kara’s mouth. Already, she felt unmoored, incomplete.

At breakfast, Lena reached across the table and stole Kara’s toast, waiting for the playful retaliation—the laugh, the teasing quip, and the kiss Kara always used to reclaim it. Instead, Kara only winked and let her keep it. Lena stared down at the toast, appetite gone, her stomach heavy with something that wasn’t hunger.

On their way out the door, Kara slid Lena’s coat over her shoulders with her usual care. Lena turned, ready—needing—to feel Kara’s mouth on hers before they stepped into the world. But Kara only bumped her shoulder with a grin. Pride glittered in her eyes, pride at keeping the dare. Lena stood frozen, clutching the edge of her coat. The absence stung, sharp and humiliating. She suddenly hated the sweater Kara wore, because all she wanted was to grab it, yank Kara close, and remind her how necessary kissing was.

By the time Lena reached her office, the ache had grown into a gnawing pit. She was curt with her assistant, short in meetings, everything blurring into meaningless noise. Without Kara’s kisses to ground her, the day stretched out—endless, hollow.

Every time her phone lit with Kara’s name, Lena lunged for it. But the messages—hearts, silly selfies, jokes—only deepened the emptiness. Words weren’t on Kara’s lips. Emojis weren’t the taste of Kara’s mouth. She scrolled through old photos like an addict, lingering on the ones where Kara was kissing her, desperate for some trace of what she was being denied.

By lunchtime, Lena was unraveling. Sitting across from Kara at their favorite café, she watched her animatedly describe her latest article, eyes bright, hands sweeping through the air. Kara looked so alive, so radiant, so entirely Kara. And Lena wanted her so badly it hurt. She wanted to lean across the table, silence the story with a kiss, and taste that light for herself.

But Kara only grinned wider, leaning back like this was all effortless. She wasn’t suffering. She wasn’t hollow. She was treating this like a game she was winning—though internally she noted every twinge of longing for Lena she was suppressing.

“How are you holding up?” Kara teased, blue eyes glimmering with mischief.

Lena’s nails dug crescents into her palm beneath the table. She wanted to scream, “I’m drowning.” I’m suffocating. I’m losing my mind. Instead, the words snapped sharp and raw before she could stop them.

“Terribly.”

The single word hit like a slap. Kara’s smile faltered, surprise flickering across her face.

Lena looked away, ashamed. The truth was too raw to hide anymore. Without Kara’s lips, without the tether of that daily devotion, she didn’t feel whole. She felt fractured.

Kara’s expression softened, and without breaking the dare, she reached across the table, letting her fingers brush lightly against Lena’s hand. “Hey,” she said, voice low and steady. “I know this sucks. I can’t fix it with a kiss right now, but… I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Lena’s fingers twitched under the touch, the small contact both a balm and a reminder of what she was missing. Kara leaned in just slightly, careful not to close the distance between their lips, eyes locked on Lena’s. “We’ll get through today,” she murmured. “One step at a time. And you know what? By tomorrow, we’ll laugh about this, and I’ll make it up to you.”

****

By evening, the ache had become unbearable. They sat curled together on the couch, a movie flickering across the screen, but Lena couldn’t focus on a single frame. Kara lounged easily, one arm draped over her shoulders, thumb tracing idle patterns along her sleeve—perfectly content, as if nothing in the world were missing. Lena, meanwhile, was a storm trapped beneath her skin, every nerve ending screaming.

She turned her head, close enough to study the curve of Kara’s mouth, close enough to inhale that familiar scent. She wanted to close the distance, to anchor herself the way she always had. But Kara didn’t move. Kara stayed smug and steady, as though her self-control were some triumph. And for Lena, that absence cut like a knife, carving her hollow.

Her hand twitched against Kara’s shirt, aching to tug her down, aching to break the stupid dare.

Finally, Lena broke.

“This isn’t fun for me, Kara.” Her voice was tight, trembling, the words spilling out because keeping them in would have destroyed her. “You may think it’s a silly dare, but for me… it’s agony. It’s torture.”

Kara’s smile faltered, confusion flashing before guilt set in. “Lee…”

“No.” Lena shook her head sharply, her voice rising, eyes shining with tears. “You don’t understand. I’ve spent my whole life hiding. Every feeling, every touch, every part of myself—I buried it under armor because I couldn’t risk anyone seeing me. And then you… you let me breathe. You made it safe to love openly, to hold someone’s hand, and to kiss the woman I adore without shame.”

Her throat closed, but she forced the words out anyway. “And now you want me to pretend again? To go back to silence? To act like my heart isn’t in my throat every second I’m near you? I can’t. I won’t. I finally have you, Kara, and I refuse to hide that. Not for a dare, not for a day, not ever.”

Kara’s chest clenched painfully. She reached for Lena, hesitated, caught between pride and promise, but when Lena’s eyes dropped, lashes heavy with hurt, the sight shattered her.

“To hell with Alex’s dare,” Kara whispered, voice rough. She cupped Lena’s face, pulling her in.

The kiss hit like a storm—hot, desperate, consuming. Lena gasped, lips parting as Kara’s tongue traced her own in clumsy, urgent exploration. Every hesitation, every restraint of the day shattered. Lena’s hands tangled in Kara’s hair, tugging her closer, needing more, as if the world might vanish if she let go.

Kara shifted, pulling Lena onto her lap, straddling her hips. Their bodies pressed together, heat searing through the fabric of their clothes. The kisses grew wetter and more frantic, with teeth catching lips and tongues seeking, tasting, and claiming. Lena moaned low and ragged, nails raking down Kara’s back, holding on as if she could fuse with her, could anchor herself to this moment forever.

Kara’s hands roamed—one cupping the curve of Lena’s waist, the other threading through her hair, holding, grounding, and guiding with an urgent need that matched Lena’s own. They moved together, lips and bodies colliding, breaking the slow, careful rhythm of their usual kisses into something raw, hungry, and utterly unrestrained.

When they finally broke apart, panting and flushed, Lena rested her forehead against Kara’s chest, heaving, tears glimmering. “Don’t you ever do that again. Don’t you dare take yourself away from me like that.”

“I won’t,” Kara promised instantly, brushing her thumb across Lena’s cheek, lingering over every trace of her pain. “I thought it was a harmless game. I didn’t realize it would wound you. But I felt it too, Lena. I thought if I acted like I was fine, maybe I would be. But I’d rather fight kryptonite than go a day without kissing you.”

Lena searched Kara’s eyes, finding only burning devotion, the tether she needed to breathe. Slowly, she nodded. “Good. Because I can’t go a day without you. Not like that. Not ever again.”

Kara grinned, lips pressing to Lena’s again, slower now, teasing, tasting, claiming. Every kiss a promise, a vow, a claim to her heart. “Then you’ll never have to.”

The movie played on, forgotten. Let the world laugh, groan at their clinginess, and roll their eyes at every kiss; they didn’t care. Lena had spent too many years denying herself love, hiding what she craved most. She would never do it again, not with Kara.

Kara leaned closer, lips brushing Lena’s jaw, whispering against her skin, heat and play in her voice: “And… from now on, you’ll be lucky if I let you breathe between kisses.”

Lena shivered, arching into her, lips capturing Kara’s once more, desperate and burning, a fire that would never be extinguished.

Chapter 47: The Home I’ve Missed

Kara sank into the couch, hugging a pillow to her chest as the apartment hummed quietly around her. Dinner for one had become a pattern she hated but had grown accustomed to: the faint scent of food cooling on the counter, a single plate left untouched because she didn’t have the appetite to eat alone. Nights were worse. The bed felt impossibly large, the sheets cold against her skin, her arms reaching out instinctively for a warmth that wasn’t there. Lena’s side was empty, the pillows untouched, a silent reminder that the woman she loved was too busy or too far away to be present.

The mornings carried a similar ache. Kara would wake to an empty apartment, sunlight streaming across the blankets that were still unwrinkled from a lone night’s sleep. Sometimes she’d see the faint imprint of Lena’s perfume on the pillow and feel a pang of longing, a reminder that the person she wanted most had chosen her work over her, again. Even small touches, the brush of a hand while passing in the kitchen, and the light kiss before drifting to sleep had disappeared from their lives. There was no lingering laugh in the living room, no playful teasing over breakfast. Their intimacy, once so natural and effortless, had been quietly replaced by absence.

Even when Lena was physically there, it wasn’t the same. She would arrive home late, exhausted, retreating to her work materials on the couch or at the desk. Kara would watch her, a mixture of longing and frustration curling in her chest. She missed the way Lena would pull her close after a long day, the little shared moments that reminded her that she mattered. Now, Lena’s presence was often a shadow, her attention elsewhere, her mind caught in deadlines and meetings. Nights ended with Lena slipping away to early morning calls or emails, leaving Kara to curl up alone, a body aching for connection that wasn’t there.

And Lena hadn’t realized it, at least not fully. But somewhere, across town, that realization was blooming with every passing hour.

****

Lena sat in her office, the city lights stretching like constellations outside the window. Papers were stacked in neat, intimidating towers around her, her laptop open to a spreadsheet that no longer made sense. She had been working for hours, reviewing budgets, board proposals, and contracts, all with a precision that usually calmed her. Tonight, though, her mind kept drifting elsewhere.

Her gaze fell on the small photograph on her desk, tucked between a pen holder and a glass of half-drunk water. Kara, smiling with that impossible brightness that always made Lena’s chest ache, had been captured mid-laugh, hair tumbling over her shoulder, eyes shining as if the world couldn’t possibly dim her light. Lena picked it up, running her thumb over the edge of the frame, and felt something that no spreadsheet, no presentation, no email could ever give her: a sharp pang of longing.

When had she last just held Kara? Not a quick embrace in passing, not a goodbye kiss in the hallway, but truly held her, arms wrapped tight, feeling the rise and fall of her chest, listening to her heartbeat beneath her own. Days, no, weeks had passed where work had swallowed her time, her attention, and her energy, leaving only scraps for Kara. And the thought that her girlfriend might be lonely, waiting, missing her, made Lena’s chest tighten painfully.

She pressed her forehead to the desk, the photograph still clutched in her hand. “What have I done?” she whispered, voice trembling. She hated seeing Kara hurt. She hated that she had let deadlines and meetings replace laughter, late-night talks, breakfast together, kisses in passing, and the intimacy that had once been the lifeblood of their relationship. And yet, here she was, realizing in full clarity the cost of her choices.

She could almost see Kara on the couch at home, hugging a pillow, staring at the empty space where Lena should be. Every lonely breakfast, every cold bed, every hug Kara had wanted but hadn’t received replayed in her mind. Lena hadn’t noticed the erosion at first—the skipped dinners, the separate mornings, the quiet absence of the touches Kara craved—but now, staring at Kara’s photograph, she felt it all.

Her fingers tightened around the frame. She would never do this again. Never put work before Kara. Not ever. Kara was not an afterthought. She was Lena’s life, her heart, the person she wanted in every moment she could give.

With a sharp exhale, Lena closed her laptop and gathered her things. She paused by the window for a moment, letting the cool night air brush her face, grounding herself before leaving the office. The hum of the elevator, the city’s distant traffic, and even the faint buzz of the streetlights reminded her that she was leaving deadlines behind to return to the one thing that truly mattered. The work could wait; Kara could not. She needed to come home not with empty promises or a tired smile, but ready to be present, to make up for every touch missed, every laugh forgone, and every lonely night Kara had endured while she had been absent in body or in mind.

****

The click of the apartment door jolted Kara from her spiraling thoughts. Her heart leapt as Lena stepped inside, briefcase in hand, heels echoing against the floor. Her suit was immaculate, her hair pulled back in the tight bun she always wore for meetings, but Kara saw it: the subtle fatigue in her eyes, the tight line of her jaw, and the flicker of guilt she usually tried to mask.

“Kara,” Lena’s voice was hesitant. She set the briefcase down, lingering for a moment as if weighing her words. “I… I know I’ve been…” Her sentence faltered, swallowed by the silence that had stretched far too long.

Kara didn’t wait for more. She closed the distance, pulling Lena into her arms. Lena stiffened briefly, then surrendered, burying her face in Kara’s shoulder. The faint traces of city air and coffee clung to her, grounding Kara like a lifeline.

“I’ve missed you,” Kara whispered, her voice quivering with months of withheld longing. “I miss us—the real us.”

Lena’s hand pressed to her back, chest tightening as guilt and relief collided. “I know,” she murmured. “I’ve been so caught up in work that I didn’t notice how far I’d drifted from you. From us. That’s not fair to you.”

Kara pulled back slightly, meeting Lena’s eyes. “It’s not just the hours, Lena. It’s everything in between. I miss breakfast with you, staying up late just talking, your arms around me at night… I miss the kisses, the touches, the way we used to be.” Her voice cracked slightly, and Lena’s gaze softened, reflecting deep regret.

“I hate that I’ve hurt you,” Lena said, voice low and urgent. “Seeing you like this… it’s breaking me. I’ve been foolish, thinking I could divide my attention without consequences. I see now that I’ve been putting you on the back burner. That ends now. You always come first.”

Kara exhaled shakily, pressing her forehead against Lena’s. “Then come back. Not just tonight. Be here for me, for us, for everything we used to share. I don’t need grand gestures. I need the Lena who chooses me. Every day.”

Lena leaned in, lips brushing Kara’s in a slow, searching kiss. Kara clung, arms winding around her, reconnecting what had been absent. Lena’s hands traced her back, memorizing every curve she had missed. “I’ve missed you too,” Lena murmured. “Every single day.”

“You don’t get to just miss me,” Kara teased, muffled against Lena’s chest. “You have to be here with me. In all the ways that count.”

“I am here,” Lena said, a small but sincere smile breaking through. “I swear I’ll stay. I’ll make time for us. I won’t put anything before you again. You’re my heart, Kara. My life. I’ve been foolish thinking I could split myself and still keep you whole.”

****

And then, there were no words, only the connection that had always existed between them. Lena’s hands threaded into Kara’s hair, pulling her closer, the kisses that followed deep and unhurried, a reclamation of everything lost. They moved together seamlessly, bodies remembering the intimacy that had been buried under weeks of absence. Lena held Kara as if letting go could shatter the fragile world they were rebuilding, and Kara melted into her arms, letting herself feel everything she had been missing. Kara tugged lightly at Lena’s sleeve as she shifted, pulling her closer, and Lena adjusted the sheets around them, cocooning them both in a quiet sanctuary of touch.

The night stretched before them like a promise. They ate together in silence, sharing glances and touches more meaningful than conversation. They laughed quietly as they cleaned the remnants of their hastily reheated dinner. When it was finally time for bed, they moved together without hesitation, tangling limbs, fingers, and hearts in a cocoon of trust and love.

Lena pressed kisses along Kara’s shoulder, across her collarbone, murmuring apologies and reassurances against her skin. Kara responded in kind, tracing her hands over Lena’s back, memorizing the textures she had longed to feel, the curves she had yearned to hold. Every touch was an affirmation. Every shared breath a promise.

As sleep finally pulled them under, Lena whispered, “You are my life, Kara. And I will never let you feel alone again.”

Kara tightened her arms around her, nuzzling her face into Lena’s neck. “I believe you,” she murmured, exhaustion and relief threading through her voice. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Lena held her through the night, fully present at last, truly home. In that quiet, shared heartbeat, they found each other again—not just as lovers, but as the home they had both longed for.

Chapter 48: Better Than Any Night Out

The glow of the TV washed over Lena’s penthouse, painting the sleek lines of the living room in flickering light. A movie played across the massive screen, dialogue muffled by the city hum pressing against the glass walls. Outside, National City twinkled with its endless energy, but inside the world felt smaller, slower. The couch had become their little refuge. Kara sprawled comfortably with a bowl of popcorn on her lap, Lena curled beside her, shoulders brushing Kara’s arm whenever she shifted.

Kara wasn’t even pretending to watch anymore. She kept sneaking glances at Lena, at the way her green eyes reflected the screen and the way her hair spilled in dark waves across her collarbone. The movie could have been a documentary about paint drying for all Kara cared; nothing was more mesmerizing than Lena Luthor when she was relaxed, when the armor was down and the softness of her edges came through.

Halfway through the film, Lena shifted again, this time abandoning her position entirely. Kara slid the popcorn bowl onto the coffee table just in time for Lena to move closer, settling across her lap with the unselfconscious ease of someone who trusted she belonged there. Her cheek pressed against Kara’s neck, her arm curled possessively around her waist, and she let out a sigh that seemed to release the entire day’s tension at once. Kara froze, stunned by the intimacy of it, before instinct took over. She wrapped her arms around Lena’s back, cradling her in, her palm moving in slow circles between her shoulder blades.

Lena’s breathing evened out quickly, her lashes fluttering closed. It took less than a minute before Kara realized she was asleep, nestled against her as though Kara herself were the safest place in the world. Kara’s throat tightened at the thought. She tilted her chin slightly to rest against Lena’s hair, inhaling the faint scent of roses that always seemed to follow her.

Kara sat there, utterly content, the kind of stillness she rarely allowed herself flooding through her chest. She could have stayed like that forever—movie forgotten, time forgotten, the city forgotten. Just Lena, and the steady rhythm of her breathing, and the quiet press of love blooming against her ribs.

****

The moment shattered with the buzzing of Kara’s phone on the coffee table. She stiffened instinctively, caught between the impulse to reach for it and the fear of disturbing Lena. The vibration rattled against the glass surface again, insistent, until finally Kara stretched one arm just far enough to snag it. Lena stirred but didn’t wake, shifting only to burrow closer into Kara’s neck, lips brushing the hollow of her collarbone in her sleep.

Kara swallowed hard, thumb swiping across the screen to answer before the sound could escalate. She pressed the phone to her ear, her voice lowered to a whisper.

“Hey,” she murmured.

On the other end, a chorus of noise greeted her laughter: clinking glasses and music pumping faintly in the background. She recognized the voices immediately. Alex, Nia, and Brainy. Her family.

“Kara! Where are you?” Alex’s voice cut through the chatter. “We’re all at the dive bar. You have to come out; it’s karaoke night. You cannot skip karaoke night!”

Nia chimed in next, breathless with excitement. “Yeah, and Brainy already put your name down for ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart.’ You’re up in twenty minutes.”

Kara bit back a laugh, clutching the phone tighter while her other arm instinctively adjusted around Lena’s back. She could feel Lena’s breath against her skin, the softest puff of air against her throat, and could feel her body fitting into every curve of her own. She looked down and saw the faintest crease at the corner of Lena’s lips, as though even in sleep she was holding onto some hidden smile. Kara pressed her cheek against Lena’s hair and closed her eyes.

“I don’t think I’m going to make it tonight,” she whispered into the receiver.

“What?” Alex demanded, the sound of protest rising behind her. “Kara, come on. You can’t stay holed up at home. You need a night out.”

Kara exhaled, her heart tugging between two halves of herself. She could picture the bar clearly: dim lights, sticky counters, and the comfort of friends and found family. And yet, when she opened her eyes, all she saw was Lena curled in her lap, trusting her with this rare, unguarded vulnerability. Kara lowered her head and pressed a kiss to Lena’s forehead, letting the moment decide for her.

“No thanks,” she said, her voice firmer this time, the conviction sliding into place like it had been there all along. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

The line went quiet for a beat, just long enough that Kara thought maybe they hadn’t heard her. Then Alex huffed. “Alright. But you’re singing double next time.”

Kara smiled faintly. “Deal.” She ended the call before any more persuasion could creep through, silencing the phone and throwing it onto the couch. Her arms returned immediately to Lena, pulling her back into the cocoon of her embrace.

****

For a moment, Kara thought Lena had stayed asleep through all of it. But then she felt it—the faint brush of lips against the side of her neck. Lena shifted slightly, without opening her eyes, and a smile curved against Kara’s skin before she burrowed even closer.

Kara’s heart swelled so suddenly it almost hurt. She rested her chin lightly atop Lena’s head, rocking her ever so slightly in her arms, as though the movement could shield her from everything that had ever hurt her.

“I love you,” Lena murmured drowsily, the words muffled by Kara’s skin but clear enough to anchor Kara in place.

Kara closed her eyes, fingers tracing small patterns against the fabric of Lena’s shirt. In all the years she had carried the weight of the world—Supergirl, protector, savior—it was this moment, here in the quiet of Lena’s penthouse, that felt like the truest form of heroism she could ever know. Keeping her safe. Keeping her loved.

The movie droned on, forgotten, the city lights flickering beyond the windows. Kara tightened her hold on Lena, then reached for the remote to click the television dark. The silence that followed was rich and steady, the kind that wrapped around them like a cocoon.

With infinite care, Kara slid one arm beneath Lena’s knees and the other behind her back, lifting her with practiced strength. Lena stirred, a small sigh slipping from her lips, but never truly woke. She nestled instinctively closer, her face pressed into Kara’s neck, another fleeting kiss pressed against her skin as though even in dreams she couldn’t resist.

Kara smiled, carrying her down the short hall to the bedroom. She lowered Lena onto the bed, easing her into the pillows as though she were the most fragile, precious thing in the universe. Crawling in beside her, Kara gathered her back into her arms without hesitation.

“This,” Kara whispered into the darkness, kissing Lena’s hair, “is better than any night out.”

Lena didn’t answer, not really. Just a faint hum of contentment, a sleepy smile curving her lips, and the way her fingers curled around Kara’s shirt, holding her there.

And Kara knew, as she closed her eyes and let herself sink into the rhythm of Lena’s breathing, that she had found the only place she would ever want to be.

Chapter 49: Will You Be My Girlfriend?

Kara had never been more nervous in her life. Not when facing intergalactic threats, not when saving National City from certain doom, not even when she had to talk her way out of a DEO disaster. Tonight was different. Tonight, she was asking Lena Luthor—the brilliant, beautiful, infinitely captivating woman to be her girlfriend. And somehow, that felt like standing on the edge of the stratosphere without her powers. Terrifying. Exhilarating. Absolutely necessary.

She had spent the entire afternoon transforming her apartment into a riot of color and fragrance, determined to make the moment unforgettable. Strings of fairy lights twinkled along the walls, intertwined with flowers of every shade she could find: ruby-red roses, delicate white lilies, and violets that reminded her faintly of Kara’s own homeworld sky. Helium balloons hovered lazily in the corners, forming the words “Will You Be My GF?” in large, cheerful letters, bobbing slightly with the faint breeze from the open windows. Kara had even brought in a small table for snacks and desserts, a careful arrangement of Lena’s favorite chocolates and pastries, because she knew Lena would appreciate every detail.

And yet, standing in the center of it all, Kara felt like her stomach was a live wire, sparking nerves through her chest. Her palms were damp, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her sweater as if pulling the fabric lower could somehow ground her. Her mind replayed every possible scenario: Lena’s smile, Lena’s silence, Lena laughing at her, and Lena saying no. She knew Lena cared for her more than cared, but still, Kara’s heart thudded wildly with the fear that she might ruin everything by asking for too much. Lena wasn’t just her best friend anymore. She had become something more, something Kara couldn’t imagine living without. The thought of losing made Kara's throat tighten.

She had rehearsed this speech a dozen times in her head. No, a hundred times. “Lena, will you—” “I really like you—” “Be my girlfriend—” But none of them felt right when spoken aloud; words could never capture the way her chest ached for Lena’s smile, the way her world steadied at the sound of Lena’s laugh, or the way her heart seemed to find its rhythm only when Lena was near.

****

And then she heard the click of the door unlocking, followed by the unmistakable sound of Lena’s heels. Kara’s pulse jumped, her nerves tangling into an electric knot. She forced herself to turn, to face the woman who had become the center of her universe. Lena stepped inside, her expression calm and poised as always, yet there was that tiny lift of her brow, that spark of curiosity in her eyes, that made Kara’s chest clench.

“What’s all this?” Lena asked, stepping further into the apartment, her gaze sweeping over the decorations, the flowers, and the balloons. Her tone was measured, but her lips twitched with the beginning of a smile, and Kara swore she could feel Lena’s intrigue radiating through the air.

Kara swallowed. She had practiced this. She could do this. “I… I wanted to do something special for you,” she said, her voice slightly higher than usual, betraying her nerves. “Because… because you’re special. And I—" She stopped, flustered, twisting her hands together. “I like you. A lot. And I… I was hoping you’d… maybe… be my girlfriend?”

There. She had said it. And instantly she wanted to disappear, to vanish behind the balloons, the flowers, and the twinkling lights. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Lena, afraid her expression would be unreadable, that her answer might shatter everything Kara had been dreaming of.

Then Lena’s laughter filled the room, a sound like a chord struck in perfect harmony. It wasn’t mocking but warm and impossibly full of affection. Kara’s knees weakened at the sound, her heart leaping into her throat. When she finally dared to look up, Lena’s smile was radiant, so genuine it seemed to light every corner of the apartment.

Lena crossed the space between them in two purposeful strides. She cupped Kara’s face in her hands, thumbs brushing her cheeks with a tenderness that made Kara’s chest ache. Lena’s eyes shimmered—not with amusement, but with emotion so raw it made Kara’s breath catch. “You really didn’t have to go to all this trouble, darling,” Lena whispered, her voice a little unsteady now. “But… I love it. And I love you.”

Kara’s jaw dropped. “You—you love me?” she whispered, hope and disbelief twisting together like threads of starlight in her chest.

“Yes,” Lena said, leaning closer until their foreheads touched. Her eyes shone with unshed tears, her lips trembling with the weight of her smile. “I love you, Kara Danvers. I’ve loved you for longer than I can admit. And yes… I would love to be your girlfriend.”

****

The words washed over Kara like a tidal wave, overwhelming and breathtaking. Her whole body trembled with relief, with joy, and with the knowledge that Lena truly wanted her too. She laughed, the sound breaking free from deep inside, and pulled Lena into the tightest embrace she could manage. Lena melted against her, their bodies fitting together as if this moment had been written into the universe. Kara slid her hands into Lena’s hair, threading through the silky strands, and kissed her—clumsy at first from the sheer rush of emotions, then slower, surer, until it became something that left Kara dizzy and entirely undone.

When they broke apart, Kara pressed her forehead to Lena’s, her voice trembling. “You have no idea how happy I am right now. I was so scared you wouldn’t feel the same.”

Lena tilted her head, her smile luminous, her lashes glistening as tears threatened to spill. “I was waiting for this, Kara. Hoping. Every time you looked at me, I prayed you’d see it too. You don’t have to be nervous, love. You already have all of me.”

Kara laughed again, burying her face in Lena’s shoulder, inhaling her perfume like it was oxygen. “Adorable panic,” Lena teased, kissing the crown of Kara’s head. “That’s what I see when I look at you right now. And it’s perfect. Just like you.”

They sank onto the couch, Lena curling easily into Kara’s embrace, her hands resting over Kara’s racing heart. The balloons swayed gently in the corners, the flowers perfuming the room, but Kara only saw Lena, the emotion still shimmering in her eyes, the way her smile hadn’t dimmed, and the way she kept brushing her thumb over Kara’s knuckles as if to reassure them both that this moment was real.

Kara couldn’t stop kissing her along her temple, down her cheek, and at the corner of her lips—until finally Lena tilted her face to meet her properly, their mouths fitting together again in a kiss that was slow and reverent, full of every unsaid word they’d been carrying for months. Kara’s hands traced over Lena’s shoulders, her back, and her waist, as if mapping the shape of forever.

They lingered like that, wrapped in kisses and laughter, until Kara finally whispered, her voice thick with emotion, “I promise, I’ll spend every day making you as happy as you make me.”

Lena’s eyes softened, brimming with tears, as she cupped Kara’s face once more. “You already do,” she whispered before sealing the words with a kiss that was tender and endless.

And there, in the glow of fairy lights, surrounded by flowers and balloons, the world beyond faded. All that remained was Kara and Lena's hearts aligned, love spoken and sealed, and the certainty that this was the beginning of everything.

Chapter 50: Family Portrait

Lena sat at her desk in L-Corp, the steady hum of computers as her eyes settled on the framed photograph before her. She reached out, fingertips grazing the glass as if she could feel the warmth of that moment through the frame. Her family. Her wife and their two daughters, smiling up at the camera, caught in a perfect, fleeting second of love. Kara and Lena were holding each other close, lips brushing in a tender kiss that Lena could almost feel on her own lips. Their daughters clung to their legs, the younger one squinting mischievously, hands covering her eyes as if she could hide from the camera but not from the love surrounding her.

A soft laugh escaped Lena’s lips, and she leaned back in her chair, letting the memory wash over her. That day—the day the photo was taken—had been chaos, joy, and more love than she ever thought possible.

She remembered waking early, long before the girls stirred, and tiptoeing into their room to check on them. The outfits had been laid out meticulously the night before: little dresses and polished shoes, all perfectly coordinated. Lena had straightened every collar, smoothed every wrinkle, and brushed every strand of hair she could find, her mind running through every detail. She had always loved precision and control, but that day had been about something greater: capturing her family, all of them together, in a single frame.

The scramble began almost immediately. Their daughters had woken with boundless energy, the youngest tugging at Lena’s sleeve, pleading for breakfast before hair brushing, and the eldest inspecting every piece of jewelry like a tiny critic. Kara, meanwhile, had her own chaos to manage, laughing and rolling her eyes as she tried to corral both girls while tying her own hair back, swiping on lipstick, and muttering about punctuality. Lena had to admit, she adored every second of it—the mess, the laughter, the shared panic. It was theirs.

“Do you think this bow works?” their eldest asked, twirling in front of the mirror, her eyes bright.

Lena knelt, smoothing the ribbon with a quick pinch. “It’s perfect, just like you,” she said, planting a kiss on her forehead before standing to survey the room. Her gaze landed on Kara, who was crouched beside the youngest, gently combing out tangles with the patience Lena sometimes forgot existed. Kara’s blue eyes met hers, a grin tugging at her lips. Lena felt her heart lurch, the familiar pull that always came when Kara looked at her like she was the only person in the world.

A quick, impulsive kiss bridged the distance between them, brief but electric, and the girls squealed in delight, jumping around them. “Mama! Mama!” they shouted, demanding equal attention. Lena laughed, pulling them in, pressing a kiss to each cheek, and felt Kara wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her close once more. Their daughters hugged their legs, the youngest still hiding her face, tiny fingers clutching at Kara’s pants, while the eldest pressed her cheek to Lena’s waist. Lena’s chest swelled. This—this chaos, this love—was everything she had ever wanted.

By the time they reached the studio, the frenzy had calmed into a rhythm of small, shared moments. The photographer directed them, arranging little hands, tilting chins, and coaxing smiles. Lena’s hand never left Kara’s, fingers intertwined, thumbs brushing in quiet intimacy. Every now and then, Lena leaned down, brushing a kiss against Kara’s lips, whispering, “You look beautiful,” or “I love you.” Kara’s smile would soften, eyes glinting with laughter and something deeper, and she would tilt her head to press her lips against Lena’s in return, briefly but full of meaning.

Their daughters giggled at the sight, leaning against them, snuggling close as if they could fuse all of them into one bundle of warmth. Lena couldn’t help but let tears prick at the corners of her eyes, the overwhelming gratitude making her chest ache. This—this family, her family—was more than she had ever dreamed.

The photographer snapped away, capturing not just the poses but the moments between: Kara whispering something funny to make the girls giggle, Lena resting her forehead against Kara’s shoulder, hands on their daughters’ backs, and all four of them laughing. Lena felt the weight of every second, wishing she could freeze it forever. She stole a moment, pressing a lingering kiss to Kara’s lips, feeling the softness, the life in that connection, and Kara responded with a gentle nudge of her nose, the brush of her lips a promise in itself.

****

When the photoshoot finally ended, they left with arms full, laughter spilling into the car, and the girls chattering excitedly about dresses, bows, and the funny man with the big camera. Lena caught Kara’s hand on hers, a squeeze that spoke volumes, and returned it with a secret smile, feeling as if the whole world could fall away, and they would still have this—each other, together.

Now, sitting at her desk, Lena traced the edge of the frame, the memory settling into her like sunlight. She smiled again, her heart full. Her daughters’ little faces, the tilt of Kara’s head, and the curve of her smile—it was all there, frozen in time but alive in her. She glanced out the window, the city buzzing below, but her world had narrowed to that single, shimmering moment of perfection.

She leaned back in her chair, fingertips lingering on the photograph as she whispered, “I love you,” knowing it was both a promise and a truth she never needed to prove. Her family, her beautiful, chaotic, joyful family, was everything. Lena allowed herself one more private smile, the kind that reaches all the way into the heart, and she imagined Kara beside her, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face and pressing a kiss there, as natural and necessary as breathing.

The day, the memory, the love—all of it coalesced into a quiet, overwhelming peace. Lena’s gaze lingered on the frame longer than she intended, her fingers memorizing the edges of faces, the curve of lips, and the shine of eyes that held her whole world. In that moment, she was not just a scientist, a CEO, or a public figure. She was a wife. A mother. A woman enveloped entirely by the love of her life and the daughters she would give everything for.

Their daughters would grow up with this memory too, Lena thought, the stories embedded in every photograph, every laugh, every kiss shared. And she hoped, one day, when they looked back on these images, they would see the same thing she did: a family bound by choice, by love, by fire, and unshakable joy.

Lena allowed herself a final brush of her fingers against the frame, almost like a kiss translated through touch—a silent thank you to a life she never dared hope for in her younger years. She could already imagine later that night, Kara’s hand twining with hers, the press of her lips, and the hum of love that filled every corner of their home.

Her gaze shifted once more, lingering over the smiling faces, and Lena felt a surge of emotion she hadn’t anticipated. Tears blurred the edges of her vision, but she didn’t brush them away. They were the kind that sang of gratitude, of completeness, of a life so unexpectedly perfect it threatened to overflow. Her daughters, her wife, the chaotic, beautiful energy of their family—they were everything she never knew she needed. And yet, now, they were everything she had.

She leaned back, exhaling slowly, her hand still resting against the frame. Lena let herself savor the moment, knowing it would carry her through board meetings, scientific setbacks, and the weight of the world outside L-Corp. Within this frame, within this memory, she had found something rare, something eternal. Love. Family. Home.

And Lena, once so certain of her solitude, smiled with the quiet certainty that she was exactly where she belonged.

Chapter 51: T-Shirts, Sweatpants, and Mine

The L-Corp boardroom always had Lena Luthor dressed like a weapon, and Kara knew she wasn’t the only one who thought so. Lena’s image was iconic. Magazines dissected her style as if it were gospel, noting the exact cut of her pencil skirts, the way her tailored blazers cinched her waist, the subtle gleam of her silk blouses, and the signature red of her heels. Other women tried to copy it, tried to wear their hair in that sleek, perfect wave, and tried to layer diamonds with the same effortless precision, but none of them could touch it. Lena didn’t just wear fashion; she wielded it. Every detail demanded respect; every outfit said untouchable. She could silence a room with nothing more than the arch of a brow and the confident click of her heels against polished marble.

Kara adored that Lena. The powerful, poised CEO who walked through the world like she owned it. Kara loved watching her command meetings, dismantle arguments, and leave even the most ruthless of men fumbling to keep up. That Lena made her chest ache with pride and want all at once.

But the Lena who waited for her at home? The Lena who traded couture for baggy sweatpants and Kara’s faded old t-shirts? That Lena wrecked her completely.

Tonight proved it all over again.

****

Kara pushed open the penthouse door, and the faint scent of tea floated from the kitchen. She scanned the living room, and there she was, Lena, legs curled under her on the couch, drowning in gray sweatpants and an old shirt that had clearly belonged to Kara once upon a time. Her hair was down, cascading in messy waves around her shoulders, her face bare, beautiful pale skin on full display. No armor, no precision, no intimidation. Just Lena.

Kara froze in the doorway, heart hammering. She’d seen Lena in gowns worth more than her apartment, but this? This Lena, undone, real, and unfiltered, was the one who made her pulse race and her knees weak.

Lena looked up, caught her staring, and smirked. “What? No witty commentary about how I’ve fallen from fashion grace?”

Kara locked the door behind her, leaning against it as if she needed the frame to hold her up. Her voice came out low and rough. “You’re beautiful.”

Lena arched a brow, amused. “I’m in sweatpants.”

“Exactly,” Kara said, pushing off the door and crossing the room in three purposeful strides. She loomed over the couch, hands braced on either side of Lena, her eyes dragging over her like she might devour her whole. “Do you even know what you do to me when you look like this?”

Lena tilted her chin up, pretending to think, green eyes gleaming. “Drive you crazy?”

Kara kissed her before she could say anything else. It wasn’t sweet; it was hot, hungry, lips crashing against lips. She tasted tea and the faint tang of Lena’s lip balm, and then Lena’s hand was in her hair, tugging hard enough to make Kara groan against her mouth.

When Kara finally broke away, Lena’s lips were pink, swollen, and perfect. “Darling,” Lena teased breathlessly, “you act like I’m wearing lingerie, not your old t-shirt.”

“You look better than lingerie,” Kara murmured, her mouth tracing along Lena’s jaw and down her throat, biting lightly at the delicate skin there. “Nobody else gets to see you like this. Only me. And it’s driving me insane.”

Lena shivered under the trail of Kara’s mouth, her hand slipping beneath Kara’s sweater to graze bare skin. Kara’s breath hitched, hips pressing forward involuntarily at the feel of her nails against her hip.

“Maybe I should wear sweatpants more often,” Lena whispered, her eyes half-lidded with desire.

Kara pulled back just far enough to look at her flushed cheeks, parted lips, and wide pupils. “Don’t you dare tease me about this,” she growled before scooping Lena off the couch with effortless strength.

Lena gasped, clinging to Kara’s shoulders as Kara carried her toward the bedroom, kissing her every step of the way with messy, breathless kisses that left both of them dizzy.

****

The bedroom was bathed in silver light from the city skyline. Kara laid Lena down on the bed, already tugging at the hem of the t-shirt, slipping her hands underneath to find warm skin. Lena arched into her touch, sighing as Kara kissed her again, deeper, wetter, hungrier, her tongue sliding against Lena’s until Lena moaned into her mouth.

“Kara,” Lena gasped when Kara’s lips trailed down her throat, tugging the shirt up to reveal the lace bra she hadn’t bothered to change out of. “You’re insatiable.”

Kara’s eyes burned when she glanced up. “Only for you.”

Her hands moved lower, gripping Lena’s waistband and pulling the sweatpants down in one swift motion. Lena laughed breathlessly, lifting her hips to help, and Kara tossed the pants aside without a second thought.

Lena lay sprawled across the bed, hair wild, legs bare, and t-shirt bunched high, and Kara stopped breathing.

“You’re staring,” Lena murmured, voice thick with amusement and desire.

“How can I not?” Kara admitted, kissing her way down Lena’s stomach, each press of her lips slow, teasing, and hotter than the last. “Do you know what it does to me? Knowing I’m the only one who gets this version of you? Not the CEO. Not the untouchable Luthor. Just you. My Lena.”

Lena’s breath caught, her voice breaking on a whisper. “Yours. Always yours.”

Kara’s hands slid between Lena’s thighs, pushing them apart, her mouth following, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Lena’s fingers tangled in Kara’s hair, tugging her closer, gasps spilling from her lips as Kara’s tongue and teeth drove her higher, each stroke matched with the rough press of Kara’s hands exploring her every curve.

The night unraveled into gasps and laughter, into desperate moans and whispered pleas. Kara stripped her sweater off when Lena tugged, their bare skin crashing together, slick with sweat. Kara kissed her like she’d starve without her, biting at her lip, licking at her throat, and groaning into her chest. Lena arched beneath her, nails dragging down Kara’s back, tugging her closer, closer, closer.

Sheets twisted around them. The city fell away. Kara moved with a single-minded intensity, worshipping Lena, marking her, telling her with every kiss, every touch, every thrust how devastatingly sexy she was in nothing but a t-shirt and sweatpants.

And Lena gave it all back, rolling Kara onto her back, straddling her, and grinding down until Kara gasped her name. She kissed Kara fiercely, biting her lip, murmuring filthy promises into her mouth until Kara growled and flipped her again, pinning her down, taking control, and claiming her all over.

Hours later, tangled in sweat-damp sheets, Lena sprawled across Kara’s chest, her hair wild and lips kiss-bruised. Kara traced patterns across her bare back, pressing lazy kisses to her temple, her shoulder, and her throat.

“You know,” Lena rasped, voice hoarse, “I think I’ve discovered your kryptonite.”

Kara grinned, kissing her again, slow and deep. “You in sweatpants? Absolutely lethal.”

Lena laughed, husky and wrecked, curling closer. “Good thing I have a whole drawer of them.”

Kara tilted her chin up, capturing her lips once more, full of promise. “Best thing I’ve ever heard.”

And as Lena melted against her, Kara thought it was true. The world could have the polished, perfect Lena Luthor who ruled boardrooms and graced magazine covers. But this Lena, hair messy, face bare, wearing Kara’s t-shirt and sweatpants, this Lena was hers. And Kara would never, ever get enough.

Chapter 52: Two Mama Bears

Lena's office was bathed in the late afternoon sunlight, golden streaks cutting across the polished surfaces, giving the room a fleeting sense of serenity. Her daughter sat cross-legged on the floor, crayons scattered around her, coloring intently in a picture book. “Look, Mama! I colored the sun!” she whispered, eyes wide with delight.

Lena crouched beside her, brushing a stray lock of hair from her daughter’s face. “It’s beautiful,” she said, smiling. Her hand lingered on her daughter’s shoulder, feeling the warmth and trust between them.

For a moment, the office was a sanctuary. The hum of the city outside faded into background noise; the clatter of keyboards and hurried footsteps was replaced by the quiet pulse of family and love. Lena’s thoughts drifted to Kara, imagining her wife soaring above the city, ever watchful, protective, and steadfast. She felt gratitude and an unshakable sense of resolve for the life they had built together, safe from the shadows that had always haunted her.

Then the calm shattered, the door slamming open with a deafening force.

Morgan Edge stormed in, his tailored suit impeccable, but his expression twisted into pure malice. His eyes, usually measured and calculating, burned with a cruel intensity. “Lena! You think you can manipulate the city, the media, and everyone else without consequences?” His voice sliced through the office like jagged glass.

The child’s crayon slipped from her fingers as the door burst open. She scrambled to her feet and pressed herself against Lena’s legs, clutching her mother’s arm. “Mama… I’m scared,” she whispered, her small voice trembling.

Lena’s jaw tightened. Her eyes narrowed, scanning Morgan like a predator assessing its next move. “Stay behind me,” she instructed, her voice firm, commanding, a shield around her daughter.

Morgan’s gaze flicked toward the child, and a cruel smirk spread across his face, dark and venomous. “And what do we have here? A little freak like her mother. A disgusting alien just like her. I suppose it’s no wonder she’s so weird looking,” he sneered. His words were sharp, designed to wound and provoke, to make both mother and child flinch.

The daughter pressed herself closer to Lena, small fingers gripping the fabric of her blouse. “Mommy… we need you,” she whispered, her voice breaking with fear and longing, but Lena didn’t hear it. Her eyes were locked on Morgan, every fiber of her being coiled and ready.

The office faded away, leaving only her daughter and the looming threat before them. Lena Luthor was no longer just a brilliant mind; she was a mother, a protector, and a force of nature.

“Shut the fuck up, Edge,” Lena said, her voice low and deadly, each word deliberate, each syllable a warning. “One step closer, and I will make sure you regret it for the rest of your life.”

****

Before Morgan could reply, the air shifted with a sudden rush of wind. A blur of red and blue streaked through the office. Kara landed beside Lena, her eyes sharp and unwavering, already locked on their adversary. “Morgan,” she said, voice low, precise, and edged with lethal resolve.

Morgan froze, shock and anger warping his face. “Kara, I—”

But Kara didn’t wait for his excuses. She stood shoulder to shoulder with Lena, a living wall of power and resolve. Neither moved to shield the other; they were equal partners, an unbreakable force together.

“You underestimated us,” Lena said, heels clicking on the polished floor as she squared her shoulders. Her voice was calm, cold, and deadly. “You underestimated what family means.”

Kara’s gaze burned into him, every ounce of her strength and fury radiating outward. “One step closer, and you’ll find yourself on top of Mount Everest,” she added, their presence together leaving no doubt: Morgan Edge had met his match.

Morgan’s bravado faltered. Two women, one a genius strategist, the other an alien with strength and speed beyond comprehension, stood united with the child he had just cruelly insulted. “You don’t understand!” he spat, fury breaking into desperation. “You can’t stop what’s coming!”

“You threatened my daughter,” Lena said, stepping closer, her eyes locking on his. “Do you know what that makes you?”

Kara’s voice cut through the room, ice and steel. “It makes you a fool who picked the wrong family to threaten.”

Morgan’s face twisted with rage. “I’ve built empires. I’ve crushed people more powerful than you!”

“And yet here you are,” Lena said, her voice dripping with controlled fury, “crying in my office like a cornered animal.”

The daughter peeked from behind Kara’s cape, trembling but bolstered by the love radiating from both her mothers. “Mommy… make the bad man go away,” she murmured.

Morgan’s confidence crumbled. Every scheme he had relied on, every manipulative tactic, evaporated under the unyielding strength of a mother’s love and Kara’s protection. Lena’s mind raced, calculating every possibility, predicting his moves before he could make them. Kara flexed subtly, ready to act, their synchronization a silent threat.

“You will leave, and you will leave now,” Lena said, voice ringing with authority. She reached back, gathering her daughter into her arms, holding her close, her body radiating lethal maternal energy. Kara mirrored her stance, her presence guarding them both with unshakable protection.

Morgan’s threats faltered, then dissolved entirely. He stumbled backward, realizing the absolute truth: he had walked into a trap he couldn’t possibly escape. “This isn’t over,” he hissed, venom still in his tone but hollow in impact.

Lena’s eyes followed him coldly, unwavering. “It is…” Kara’s hand rested on Lena’s arm, a silent confirmation of unity.

The daughter, trembling, sank deeper into Lena’s embrace, curling against her chest as if she could disappear into the warmth and strength there. Lena held her tightly, rocking gently, murmuring, “We’ve got you… always,” each word heavy with love, protection, and unshakable resolve.

Kara moved closer, placing a hand on Lena’s shoulder and brushing the other over their daughter’s hair. Her lips pressed to Lena’s in a reassuring kiss, a silent question in her eyes: Are you okay? Lena met her gaze, the tension in her body slowly melting as adrenaline ebbed, leaving only relief and the comfort of being in Kara’s presence.

Together, they formed a shield of family, a cocoon of safety. Their daughter leaned into them, small arms wrapping around Lena’s neck, pressing her face against her mother’s chest. Kara held them both close, her presence a steady force, radiating strength and devotion that their daughter could feel in every heartbeat.

Lena let herself breathe, letting Kara’s closeness remind her that she wasn’t alone and that no threat could touch them while they were together. Kara’s lips met hers again, tender but insistent, grounding her, whispering love without words. The three of them stood there, a perfect triangle of protection, affection, and unspoken promises.

In that embrace, the office, the city, and the danger beyond the door disappeared. All that remained was the three of them, pressed close, bound by a love fierce and unyielding. Every glance, every touch, every shared breath carried the unspoken promise that nothing could break what they had built together.

****

Beyond the glass walls, National City carried on, oblivious to the storm that had just raged inside. But within Lena’s office, time seemed to still. Mother, wife, and child stood as one, an unshakable fortress of devotion. Each heartbeat echoed not just safety but defiance, a vow to the world that no force could tear them apart.

Their daughter whispered, “I love you both.”

“And we love you,” Lena replied, pressing a kiss to her daughter’s hair. Kara kissed her cheek, lingering, sealing the promise that no harm would ever touch their family as long as they stood together.

Morgan Edge had underestimated the strength of this family, the unstoppable force of maternal love, coupled with the fierce devotion of wives willing to move heaven and earth to protect them. That mistake, he realized far too late, would cost him everything.

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the office, Lena, Kara, and their daughter remained intertwined, a perfect, unbreakable family unit, radiating love, protection, and the unassailable truth: together, they were unstoppable.

Chapter 53: Fruit Betrayal

Summary:

As Requested

Kara had always thought solar flares were more of an inconvenience than a danger. A day or two without powers, a little mortal fragility, and then she’d be back to flying over National City like nothing had happened. But this time, stripped of her invulnerability, she decided to try something new, something small and harmless.

It started with a blender. She’d bought fresh fruit at the farmer’s market, humming to herself as she unpacked her bag, thinking of Lena’s delighted smile when she offered her a homemade smoothie. Pineapple had always been one of her favorites—the bright sweetness, the way it cut through summer heat. She pressed the lid down, blended the fruit into golden foam, and poured it into a glass, her chest swelling with something as simple, as human, as wanting to surprise her girlfriend.

The first sip was tangy and sweet. The second went down with a refreshing chill. By the third, something caught in her throat. Kara froze, swallowing hard, expecting it to pass. Instead, a faint scratchiness crawled up her windpipe. She frowned, setting the glass down on the counter with a clatter. “That’s… weird.”

The irritation spread quickly, prickling across her tongue, then tightening in her chest. Her skin began to itch, sharp and relentless, like fire ants marching under her flesh. She dragged her nails across her arm, desperate to make it stop, but angry red bumps were already rising across her skin. Within minutes, blotches bloomed across her chest, neck, and cheeks, hot and swollen.

Her breath stuttered. She staggered toward the mirror, lifting her shirt up to see the angry spread of hives. Her reflection looked foreign, flushed, and frantic, breaking out in ways she’d never experienced. Fear surged.

“Oh, no! No, no, no!”

She tried to take a steady breath, but her throat squeezed tighter with every inhale, the air wheezing as it forced its way into her lungs. Her heart pounded in her ears, each beat slamming against her ribs in a rapid, dizzying rhythm. She pressed a trembling hand to her chest, her panic only worsening as she realized she couldn’t regulate her breathing, couldn’t make her body obey her.

Her fingers shook so badly she nearly dropped her phone when she grabbed it. “Come on, come on,” she muttered, fumbling through her contacts until she landed on Lena’s name. She pressed call and held the phone against her ear with a white-knuckled grip, every second stretching into an eternity as her vision blurred at the edges.

****

“Hello, darling.” Lena’s voice was steady, the faint rustle of papers in the background betraying that she was still at work.

“Lena—” Kara’s voice came out rough and strangled. She pressed a hand to her chest, fighting for air. “Something’s wrong. I—I can’t stop itching. My skin, it’s burning. And I… I can’t—” A wheeze rattled out of her lungs. “I can’t breathe.”

The silence on the other end was instant and terrifying. Then Lena’s voice snapped back, sharper, all steel beneath the fear. “Kara, listen to me. Tell me exactly what happened.”

Kara clawed at the collar of her shirt, her throat thickening with every second. “I—I had a solar flare earlier. I thought I’d be fine; I just… I made a smoothie—pineapple—and then the symptoms started. The itching, the hives, my throat—” She gagged, coughing violently. “Lena, I can’t—”

“Oh, my God.” Lena’s chair scraped back. Footsteps echoed as she moved. “It’s an allergic reaction. Kara, you need emergency help. I’m calling an ambulance right now, and I’m on my way home. Stay on the phone with me; don’t hang up.”

Kara stumbled toward the couch, dropping heavily onto the cushions. Her vision swam, her chest was tight, and every breath was more desperate than the last. She clutched the phone like it was the only thing tethering her to the world. “Please hurry,” she gasped, tears pricking hot against her lashes.

“I’m right here, love. Just hold on for me,” Lena urged, her voice vibrating with both command and raw fear. “The paramedics are coming. I’m driving home now. You’re not alone. Stay with me.”

Kara tried to focus on the sound of Lena’s voice, clinging to it even as her own body betrayed her. Each second stretched unbearably, her lungs rasping, her pulse thundering. But Lena’s words cut through the panic, an anchor in the storm: “You’re going to be okay, Kara. Just keep breathing for me. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

****

The sting of the epinephrine shot burned Kara’s thigh. She flinched hard, breath hitching, while one of the EMTs steadied her shoulder. Her chest still rattled with effort, each inhale scraping like sandpaper.

The front door banged open. “Kara!” Lena’s voice was sharp with fear. Her heels struck hard against the floor as she rushed inside. She didn’t hesitate—she was at Kara’s side in an instant, edging past the EMTs to cup Kara’s face. “Look at me, darling. Just me. Breathe with me. Slowly, in and out. That’s it. Stay with me.”

Kara’s ragged breaths began to sync with Lena’s steady rhythm, panic loosening its grip. The crushing tightness in her throat eased little by little, the fire of the hives cooling under the ointment the medics smoothed over her skin.

One EMT checked Kara’s vitals again, then gave a nod. “She’s stabilizing now. Keep her calm, keep her hydrated. If anything worsens, call us immediately.”

Lena didn’t look away from Kara as she murmured her thanks. Only when the EMTs packed up and left did she finally let out the breath she’d been holding. She smoothed damp strands of hair from Kara’s temple, pressing a trembling kiss there, then another to her knuckles. Her whisper was raw, meant for Kara alone. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Kara’s lips twitched into the faintest laugh, weak but alive. “I think the pineapple tried to kill me.”

Despite the tears glittering in her eyes, Lena smiled. She kissed Kara again—her forehead, her cheek, and the corner of her mouth. “You’re never touching pineapple again. I’ll make sure of it.”

When Kara felt steady enough, Lena wrapped an arm firmly around her waist, guiding her through the cool night air toward home. In their bedroom, Lena tugged her gently toward the bed, refusing to let her do anything but lean against her. She helped her change into one of her favorite cotton shirts, the fabric soft against her tender skin. Kara let her, overwhelmed by the sheer tenderness threaded through every precise touch.

****

Once Kara was tucked beneath the sheets, Lena climbed in beside her, pulling her close until Kara’s face pressed against her collarbone. The steady rise and fall of Lena’s breathing anchored her, the press of Lena’s lips against her hairline promising safety.

“You’re safe,” Lena murmured, stroking Kara’s back in slow, soothing lines. “I’ve got you, love. Always.”

Kara curled closer, the adrenaline finally fading. Her eyes fluttered shut, her fingers knotting in Lena’s shirt as if afraid she might disappear. But Lena held her tighter, covering her with kisses and quiet reassurances until sleep finally took her.

“Oh, love,” Lena whispered, brushing slow circles down Kara’s back, pressing kisses into her hair between words. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you. I’m not letting anything touch you.”

Kara’s voice came out muffled against her collarbone. “I can’t believe food betrayed me like that. Pineapple—of all things.”

Lena tilted her chin up, catching her lips in a kiss before another word could slip out. The kiss was firm and steady, a promise sealed in touch. When she pulled back, her eyes glistened with unshed tears but shone with fierce devotion. “Then pineapple is banished forever. I’ll protect you from fruit if I have to.”

Kara let out a shaky laugh that melted into a sigh, her panic softening under Lena’s certainty. “You really did save me,” she whispered, eyes wide with wonder, like she still couldn’t quite believe it.

“You’ve saved me more times than I can count,” Lena murmured, brushing her lips over Kara’s cheeks, her jaw, and her temple, each kiss a vow. “Tonight, it was my turn. And I’d do it a thousand times over.”

Kara nestled closer, resting her ear over Lena’s heartbeat. The steady thud soothed her frayed nerves, each beat echoing the truth that she was alive, safe, and loved. Lena held her tighter, her arms a fortress, her body wrapped protectively around Kara’s.

Kara tilted her head, seeking her lips again. The kiss was slow this time, unhurried, lingering with a sigh of relief and devotion all at once. Lena cupped her face as though she were made of something fragile and precious, her thumb brushing away the last of Kara’s tears.

“I love you,” Kara whispered into the space between their mouths, her breath trembling but honest.

“I love you more than my own life,” Lena replied without hesitation, sealing the words with another kiss, softer, lingering, then another and another until Kara’s lips curved faintly against hers.

Exhaustion finally tugged Kara down, her breathing evening out as she relaxed against Lena’s chest. Even in sleep, her fingers fisted gently in Lena’s shirt, refusing to let go. Lena pressed one last kiss into Kara’s hair, breathing her in as if memorizing the moment.

“Always,” Lena whispered, her lips brushing Kara’s crown.

Kara stirred faintly in her sleep, the corners of her mouth curling into the smallest smile, as though even in dreams she heard and believed her.

Only then did Lena close her eyes, her arms wrapped firmly around the woman she loved, their bodies entwined. A fortress of love born from fear, and a vow sealed in every touch: nothing, certainly not a pineapple, not fate, not the universe itself, would ever take Kara away from her.