[fanficfeaster]

No longer compiling fic lists:

Due to author opinions in asks in regards to the matter in compiling fics and those who deactivated, I have made the decision to stop compiling any deactivated author lists, I did not mean to offend or upset or disrespect, I only started doing this to help out someone who wanted to look for specfic author fics, im sorry to the fic writer community if my choices in compiling offended or upset you, I will no longer do it and most likely will take down some of the fanfic compilation lists down soon

I think I will take a step back and be inactive more

Welcome to my sideblog of reblogging fanfics I've read and maybe the occasional random fic I try to write

Check the # for asks to see if your ask has been answered

See below for characters I tend to reblog and whatever I've ever written

Characters I tend to reblog:

Marvel: Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, Kate Bishop, Carol Danvers(probs more that I can't think off the top of my head)

Miscellaneous: characters played by Scarlett Johansson and Elizabeth Olsen, Vanessa shelly (fnaf)

DC: Supergirl

Fanfics I've written

Fic: Emo wanda x reader

Summary: You like giving wanda rings

Rings

[xreader1989]

could you maybe do a smut fic with kara zor el where f!reader realizes that karas stamina is a lot for her and she struggles to keep up. maybe lots of overstim and a nice dom!kara?

Let’s get physical!

Kara Zor El x fem!reader

Word count: 1k Masterlist

Warnings: SMUT 18+, fingering, oral sex, mentions of toys, MDNI, reader is AFAB

There was no guide to dating a Kryptonian woman. And there was definitely no guide on how to withstand their stamina, especially when it came to sex.

You think Kara must have been taking it easy on you in the beginning, because as your relationship develops, you find it harder and harder to keep up with her in bed.

For instance, she was slotted between your legs, where she had been for nearly an hour. The room reeked of sex. You were dripping sweat, your hair a mess on the pillow behind you, in need of a break thirty minutes ago.

In between your thighs was a mess.

Kara was priding herself in how undone you were beneath her with simply her mouth and her fingers.

She kissed each of your thighs before making her way up your body, leaving a soft trail of kisses.

When she finally hovered over you again, she pressed her lips onto hours so harshly it made you gasp.

“Kara,” you breathed out, trying to get a word in.

“Mmhmmm,” she hummed, barely disconnecting your lips from hers. Her hand came up and squeezed your breast, making you arch up against her bare chest.

“Baby,” you placed your hand on her chest, pushing slightly, although you were no match for her strength, “I need a break.”

She immediately froze, tilting her head, “a break?”

Her hand was still firmly on your boob, she tended to keep her hands there often, so you didn’t think much of it.

“Yes, I’m going to pass out,” you threw your head back against the pillow, holding her gaze, “I came like four times in the past hour.”

“Only four?” She said with a smirk, making you roll your eyes.

“We haven’t even pulled the strap out yet, and you’re already bailing on me?” She asked with a smile.

You scoffed.

She leaned down and kissed your neck, “I think you can do one more for me,” she whispered against your skin, making you shiver.

She began kissing down your body, and before you knew it, she was back between your thighs.

You took a shaky breath as she smiled and licked her lips, her fingers touching your thighs lightly and teasingly.

Her finger grazed your wet folds and your body immediately jolted.

You would have been embarrassed for having such a physical reaction if you weren’t already so beat.

Everything was sensitive, every kiss, every breath, every word, was going right to your core.

She placed a hand over your lower stomach and looped her free arm under your thigh and gripped hard enough that you were held in place.

You were moaning her name softly before she even made contact with your core. The second she slipped her finger through your slick there were immediate fireworks inside you.

“Oh fuck Kara,” you whined, gripping the sheets until your knuckles were white

She hummed in response to the sound of her name on your tongue.

You could feel your orgasm building from the second she pressed her tongue to your clit. You jolted, but luckily for her super strength the lower half of your body didn’t move an inch. She smiled proudly at that.

The feeling of her tongue moving slowly up and down over your clit while her fingers explored the inside of your walls made you dizzy. The overstimulation of the past four orgasms was borderline painful, but in a blissful way.

Your body was trembling as she continued her pace.

“Kara, please, I can’t,” you begged. The coil inside of you had snapped so many times in the past hour you were sure to black out if it did it again.

Her grip on your thigh tightened, not letting it close around her head like you wanted it to, she stopped her movements and looked up at you, “you can, and you will.”

You whined, her voice was low and vibrated through you.

She didn’t leave any room for discussion, returning right back to what she was doing before. She worked harder with his tongue over your clit, again and again.

She released your thigh, allowing them to clasp against her, keeping them apart with just her head. Your eyes watched her movements, as her hand slipped between her body and the bed to touch herself.

Your moans and the mess between your thighs was driving her to a point of insanity that she could no longer fight. Her fingers rubbed over her clit, making her moan against you.

Your moans grew louder and more desperate as she curved her fingers, driving you insane. You arched your back and your thighs began to tremble even harder.

“Kara, god, if you keep doing that I’m gonna—”

before you could finish she slipped another finger inside of you causing you to nearly scream out in pleasure.

You carded your hands into her messy blonde hair, not sure if you wanted to push her off of you or hold her against you harder.

Your orgasm came over you like a wave and you clenched around her fingers as she continued to work them in out of you hard and fast. Her tongues pressed hard as she wouldn’t let your legs fully close.

“Kara! Fuckfuckfuck,” you screamed as your climax gushed out of you and you clenched so hard you would’ve broken any humans fingers.

You pressed yourself against her face, basically riding it and she continued touching herself and moaning against your orgasm.

Your body went slack and you saw stars, both of your legs falling to the side as she finally slipped her fingers out of you.

When you finally came to, you looked between your legs to find her smugly smiling.

“Told ya you could give me another one,” she said, her chin glistening with your release.

She crawled back up, pressing her bare breasts against yours, the sensation borderline perfect.

She laughed at your expression, completely blissed out and no words leaving.

She placed a soft kiss on your cheek, “I love you.”

You smiled lazily and giggled, “I love you.”

She moved to her side and pulled you against her, leaning into whisper, “now I will let you rest.”

You laughed in response, allowing your bare body to hold yours and finally relax.

Maybe dating a Kryptonian wasn’t so bad…

[spideyysenses]

GIVE IT TO YOU ('TIL YOU'RE SCREAMING MY NAME)

kara zor-el x high maintenance actor!reader

 𑄹 about: when you ask your girlfriend to get rough, and she says no despite telling you she wants to, you decide to take matters into your own hands and get what you want.

 𑄹 wc: 4.2k

 𑄹 warnings: smut! mdni! brat!reader, dom!kara, sub!reader, a little bit of mean!kara, slight arguing, spanking, public manhandling, private manhandling, just lots of kara moving you how she wants to, edging, fingering, strap use, lil' bit of a praise kink (if you squint), hair-pulling for two seconds, and use of pet-names

 𑄹 an: thank you lovely anon for the inspiration. as always slightly proofread and may feel a tad ooc. hope you enjoy!

You can’t wait for today to end. You woke up late, the overworked and underpaid production assistant on set got you the wrong coffee twice, and your scene partner keeps butchering his lines. You’re trying to be polite, and not lose your cool, but shooting is dragging on.

And all you want is Kara. Your attentive, funny, and loving girlfriend. Kara who can quell any discomfort in a matter of moments, so much so that each member of your team has her on speed-dial just in case.

You met her due to Clark, the one Daily Planet reporter you actually enjoy giving the scoop to, and watched with curious eyes as she failed to recognize you. Like at all. She had looked at you like you were just another person, and not the very famous actor that you were, and that’s all it had taken for you to beg her for her number and a date. 

Not that Kara didn’t return your interest of course, because here you are a year and a half later, very happy. She’s charming, confident, and wonderful. Her hectic schedule works with your hectic schedule, she doesn’t care for the glamour of your life, and when your day sucks her hands, oh so gentle and grounding, make it all go away. 

And despite your tendency to like things a little rougher, for a while that was enough, after all you also like to be worshipped, and god does Kara worship you. She’s never met your tendency to be high maintenance as anything but a challenge. She enjoys it, being the one to have her arm around you, opening your doors as people shout for a second of your attention. 

Then you found out she was Supergirl, and things changed. The first time you watched her take down a villain with such force that it only took two moves, only to toss the camera a cocky grin, you couldn’t help but wonder where that side of Kara was in your relationship. 

You tried to let it go, thinking perhaps that she needed something gentle given her line of work, but that petulant side of you still can’t help but want Kara to be rough with you. And today, your shitty shitty day, is going to be your breaking point. 

Made even more worse when you open up your front door to see that she’s wearing that white t-shirt you like her in. It’s because it’s hot, and she’s a furnace, but the thin material has a habit of wrapping around her biceps in a way that shows them off to you without even trying.

“Hey.” She calls, turning down the tv as she does, “I got us takeout. I figured we both had a long day so…” 

You hum as you impatiently remove your shoes. The minute they’re off you’re going and depositing yourself into her lap. She welcomes you of course, hands coming to rest gingerly against your back. 

“That bad of a day?” She inquires with a tilt of her head.

“Yes.” You grumble as you lean into kiss her. Kara responds, kissing you back sweetly, until you’re breaking away for air. Your hands wrap greedily into white fabric. “Need you please.” 

You know she won’t deny you, because she never does, and she doesn’t, shifting you so you’re laying across the couch and she’s looming over you. “My pleasure.” She teases you as she meets your lips again.

Her kisses are soft like clouds. Her lips always using just enough force to show you her want, but never enough to make your lips feel swollen. Her tongue dances in the inside of your mouth, inquisitive like it’s a guest, but it never demands a home. Her hands roam your sides likes she’s tracing your outline. Always there, always exploring, but never taking. And god do you want her to take.

“Harder.” You plea between her kisses, and you feel her muscles tense. 

She adds just a sliver more pressure, and you can tell that she hesitates to do even that. So instead you take her biceps and squeeze. She sighs into your mouth and you think you’ve won. Her fingers finally making their way down to your waistband.

But she doesn’t put more weight on you, and her fingers are kind in their ministrations. She never pinches just a tad, never stretches too much. 

“Kara...”

“What do you need honey?” Her voice so loving it makes you wanna break. Because you love her, god you really do.

“Harder.” You pout, voice breathy as she continues to give you pleasure. 

“Harder what?” She questions, drawing away a little to look at you, blonde hair falling to tickle your cheeks.

“Everything!” You say. You see the hesitation in her gaze and groan, head slamming back into the couch. “I’m not made of glass.” You whimper.

She’s rubbing circles against your hips now, but they’re soft and reassuring. “I know.” She defends. “I just…” Her eyes close for a moment. “I just don’t want to hurt you okay? If I lose control for even a moment and I’m too rough I’d… I don’t want to do that to you.”

“You won’t hurt me Kara.” You refute.

“I don’t now because I’m careful.” She replies. You stare up at her. “Now please let me help you feel good.” She kisses your lips again and again, fingers returning to their job.

But it’s not enough, it doesn’t feel like enough, and you groan moments later. She sighs.

“Just relax.” She says. “You’re thinking too much.”

You want to scoff at her, but instead you just push her back. She complies with her eyes wide in surprise, and that makes you even angrier. “I’m not in the mood anymore.” You mutter.

Her mouth opens a tad. “Really?” She asks.

“Really.” You say as you move to stand, but she sighs and stops you.

“Alright. What do you want?” She asks.

“I want you to stop holding back.” You insist. “Don’t you want that?” You watch her expression, waiting for any sign that she doesn’t but none comes.

“Of course I do.” She replies honestly. “But I can’t, and you know that.”

“You pull your punches with bad guys. What’s the difference?” She scoffs at you now.

“The difference is that they’re bad guys and you’re my girlfriend, and that I don’t care if I hurt them but I do care if I hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me Kara.” You repeat. “I trust you!” 

You can tell she’s fighting some internal battle within as she stares at you. “With you I don’t always think straight. I could quite literally squash you if I’m not careful enough! So I’m not risking it. I’m sorry love.”

“Fine.” You fire back. “I’m going to go shower.” 

“Come on—” You hear her call after you, but you don’t respond.

Kara curses under her breath and sinks back into the couch. You’re brilliant, kind, and humble despite your fame. It’s what makes Kara love you. But she also knows you’re demanding at times, and she likes that. So when she finally comes to bed and you’re still not speaking to her she knows she’s going to have to grovel a little.

For the next week Kara does everything you like as an apology. She understands why you’re upset. Kara knows you tend to like someone a little more in control since the third time you slept together. She thought she could  make it up to you by worshipping you instead.

So she gets you your favourite flowers, and delivers your favourite lunch to set, she even offers to go to an event with you which she normally avoids. Her hands, although never wavering in their softness, are always on you. As if she can make up for it by doubling down on how much she adores you.

None of it works. You’re sulky. And you know it isn’t fair. You know where she’s coming from, you understand she only wants to make sure you don’t get hurt, but knowing she wants it too but is to afraid to follow through makes you frustrated.

So for the next week you dig your heels in the ground, and so does Kara. A battle of wills that’s driving you both crazy. 

You watch as she lets go while fighting and then comes home to you with gentle hands. She showers you with gifts, does everything she knows you like. She reassures you again and again that she wants you, and that as much as she wants to give you what you want, that she simply can’t risk hurting you.

She watches as with every refusal your demanding nature increases. Your ever constant touches that help her relax become fewer, you don't thank her for making dinner the way you usually do, you begin to demand she do things for you without your normal pleases and soft kisses of gratitude.

And in return you watch as her steady replies become a bit more agitated, and she works a little harder to keep her cool. After all, Kara and you have rules. Mutual rules to ensure your relationship works. You always text each other if you’ll be out, you both try to be home at a reasonable hour, and you never ignore each other’s texts all day unless something comes up that you’ve communicated prior. 

Kara texts you on your lunch that she wants to stay in tonight and make you your favourite dinner, another attempt at a peace offering, and you decide right then and there to push her final button. You don’t text her back, and instead go out with your friends, without telling her. 

You know it’s risky, the minute it’s announced you’re showing at the party there’s a crowd waiting outside for you, but you just can’t help it. You expect for it to take time, Kara’s not glued to her phone like you are, but you’re two drinks deep in and barely buzzed when she calls you.

You let it go to voicemail, only for the immediate text, where are you. 

Out having fun.

I thought I mentioned making you dinner.

Must have missed it. Just put it in the fridge. I’ll be back late.

A piece of you feels a little bad for pushing her this much, but you also know if it really upset her that she’d tell you, Kara’s not shy about being blunt.

Come home now.

Make me.

And with that you slip your phone into your pocket and return to dancing with your friends. It doesn’t take that long for her to show, not that you thought it would, her hand wrapping around your elbow. When you turn to face her you hesitate, because Kara is wearing one of your favourite outfits. Black collared shirt rolled up to her elbows.

“Let’s go.” She says. She begins to move but stops when she feels you plant your feet.

“I’m having fun.” You argue. “I’m staying.” You shake her off of you, and Kara has to breathe deeply through her nose. 

“I know you’re upset.” She whispers. “And we will talk about this at home.” She kisses your head and lets her hand slide around to the small of your back. She’s still trying so hard to be gentle with you.

Again, you merely shake her off, and she can feel her patience running thin. “I’m staying. I’ll get Jim to take me home when I’m done.” 

You begin to turn to go back to your friends, but suddenly your chin is between her fingers and she’s squeezing your cheeks. You feel the sparks in your skin as she does it, but Kara’s too frustrated to notice the way you almost lean into her touch.

“We’re going home. Don’t make me carry you out, because we both know you don’t want the paparazzi to see that.” 

You debate, because you’re buzzed enough to lose just a little bit of your reasoning without having to be drunk, and you know in a way she’s right. You don’t want the nightmare of that showing up on the front page of some gossip magazine, but you want to rile her up just a little more. 

“You wouldn’t dare.” You say with a raise of your eyebrow as you call her bluff.

You expect that perhaps she’ll drag you out by the elbow, but you really don’t think she’ll actually carry you out. In one swift movement she tosses you over her shoulder, and your eyes widen. You see everyone around you stop with their eyes wide too, and your face grows hot when they begin to pull out their phones.

“I get it.” You say so lowly only she can hear. “Let me down.”

“No it’s way too late for that.” She hisses. Your friends are merely chuckling as Kara continues to carry you through the crowd. You begin to slap her back a little, swearing at her under your breath, and demanding she puts you down. 

She doesn’t. In fact she merely shifts her grip so it’s tighter around your legs. You expect her to let you down when you get to the exit, to save you the embarrassment of the cameras, and you kick her as if to make your point that she has to, but she doesn’t. She merely carries you past all the people calling for autographs and the near constant flash of the cameras.

“Kara!” You chastise, but it doesn’t deter her. She’s fed up beyond her usual composure now as she opens your car door. She plops you down into the car and you yelp.

“Home Jim.” She demands as she slides in beside you.

“Yes ma’am.” Jim says, and you can see the man gulp at the brewing tension in his backseat. 

The ride back to your house is silent, and when Jim parks Kara sighs and opens the door. She gets out easily, and waits.

You however don’t budge. You cross your arms and refuse. Jim’s eyes widen. “Ma’am?” He asks in confusion.

Kara’s staring at you with wide eyes. Because never has she seen you act so bratty before. But here you are sulking in the back seat of your drivers car, refusing to move, and Kara has to clench her jaw to hold herself back. 

She closes her side of the car, goes around to yours, opens it, and you yelp when she grabs you. “Hey!” You complain.

But she’s throwing you back over her shoulder. And blood rushes back to your head, but Kara doesn’t care. She closes the door with her foot.

“Sorry about that Jim, have a good night.”

“Kara!” You snap as your hands pound her back. “You can’t do this!” She doesn’t let up. “Let me down!” You kick your feet. You know nothing you do will actually hurt her just annoy her, and you’re so close to getting what you want.

“Stop now.” She warns.

“You can’t carry me like a child!” You protest. “Kara!” She still doesn’t let you down as you enter the house. “God! Let me down! You had no right to drag me from that party! You aren’t the boss of me!”

And that’s when Kara snaps. Her hand collides with where your thighs meet your ass. She doesn’t do it hard enough to really hurt you, but for a moment her restraint falters, and she’s harsher than she means to be. 

Your heart rate only picks up with excitement, and she grits her teeth. She lets you down on wobbly feet in your bedroom. You instantly kick off your heels with a groan. You’re about to turn on her in anger, but she doesn’t let you, taking your elbows and bringing you back against her chest.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She murmurs lowly in your ear. 

“I’m allowed to go out and have a fun night aren’t I?” You push. “You’re over-reacting.” You say it so dismissively that Kara feels shock move through her. God you really are intent on pushing her…

“Take off your clothes.” She says plainly, letting go of your elbows. 

Kara of course knows what you like, you had explained to her your limits in detail when you started dating in the hopes that doing so would open the door for that kind of sex. And she knows that you know the safe word if you need out. Usually it’s reserved for when she wants to remain with her head buried between your knees, but today…

“What?” You say as you begin to turn, but she stops you by grabbing your hair. 

“Take off your clothes now.” She demands as she begins to take her own clothes off.

You feel your heart hammering, but you do. But slowly, as if to tease her just one last time, but Kara has other ideas as she pushes you down on the bed. She’s climbing down over you a moment later. “You fucking brat.” She mutters. “I buy you flowers, I offer to go to that event with you, and I cook your favourite very time consuming dinner despite having a very bad day fighting some fucker. I try even though all week you’ve been nothing short of rude.”

“Kara—”

“And now you go out, break our rules—”

“Rules?” Your eyebrows shoot up challengingly.

You expect her to clench her jaw, like normal, but what you don’t expect is her hand to come down on your thigh hard. Your body is buzzing now. She’s finally letting lose, and you’re grinning up at her smugly. Which pushes the last of Kara’s restraint out the window. She brings her hand down again. “You’re going to wish you didn’t push.” She warns. 

“Am I?” You taunt. “You going to make me regret my attitude baby?”

Her lips reach down to kiss yours, again feather light, and it makes you groan. “I mean that’s what you want right?” She whispers as her lips find your neck. “Is for me to be rough?”

You’re about to respond when she bites down a little, and instead of crying out you merely arch up into her, and you certainly don’t refute her.

“Fine.” She says, and reaches over. You watch her slip the strap around her waist, your heart thudding with anticipation. She waits a moment for you to tell her no, but you continue to stare up at her with a clear challenge in your gaze.

She’s manhandling you, easily, around and onto your stomach. Her hand comes down on your ass, and you whimper. She studies the red imprint making sure it’s not too red, and then does it again. 

“Ow!” You complain. “Kara—”

“I can stop if you really don’t want this.” You gulp, and remain quiet, and that makes her bring her hand down again, and again. And god does it feel good to let go like this, like all her pent up stress from her damn job and her stupid cousin, and having to listen to fucking Guy all week is coming out. 

She slows when she can feel your body tense a little too much, and rubs circles into your back as you breathing steadies. “Wanna apologize to me for your behaviour princess?”

“No.” You snap, and it makes her flip you back over, a hiss escaping your lips as your ass makes contact with the sheets.

Her eyes widen when she sees just how wet you really are. “God you’re so needy.” She says as she runs her fingers across you. You feel your throat bob and on instinct you go to shut your legs, but her jaw ticks and she’s pushing your thighs apart. “Don’t get shy now.”

“Is that all you—”

She pushes two fingers into you, and you buck up into her instantly, moan slipping from your mouth. “Bet you could finish with one of my fingers you’re so desperate.” You feel your cheeks get hot at her words, and you twist your face to the side, but she instantly reaches up and grabs your chin again. “No. You’re going to watch this. You wanted this after all.”

You’re about to egg her on even more, but the minute she feels your jaw open a tad she’s plunging a third finger into you. “Fuck.” You whine, and her grip on your cheeks squeeze. 

“Is that how you should speak to me honey?” She questions. “How about a thank you for filling me so good Kara?”

Your chest is heaving, and you can feel yourself clench around her fingers as she hooks them in the way you swear only Kara knows how to. But you just grin up at her, not ready to stop being defiant with her yet. 

“You call this full?” You say, and you see her eyes flicker and she removes her fingers just as you begin to feel yourself getting close. You hold back your groan, not wanting to give her the satisfaction. She watches as your breathing evens out, and then pushes one finger back in. 

You bite your lip hard and try to squirm into her, but her hand slips from your chin to your neck, and you feel dizzy with delight as her fingers wrap around your throat as she once again adds two more of her fingers. “Ask me politely and maybe I’ll give you what you want.” She says, fingers starting to circle your clit. 

You let her continue to work you up. “You’ll give me what I want, because you never say no.” You murmur. She yanks her fingers out again. Now you can’t help but whine, and she laughs. 

“I’m sorry, did you want something?” She coos at you. 

You’re about to reply to her, for real this time, but she pushes all three fingers back in all at once up to her knuckle causing you to moan even louder than before. “Kara!” You beg. Your head feels so deliciously heavy as she pushes you further than ever before. 

She works you up to the edge again, before yanking away for a fourth time, your chest heaving. “You know what I want to hear princess.” She says evenly. You look up at her with tears dotting the edges of your eyes. “You can’t even say six little words?”

“Please—”

She slaps your thigh, again, but pins you down as you try to lift up to escape the contact. “Not the right words. Come on, be my good girl, and I’ll give you the strap. I know that’s what you want right? Is for me to take what’s mine?”

You can’t bear to look at her. “I’m sorry.” You whisper, trying to escape the intensity of her gaze.

She tsks and brings her hand down again, making you mewl, and gives you a look. “Try that again.” She says evenly, fingers still rubbing circles over your clit. 

With a little huff you meet her eyes and say, “I’m sorry for being a brat.” She grins down at you.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t quite hear that.” She says, and waits for you to open your mouth, before finally sinking the strap into you in one fluid motion. Due to her hands pinning down your hips your back arches, almost painfully. 

“I’m sorry for being a brat Kara, please, please let me cum.” 

“Finally there’s my good girl.” She murmurs, and leans down to kiss your lips, this time rough and demanding as she sets a pace that makes your eyes screw shut. Her lips travel from your mouth to your jaw, and then to your neck.

You push your face towards hers, wanting her lips back on you, but she doesn’t give you what you want. “Kara!” You whimper, eyes glassy. 

“If you want something just ask.” She taunts. You want to get angry with her over that quip, because you did ask her over a week ago, but the way she’s fucking you makes you so warm and tingly that you can’t find the words. 

“Kiss me please.” You ask softly. She does, tongue slipping into your mouth, and finally commanding it. You can feel your orgasm approaching fast, and so can Kara, because she knows you. 

“Ask me.” She breathes.

“Please let me cum Kara, please!” Your hands are digging into her back as you push her even closer to you, but it just makes her groan. Your voice is high and whiny in a way that makes her see stars. 

“Cum for me pretty girl.” She murmurs as her teeth tug on your earlobe. “Show me how much you need me.” 

You don’t need to be told twice, and Kara feels herself join you. Despite her own exhaustion she helps you ride both of your climaxes until she’s sure you’re both done. You’re both panting as Kara settles down onto of you, the weight nice. Her kisses turn gentle again as she meets your lips. 

“So good.” She murmurs. “So so good.” She kisses your cheeks and it makes you giggle, as her hands come to squeeze your hips playfully. 

“Thank you.” You whisper as finally she peels herself off of you to go run you two a bath.

“You won’t be a brat again right?” She asks as she discards the strap from her hips. 

You grin up at her. “On the contrary.” You tease. “I think I’ll be a brat more often.”

[mapandmatch]

champagne.

────────────

pairing: natasha romanoff x fem!spy!reader (marvel)

word count: ~700

warnings: brief mention of weapons

genre: spy/assassin, tension

summary: you and natasha spend the whole evening studying each other's tells, only to discover you were never each other's target.

a/n: okay i'm new here, BE NICE, hope you have a good day :)

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Natasha had spent exactly thirty-seven minutes pretending not to notice you across the banquet hall. You’d spent thirty-eight thinking the same. 

Crystal chandeliers spilled warm light across polished marble, every gilded accent in the banquet hall demanding attention despite the sea of guests shoulder to shoulder beneath them.

You leaned casually against the balcony railing now, hands resting around the same champagne glass you still haven’t touched since you arrived. Your objective was simple. 

Find who doesn’t belong. 

Don’t let them get the hard drive before you do. 

So, your razor-sharp eyes landed on Natasha from the moment she entered the hall. She moved through the crowd with an easy confidence, but the way she situated herself to monitor each of the banquet’s exits didn’t go unnoticed.

The click of heels on marble echoed across the balcony, and you peered over your shoulder toward the source of the noise, only to be met with the woman with the same alluring confidence that caught your attention earlier. 

Natasha leaned against the railing beside you, close enough that you caught the faint scent of her perfume beneath the cool night air. For a moment, you both looked out at the city, the music and chatter muffled behind you through the balcony door, and took in the distant glow of the city center. Natasha exhaled once before finally speaking up.

“I guess you’re not a fan of the champagne either,” she said, peering over at your full glass with an amused smile.

You smiled, but your grip tightened imperceptibly around the stem of your glass. 

“No,” you admitted with a small laugh, burying the fear as quickly as it came. “But I guess neither are you,” you added, attention shifting to her untouched glass.

The corner of Natasha’s lips twitched upwards, almost too slight to notice.

“No, I guess not.”

You settled back against the railing, the slightest bit of relief in your shoulders, but kept her hands in the edges of your vision. You noticed she did too.

Beyond the balcony doors, conversation carried on as though nothing had changed.

“What did you think of the host’s speech?” she asked.

“Engaging. He was very well-spoken,” you replied quickly with the slightest narrowing of your eyes, concealed behind your smile. “Or at least I hope it is when he actually gives it.” 

“You’re observant, I’ll give you that,” she commented with a small smile, swirling the champagne around her glass casually. “How many exits did you count?”

“Eight.”

She smiled wider.

“Nine.”

You glanced back to the banquet hall, rerunning the numbers over in your head.

“You missed the kitchen.”

Your head whipped back.

“Easy mistake.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, but your hands remained perfectly still. Natasha leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. 

The two of you held each other’s gaze, the challenge buzzing between you like a live wire.

Your gaze drifted to her clothing again, cataloguing everything down to the accessories. 

“You favor your left hand,” you observed.

Natasha hesitated, just for a moment, but enough for you to catch the brief calculation behind her eyes.

“The scratch on your watch face,” you explain.

Inside the banquet hall, the host tapped at the microphone, guests clapping and smiling at his entrance.

A flicker of recognition passed between you and Natasha, but neither of you moved. 

The celebration continued for only another heartbeat before the host's microphone cut out. Then, the overhead lights flickered once, before the entire hall was plunged into darkness, the guests gasping and murmuring amongst themselves as they scrambled for light. 

In your earpiece, your boss’s voice crackled. 

“Hard drive’s compromised. New objective. Pursue the courier.”

The emergency lights flickered on a moment later.

Natasha’s own earpiece activates, eyes drifting to the back corner of the banquet hall, past the tables, straight to the kitchen. 

Your hand twitched towards the gun you had holstered beneath your dress, already stepping away from the woman who had previously captivated your attention, when she spoke up again.

“Hard drive, right?” She asked. 

You narrowed your eyes at her.

“The kitchen,” she said.

“What?”

“They’d take the kitchen. Less eyes.”

You looked from her to the ballroom, where panicked guests still searched for answers that neither of you cared about.

You'd been looking at the wrong person all night.

You nodded once.

Then, without another word, the two of you disappeared into the chaos together.

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pic credits to buckysnote on pinterest

[fandomnerd9602]

Natasha: what do you say?

Y/N: I dunno. I kind of need convincing on your offer

Natasha kisses them…

Y/N: deal!

Y/N hands over their Catan resources to her…

Tony: oh come on!

Thor: where is this Catan and how do we settle upon it?

[norwayromanoff]

Try Me Again

masterlist

NR x r

Word count: 2.4k

Summary: You’re… dead, or so Natasha thought. She’s not sure if she’s dreaming or finally losing it, but for you, she’ll take any second chance she can get.

Author’s note: Major character death… technically? Sort of? I don’t know. It’s angst with a happy ending. Anyway, only Natasha’s grief is really described.

It doesn’t come in waves. It doesn’t ebb and flow. It doesn’t ever give a reprieve, even at night in the depths of sleep. It just overwhelms, it engulfs, it lingers.

Natasha is drowning.

The funeral is today: SHIELD organized, fitting for a former agent, a proper send off.

Except you’re not here, your body never found.

It doesn’t feel right.

She’s dressed in black, but devastation is all anyone sees shrouding her when they look her way. Natasha exits what used to be your shared apartment and slowly walks to her car.

She takes a glance at the passenger seat once she’s situated inside and is flooded by all the memories of when you sat there beside her, of how her hand always found your thigh, of the way you sang loudly and unashamedly along to every song. She quickly looks away.

The drive is silent. It feels never-ending, but she’s not quite convinced that she wants it to end. Natasha’s not quite convinced that she’s going to make it through the day.

Time passes in disjointed intervals through the services as well. Everything feels fragmented: her thoughts, the speeches, her own words. She thought that sharing the sadness, seeing evidence that others were affected by your passing as well might help her feel less alone, but there’s no relief. Because they aren’t mourning you how she is. Awkward pleasantries and condolences are passed between people, mostly aimed her way, over and over, and Natasha can’t respond to any of them.

The funeral ends, but Natasha can’t bring herself to leave where you were “buried”, the empty coffin having been lowered into the ground hours ago.

The sun is setting now, the sky going bloody, all reds and bruised purples. It feels fitting.

It’s only when the chill of the night becomes unbearable that the redhead lets out a shaky breath and turns away, heading back to her car to start the drive to somewhere she no longer feels that she can call home.

Vodka is immediately poured upon arriving back at the apartment—a generous amount splashing into the glass. Natasha doesn’t bother changing out of her stiff clothing.

She takes the first sip. It should burn. It should sear. The liquid should feel like something as it goes down her throat, but it doesn’t.

More is downed, then more, and more.

Until nothing is left from what was a half empty bottle. Natasha feels like nothing is left in her as well.

She sits there on the floor of the kitchen, chairs forgotten, sofa forgotten, knees drawn up to her chest, and cries. Hot tears spill from her eyes and down her cheeks, dropping onto the tile.

And then she hears something coming from another room. It’s faint, almost inaudible, but she’s supposedly alone, so she holds in her sobs, tries to put a pause on her ragged breathing, and strains her ears to listen to the too familiar, too recognizable, too impossible sound.

It comes again, and familiar, recognizable, and impossible are understatements.

A laugh. Your laugh.

She acts without thinking. Her eyes widen in desperation. It’s you. You’re back.

She quickly stands up from the floor on unstable legs, knees feeling as though they’re going to give out, and stumbles out of the kitchen, shaky steps on untrustworthy feet taking her through the hallway toward the bedroom where you seem to be.

Natasha bursts into the room, all but ripping open the door, expecting—hoping—to see you there, somehow returned to her, only to find the space dark and as empty as your coffin.

Her shoulders slump. She guesses it makes sense. The combination of alcohol and grief—and grief and grief and grief—will probably do that to her. She’s always been able to trust her intuition, her instincts, but her mind’s become unreliable now. She’s not sure how to cope with that either.

Natasha’s on leave from work for an undetermined amount of time. Fury’s orders.

She’d rather be throwing herself into mission after mission, but she supposes Fury has good reason to bench her.

She’s been absentminded, unfocused, even during the routine things, finding herself disconnecting from what is happening around her, or she’s been avoidant. Cooking meals results in her remembering the taste of your favorite food that you always offered her a bite of even though she doesn’t like it. Things burn. Sorting through the mail forces her to see your name, coupons and advertisements still getting sent to you as if you’re here to personally toss them away. Mail is left untouched to pile up. Grocery shopping causes her to miss the way you’d always triple check the shopping list with a concentrated look on your face as your tongue peeks out from between your teeth. The fridge remains empty.

She’s there to simply collect some paperwork, one or two dossiers, a few confidential files—material that won’t put her at risk in the field, distractions.

Her shoes make little noise as she moves through the hallway, but the sound fully ceases when she abruptly stops in her tracks as her nose picks up on a scent that she hasn’t smelled in far too long. You’ve only been “gone” two weeks—because are you truly gone if she refuses to let go?—but it’s been far too long.

It’s just a whiff, just a hint, just a trace on the breeze in a breezeless corridor, but it brushes past her as if she’s been physically touched.

Natasha whips around, spinning in a circle in the unoccupied hallway, looking for any sign that you or anyone else is nearby, knowing that she won’t find one but wildly searching anyway.

There’s no one with her.

The lack of sleep must be getting to her.

It’s in the late evening, sleep eluding Natasha, when she receives a text.

10:03 p.m. Her burner phone. For emergencies only. A number only one person has… or had, since it was you and people keep telling her that you’re no longer here. It’s a nicer way to phrase “dead”, but she can’t bring herself to appreciate the substitution.

‘Are we still on for 4:30 tomorrow?’

She wants to pass it off as a wrong number, someone simply typing those 10 digits incorrectly, but when she takes a closer look, she almost drops her phone.

She sits there, stunned into paralysis, just staring at the screen.

Because the number is yours.

Your number is disconnected. She knows that, given she was just texting it last week, sending a series of apologies, of pleas for you to come back, of guilt-ridden messages detailing how she should’ve been there to save you, how she’ll never forgive herself, how she wishes she could follow even though you’ve gone somewhere she doesn’t yet belong.

Before she can reply, another text comes through.

‘Sorry! Wrong number!’

This time, Natasha is quick to text back, scrambling to hit the right keys in her desperation. ‘Who is this?’

She waits frantically for the next response, for clarification, praying for the explanation that’s impossible but that she so longs to hear.

It wouldn’t make sense, but who cares. That doesn’t matter when it comes to you. The ‘how’ and ‘why’ don’t matter as long as you’re back.

She doesn’t receive a response.

She waits longer, holding the phone in unsteady hands, the text thread remaining open as she hopes the typing bubble will appear, but it never does.

She doesn’t know what to blame it on this time. Maybe your number just got reassigned already, and maybe it really was a misdirected text, and maybe the cruel joke of a coincidence from the universe was a reminder that she’ll never be able to move on.

Natasha doesn’t sleep that night.

Natasha finds herself in your favorite coffee shop often these days.

She thought it’d hurt… and it does, but it’s also one of the few ways to still feel close to you.

She can’t help but always purchase two drinks, your familiar coffee order falling from her lips when she reaches the register along with her own every time. She keeps asking herself if it’s out of habit or her steadfast unwillingness to heal.

Ignoring the pitying looks from employees is getting harder.

You two were regulars, so the employees instantly noticed your absence when Natasha first came in after your passing. “Just you today?” one asked, friendly smile plastered on their face, not realizing the weight what they were saying carried.

Natasha just barely managed to not break down in the middle of the café. Just her today. Just her tomorrow. Just her forever now that she’s without you.

She couldn’t tell them what happened. She didn’t have to.

She’s sitting at your usual table, stuck in her head, her drink in front of her, yours across the table in front of the opposite vacant seat, just staring at the place where you should still be, laughing, talking, living.

The reaction is delayed, but when a very specific and very familiar coffee order being called out by one of the baristas reaches her ears, she slowly zones back into her surroundings.

She looks up from where she had been fixated on your chair.

Whoever ordered the coffee already picked up the drink from the counter, turned, and is currently striding to the door. There’s a flash of your hair color in her line of sight as they pass the table. It blocks their face.

There have been so many peculiarities that Natasha is almost certain that the grief is causing her to unravel bit by bit. She can’t blame it; this is what it does, after all. She’s slipping, fraying at the seams, hearing things, smelling things, perhaps even imagining things, because she’s still half convinced that that text message from “your” number wasn’t real.

So, Natasha can’t be sure—not really—but she feels sure anyway. It’s you.

Natasha is on her feet in a heartbeat, coffees forgotten on the table, one almost spilling over in her haste to push back her chair and stand as she bumps the corner. She moves toward the exit, following after you.

Once outside, she glances around to determine which direction you’ve gone and spots the same head of hair once more. She begins chasing after you.

She feels weak, weeks of not moving much, of not eating much, of not sleeping much taking their toll. But she pushes through the fatigue that already plagues her muscles until she’s within arm’s reach, and then her hand gently brushes your shoulder to get your attention.

She half believes that her fingers are going to go right through you, that she’s hallucinating.

But they make contact, solid and steady, and you turn, looking at her with a puzzled expression on your face.

“Can I help you?” you ask politely.

Natasha can’t speak. It feels like she can’t breathe. You’re here: safe, well, alive, standing in front of her like she’s been mourning you every second of every day for no reason.

She has a million questions. How are you okay? What happened? Why didn’t you come home?

But you’re looking at her with no recognition, and when that registers to her, she falters. Her training instinctually kicks in; she plays it off. “I’m… sorry. You look like someone I know. I thought…” she trails off.

You offer her a small smile; you let out a small laugh. “That’s okay. I know I have one of those faces.”

She knows that smile; she knows that laugh. She knows you, so why…

She glances down at the drink in your hand, the messy scrawl from the barista detailing your order on the side of cup. “You have a really specific order,” she says lamely. She’s fishing now, investigating, trying to trigger something in you.

You nod, laughing again. “I’ve been told my tastes are a bit weird.”

She always told you that.

Her eyes move to the scar on your left hand, an injury you received on an operation in Moldova. Natasha was there. She watched the way you jumped backwards to avoid the knife, raised your hand to block the swing.

“That looks like it hurt,” she says next.

You nod again in agreement. “Cooking accident,” you reply easily, still smiling, not fazed by her out-of-the-blue questions and strange behavior.

She looks at you, gaze flitting across your face, taking in everything she’s dreamed of being given one last chance to see. And you don’t seem to be lying; it looks as though you genuinely believe that you received the wound from something domestic, something civilian.

Her head is starting to hurt. This doesn’t make any sense. You’re here… but with no recollection of your life beforehand. You still have the same preferences, the same marks, but you don’t remember, and no one else seems to recognize you as who you were, judging by how the café employees didn’t bat an eye at what should’ve been an impossible reappearance.

Natasha is beginning to think that the pain of you being so close but out of reach is equivalent to the pain of you being permanently gone. Because, you’re still gone like this, right?

“I’m really sorry,” you tell her as she stands there in confused and dumbfounded silence, “But I have somewhere else to be right now.”

And then you’re moving away from her, leaving her again, just in a different way.

The redhead gets desperate then. You can’t go.

“Moya lyubov!” she calls out to you to stop you, the term of endearment slipping out habitually even though it shouldn’t anymore.

You turn back to face her, and you’re not sure why. The pet name has zero meaning to you now, zero sentimental value. You’ve never heard those two words before—you’re not even sure what language they’re in—but you spin to face the woman who said it anyway, and a fondness you don’t understand fills your chest as you look at her.

Natasha is grasping for something, anything, and you can see the desperation, the anguish within her. You don’t know her, but you want to help.

“What did you say?” you ask.

She just shakes her head at your question, answering with one of her own. “Will you get dinner with me? Tonight?” she says instead.

She needs more time with you; she needs to figure this out. And if she’s ultimately unable to, she’s going to get you back through other means. She charmed you once; she can do it again.

You find yourself smiling, and then nodding, and once again, you’re not sure why, but you have a good feeling about this.

[maxilust-deactivated20230903]

LOVERS ROCK

summary: wanda’s life with you continues and so does your relationship, she remembers moments of her newfound life with you,

pairing: emo!wanda x fem!reader

warnings: no smut (surprise!), angst, hurt/comfort (?), a shit load of fluff, idiots in love.

a/n: most of the fic was inspired by @xxxtwilightaxelxxx ‘s ask that she sent, so thank you! i loved writing for these two so much, ugh they’re so fucking adorable >_<

word count: 4.3k

“Don’t worry sister, I’ll protect you.” Pietro’s voice was comforting, his strong hands gripped her shoulder, and he looked at her with a small reassuring smile, “We will be alright,” he whispered. Wait… What was this? Why did this feel so real? Wanda looked at the man in front of her, “Pietro?” She asked, voice wavering as she cupped his face. The man smiled at her, “Yeah?” He asked, she felt her chest tighten. No this wasn't real. He was gone, dead. There wasn't a Pietro Maximoff anymore, but then who was this man standing in front of her? Carrying the same traits her late brother had. The messily bleached hair, the slightly scruffy beard, and that roguish smile. Is this not Pietro

“A-Are you real?” She asked, exhaling shakily as her eyes trailed over his face, making sure to burn the image into her brain, to keep him in her mind forever. “Why are you being weird? Of course, I'm real!” He said with a laugh, the same throaty laugh that she remembered. “Pietro!” She gasped, jumping into his arms, hugging him as tight as she could. There were a lot of things Wanda wanted to tell him, about how much she missed him, how different life has been after she came to America, how… how wonderful life had been. All of their dreams had come true, she was in such a better place now.

Wanda held onto him for dear life, afraid that if she let go, he would disappear. “Pietro… I have so much to tell you about,” she said smiling as she pulled away from the hug, but the sight in front of her horrified her. She was staring at his cold dead face, his lifeless eyes bored right into hers. “Pietro!” She screamed, shaking his cold body, she could feel a harsh pain in her chest, clawing at her insides.

“Pietro, no, you can't, you can't!” Tears streamed down her face as her screams turned into loud sobs. “You can't leave me,” she cried. She was a fool to believe this would be real. So fucking stupid to believe it. Wanda wanted to scream, scream at the entire world for taking away her brother, it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. She chanted in her mind, as she looked at the corpse. Why was it that she got to live her dreams, and experience, happiness and freedom, while he had to die? She buried her face in her hands, her body shook as she cried. Why?

“Wanda!” Her head shot up at the familiar voice, “Wanda! Get up!” she looked around, unable to pinpoint where the voice was coming from, “Wanda!” it felt like she was getting transported as if she was being sucked into a black hole. “Wanda, hey! You're okay!” It was you, she gasped as her eyes shot open, she felt sweat roll down her body. You cupped her cheeks, “you're okay, you're okay” you whispered. Wanda looked at you wide-eyed, still breathing harshly. “Y/n…” her voice broke as she shot into your arms. Sobbing as she clung to you, why was she having these dreams? “Y/n, I—” she exhaled heavily, trying to put together words, but she couldn't. The pain was too much, it was unbearable.

“It's okay, baby.” You stroked her hair, “It’s okay. Can you do the breathing that we practiced?” You asked softly, and Wanda gulped and nodded against your chest. “I- I can,” she said, “Alright. Do it slowly, okay? Breathe in,” you said, doing the method with her. Wanda sucked in a sharp breath before letting it go gently, “That’s good. That's good, Wanda. Can you do it once more for me?” You asked, Wanda inhaled before exhaling softly, her body was still shaking, but her sobs had died down. “Better?” You asked, “Y-Yeah” she responded shakily.

Wanda held onto you for a while. Softly sniffling against your neck while you stroked her head, whispering words of comfort and soon enough she grew silent. “Can you look at me, honey?” You asked, and she slowly turned her head to look up at you, “I’m fine…” she whispered her voice raspy from all the crying she had done. “Uh-huh, how about we go and get cleaned up?” You let her rest her head on your shoulder, Wanda wordlessly nodded and the two of you got up and walked into the bathroom, you helped Wanda wash her face, gently rubbing her face to clean off the snot and tears. “Do you want to talk about it?” You probed gently, knowing she may not be wanting to share what her dream, no, the nightmare was about.

The redhead stood still for a moment, contemplating whether she wanted to open up about what she had seen. But when Pietro’s face flashed in her mind, she immediately shook her head, “No,” she whispered and you nodded, “That's alright, why don’t you go sit on the bed? I’ll go get some water.” Wanda immediately grabbed your hand, looking at you with red, puffy eyes. “No, please don't leave,” she whispered. You nodded, and the two of you went back to the room, you let Wanda pull you into her body, her arms wrapping around your shoulder while you laid your head on her chest. “It… It was about Pietro,” she spoke softly.

You nodded, knowing that it was hard for her to cope with her brother’s death. Constantly being plagued by memories about him — bittersweet ones that she shared with you in the silence of your room, or nightmares like this. You didn't mind it, you never did. But Wanda felt bad, wasn't she being unfair to you? Always unloading all of her problems onto you. Sometimes she feared that you’d get tired of her, but every time you’d hold her close and listen to her, gently smoothing her hair, you’d tell her that she was okay, that you were here. Wanda looked at you, “Y/n, please don't leave me,” she spoke, voice shaking as she confessed one of her biggest fears to you. “I won't, I will never.” You whispered, snuggling closer to her body.

That was almost a year ago.

Wanda was doing much better, you couldn't be prouder at how much she had changed. She was able to speak about her past without feeling like a burden. She shared nicer memories that she remembered from when she was in Sokovia, a hint of a smile on her face as she recalled the shenanigans she got into with her brother. You always paid full attention to her during moments when she was being vulnerable to you, there were times when Wanda couldn't do anything but cry, but the more she let her feelings out, the easier it became for her to accept her past, accept herself.

You helped her, and stayed with her, even during the times when she lashed out at you, of course, Wanda would immediately regret it, and a flurry of apologies would stream out of her mouth. You never held her against it, knowing that it was all a process of healing. Wanda didn't know if there was a word or an emotion that was stronger than love, because that's what she felt for you. I love you, doesn't even cut the emotion that erupted in her chest, every time she looked at you, when she held you. It made her heart hurt. She wanted to scream, yell at everyone that she loved you, that you were hers as she was yours. But you would always tell her that her loving you was all you could ask for.

━━━━━━━━━━━☾⋆｡𖦹°✩━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Where should we go today?” You questioned your lover, “I want ice cream today,” Wanda voiced from her place on the couch, you smiled at her. “Okay, we can go get ice cream. I think we should go to that one park.” “The one with the pond?” Wanda asked and you nodded. “Yeah, I heard there are a lot of ducks there,” Wanda perked up at the mention of ducks, “Ducks?” she asked with a curious glint in her eyes. “Yeah, ducks. What about them?” You looked at her with a confused look, why was she so interested in ducks all of a sudden?

“I’ve never seen one,” she confessed with a sheepish smile on her face, your jaw dropped at the newfound information, “What!?” Wanda ducked her head at your exclamation, “I don't know, I just have never seen one in real life,” she said, laughing as you snapped your mouth shut. “We have to change that, get up Wanda, we’re going to see ducks,” You stood up and grabbed her hand, quickly rushing out of the tower. The two of you set out on a mission — to show ducks to Wanda.

“Why does it look ugly?” Wanda asked, a dubious look on her face as she watched the creature wander around, honking at the people that walked past it. You stifled your laughter, “They’re funny, aren't they?” she looked at you with a disapproving look on her face, “Ugly,” she said and you burst out laughing. “They’re loud too,” she said, her fingers intertwined with yours and she pulled you along with her. “Let’s go get ice cream,” You smiled and let her drag you along with her as the two of you walked in search of an ice cream shop. “Y/n, do you want to… to go look at the house, the one in New Jersey?” She asked shyly, a small smile playing on her lips as she fiddled with the rings on her fingers. “Yeah, but, I don’t think Tony will let me leave with how much work we have to do,” You said with a soft frown on your face, Wanda huffed, “Don’t worry, I’ll convince him.”

Wanda wasn’t lying when she said she’ll convince your boss. Just after a few weeks, the man himself came up to you with a huge grin on his face.

“Heard you and Wanda are looking at houses together,” You raised your eyebrows, “oh, she told you already?” you asked, he nodded with a rather proud smirk on his face. “Yeah, and here,” he handed you a paper. Your eyes widened as you saw what it was, “Mr. Stark, I can't… I can't take this,” you said with a small smile, handing him the cheque back, but the man tutted, “Nope, you can take it as a token of my gratitude, and you can take the next week off. I mean it, kid.” And before you could protest, the man gave you a pat on the back before walking away.

You smiled as you walked toward Wanda’s room, excited to show her what Stark had given you. “Guess what I have?” you giggled as you walked up behind her. “What?”

She asked with a smile on her face, “Stark gave me this!” You smiled as you showed her the cheque, she looked at it and looked back at you, “So we are going to Jersey?” she asked, and you nodded, “Yeah, we are!”

The town where her dream house was located was called Westview, it was a mostly suburban area, hosting a small population that looked like it was extremely close-knit. You, once she saw the house in person, immediately fell in love with it and she did too.

“Here is the backyard, as you can see it's very spacious, and this is the living room. These sliding glass doors provide a great view of the outside, so if you have any children out and about, you can keep a close eye on them or the dogs, if that's the kind of people you two are.” Wanda blinked at the man who was their impromptu house guide, while you happily nodded to whatever he said. “That's all, I'll be outside waiting for you to make the decision,” he gave you both a warm smile before walking out.

You sighed happily as you looked at her, “Isn't this just perfect, Wans?” You asked, smiling at her. Wanda nodded, “But don't you think the guy is kind of...” She trailed off to the door, where the man was standing outside. “Kind of what?” You asked with a confused look on your face and Wanda sighed, “It's nothing, do you like the house?” she asked, grabbing you by the waist. “I do, it's great, but…” You paused for a moment, looking down at the floor, trying to find the words to describe your feelings, “but, if we do move here, how will we continue our jobs?” You asked, chewing your lips.

“Oh,” she said, Wanda hadn't thought about that. “Well… How about we buy the house and then when you know, we’re like, ready to retire, we come here?” You laughed, “Seriously?” and she nodded, “Seriously.”

You looked around the house, and then back at her. “Let's book it then.”

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“Pietro would love this,” Wanda whispered to you as she watched the lights that lit up the city blink at a distance. “How so?” You asked, admiring how beautiful she looked under the moonlight. “Back in Sokovia, we used to climb whatever tall buildings we could and sit there watching the stars, he always talked about how the world outside was lit up with thousands of lights and how pretty it must look,” she smiled fondly as she told you the memory. “He was right, this is beautiful,” Wanda whispered, with a bittersweet smile on her face, and you hummed, “He was, but, you look prettier,” you said with a grin on your face, and your line worked when she giggled, looking at you with adoration.

Nights like these were her favorite. Where she’d spend her time with you, in a quiet corner of the world, where reality would cease to exist to both of you and all you two did was talk, about random topics, about the past, the future. Anything, you wanted to talk about, Wanda liked to think that whenever she was with you, the world would turn into background noise, with you laying beside her as you excitedly shared your interests with her — interests that she would note down in her little notebook, appropriately named, “Y/n.” The book contained everything about you, your favorite shows, foods, music, and hobbies. Every little thing you told her about yourself, Wanda would note it down, she loved learning about you.

Wanda loved being with you, she wished she could do it all the time. She loved being an Avenger and helping people, but as she stayed longer, she found herself questioning what she wanted to do with her life. How long would she be an Avenger? It confused her, she didn't know about anything else other than being one. What career would she want? Whatever it was, as long as you were there, it wouldn't be bad.

“Do you think that I should stop being a hero?” Wanda asked, this time the two of you were sitting on the floor in the lounge, a blanket thrown over you. “What do you mean?” You asked her, munching on popcorn, “I mean, I don't know if that's what I want to do anymore, y’know? Like I don't know…” she whispered, grabbing your hand and she placed a small kiss on it. “I... I want to have a family with you, and I still want to be an Avenger, but not full-time,” You nodded in understanding, “Ohh, I think that you shouldn’t stop being a hero, you can ask Tony about that, isn’t that what Clint does?” You asked, and she nodded, “Yeah… I think I should, and then if he agrees, are you willin—” “Yes.” You said without any hesitation, and she chuckled, “I didn't even finish!” You rested your head on your shoulder, “It doesn’t matter, I’ll go with you.”

Wanda smiled as she rested her head on yours, pulling you closer to her, she pressed a small kiss on top of your head, “We should get a pool there,” you said, looking at her with a bright smile on your face. “Pool?” She asked, and you nodded, “Yeah, doesn’t that sound nice? If we have kids, that’s an easy way to distract them,” you giggled as Wanda’s face reddened at the mention of children. It wasn’t a taboo topic between the two of you, but one that always had Wanda sputtering and stumbling for words whenever you mentioned it.

Wanda did want a family, not a huge one, but enough to live comfortably with. “Why are you blushing?” You asked, stifling your laugh as the brunette buried her face into the crook of your neck. “‘M not,” she mumbled, her lips tickling your skin. “You are,” you teased, smiling as the woman pressed herself more into you. “Okay… maybe I am, but it's just….” You looked at her, “You don't want to have kids with me?” you asked with fake hurt in your voice. “No! That's not what I mean!” Wanda’s head shot up as she looked at you with an alarmed expression, “I just… parenthood is scary, okay?”

You giggled at her comment, “I know, honey. But it's going to be fun! I mean, to be fair, you don't really think about that when you come in—” “Okay!” Wanda interrupted, clasping her hand around your mouth, “Don’t say things like that, we're outside!” She whispered and you burst out laughing, wiping the tears that collected at the corner of your eyes as you giggled at her pouting face. “Hey, this isn't funny,” Wanda mumbled, shifting away from you and you cooed, “Don’t leave, I'm sorry, but it's just so cute.” You wrapped your arms from behind her and nuzzled her neck, “I won't do it again,” you mumbled, placing a small kiss on her skin.

Wanda hummed as you trailed kisses down the curve of her neck, she leaned into your hold, a sense of peace filling her body as she let you shower her with affection. “I think we should go to bed,” you purred against her ear and placed a small kiss right below it. A slow smile crawled up her face at your comment, “Yeah? Why isn't it too early?” She asked playfully and you giggled, “I don’t think I'm talking about sleeping,” you stood up from your place on the floor and held a hand out for her to grab. “Come on.” You said as you dragged her to your shared bedroom.

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Wanda’s fondest memory she had of you was during your second-year anniversary when you had surprised her with a ring, a simple one, you had matching one with her. It wasn't a request for marriage, rather it was a promise. No matter what happens, you will be hers just as she was yours. A promise of a lifetime together, she cherished the ring. Always kept it in her hand, and cleaned it whenever she needed to. It was one of the rings that she kept extra close to her, next to the ones that her brother had bought for her. Out of all the memories she had of you, she’ll always remember how beautiful you looked like that night, eyes sparkling as you looked at her. It was a perfect night.

“This was given to me by my brother…” She said, pointing towards the ring on her middle finger. “It was my birthday and we were in hiding, he felt bad that he didn’t get me anything so he stole them,” a laugh escaped her lips as she told you the story. You hummed and leaned your head against her, “Do you think he would've approved of me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Wanda fell silent at the question, before looking at you. “He would, hell, I think he would think I'm too good for you,” she said, nudging your head with hers. “He would've loved you, maybe he would have annoyed you a little bit,” she laughed. “But he… he would approve of you.” She said, looking at you with a small smile on her face. “That’s good. I wish I could've met him…” you whispered, wrapping your arms around her. “I know sweetheart,” Wanda said, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Look at this,” she said, showing her fingers which were now adorned with her rings. “They look nice, right?” She smiled as showed her rings off. You grabbed her hands, “they look really pretty, Wans,” you placed a kiss on top of her hand and looked back at her. “I'll get you more,” you promised her and Wanda grinned at you. “I'll get you those earrings you were eyeing at that one store,” The two of you giggled before she pulled up you into her arms, “We’ll go there tomorrow,” she said, placing a small kiss on your forehead.

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Wanda loved teaching you about Sokovia, mainly the dishes from there, at least the ones that she remembered. Cooking for you was one of the ways she showed her love to you. It warmed her heart knowing how eager you were to learn about her life, soon she’ll teach you about Hanukkah too. You did ask her about it, but at that time, Wanda didn't want to remember her family, but now that she was doing okay, all she wanted to do was tell you about everything she remembered. But there are times when the two of you get carried away, Wanda couldn't help it, how could she not look at you?

The two of you smiled as you looked at each other. “I love you, I feel I don’t say it enough,” you mumbled, nuzzling your nose against hers. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing you say it”, Wanda said, stealing a small kiss from you. “Me too,” you said with a small smile. “I love you, Y/n,” Wanda said, kissing your cheek. “I love you,” she whispered again, this time her lips found your lips, pulling you into a heated kiss. Your arms wrapped around her neck, a low moan escaping her mouth as you tugged at her hair. “W-Wanda,” you said with a soft moan as she groped your ass, “Not here,” you pushed her back onto the table, quickly fixing your hair as you watched Clint walk into the room.

Wanda nodded at the man, who opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. “Don’t tell me you guys,” You tensed up as he turned to look at the both of you while Wanda smirked at you. “Did you one of two take my protein bar?” He asked, and you sighed in relief, “No we didn’t, but Thor was here not too long ago.” Wanda snickered at your flustered face. Clint grabbed his bottle of water, and just as he was about to walk out the door, he turned around, looking at you with a hard gaze. “Don’t make me give you guys another talk again,” He said before closing the door and leaving.

Wanda burst out laughing, “It isn't funny.” You said, looking at your girlfriend who had tears running down her eyes. “I-” she giggled, clutching her stomach, “It's not funny, Wanda!” You said with a huff, “I'm sorry,” she said, giggling as she wrapped her arms around you, “you should have seen your face,” and with that, she burst out laughing again. You groaned, “you know what,” you said, glaring at her. Wanda stifled her laughter or tried to, “Yeah, I'm not having sex with you for a week!” You announced before storming off. Wanda’s face fell, “what?” She asked, jumping off the table, she ran after you. “Y/n!” she ran into the bedroom to see you sitting on the bed, looking at your phone. You looked at her for a fleeting moment, before looking back at youphone, “I’m not taking back what I said, Wanda.”

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“So, you’re telling me, you don’t want to be a full-time Avenger anymore?” Wanda nodded, biting her lips nervously as she looked at Steve, “That’s alright,” It wasn’t Steve who spoke up, it was Tony. She was surprised that he out of all people would agree to her request, but she guessed today was a good day then. Steve nodded, “You bought the house?” He asked, Wanda smiled, “I did, Y/n said that she liked it so, I couldn’t say no,” she finished with a soft giggle and Stark snickered, “you’re head over heels aren’t you?” He said, and Wanda flushed, but he wasn’t lying. She could almost never say no to you.

“You can go, Wanda. It’s the least we can do for you, and of course, Tony will take care of all of your needs,” He said and the bearded man shrugged, “Great, babysitting!” He exclaimed and Wanda smiled, “Thank you,” she said. The two men nodded, and Wanda immediately rushed to you, a smile on her face as she found you arranging files with another intern. “Y/n!” She stopped by your side, looking at you with a huge grin on her face, “He said yes!” Wanda exclaimed excitedly, grabbing you by the shoulder, You gasped, “W-We’re going?!” Wanda nodded, the smile never left her face as the two of you rushed to the bedroom, already making plans to pack, and to have one final dinner with everyone.

“Keep in touch with us,” Clint said as he helped you move some boxes into the truck. You smiled, “We will and thank you,” you said, looking at the man with a small smile on your face. The man nodded, and Wanda walked over to you, “Alright, you ready?” She asked with a smile, “Yup,” you whispered, Wanda looked at the huge building that she had learned to call home, and now she was going to make one of her own. Living a life that she only dreamed of. Now everything was coming true, she was going to live her dream, You nudged her shoulder, “Second thoughts?” You asked and she shook her head, “Of course not! I’m just thinking, we have to start over again,” she said, a small smile on her face. “We’ll get through it, Wanda.” You said, grabbing her hand. “Yeah, we will.”

[scarletbit]

Here we go again! / kara zor-el

paring: kara zor-el x fem!reader summary: You really shouldn't let her in. But when she's standing outside your door after two weeks, can you really turn her away? genre: fluff, suggestive

“Nu-uh, not this time.”

The smile that had greeted you when you first opened the door didn’t falter with your rejection. If you didn’t know any better, you could’ve sworn it actually grew.

Actually, you did know better and it definitely did.

“I’m here to apologize,” Kara puts her hands up. Her hair is disheveled and the ruffling of her trench coat is the only sound drifting across the currently desolate street your apartment door faces. This late at night, it’s only her and the wind.

She opens her mouth to continue but you know exactly what’s going to follow.

“Again,” you finish for her.

“Again,” her eyes cast down as she bites her lip. Any other night, you would’ve found the disarming coy act cute. Tonight, you find it annoying.

“Two weeks.” Usually, you’re never this short with her. You’d let her in, she’d spend the night and you’d talk and talk over breakfast.

She’d discuss her esoteric adventures far beyond the planet you both called home now and all the never ending complaints she had about her cousin.

“It’s like, I get it, you’re Superman.” she’d start while brushing her teeth, using her hands to gesture wildly, getting toothpaste foam all over your sink and mirror (which you made her clean up after her rant). “but oh my god, I don’t care that everyone on this planet thinks you’re perfect, can you just relax with all the self-righteousness.”

You’d listen and laugh as she continued her attack on Mother Teresa in Spandex (her words.)

“I mean, he does have a point, didn’t you say you’d hang up the intergalactic club hopping?”

She’d leave the bathroom a mess and make her way over to you on the couch, plopping next to you as you finished your coffee.

“You know, you’d both get along great,” she’d grin, eyes squinting as she’d lean closer to you. “I bet he also makes his journalist girlfriend brush her teeth before kissing her in the morning.”

“Girlfriend?”

She’d ignore it, kissing the quip away as she moved on top of you while you reached your hand out and prayed you’d locate the coffee table to put your cup down with your eyes closed.

One of her hands would reach up into your hair and she’d lay you both down on your old sofa.

“It’s not like I’m ever gone for more than a couple days” she’d say and you’d feel the minty fresh breath intertwine with your own as her hand began making its way down your stomach. You’d be late for work, again, but you didn’t care.

“Plus,” she’d tilt her face playfully and deliver her signature line, “distance makes the heart grow fonder.”

Yeah, tonight, you were annoyed.

“Two. weeks.” You repeat, pausing between words this time for dramatic effect. Your recent flare for drama no doubt influenced by the last couple months you’d spent with her.

You don’t know if you have a right to be upset. It’s not like you two ever labeled your relationship and Kara was never one to be tied down by frivolous things like commitments or gravity.

Her trips to other planets were frequent and spontaneous but she was right, they never lasted more than two days and she’d always make sure your apartment was the first stop she made when she returned, a verbal and physical apology in tow.

But two weeks without a word from her and your heart went way past fond and straight to annoyed.

One week ago, she’d already be inside, her coat decorating your bedroom floor. Four days ago, you would have forced her to grovel a little harder than usual before giving in. Two days ago, however, you decided you deserved a little more than getting ghosted by an alien.

Kara puts her hands in her pocket and leans back on her heels, “I lost track of time,” the grin returns to her face along with a familiar glint in her eyes.

“Let me in and I’ll make it up to you,” she moves to go past your frame, still leaning on the front door, and into your living room, a habitual movement built from months of practice. You curse yourself for being so easy in the past, enabling her little cycle of disappearing, apologizing, and weaseling her way out of making any actual changes in her behavior.

“I said nu-uh,” you shift to stand in her way, blocking her from entering. You were aware if she wanted to it wouldn’t take more than a fraction of her strength to move you aside but it was really more for effect. “Do I need to say it in Kryptonian?”

God, you were so mad that you wanted to let her in, but this time you had to have some self-respect, even if she did look really hot hungover.

She pauses and you hope she senses you’re being serious this time. She straightens her back and her teeth show as her grin becomes a smile, “You don’t even know how to,” she says with a teasing lilt. Note to self: good at fighting, bad at picking up hints.

“I’m serious, Kara.” You hope your tone and furrowed brows do the trick and get your message across this time, “two weeks and not a word? I’m not letting you in, go home.” You gesture out into the empty street, trying to turn her away as soon as possible.

You feel it’s only a matter of time before she says the right combination of words and your door opens just enough for her to finally make her way inside.

“Okay okay, I hear you.” You doubt that. She withdraws her hands from her pockets and runs them through her hair, the action doing little to calm the strands. It’s almost reflective from the light that eminates from behind you and you would be lying if you said you hadn’t missed her. Her hair, her laugh, her jokes, even that stupid fucking trench coat she refused to hang on your coat rack (“It just looks sooo much better on the floor.”)

“What can I do to make it up for you?” Kara asks, a faint air of seriousness coming over her.

“Apologize.” You keep your request brief.

“Well,” she darts her eyes around before looking back at you, “I’m trying to, but you won’t let me in.” Her words come out a little too teasing for your liking.

You cross your arms, “No, a real apology.”

She pauses, the words likely seeming foreign to her. Beyond the cheeky I’m sorry’s and whispered half-promises to not disappear again between kisses, Kara was not prone to earnest expressions of wrongdoings.

You doubted she even saw her road trips as something she had to apologize for. But she was here and if she really wanted you to let her in, which you reminded yourself you shouldn’t do anyways, she’d have to truly and sincerely apologize for leaving for two weeks and not letting you know.

You might not be her girlfriend but you sure deserved more than no signs of life followed by a midnight booty call. You were proud of yourself and even if she turns around and leaves like you claim you want her to, you stood up for yourself and didn’t give in.

She stares at you for a few seconds, but you’re not making eye contact anymore, choosing to stare at the door handle you probably shouldn’t have turned when she knocked in the first place.

“I’m sorry I was gone for two weeks and didn’t let you know, it was shitty and you deserve better.”

So here’s the thing.

When you imagined this in your head, back when you said you definitely weren't going to let her in, it took a lot more back and forth before she even acknowledged that 1) you were hurt 2) she was the reason for it and 3) you were owed an apology.

You truthfully hadn’t expected her to own up so quickly. Can you really blame yourself for finding her sincerity so fucking attractive.

You surely can’t blame yourself for moving aside and gesturing with your head for her to come in.

She smiles and reaches for your face with both hands, chilled thanks to the cold wind that’s been nipping at you since you opened the door, takes your lips into hers, and replaces the cold you felt just moments ago with a new heat that reminds you exactly what you missed most these past two weeks.

It’s a messy kiss but you can taste her apology on your tongue, and that’s all you need to fully abandon your previous stance.

She breaks the kiss and takes your chin in her hand, giving you a playful peck, lingering, before making her way inside and straight to your bedroom, a route she knows well.

You’re left practically panting on your doorstep, when you hear what sounds eerily like a piece of heavy clothing hit your floor.

[temporarywelcome]

Sweet n' Low - Kara Zor-El x Fem!Reader

Summary: Kara isn't beating those bisexual allegations... Loosely inspired by "Sweet n' Low" by Peach PRC.

A/N: might make this into a little series. First time writing for Kara !!

CW: swearing, horsing around with a strap (no smut)

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Words: 1.9k

YOU EVER LOOK AT SOMEONE AND GO, “Yeah, this bitch is gay” ?

Yeah.

Her name is Kara. 

The way she would graze her fingers along the arm of other women. Eyes trailing down to exposed breasts. Kissing literal girls on the lips? Like, isn’t that obvious? Aren’t girls who kiss other girls at least a little bit gay?

That’s what you thought, at least.

“I only do that when I’m drunk,” she had explained once, looking off into the crowd of other partygoers. 2000s night. Kara didn’t know what the 2000s were like on Earth, but the music was pretty good. Lots of talk about dancing in these songs. Sometimes talk of ass shaking. Very fun. 

“You don’t get drunk,” You had replied dryly, crossing your arms over your chest, “Your inability to even get buzzed is impressive.” 

“You just can’t tell, but, y’know, my mind gets all fuzzy ‘n shit.” 

Lies. “Are you drunk right now?”

“Not yet,”

“So why were you looking at my tits?” 

Kara’s eyes faltered, looking from the crowd to you  for just a split moment. “What are you talking about? I think you’re drunk right now,” the corners of her lips curled up into a smirk, holding up three fingers, “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Three,”

“See? You’re drunk. I’m holding up four,” 

Oh my God what a liar. “Can you count, or are my tits distracting you?” 

“Hm,” Kara took that as a chance to take another peak, “I see two,” 

Okay, that was a little funny. You giggled, rolling your eyes, “Are you sure?” 

“What, do you have another one hiding?” 

“Wanna check?”

Kara laughed, taking a shot with ease. She held her liquor like nobody else. Well, except her cousin, Clark, who was approaching with his girlfriend, Lois. Lois, who gasped as she tripped over her own two feet, shrieking in giggles as Clark held her up. Kara groaned, turning away, “Embarrassing…” 

Despite Lois’ state, Clark was smiling. When was he not? You were sure the only time you saw Clark frown was when HR ordered tacos for the whole team, and Jimmy had gotten a horrendous tummy ache, causing concern.

It must be nice to be as happy as Clark Kent. 

“I’m gonna take Lois home,” he said, arm securely around her waist so she won’t scurry away, “She’s had quite a bit to drink,” 

“Quite a bit?” You mused, “I heard her barking at you ten minutes ago,”

That encouraged Lois to start barking at Clark again, making his eyes widen. For added effect, she began pawing at him.

“Yo’, who brought their chihuahua out to the club?!” someone shouted a few feet away, causing some other dancers in close proximity to look around in confusion. 

Lois halted her barking to cough in Clark’s face, wiping at her nose as she said, “I’m a rottweiler.” 

“I’m never going to let her forget about this,” You said, “Kara, what dog do you think I am?”

“A weiner dog,”

“Okay, bitch,”

“See you at home, Kara,” said Clark, “and see you at work tomorrow, Y/N. I'll bring some painkillers for ya,”

Clark Kent, always the sweetheart. You were notorious for forgetting to grab painkillers in your rush to get to work whilst hungover out of your mind. Clark Kent was always to the rescue. 

You glanced at Kara, who made no move to leave, “You're not gonna go with them?”

“Nah, I'll take you home. You're all drunk ‘n shit. How many tits do I have?” 

“Six.”

“Wrong! It's four. See, you're too drunk and need some sober guidance. Kara to the rescue.”

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YOU HAVE NEVER SEEN KARA WITH A BOYFRIEND. 

Sure, Kara has taken dates to the many parties she goes to. A partner to dance with at a function. And yeah, they were all guys. 

But it was never the same guy twice. She never went home with any of them. She never spoke of them again. They were simply… decoration. 

This time it was your cousin’s birthday party. He was cool with Clark and Lois, because, who wasn’t? So they were of course invited. Kara got a courtesy invite because you talked about her aaaaall the time. 

So she came. With a guy named Mark. He was a baker or something. Kara liked to say she goes for guys who work hard for his career (despite having no career of her own), and no offense to the bakers out there, but this guy was certainly not it. You had asked for a good chocolate cake recipe and he couldn’t even answer. 

Faker. 

“You think she hires these people?” You grumbled, taking a sip of wine. Your cousin was the “elegant” type, always with expensive wines he can’t afford or fruity drinks that were clear signs of how fruity he is. 

Lois shrugged, “Does someone like Kara need to hire a date?”

“Yes,”

“That’s not nice!” said Clark, before backpedaling, “Well, she’s not the most friendly,” 

“She doesn’t seem to like him,” commented your cousin, twirling the straw of his very fruity drink, “In fact, she doesn’t seem to like anyone. I told her thanks for coming and she asked who I was. I said it was my birthday and she just asked where the beer was.” 

“She doesn’t even have a job,” Lois added, “How would she be able to afford to hire a date?”

“Why would she hire a date?” Clark rolled his eyes, messing with his own fruity drink offered to him. Cut strawberries floated atop the pink liquid, some edible sparkly substance sprinkled on the surface. 

Lois shrugged, “I don’t know, to make Y/N jealous,” 

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. I don’t know why; you’re both, like, obsessed with each other.” 

“I don’t see what’s appealing,” your cousin muttered, “She’s so extremely unemployed.”

You zoned out of the conversation at that point, staring at Kara and this Mark clown. She was drinking, take a guess, a fruity drink, silent as Mark blabbed and blabbed about who knows what, no interest in her face. She seemed quite zoned out herself, or perhaps bored out of her mind. Or both. 

A few minutes later, he attempted to grind his dick on her ass as they danced, and she sent him flying. The most entertaining part of the party.

_______

FOR A SUPPOSED STRAIGHT WOMAN, KARA REALLY LOVED LESBIAN SEX. 

It was your day off, and Kara, who had every day off, was lounging on your couch asking you random questions. 

“Those are such heterosexual questions of you to ask, Kara,” you deadpanned, taking out some bowls to make chocolate chip cookies, upon her request. Mark the baker wasn’t making her cookies now, was he? “I never even asked your sexuality, actually.” 

“I don’t know,” she admitted, staring at your ceiling, “I’ve been thinking about it a lot recently. I like guys, I guess, but I never really thought about what it would be like to date a girl,”

“All the girls you’ve kissed at clubs haven't given you any clues?” 

She sat up to glare at you, “Don’t judge me! You know, in the country I’m from, gay marriage is illegal. Maybe it’s all internalized or something,” 

“What country are you from again?” You asked this question every time, because, somehow, Kara’s country of origin changes. The first time you asked, she stuttered out the word “Sokovia”, which made you gasp out: “I didn’t know that place was real; I thought the MCU made it up!” She then quickly said she meant to say “Savonia”, the name changing little by little every time it was mentioned. 

“Stamonia, very small country in Europe. Won’t even find it on a map,” she said, as she always did. 

“Hm,” you began melting the butter, “So gay marriage is illegal over there,”

“Yeah, my parents have always been really, uh, ‘woke’, though,” she said the word like it was new to her and not common slang, “So I’m not completely a lost cause,” she fished her phone out of her pocket (bought by Clark, the employed one), squinting at the screen. The way she acted with modern technology was like she was from a different planet. “Can I borrow your charger?”

You looked up from the butter you were desperately trying to brown perfectly, “Oh, yeah, I was cleaning today so it is probably in my nightstand. Go take a look,” 

“Thanks, bitch,” Kara jumped up, whistling cheerfully as she strolled off down the hallway towards your room. 

“I know you mentioned going to the bar today,” you spoke louder so she could hear you, “But I think I wanna stay in today. If you still wanna hang out, we can watch a movie or something…” You pause. 

She was giggling. Very loudly. Giggles that quickly turned into cackles. 

“Jesus, you sound like a witch who just got a new cauldron,” you turned off the stove, shifting to see Kara return from your room. You choked on your spit. 

She was wailing in laughter, spinning your strap on around like a fucking windmill. “Holy shit! Is this what I think this is?”

You pounded on your chest as you choked, eyes beginning to water from the force, “Kara what the hell are you doing?!” you burst into a fit of laughter, “Put that shit down before you hurt someone!”

“Yeah, I’m gonna shoot someone with this strap,” she slings the harness over her shoulder, holding the fucking fake dick like a gun at you, “Bam bam bam, dead.”

“I’m gonna fucking piss myself,” you wiped at the tears leaking onto your cheeks, “I forgot that was in the last drawer of my nightstand, holy shit,”

“Yeah, I saw some of your other contraptions too,” Kara replied, inspecting the dildo and flicking at it with her index finger and thumb, “Put this thing on me,”

“What? Why?” 

“I gotta know what it’s like, man, can you grant me this one wish? I don’t ask for much,” she said dramatically, clumsily attempting to step through the harness, “I gotta helicopter this shit,” 

Giggling, you helped Kara into the harness, securing it around her hips over her jeans. She immediately began circling her hips, the silicone penis swaying in circles. 

“Oh my God,” you laughed, grabbing your phone, “Do that again,” 

Kara put on an overly seductive face, hips moving as the fake dick swished around freely. “Want some of this, princess?” She slapped the dildo, making you snort. 

“Oh, yes, please give me some of that, your royal harness,” You ended the video, scampering back to the kitchen to bake those damn cookies. Kara could play around with her new favorite toy; a distraction so you can lock the fuck in. 

But you cannot. She came up from behind, snickering as she rocks her hips back and forward behind you, mimicking a slapping motion above your ass. 

“Kara!” you groaned, head in your hands, “This is harassment,”

She stepped back laughing, leaning against the counter, “Gosh, I honestly fuck with this,” 

“ ‘I fuck with strap ons’, you say heterosexually,” you sighed, shaking your head. 

“I never said I’m heterosexual,” she replied in a sing-song voice, messing with the harness, “Now help me get out of this shit,” 

_______

and I'll bow down to your royal harness

[itsmionet]

“You’re so beautiful you made me forget my pick-up line​" Yelena Belova x Reader

Summary: After a successful mission, the team meets up for some drinks and a game of truth or dare ensues, where some buried feelings come alight.

After a long and stressful mission and after Tony’s tiring insistence, the team decided to have a low-key party that night so they could loosen up a bit. Yelena didn’t really feel like attending, and she was starting to express her negative, only she caught a glance of Y/N and upon realising Y/N seemed pretty excited to go, she had to bite her tongue mid-sentence. A fact that did not go unnoticed by Clint, who made a whip sound, which subsequently earned him a blow on the ribs courtesy of the blonde.

“Alright” Thor quipped in, completely oblivious to anything that was going on around him “I’m on drinks duty; Natasha, you’re in charge of food” the redhead groaned as Yelena laughed at her, “Yelena!” That laughter soon died down as the blonde heard her name being called “you’ll be in charge of ice”.

“Absolutely not” she snorted as Natasha patted her on the shoulder mockingly.

“Come on! Loosen up a bit, sestra.” She leaned over though her voice remained the same volume. “Yesterday Y/N and I went out shopping and I bet she’s dying to put on the new dress she bought. Don’t you, L/N?”

Yelena started to complain about attending the “stupid party” but shut right up upon catching Y/N blushing out of the corner of her eye but nodding to Natasha’s comment.

Night came by soon enough and everyone gathered around the table, sprawling themselves on the nearest sofa they could find. “We should play truth or dare!” Clint suggested all of a sudden.

“What are we, five?” Yelena rolled her eyes before doing yet another shot of vodka.

“Or we could just talk.” Steve shrugged.

Natasha hummed in agreement. “Sure” she glanced at her sister with a mischievous smile on her face “some months ago your place was like a revolving door of new girls coming and going each day, but that doesn’t seem the case lately. How so? Anyone caught your eye?”

Y/N didn’t think she had ever seen Yelena’s face go so red. “That’s not true!” she yelled.

“Oh? So you mean there are still girls visiting you?” The redhead smirked.

Yelena was about to throw herself across the table and onto Natasha but the sound of Y/N’s hands clapping together pulled her out of her thoughts.

“You know what?” Y/N said, “truth or dare seems harmless enough, let’s do that.” Y/N glanced at Yelena from the corner of her eyes and smiled when she realised the blonde was already looking at her.

Clint smirked under his nose. Unbeknownst to anyone else, he had an ongoing bet with Natasha about how long it would take for both Y/N and Yelena to admit their obvious feelings for one another and he was determined to prove it tonight.

“Well, given that you have been the most reluctant to agree, we’ll start with you.” Natasha smirked mockingly. ''So, blondie, truth or dare?''

''Don't call me that!'' Yelena groaned.

''Why not? You're blonde.'' Natasha responded matter-of-factly, obviously trying to get a rise out of the girl.

''How would you like me calling you Red?''

“Meh, I wouldn’t mind. I’ve been called worse.”

Y/N had a feeling this would go on for a long time unless someone cut in, as it usually would, so she did. “Can we just get on with it?” She jokingly huffed.

After hearing Y/N’s voice, Yelena calmed down almost instantly. Clint was about to make another whip sound, but the death glare the blonde sent him made him put his hands up in a surrender manner.

''Alright, dare.'' Yelena finally answered. She was sure Natasha would ask her some question she didn’t feel like answering right now, so she just decided to go with dare and pray to the Lord that her sister would play nice.

''That's what I thought.'' Natasha nodded as her smirk got wider, which made the blonde internally curse herself. ''I dare you to tell Y/N the 3 cheesiest pick-up lines you can think of and if you fail or refuse to do so you’re going to have to drink one of Thor’s bottles all by yourself in one go.”

The God of Thunder snatched the bottle away right as Yelena was making a grab for it. “Oh, hell no. These were hard to get, you’re not going to waste one of my precious bottles because you chickened out”.

“I’m not chickening out.” Yelena snarled. “Natasha gave me two options; I’m just following through.”

“Come on, Spy-kid, just do the dare.” Tony yelled from the corner of the sofa where he has laying.

Yelena flipped them the bird before standing up and walking over to Y/N. The latter already drinking the rest of her glass in one go. Once she was by her side, she sat down next to her although she refused to make eye contact. “Well, here I am. What are your other two wishes?”

Clint stifled a laugh as Natasha lightly elbowed him on the ribs. Yelena shot them both a dirty look.

“You have to look at Y/N, Yelena!” Natasha complained. “Otherwise there’s no point to it.”

“You’re right.” Yelena growled. “There’s absolutely no point.” She wanted to just get up and forget all about the dare but Y/N’s hand on her arm stopped her.

“It’s alright if you don’t want to do it” Y/N delicately said.

“Do not give her an out, L/N!” Tony complained. “She accepted the dare so she must go through with it.”

The blonde huffed once more before taking a sharp breath and abruptly turning to face Y/N. “My love for you is like diarrhea, I just can't hold it in.”

“What the f-?”

“What?”

“Oh my God…” groans and curses were all collectively heard around the room as everyone shuddered at the horrid pick-up line. Everyone except for Y/N, whose laughter countered every single complain and managed to put the most beautiful smile on Yelena’s face.

“One more to go and you’re free.” Y/N whispered on the blonde’s ears as the rest of the group kept on making gaging noises.

“You’re so beautiful that you made me forget my pick-up line.​” This time, there was no venom, no mocking on Yelena’s voice. It was something else entirely that Y/N couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“I…” Y/N stuttered “I guess that makes three…” she said stunned at Yelena’s sudden change of behaviour.

“Cool” the blonde looked away as quick as the blink of an eye as she occupied herself clearing her throat. “So” she raised her voice in order to get the attention of the others “whose turn is it?”

“Y/N’s” Natasha quickly quipped in. The action caused a chain reaction of everyone nodding in agreement. Y/N took another shot before the redhead’s growing smirk. “So, truth or dare?”

''Uhm, truth'' Y/N hesitantly answered. She didn’t know why but it seemed like tonight Natasha was determined to get on Yelena’s nerves, and Y/N was afraid that in order to do so the next dare would be too racy.

“You’re single but ignore everyone like you’re taken. Last week I heard you turn down not one but two people who asked you out. Is there something we should know?” Y/N had never seen Yelena’s head spin faster than tonight. Her green eyes pierced onto Y/N’s, waiting for the answer.

“N-no. I really am single.”

“Then why don’t you give them a chance?” Natasha put on an innocent look, but Y/N knew damn perfectly well that it was just a façade. “Or do you perhaps have your eye on someone else?”

Everyone’s eyes fell on Y/N, but it was Yelena’s that made her feel hot under the collar.

“I… well, I-“

“I know someone who’s dying to take you out-“

“Dostatochno!” Yelena’s voice cut off Natasha’s midsentence. Everyone raised their eyebrows questioningly as their eyes fell on the pair. Y/N didn’t though, she’d heard that word practically every time the redhead managed to get Yelena angry. ‘That’s enough!’ the blonde would yell, followed by a string on insults spoken in Russian Y/N had unwillingly become familiar with.

Natasha simply put her hands up in a surrender manner and immediately backed off, knowing full well what her sister’s patience limits were, and she pretty much was crossing them. Still, that didn’t deter Yelena from huffing.

Y/N pinched the tip of her nose and shut her eyes closed for two seconds while collecting her thoughts. Maybe it was the alcohol in her system, or maybe the fact that she’d been sitting on her feelings for way too long to be considered healthy. She didn’t know what exactly prompted her to do so but she decided that now was the time. And if it ended badly -which it would most likely- she could always blame it on the alcohol, right? Drunk people don’t know what they’re saying. Or was it that a person’s honesty is more reliable when inebriated? Y/N didn’t have much time to ponder because before she knew it, she was gripping Yelena’s hand.

The blonde’s head turned around and her eyebrow asked Y/N a question her mouth couldn’t properly frame.

“Excuse me” Y/N cleared her throat while she stood up in a not-so-graceful manner. Everyone’s attention was quickly directed at the blonde. “I’d like to answer your previous question, Romanoff.” Before anyone could throw in any guesses -and by the looks of it, they were all dying to chime in- Y/N looked directly into the redhead’s eyes before saying “there is indeed someone who’s caught my eye for quite some time now. And that person is standing in this very room as we speak.” She smiled proudly as if she’d just answered a very difficult equation. “Well, sitting rather than standing, but you get it.” She corrected herself in a low voice, completely lost in thought.

“I have… so many questions.” Tony raised his hand bewildered.

As for the rest of the group, aside from Natasha and Clint elbowing each other like a pair of teenagers, was radio silent.

“Let me try that again.” Y/N clapped her hands together and stood up. She took a sharp intake of breath and resumed. “This may come as a complete shock to you…because I’m a very guarded person“ Y/N blinked slowly. “But look, because of our job, tomorrow’s not promised. We all know that. And I’ve tried telling myself to wait for the right moment to say this but then I realised… that that moment may never come. So I took the matter into my own hands.” Natasha slapped Clint’s arm excitedly, already anticipating what was about to come.

Y/N smiled softly. “This woman” Y/N turned her head to look at Yelena, who seemed to have stopped breathing “was the first one ever to believe I could become the person I am today. She made me realise I was more than a freak in a purple cape. She makes my life much easier and worth living.” Clint shook the redhead’s arm eagerly. “Yelena makes every night feel like a Friday night. She’s passion and calmness all at once. She’s warm and soft but fierce and stands for what she believes in. She’s protective of the people she loves.” That one, Y/N found out not long after she had met the spy for the first time “Yelena’s basically everything I was afraid of letting myself want.” Y/N took a pause to let her words sink in and to make sure Yelena was understanding what was being said. Both Clint and Natasha were about to fall from their seats. “But I’m not scared anymore.”

To say the blonde was speechless would be an understatement. The others were as well. Slowly, Tony stood up from his seat and started clapping solemnly. He only stopped after Steve grabbed his arm and pulled him down. “Let them have their moment.” He chuckled in Tony’s ear.

“Wait, so what are you saying?” Y/N had never heard Yelena’s voice so vulnerable, which scared Y/N a little, only the blonde’s eyes were almost pleading, and Y/N soon realised the spy was scared she may not had understood correctly. She just needed confirmation. She took Y/N’s hand and pulled herself up from the sofa.

“Pfft, Yelena, please.” Natasha puffed in annoyance. This was taking longer than her shipping heart could take. The anticipation killing her. “You already know what L/N means. And for the love of God, don’t you dare act all tough and distant now“ Steve reached for the redhead to shut her up but she was out of reach from him “because let me tell you, we already know why there haven’t been any girls visiting you lately. I mean, for an Avengers compound you’d think the walls would be reinforced, but I’ve had to suffer listening to you night after night moaning Y/N’s name for-”

“Sukin syn!” Yelena screeched as she threw an empty glass directly at her sister’s head. Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at the whole ordeal. ‘Son of a bitch’ was not what you’d typically call your sibling but, then again, Belova and Romanoff were not your typical sister duo.

Y/N managed to get Yelena’s attention back on herself by gently grabbing her chin. Once the blonde’s gaze was on Y/N again, her whole face was flushed. Scratch what Y/N thought before, thiswas the time she’d seen Yelena’s face the most red. The blonde tried to hide by pressing her face onto Y/N’s chest. “So embarrassing.” She growled. “There’s a knife right there on the table. I beg you, stab me with it.”

Yelena felt more than heard Y/N’s laughter, which rumbled through her chest hysterically. Once she managed to calm down she paused a moment before asking: “I guess that kind of still begs the question…” Y/N trailed off “so you do like me?”

Yelena stepped away from Y/N and looked at her as if she’d grown two heads. “Are you serious?” She inquired. Y/N wanted to clarify that just because Natasha had said that didn’t mean Yelena wanted to be in a relationship but the blonde kept talking before Y/N could voice her thoughts. “Natasha just told you about how I shove my fingers inside myself every night thinking of you and you still wonder whether I’m into you?”

“Wow, um-“ Y/N cleared her throat, being slightly perplexed at Yelena’s sudden brazenness “okay, um, that’s… too many visuals, um…”

“Alright, I guess I’ll just get it over with.” Yelena sighed, pulling herself together. “I’m taking you out tomorrow night.”

“May I ask where and why?” Y/N playfulness came out to play once the timidness had worn off.

“The city and because I want to.”

“But I’m poor.” Y/N pouted.

“It’s called a fucking date. I pay for you.”

Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle. “Aggressive… I like it.”

Yelena smiled before closing the gap between them and for the first of many times to come kissed Y/N.

“Get a room, you two!” Clint jokingly said.

Yelena’s answer was a smirk and a glint in her eye. She grabbed Y/N by the hand and started walking away from the group. Soon enough, Natasha realised it was her own room her little sister was headed to. “Yelena, don’t you fucking da-“

Neither Yelena nor Y/N got to hear the end of that sentence, the door closing behind them.

[kassxndre-deactivated20220304]

One losing, the other winning | Yelena Belova x Reader (Natasha Romanoff x Reader)

Alright, I don’t know a lot about Yelena so I never thought I would write a story about her and reader but here I am. This was requested and I thought the story could be good to write. I decided to split it into 2 or 3 parts. In this part, there is mostly Natasha but Yelena’s at the end. Good reading!

Requested by @ideas-for-you-to-adopt

Summary: When coming back from a long day at work, Y/n discovers her girlfriend, Natasha Romanoff, is cheating on her. She don’t think for long and decides it’s better to leave and disappears. Months later, Y/n ends up in Russia and after getting lost, she bumps into a certain someone…

Warnings : cheating, breakup.

✦ ✦ ✦

One of the most painful things to go through is broken promises. But broken trust and infidelity hurt even more. You can tell.

What you can also tell is that, sometimes, traveling the world and ending up in a country you don’t know, while not being able to speak the language, can be the perfect way to meet amazing people.

✧ ✧ ✧

You had just arrived from a long day of work and you were exhausted. But you were also very happy to see your girlfriend. She was the one and only Natasha Romanoff. And while on weeks she would go save the world, on weekends she would be cuddled up with you all day long. You really loved the redhead.

“Honey, I’m home!” you said, loud enough for your girlfriend to hear you.

You put your keys on the counter and walked over to the kitchen. You took a bottle of water from the fridge and took a few sips.

“Honey?” you asked, confused that you weren’t receiving any answer. “Nat? Are you here?”

Now you were starting to get worried. You had been working overtime at work today and you knew when you got home your girlfriend would already be there. And yet the apartment was silent.

Or almost.

“Natasha? Do you-”

Your voice died down in your throat when you heard what sounded like screams of pleasure. An orgasm.

Your blood only swirled around, you were rushing towards the bedroom. When you pushed open the bedroom door, what you saw made you want to throw up. Your girlfriend was there, lying in the bed… With a man.

You didn't have the strength to speak. You just let out a nervous silent laugh before turning on your heels.

When she saw you, Natasha jumped out of bed and started running after you. You were quick, yes, but not fast enough to knock her out.

“Y/n, wait!” Natasha asked, grabbing your arm.

You turned to her and she could see the tears that made your eyes shine. Her heart ached.

“Let go of my arm,” you simply asked.

“No,” she shook her head.

“Let. go. of. my. arm.” You paused between each word to reinforce your order.

Natasha looked at you hesitantly before finally letting go.

“Thank you,” you told her before heading for the door.

You didn't want to hear Natasha's apologies. She knew you wouldn't accept them anyway. You had always told the redhead how important loyalty was to you. As if she had forgotten it.

“Y/n... give me another chance...” Natasha begged, “That will never happen again, please!”

Without looking at her, you answered her.

“I always told you, Natasha. With love, there’s no second chance.”

Natasha started to cry. She now realized that just one small mistake, an unfortunate mistake, had destroyed your relationship. And then she felt you slip through her fingers. Without her being able to do anything about it.

You put your hand on the doorknob and opened the door to leave the apartment. You looked at Natasha one last time.

“The lease is in your name, I'll leave the apartment to you. I'll come pick up my things in two days, when you're busy saving the world.”

That was the last thing Natasha heard you say to her.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Since when haven’t you seen her?” Steve asked, sipping his coffee.

Natasha sighed, looking up to find the Captain’s gaze. “Two days.”

“Two days? And you worry for that?” Steve asked genuinely confused, “I mean, she could be at her sister’s, taking a break you know.”

“She’s not one to do that. She always faces her problems.”

Steve sighed and crossed his arms. He could easily see on Natasha’s face how much sad and worried she was.

“Well,” he said, “You two broke up, right?”

The redhead nodded.

“I think it’s normal for her not to want to see you.”

“I know that!” Natasha exclaimed, “But something is wrong.”

“You’re sure about that, huh?”

“I am. She disappeared suddenly. It’s not normal.”

“If you believe it, then I’ll see what I can do,” Steve declared standing up, “We’ll find her.”

Natasha looked at the blonde while he was walking out the kitchen.

Natasha was worried. She was sure something had happened to you. You were not the kind to disappear without leaving any trace behind you. Something must be wrong. Something must’ve happened.

✧ ✧ ✧

Nothing had happened. Except you were heartbroken. But nothing really bad had happened to you. You just thought it would be better for you to leave town, and the country too. You needed a fresh start.

So that’s what you did, you left. Without saying goodbye. Without leaving a note. You just moved away and didn’t look back. And in fact, it was doing you a lot of good. You were even starting to forget about Natasha and the image of her and this man in your shared bed.

You decided it was time for you to discover the world and visit new countries. You were always dreaming of taking the road to travel. Now, you were doing it. And it was amazing. You got to meet so many people, all kind and special. You were really happy. Except you were missing something. Love.

After some months, you ended up visiting Russia. You didn’t even know how you ended up here really because you were genuinely lost. You didn’t talk Russian nor did you even understand a bit of it. So you followed some people who talked in english and who seemed to be ones to be trusted. But anyway, it didn’t keep you from being lost in one of the many cities you were traveling to.

So, here you were. Lost and lonely. In a city you knew nothing about. Only surrounded by people who didn’t talk your language. You tried anyway to find your way to a hotel but you got even more lost.

You thought about giving up when you bumped into a girl. You looked up to her and you first thought was that she was beautiful. And indeed she was. She looked at you with shiny eyes and you felt your heart melt.

“Ты заблудился, дорогая?” the girl asked you.

You looked at her confused. She laughed, understanding that you weren’t able to understand Russian.

“I said,” she smiled, “Are you lost, dear?”

You let out a breath, relieved that you were finally meeting someone who could speak english. You smiled to the girl.

“Yeah, I am.”

“Well, maybe I can help you.”

You let yourself dive in the girl’s eyes. She was so beautiful.

“I’m sure you can,” you said and the girl smirked.

No matter who the girl was, you were sure she would take an important place in your life. And in your heart too.

✦ ✦ ✦

Part 2

[trikruismybitch]

i jus know this series is gonna be good

[l-artemisia-del-secolo]

Delusion

Yelena Belova x reader, oneshot, angst, cheating, definitely not a happy ending

Yelena cheated on you. Even though she tries her best to fix everything, you've already made a decision.

"No, no, no, no... you can't do this." Yelena followed you to the bedroom. "This is just insane. We've been together for so long"

"Really? Watch me." You took a pile of her clothes and shoved it in a bag you were holding. "I'm making it easier for you. Appreciate it."

"Babe, please stop." Her voice was higher than usual, she was quickly falling into despair. "I love you. We can fix everything."

"Really? How interesting. Where was your love when you were fucking her in our bed, hm?" You were boiling with anger. "Where was your love when you were eating her out on our kitchen table?"

"It was a mistake. I swear."

Her strong physical presence disappeared, her confidence vanished. She appereared even smaller than she was, weighed down by guilt and pain.

You, on the other hand, were practically burning her with your looks and movements.

"A mistake?" You repeated in a mocking tone, still filling the bag with her personal things. "That's convenient."

"It means nothing. She means nothing. Just a random girl." Yelena helplessly watched how you were getting rid of her presence in the apartment.

"Oh, please, don't be like this. I'm sure, that girl deserves more praise. She managed to do what I couldn't. She had your undivided attention."

You knew you were right. For years you had to share Yelena with her job, teammates, bosses. So many people thought that she belonged to them. She belonged to the whole world. And you were getting only the crumbs of your woman. Which was driving you crazy, but at least you were convincing yourself, that she was doing her best. Yelena was a hero and giving her a room to breath was a small price for such a woman being yours.

But these last few months were different. She was different. She didn't even give the crumbs, she let you starve.

"Don't say that. She was... It was... A delusion." Yelena tried to get closer to you, but your hand stopped her.

"Don't you dare making another step." You couldn't allow your defence to have a crack. "A delusion? Fine. How many times?"

Yelena didn't know what to answer. Her first instinct was to lie to you. To protect from her own stupidity. To cry outloud that it was a mistake, nothing more than a cruel joke.

But Yelena knew right now she didn't have any right to manipulate you. Her pure woman, who sacrificed so much for her.

"Four months." She sounded as if she didn't believe that herself.

"Was she good?" You asked ruthlessly.

"I... Don't..." Yelena felt tears on her cheeks. And she thought she wasn't capable of crying anymore. Or feeling such immense pain.

"Answer me."

"She... She's not you." Yelena whispered. "None of that was real. None of that was mine."

"Well." You wiped away your tears. "Sorry to disappoint you but it is real."

You threw the bag on the floor and kicked it in Yelena's direction. You were never betrayed before. You always left before that could happen. But with her you genuinely tried to be a family. She was your family, and you were blind enough to believe that you were hers.

"We still can make it work." Yelena was sobbing, you could barely understand her. "I can."

"Really?" You pointed at your heart. "How are you going to make this work? You wanted everything and I gave you everything. My mind, my soul, my heart, my body. I trusted you. I believed in you. I saw you wanting have a normal, healthy relationship. When did it change? Why?"

"It just..." Yelena was defeated. "It just happened."

"Oh, yeah." You smiled bitterly and looked at the ring on your finger. "Makes perfect sense."

Yelena gave you that ring years ago. Her first meaningful present. The one, that was always with you. The one, you cherished the most. The one, she loved on you.

"It won't happen again. Give me a chance." She pleaded.

"No. You lied to me. You cheated. I won't forgive this." You took off the ring. "I think you should have it. Seems to me, you have forgotten, what these words truly mean."

You tossed her a piece of jewellery. Of course she caught it.

"Don't do this to me."

"You did it to yourself. Take the bag. I'll send everything else as soon as I can."

You stormed out of the room. But Yelena didn't even try to catch you. You took off the ring. It was the end.

She knew the engraving on the ring, she chose it herself.

"Всегда буду принадлежать только тебе одной" (vsegda budu prynadlezhat' tol'ko tebye odnoi.)

"I will always belong only to you alone."

[trikruismybitch]

the engraving 😭

[cypher-lovesjohnwalker]

˗ˏˋ"did you get that hint?"ˎˊ˗

[agentinlove]

what has been going through my head ever since i watched the doomsday trailer

[runtwerwulf]

Kara Zor-El

i know dada…

[runtwerwulf]

Baby Come Back

Kara Zor-El X FWB!reader

Post-Supergirl Movie, smut?, missing kara, kara knows where home at. maybe. No use of y/n. 3.6K words

Your room feels a little colder this morning compared to last time you saw Kara. The white walls seem blue with the sun having barely risen, reminding you of her dilated powder blue eyes, how she looked down at you that night. Her moans and strong grip that held you right where she needed you. As if she needed you. It was always like this when she came back to Earth, and you always let her in. The next day, gone.

Tonight, you place the new stock on the shelves right before closing, vinyls, CDs, cassettes, and the very last record players.

You hear the doorbells jingle as the door sweeps against the welcome mat, the slow steps on the carpet. You quickly place the last two record players on the shelf before addressing the customer.

“Hi, welcome in, is there anything in particular you’re looking for?” You chirp instinctively, turning to face the customer. There she was, leaning against the shelf mounted to the wall, her palm stabilizing her lean behind her, that familiar slight smirk of amusement seeing the shock on your face.

“Uh, yeah actually,” the blonde pretends to look around, “I was really hoping for some help looking for some new music. You see, I only have so many vinyls and it’s getting a little old, do you have any recommendations?” She pretends to act clueless as she pushes off the shelf and walks around the aisles before glancing at you with the same carefree smile.

You hadn’t seen or heard from her in 7 weeks, the longest she’s gone without popping in once, but she owed you nothing. You had no business knowing where she went, and why. You weren’t together after all so you just played along, “Oh, really? Well, what are you looking for? Something similar to what you listen to? Something old? Something new?… something blue?”

Kara picks up a vinyl by the Sleigh Bells, flipping it to the back to see what songs the album had on it. Your eyes trained on her familiar silhouette, taking note of her wind blown hair, her jacket, her boots before she came to the counter.

“Ah, something blue,” you mutter, mainly to yourself, feeling embarrassment rise in your chest and heating your cheeks. How corny.

Kara smiles, her lax demeanor and carefree attitude seemed different, “Yeah, Krypto pissed on my old one.”

You nod, that dog was a handful, “Where’s he now?” Krypto had accidentally revealed her Kryptonian identity. You had hooked up maybe 3 months after she came to Earth. You woke up in her bed with her dog literally flying around the room, tearing up the down filled pillows. At first, it was hard to wrap your head around. The woman you hooked up with was Supergirl, and not just some woman that came into the shop with her aloof personality and cocky smirk.

“With Clark.”

“Oh, okay.”

You feel her eyes on you, it almost burns as if she’s using her heat vision, and you glance up, noticing her stare is a little lower than your lips, and higher than your chest. The mark on your neck.

“Have fun while I was gone?” Kara’s tongue pokes through her cheek, glancing up into your eyes.

“Yeah, the most fun a girl can have with her curling wand,” you can’t help but be snarky, why would it matter if you had been with someone else? She was probably- You don’t want to think about it. What might happen in space, on the different red sun planets, on her ship, maybe other Metropolis girls or guys who also think they’re special to her. Oh god. You press your lips together thinly, annoyed that you thought of that, again.

“Did you?”

“Did I have fun?”

“Yeah,” You almost have to brace yourself for her response, almost scared she’d tell you if she was with anyone else.

“Mh… you could say that.”

The clock strikes 8, the sun sets over the high rise buildings of Metropolis, casting long shadows in the streets in front of the shop. You flip the sign in the window as you close up shop, “Yeah?”

Her eyes follow you as you close up the store, locking the front and pulling the gate closed, leaning against the counter, “Yeah.”

As you shut off the shop’s record player, you turn to her, “Did you wanna get some food?”

The pair of you end up getting Thai food from the place by your apartment. Walking side by side, you ramble about the new shipment getting lost and your coworkers’ new drama, giving Kara a sense of human normalcy. She watches the way your hands flail about when you talk, the faces you make with a soft smile. Sometimes telling you about what happened while she was off planet. When she would mention the other planets, she always had some crazy stories about her bar crawls, her battles, and some of the people she met along the way. It made you wonder if she considered Space her home, and she was just visiting for Clark’s sake.

Clark always tried to guide her into taking responsibility for her powers or push her into getting used to Earth. Many treated her as his side kick, or even less than that. Superman always gets brought into the conversation somehow, showered with praise or gossip while Supergirl- Kara was an afterthought. Not with you. She was on the forefront of your mind, though you couldn’t bring yourself to tell her that. She had you wrapped around her finger the moment she stepped foot into the shop with her headphones on.

Arriving at your apartment, you kick off your shoes, shrug off your work clothes, drop your pants and kick them into the corner lazily as you toss your work shirt into the dirty pile over by your potted plants, left in your panties and tank top.

Kara shrugs off her jacket, boots, and jeans in a similar manner, tossing them over by the couch as if she belonged there. Glancing over your shoulder, you smile back at her, as if she had never left. You tug at her hand gently as you make your way on the couch with her, cuddling up as you flip on the tv, the channel constantly airing old movies.

Lying on your back, with her head against your chest, your hand finds hers. Her skin is as soft as you remember, her arms as strong as ever, her fingers the most familiar part of her. You play with her hand as you watch the movie, taking quiet notice of the newly healed over scars.

With your free hand, you play with her hair, gently scratching at her scalp, pretending as if your heart doesn’t skip a beat hearing her groan softly, “mh, that’s good…” You watch her eyes flutter closed, her cheek resting on your chest, hoping she can’t feel how your heart is beating out of your ribs. Her lashes seem longer, kissing her flushed cheeks. When she opens her eyes again, looking up at you you notice how her powder blue eyes sparkle with the reflection of the tv light and candles. Her mascara is slightly smudged under her eyes, instinctively you cup her cheek in your hands and swipe it away gently with your thumb.

“Your mascara,” You mutter as her lids droop, giving you a half-lidded stare, her eyes dropping to your lips and back up to meet yours again.

The kiss is messy, and hungry as your thigh finds its way up between her thighs, your hand in her hair as if to bring her closer. One hand braced just above your shoulder and one was on your hip, anchoring you on her thigh as well.

You missed her so badly you could cry so you keep your eyes closed even after you pull away for air, diving towards her neck. Her familiar scent of her shampoo, musk, grass, and the lingering scent of booze fill your nose as you kiss and nip at her unmarkable skin.

Your hand makes its way down her back, feeling her soft skin, her muscles, the smooth scars that you were familiar with and meeting new ones on the way to the waistband of her panties. Your lips kiss down the side of her neck, to her sternum.

You glance up at her, her pupils blown from the darkness of the room, only illuminated by the orange tinged glow of some 70s movie. Kara’s messy hair seems to glow with the orange light, her chest heaving slightly as she breathes. Your heart feels like it’s ripping in half with her on your lap, dreading the time when this moment ends. You lean in to memorize every bit of her you can, just in case this is the last time you see her.

Kara leans down and you meet her halfway, lips meeting before opening up for each other, tasting each other. Her lips are as soft as you remember, the same cherry chapstick mixed with the sweetness of the mango sticky rice you shared earlier. She sighs softly into the kiss, her hands find their way into your hair, the gentle tugs send sparks down to your core. It’s been so long since she’s touched you, but she always seems to remember what you like.

Her free hand makes it down your side and back up to cup your tit, thumbing the hardening peak, “you cold, or just excited to see me?” She jokes, panting softly against your lips.

You smile against her lips, “your hands are freezing.”

She snorts, her eyes narrow with a playful glint, “oh yeah? how about this?” She gently blows on your nipples, the chilly feeling sends a jolt through your body. The corner of her eyes crinkle with a smile seeing you twitch slightly. She stops blowing on them and captures one in her mouth, somehow warming it back up. Her tongue gently circles around your puffy areola before flicking against the stiffened peaks, her hand groping the neglected one, massaging it in her palm, her thumb swiping over the sensitive bud again and again.

She feels your hands find their way to her ass, kneading the soft globes. You pull her closer, as if trying to make sure she doesn’t leave again. She bucks up against you, her panty covered cunt rocks up against your thigh, her thigh grinds against your mound. You can’t help but buck up against her, pulling her hips down against your thigh while grinding yours against hers.

She releases your nipple with a pop, kissing her way to the other one, her free hand sliding down your front, cupping your cunt. She palms your pussy, pressing up against your clit, her fingers molding around the curves of your cunt. Her ring and middle finger slide up and down your slit, she can feel your arousal through the thin fabric, “fuck you’re so wet…”

She tugs your panties to the side, accidentally ripping them, “shit, my bad,” she mutters her fingers find their way back onto your cunt, the tips of her fingers circle your clit slowly, drawing out soft moans. She pants softly against your lip, grinding against your thigh. She groans as she can hear the slickness of your pussy by just playing with your clit, “did you miss me this bad?”

She smirks hearing you moan an affirmative, “mhm.”

“Yeah?” Kara grins, her eyes flick up and down your body, admiring her affect on you. Kara’s eyes narrow slightly at the mark on your neck again. Her fingers gently slap against your clit, “Missed me so bad you got a hickey from some random? What happened to no marks, hm?”

You gasp at the slap to your clit, hips bucking, “K-Kara, it’s not-“

Her fingers plunge into your aching cunt, stretching your throbbing walls, her lips were at your earlobe before nipping at them, “I know what a burn looks like, don’t lie to me.”

Her fingers curl at that sponge-y spot inside of you, her thumb swiping up and down your clit as you gasp out a trembling response.

“I-I didn- oh fuck-“ you gasp peering into her eyes. Her brow is furrowed, eyes locked onto yours as if trying to see the lie on your face.

“Ihaven’tbeenwithanyoneelse” you whimper quickly, your eyes welling with tears at the stimulation, your hand on her ass tightens its grip. 

Her fingers plunging in and out changes positions, her palm slapping at your clit as she thrusts harder.

“Yeah? No one else?”Her gravelly voice vibrating against your earlobe could make you cum, your cunt flutters around her fingers.

“No one else,” You admit in a whisper, your eyes meet hers earnestly. 

Kara seems pleased with this response, humming softly in approval. She works you into a frenzy, her fingers curling to hit your sweet spot as she whispers dirty things into your ear about how you feel on her fingers, how horny she’s been, and how you need to be good before she can let you cum. Kara pulls her fingers out. You whimper at the loss of contact as she brings her glistening fingers to her lips, sighing softly as she licks a bold stripe against her fingers, humming softly at the flavor.

“You taste so good,” Kara mutters, her lashes flutter as she takes her fingers into her mouth, practically making a show of it as she suckles your essence off her fingers. She leans down and kisses you, her lips glossy with the sheen of your slick. Her tongue teases against the seam of your lips, flicking in when you part them for her to enter. The familiar salty taste lingers in your mouth as you kiss, tongues dancing against each other, hands in her hair again. You reluctantly let your hand drop from her hair as she pulls away.

Her lips are puffy from kissing, glistening with you on her. Her lion’s mane is still messily perfect, and her smirk makes her less intimidating than a lion and more like a cat who caught the canary.

Her arms cross over her front, fingers hooking on the hem of her shirt as she pulls her shirt over her head, tossing it to the side. Your eyes lock onto her pale skin, and what is slowly revealed to you. Her thin dusty blonde happy trail ends halfway to her belly button. Her torso marred by healed over scars, and the ripples of her muscles.

Her breasts bounce after being released from her top, the familiar rosy peaks call to you. Your hands move up from her strong thighs up to her hips, to the small of her waist thumbs brushing over her obliques, cupping just under the curve of her tits. Your lips meet her sternum, kissing closer to one side, then the next.

You feel the familiar grip of her hand in your hair, pushing you down between her thighs. Kara is practically straddling your chest before guiding her hips down on your face, your nose presses against her cloth covered clit. Pressing your face into her cunt you kiss against the soft cotton of her black panties. Her familiar musky and salty scent fills your nose, your lips can taste her. Your tongue laps at her cunt through her panties, from her perineum to her clit and back down again, feeling her grip tighten in your hair.

“Mh, just like that,” Kara groans, grinding her hips against your face. Her grip tightens as you start lapping hungrily, “more… please?” You mutter against her cunt, tugging gently at her panties.

Kara laughs softly, “you want more?” She’s quick to remove her panties.

Actually, the more you look at them, recognizing the little bow in the front- “Are those mine?”

The panties were already halfway down her thighs when she paused, “Huh. Would you look at that? They might be.”

She tosses them off to the side, smiling as you pull her back onto the couch by her hips, “I was looking for those, they’re very comfortable,” you grumble, feigning sadness. Your eyes lock onto the apex of her thighs, the blonde bush and her glossy pink lips distract you slightly. You can smell her better from here, the slight sweat, her musky arousal, her generic body lotion, probably stolen from you, too.

Your nose was pressed into her blonde forest, your lips wrap around her clit, circling your tongue around it as a finger prods at her folds. Your fingers glide across her glossy folds, her arousal was more than enough to coat your fingers, as you run them up and down her cunt.

Kara groans almost pornographically, riding your face, “fuck, that’s good.” Your hips buck up at the sound of her pleasure. Your tongue plunges into her pussy as she lets out a soft cry, your nose nudging her clit. Her thighs almost crush your head as she has to remind herself to control her strength. Her moans fill your ears as the slick alongside the sloppy sound of you slurping on her pussy, and the long forgotten movie plays behind her. Her walls twitch around your tongue as your nose rhythmically bumps against her clit. She rocks harder against your face and you feel it, her squirting on your face, you frantically lap it up, trying to catch as much of the salty arousal as you can. You moan at the taste, it’s been so long it feels like rain after a drought. Lapping until she pulls you away by your hair. She’s flushed, panting softly, her chest heaving in your face.

You two continue on like this all over your small apartment, making a mess of your couch and back to your bed, where a chunk from the headboard had broken off the last time she came around. You just couldn’t let her go, knowing that if you fall asleep, she’d be gone before you wake up. Even when you’re sleepily humping against her thigh, you try to stay awake.

When you open your eyes, the sun seems to illuminate your room with an orange glow. You panic, realizing you had fallen asleep and probably when you were on top of her. You sit up, whipping around to see if she left, but you know you really shouldn’t be surprised when your bed is empty. You sigh as you fall back on your bed, your hands covering your face. She’s probably already off planet or off saving someone across the Earth. 

You sigh softly, your bare feet padding to the bathroom to shower when you hear it already running and your little bathroom boombox playing your shower playlist with the door slightly ajar. Your heart skips a beat, it was rare if she stayed in the morning only having done that 4 times.

You push the door open to see Kara through the clear shower curtain, using the expensive shampoo you had splurged on just last week and using the spare toothbrush that had been in next to your sink collecting dust.

“Player? Really?” Kara’s morning voice crackles out playfully, her cheek full with the toothbrush as you sit down on the closed toilet seat to brush your teeth.”

“What, you don’t like Baby Come Back?”

Kara spits out the foamy toothpaste in her mouth, “Meh, it’s something you could fall asleep to- like last night.”

You wince, embarrassed, “sorry… I thought I had another round in me,” the lie is blatant, and you two know it. You just wanted to be with her longer. Kara lets it hang in the air as she continues to shower. You finish up as she continues to shower, you take out an extra towel and hang it up for her to use by the shower.

“…I know what a burn looks like,” Kara repeats herself from the night before, that same shit-eating grin on her face, “I just wanted to hear you say it.”

Rolling your eyes, you toss her dirty clothes in the washer with your own, letting her borrow clothes you know you may never see again.

“Glad that my lack of a love life brings you joy, Kara,” you mumble from the hallway as you start making breakfast, some pancake mix that was going to expire the next day and some fruits.

You hear her lean against the kitchen doorway as you make breakfast, and from the corner of your eye you see her take your mug of half drunken water from the fridge for a sip, “Lack of a love life, huh?”

“You know what I mean, you’re the only person I’ve even had the balls to ask on a date, and you ended up being… you.”

“Gee, thanks?”

“No, like- I like you, obviously. You’re great-“ Your face lights up with a joke and she can see how you perk up, “I think you’re super~“

“Oh,” Kara groans at the terrible joke, but you see a small smirk of amusement.

“No- Hey!” You laugh as you flip the pancakes, “Okay, bad joke, but seriously. I do really like you. I just don’t really care to pursue anything else… romantically. But when you leave, I just don’t really look at people like that, I guess.”

“Ah, I guess I must be too sexy picking out music at the shop. I’ve ruined you for anyone else,” Kara hums as she nods, padding over to wrap her arms around your waist as you flip pancakes, her chin on your shoulder.

You laugh, nodding as you play along, “mhm, I guess so.”

“…I’m staying on planet for a while,” Kara reveals quietly against your neck. Your heart races feeling her close to you, you can practically feel her heart pounding on your back.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm…”

hello if anyone read this all the way, i ran out of ideas that was my first fanfic bc i just wanted more supergirl fanfics lmk if it sucked ass or needs editing <3

[maryannecrimsworth]

Kryptonian Nerd

​Pairing: Kara Zor-El x Teen Titan! Gn! Reader

Summary: You’ve always been the grounded, responsible leader who plans every move, while Kara carries the silent weight of being Krypton’s last memory. When she admits that her people's entire history, poetry, and science will die with her, you decide to do something about it. Four months of secret late-night sessions with Four in the Fortress of Solitude later, you prove that she’ll never have to carry Krypton alone again.

Warnings: angst to fluff; heavy emotional soft hours; learning alien languages just to tease your girlfriend; domestic tenderness

Part 6 of a series. You can read it all of it here

Mentions: Requested by @tangayriineee

---

The House of El was made of scientists, engineers, and biologists. In Argo, Kara grew up surrounded by books, models, and sketches of technology far too advanced for the human race. Once she arrived on Earth, she realized that all of it was gone — except for the tiny bit of information available in the Fortress of Solitude. Clark didn't know the language, so it was hard for him to understand everything that his parents had stored in the Fortress: the myths, the science, the history. To Clark, it didn't make a difference because they weren't his people — but they were hers.

Everything Kara had left of her people was in the Fortress, being roughly translated into English by the robotic servants whenever Clark bothered to ask.

That's why she spent so much time there, sometimes even forgetting about the rest of the world. Tonight was one of those times.

"Kara!" Clark shouted as we entered the Fortress. Kara was surrounded by projections of symbols I didn't understand, and neither did Clark. "We've been waiting for you for over an hour!"

Kara didn't even move. She was too focused on whatever it was that she was reading to notice our presence.

"Four, how long has she been here?"

The robotic servant turned to us.

"8 hours, 41 minutes, and 17 seconds." Then it turned to me. "Who are you?"

"A friend of your master."

"You don't look friendly."

"I didn't say I was *your* friend."

"Y/N!" Clark stared at me with wide eyes, exasperated by my lack of concern for Kara. "She's been here for eigh—"

"Yes, I heard." I moved past Clark to get closer to Kara. "Let's reschedule dinner. I'm sure Lois will understand." I waved him goodbye as I grabbed a chair to sit by Kara's side. "Thanks for the ride."

After standing still for a moment, as if trying to figure out my behavior, he shook his head and flew away.

Kara had told me that she felt like standing Clark and Lois up for tonight's dinner, but I didn't expect her to actually do it.

She was still focused on her reading as I studied her face — I had never seen her so concentrated, so I decided not to interrupt.

Instead, I motioned to Four with a hand gesture and spoke in a low voice:

"What's she reading?"

The robot started to read it in Kryptonian — and that finally made Kara move.

She turned towards us with a surprised and then confused expression.

"What are you doing here?" Kara asked. "How the hell did you get here?"

"You really didn't hear us, huh?" I tilted my head to look at what she was reading. "What are you doing?"

"Reading." She turned off the projection and stepped away quickly.

I frowned at her — what was she hiding?

"Four, could you translate what she was reading for me?"

"*My lungs are dry without your breath.*"

"...what?"

"Forget it," Kara intervened. "It can't be translated."

Kara was gathering her belongings without looking my way — boots and coat, because apparently, it was okay for her to walk barefoot on ice.

To her, the biting cold of the Fortress was easier to bear than holding my gaze.

After studying her for a second, I stepped closer. I could tell this was bigger than missing dinner — she was pulling away from me, and I wouldn't let her.

I held her shoulders and waited for her to look up at me.

"What's going on, Kara?"

"Don't use your serious voice on me. I'm not one of your Titans."

"This isn't my serious voice; this is my worried voice." I tilted my head, softly but firmly. "I don't care about you missing dinner, but I do care about what made you miss it." I paused, taking in her expression before taking a step back. "I know emotional conversations aren't really our thing, but we can talk about anything you want to." I looked around, studying the alien architecture of the Fortress. "Even your home."

Something behind Kara's eyes faltered before she looked away. It was the first time I saw her like that: teary-eyed, shying away from me. For a moment, I wanted to get closer, hold her tight, and protect her from this pain.

But there was nothing I could do to take away the pain of loss. I knew that grief was a void in her heart that would never be filled — not by me or anyone else.

That's why I gave her space. That's why I offered her silence instead of comfort.

"Poetry," she whispered. "Poetry from my people—" Her gaze moved to where the projections once were, as if remembering them by heart. "Science, myths, years of my family's research. Years of history." She sighed, tired. "Clark doesn't understand it. Nobody but me does... all this knowledge will die with me."

My heart broke for her. What could I say? She was right. No one would ever understand Krypton's culture like she did — she was, indeed, the last Daughter of Krypton. No other human or alien could explore the depths of the Kryptonian language or history like her.

That's why I did the only thing I knew could make her feel a little more at home — I made her smile.

"Wow," I said quietly. "You stood me up for an 8-hour study session?"

Kara snorted, caught off guard.

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, I never took you for a nerd, but—" I shrugged. "It's okay, I can live with that."

"You can live with me being a nerd?" she echoed, smirking as if she couldn't believe my words.

"Yes." I sighed, defeated, then moved closer to her again. With a feigned serious expression, I cupped her face and spoke firmly: "I love you — all nerdy, grumpy, alien, and angry." I smirked. "Especially angry."

She nudged me away before I could see her blushing.

It was the first time I told her I loved her.

"Shut up."

"Never." I wrapped my arms around her, walking with her towards the exit. Still avoiding my gaze, she picked me up — bridal style, because she knew I hated it — and flew me through the Antarctic to my apartment. With nothing but the sound of the wind in our ears, we crossed land and oceans until we landed on my apartment's balcony.

The night went on like many others: we had dinner and listened to music. Kara didn't mention Krypton or her family again; she ended up falling asleep on the couch. I took her to bed without waking her up and closed the door behind me once I left the room. Once I was alone, I texted Clark, ignoring the late hour: "I need to go to the Fortress again."

Learning Kryptonian wasn't like picking up Spanish or French. It wasn't just about memorizing words; it was about shifting the way my brain structured reality.

Clark was useless for this. He knew the basics, but he didn't understand the soul of Krypton — the nuance of its poetry, the depth of its history, or the subtle shifts in its ancient dialects. So, I went to the ones who did: the Fortress's robotic servants.

For four long months, I led double lives. By day, I was the disciplined leader of the Titans, scheduling training to the minute and keeping an eye on my team. By night, whenever Kara went back to her apartment or fell asleep on my couch, I snuck into the Fortress. Four became my instructor. With endless patience, the metallic servant walked me through holographic glyphs, correcting my awkward pronunciation and helping me decipher texts that hadn't been spoken aloud in decades. I filled notebooks with angular symbols until my fingers cramped, slowly learning how to read the language Kara thought would die with her.

I didn't do it to prove anything. I just wanted to bridge the gap.

Tonight was one of those nights.

I stepped into the Fortress quiet as a shadow. The Antarctic wind roared outside, but inside, the towering ice pillars kept the quiet stillness intact. Kara was in the exact same spot I’d found her months ago — floating slightly above the floor, enveloped in the blue glow of a massive holographic projection, completely lost in lines of Kryptonian script.

Four greeted me with a silent nod, stepping back to let me pass.

I didn't interrupt her. I simply grabbed a chair, dragged it over, and sat down right beside her.

Kara didn't turn off the projection this time. She barely glanced my way, too consumed by the glowing blue symbols hovering between us. I leaned back, resting my chin in my hand, and studied the text floating in front of us.

It was an old manuscript from Argo's archives.

Without making a grand gesture, without trying to show off, I just... talked to her. I pointed casually to a complex line near the center of the projection and spoke in fluent, softly accented Kryptonian:

"The third stanza feels a bit dramatic, doesn't it? The author is clearly overcomplicating the metaphor about the sun."

Kara froze.

The holographic light flickered across her face as her entire body went rigid. Slowly, almost as if she was afraid she was imagining things, her head turned toward me. Her blue eyes were wide, completely blown open in disbelief.

She blinked, searching my face.

"What..." Kara swallowed hard, her voice barely audible over the hum of the Fortress. "What did you just say?"

I shifted in my chair, looking back at the projection as if we were just discussing the weather, keeping my tone completely natural.

"I said the author is dramatic," I replied again in her native tongue, switching seamlessly between the glottal stops and soft vowels Four had drilled into me. "Although, knowing your family's flair for history, maybe that's just standard Argo literature."

Kara dropped her hands to her sides. She stared at me, her mind frantically trying to process what was happening.

"You're... you're speaking Kryptonian," she whispered in English, her voice cracking. "How? Clark doesn't even—"

"Clark didn't help," I said gently, finally switching back to English with a quiet smile. "Four did. I've been coming here late at night for four months. My accent is probably terrible, but I can read it now...I can learn the knowledge that you said would die with you."

Kara sat down on the ice floor right in front of my chair, completely unbothered by the cold. She looked at me like I was a puzzle she couldn't solve.

"Why?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly. "Why would you go through all that trouble?"

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees to look directly into her eyes.

"Because I want to talk to you," I answered simply. "About everything. Your day, your missions, your thoughts... and Krypton. You said no one else understands it, but you shouldn't have to carry it all alone. I just wanted to be able to listen."

Something behind Kara's eyes broke. The guarded, heavy walls she kept up around her grief completely melted away.

Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over her lashes before she could stop them. It was a silent, overwhelming emotion — relief mixed with something so deep it didn't have a name.

Without a word, Kara lunged forward, throwing her arms around my neck and burying her face in the crook of my shoulder. She held onto me so tightly it nearly knocked the air out of my human lungs, her body trembling with quiet, tearful laughter. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her grounded in the middle of her lost world's memories.

"You are unbelievable," she choked out against my skin, pulling back just enough to look at me through her tears. "You're a massive, stubborn nerd."

"Hey, I learned an entire alien language just to banter with you," I smirked, wiping a tear from her cheek. "You have to be nice to me now."

Kara snorted, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand and giving me a brilliant, wet smile.

She gestured toward the glowing projection, pulling her chair closer until our shoulders were touching.

"Okay, hotshot," she murmured softly, her gaze warm as she looked at the floating glyphs. "Start from the top. Let's see how bad your accent really is."