DAILY PLANET | MARCH 19TH DOES DAMIAN WAYNE HAVE A CRUSH ON SUPERGIRL? Article written and edited by Catherine Grant 

This morning, an alien attack struck upon Metropolis around 9:43 am — a race coming from another galaxy wanting to destroy Superman; common routine. The Man of Steel immediately got into action, and as he bought time by negotiating with the chieftain of the invaders, other Supes such as Supergirl and the Superboys assured that the population was properly evacuated and far away from the zone of the inevitable, impending battle that was soon going to take place. 

The laser cannons went off at 9:47 am, and by that time, most civilians had been warned about the looming attack and were on their way to LordTech Field, where Superwoman and Superboy (the one with the punk fashion sense) were already stationed to protect the population. Out of all the areas, the only one who still hadn’t been properly evacuated was the business district, as the LexCorp building apparently proved to be particularly difficult to clear from all the employees. When the attack started, only a few establishments still had citizens inside, including Wayne Tower. 

We’ve already talked in yesterday's article about Damian Wayne’s — son of famous billionaire philanthropist Bruce Wayne, as well as top executive and heir to Wayne Enterprises — sudden arrival in Metropolis, supposedly because of an important work meeting with S.T.A.R. Labs. Reliable sources claim that Mr. Wayne was one of the last people to exit the building, as he apparently made sure that everyone was out before even thinking about running away from the building himself. 

“He waited until we were all on our way to the emergency exits before running to the staircase leading to the upper floor,” says Lynn Porter, 23, interning at Wayne Enterprises and survivor of the attack. “He said that other people were still there — that he had to make sure everyone got out safely.” 

Mr. Wayne’s bravery didn’t come without a price, as he was still in the building when the mothership’s attack reached the business district. Fortunately, Supergirl intervened quickly, and all remaining employees were escorted out either into the waiting ambulances or to LordTech Field. However, the most remarkable out of all the victims has to be the youngest Wayne himself, who openly refused to let go of Supergirl as she came to extract him from the rubble. 

The paramedics’ body cam footage was leaked not even an hour after the attack ended, and shows Wayne holding on tightly to Supergirl’s neck as she bridal carries him. When the superheroine tries to lie him down on the ambulance’s stretcher, the video shows the man screeching and holding onto her shoulders tighter — quite a comic sight, considering that Damian Wayne is usually considered to be around 6’2” and Supergirl is clearly shorter than him. 

The footage could be seen as a simple show of a trauma response — if it wasn’t for the fact that before the paramedics managed to get him down in the stretcher, he left a kiss on Supergirl’s cheek. 

This is undeniable — as the kiss cannot only be seen, but also heard, as a loud smooching sound is clearly distinguishable in the body cam footage audio. Before the leaked video ends, Supergirl can be seen laughing and patting Mr. Wayne’s chest as he finally settles over the ambulance’s cot, telling the very perplexed paramedics, “Oh, this one must’ve hit his head hard,”

Damian Wayne has, in fact, reportedly hit his head pretty hard, and was transferred to Metropolis General Hospital with a grade 2 concussion. Netizens have already begun commenting on the short video, some outraged about Mr. Wayne’s behaviour, others speculating about the possible entanglement between a superheroine and the son of a billionaire. 

The thing that has mostly sparked controversy, however, is the known fact that Mr. Wayne has been off the dating market ever since he was a teenager, and has a years-long relationship with Miss Kent, the daughter of well-known reporter and multi Pulitzer Prize winner Lois Lane. The two have always been quite private about their relationship, but Mr. Wayne’s kiss to Supergirl has since led to speculation that they have since broken up. 

Sources very close to the couple state that they’re as in love as ever, and that a simple moment of affection towards a heroine who saved Mr. Wayne’s life is not nearly enough for them to start doubting the other. Although, the only question we all have right now is: does Damian Wayne have a crush on Supergirl?

You angrily slam your phone on the dinner table. “I knew she didn’t call just to wish me happy birthday earlier today!” 

Lois sips placidly her coffee, reading the article on her laptop. “Your birthday was four months ago, honey, you should’ve known.” The smile on her lips tell you everything you know — she’s too flattered by her mention as a multi Pulitzer winner to be bothered with her friend’s breach of privacy in your life. “I think the article is brilliant.” 

Your father has been sulking ever since he finished reading it. “Yeah, because at least she mentions you as her mother,” he whines, resting his forehead on the counter. “I’ve known Cat for twenty years and she bothered to only mention you. She could’ve at least said in passing that you didn’t make her on your own — that Clark Kent has helped, y’know. What am I now, chopped liver?” 

You blink, pushing your glasses up. “Hello? Are we forgetting that she called me earlier to ask me if everything was alright after the attack and instead only cared about how me and Damian were doing?”

“Aw, you know Cat, sweetheart,” your mother hushes, waving you off. “Remember when she wrote that article about you finally being potty-trained?”

Clark deadpans. “She just wanted to write something that would’ve caught the eye of mothers with small children to expand her audience. And she used one of our daughter’s darkest times to do it.” 

You tug on your hair. “Do you know how hard it is to go around like nothing’s wrong when there’s still copies of that article going around? I’m haunted. Grandma still has her copy hung up on the living room’s wall. I once asked Damian to buy all the copies he could find of that just to burn them and instead he kept them.” You’d never felt more betrayed in your entire life before then.

“Just stop answering her calls,” Jon suggests, still a bit weirded out by the video of his best friend kissing his sister — albeit the two of you have been dating for years now, he’ll never get over how weird it feels. “I did when she used my acne as an excuse to write that article about pimple remedies.” He leans over the table, voice as serious as ever, “Grandma has that one framed too, by the way.”

“Horrible, horrible woman,” your father agrees, still not recovered from his colleague’s utter dismissal of his fatherly role in raising you. “Do you know how many diapers I have changed? How many tantrums I had to tame? I even participated in all the dance recitals that strictly requested the mother to participate. I wore tutus for you!” 

“Hey, don’t blame this on me,” you rebut. “That’s your coworker — tell her you’ve won a couple of Pulitzers too, I don’t know,” you open your arms with a puzzled expression, “besides, how is it that she wrote more articles about me and Jon than you guys did?” 

Your parents share a look. “Well, the two of you are the closest people she has to rely on for the younger audience. While me and your father keep our mentions of you for birthdays and TV reportages, she can be a bit nosey.” Your mother's nose scrunches. “I remember clearly the time when everyday she was coming up with a different article on how I was undoubtedly a member of Superman’s supposed harem. She wrote tens of those — more than she's ever written about you.” Another sip of her coffee, “Otherwise, I would've intervened. Your privacy can't possibly get more breached than mine did.” 

You let out a frustrated groan. “I thought she genuinely forgot about my birthday and remembered when she found out Damian was injured in the attack.” 

“I love you with all my heart, honey,” Lois starts with a grimace, “but sometimes, I think that you and your brother took too many traits from your father to properly work in a society — you guys trust people way too much.” 

“You say that because if we weren’t related, you’d probably be worse than Cat,” you grumble. 

Your father nods, spirited, “Yeah– all those articles about Superman when I first debuted? You were so mean about it — and I even gave you all the interviews you could’ve ever wanted!” 

Your mother shrugs. “Sue me — an opportunity is an opportunity.” She gets up from the couch to wash the now empty coffee mug over the sink, “By the way, how’s Damian? He must’ve been pretty out of it if he really kissed you in front of paramedics while you were in your costume.”

You sigh, “I’ll visit him at the hospital as soon as I’m halfway done with the essay that I’ve got to turn in by today– Dick and Bruce came to visit him and when I called, he was already babbling something about Vicki Vale and how much he hates her.” 

Jon raises an eyebrow. “Vicki Vale wrote an article about what happened today? I thought she only wrote about Gothamite things.”

“Technically, this is a Gothamite thing,” you huff, “because the son of the Prince of Gotham just kissed Supergirl, and she’s pissed about it.”

GOTHAM GAZETTE | MARCH 19TH HAS DAMIAN WAYNE CROSSED ALL ESTABLISHED SOCIAL BOUNDARIES? Article written and edited by Victoria Vale 

This morning, after an alien attack struck Metropolis, a video of Damian Wayne — who, for all living under a rock, is the son of billionaire playboy and supposed Prince of Gotham Bruce Wayne — kissing Supergirl — speculated daughter or relative of the Man of Steel — got leaked. The footage has sparked controversy on the Internet as people began to question the role of female superheroes and how Wayne seemingly took advantage of the situation to fulfill some kind of depraved fantasy of his. 

We’ve known of the Waynes’ entanglement with superhero society for a while now (click here for the article about Batman and Bruce Wayne’s speculated affair, here to read about the latter’s disastrous date with Wonder Woman, and here to know all about Dick Grayson’s on-and-off relationship with known alien superheroine Starfire) but this was probably a pairing that not even the most creative fortune teller could've predicted. 

Damian Wayne has always been an elusive figure in high society, especially for what entails his love life. It’s a known fact that he’s been in a relationship with the daughter of Daily Planet’s reporters Lois Lane and Clark Kent since high school, but other than that, he’s always refused to elaborate more during interviews and social gatherings.

Miss Lane has participated in the celebrations for Wayne Jr’s birthdays, and has been a new presence to this past New Year’s Eve Wayne Gala (click here for more on that). 

This secrecy about what should be an established relationship has sparked scandal on socials like Instagram and TikTok, where netizens harshly criticized the new Prince of Gotham — as really, Bruce Wayne is starting to get a tad bit too old for that title — for not sharing every little aspect of his private life like his father does. This, added to the leaked footage of this morning, has users wondering if the supposed relationship is still going strong or if tensions have arisen within the couple. 

Meanwhile, some users are outraged not rather by the supposed cheating, but by the treatment of female superheroes in modern society. “She (Supergirl) handled it very well, but I doubt she would’ve shown otherwise with the already stressed paramedics in front of her”, one comment under the leaked video suggests. “Men’s audacity managing to stay strong even during a literal alien attack never fails to amaze me”, another reads, leading to the debacle on the role of superheroines and their perception by superhero fanatics. 

Users are mostly worried about Supergirl’s well-being, as she found herself harassed by someone she was supposed to be saving. Some could argue that Wayne was in an utter state of confusion caused by the concussion he was later on found to have, but most are convinced that it was a calculated act to try and establish a predominance over a woman, even if said woman is considered to be one of the most powerful beings of Earth.

The primary question we’re all asking ourselves is: how should civilian women be able to feel safe around men, if not even superheroines are spared of their unwanted advances? And what does trust really mean for them, considering that even Damian Wayne, who has never shown an ounce of emotion to the public and has always been deemed as a feminist, did not hesitate to betray his girlfriend with Supergirl as soon as the opportunity presented itself? Stay tuned and subscribe to our newsletter to be updated as soon as Wayne's representatives come out with a statement on the situation. 

“I will go back to my old ways just to murder her,” Damian grumbles, still high off the pain medication. He rises on his elbows, still dizzy, “Father– order a jet to Gotham now, I’ve decided I’m killing this wench–”

Dick — who has barely managed to contain his laughter this whole time — tuts and has him lie back down, patting his shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry — B’s lawyers have already got it handled. Just try to get some rest, will ya?”

“She didn’t even say the kiss was on the cheek!” Damian slurs, “This is insulting — the whole time, it looks like I violated her!”

“Well, if you were a stranger, I guess you would’ve,” Bruce mutters grimly, his eyebrows knitted ever since he entered the hospital room and showed his son the article. “The thing is, you weren’t, but you can’t exactly go around to say that now, can you?” 

“I was disoriented!” your boyfriend screams, outraged. “I was hit in the head by a very heavy piece of rubble! I just wanted to show gratitude towards my girlfriend!” 

“And thought it was snuggle time,” Dick adds, amused, thinking back to how Damian had clung to you like a monkey very clingy towards his favourite tree branch. The latter glares at him, “You say that now, Grayson, but I still haven’t forgotten that one time when you jumped into Starfire’s arms at the haunted mansion in the fair.” 

His brother shrugs. “I wasn’t being recorded, at least. Poor Dami here instead got his lovey-dovey footage leaked, and now everyone thinks he’s a creep.” 

Damian’s left eye twitches as Dick hugs and pats his head like he’s still a kid, “Just kill me now. Ten years of feminist statements, ruined by a little peck.” 

Bruce lets out a heavy sigh, crossing his arms, “At least it wasn’t Tim’s accusation of breaking into the government’s archives to find out what really happened to Marilyn Monroe — I had to pay off federals, Damian, federals. The lawyers have already sent Vicki a very coloured letter — you’ll be out of the trenches in a matter of days.”

Damian grumbles, his words still a bit mushed from sleep and the concussion. “Where’s she? I didn’t ask to be taken to Gotham General just so she could come see me.” 

“The subway’s still down,” Bruce replies easily. “Clark said she wanted to come flying, but paparazzis probably would’ve followed her to have the exclusive on what really happened between the two of you, so he’s giving her a ride — but try to remember that a fifth of the city’s still destroyed. They could take a while.” 

Damian blindly reaches for his phone, seated on the nightstand beside the bed, and nearly rips out his IV in doing so. Dick catches the mobile when it almost falls to the ground, then holds it out of his brother’s grasp. “Lemme call her,” your boyfriend whines, in an uncharacteristic show of actual emotion. Grayson coos, “Aww, and what’s the magic word, honey? Come on, say it, I know you can do it,”

“Dick,” Damian hisses — with in mind anything but his actual name. Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose. “Stop bullying your brother, Dick — while he’s in a hospital bed, at least refrain from doing so.” 

Grayson sing-songs the whole time as he unlocks his brother’s phone, coos at the wallpaper picture of the two of you at your birthday dinner, and positively squeals when he sees your contact name. “You’ve got her saved as Beloved — and I got my full name? Not even Raven has me saved as Richard John Grayson! I think not even the government knows me like that!” 

“Suck it,” Damian says, in an actually very characteristic show of pettiness. “Gimme the damn phone.” 

You reply on the third ring, but to him, it feels like a lifetime. “Hi, Dami, how are you doing?”

“Where’re you?” he demands, words slurred on his mouth. “You save me and next thing I know, Vicki Vale is calling me a sexist patriarch who molested Metropolis’ golden girl.” 

“I’m sorry about that,” you tell him softly, honestly — you’ll make sure to patch the situation up as soon as you get back into the costume, maybe ask your mother to interview you about the incident. “If it helps, Cat Grant described you with far more gentle words — something about how you bravely made sure that everyone was out of the building before thinking about getting out yourself.”

“Right before calling me a cheater,” he grunts. “Where are you? I wan’ you here.” 

“Picking flowers,” you hum, as peaceful as ever. “Roses or lilies?”

“You,” he replies without hesitation. 

You laugh, and he’s sure he could get drunk off the sound. “Chrysantemum it is,” he can hear a hushed conversation with your father in the background, and the chirpy voice of the cashier as she asks if you’d like to add anything else to the total. “I would’ve gotten there earlier, but you know, the city’s still half destroyed and I still have to turn in that exam by today, and I bet that once I get there, you won’t let me out of your sight.”

He lets out a noise of agreement, sending a pointed look to Dick — currently picking on his nose from behind his hand, probably thinking he’s so discreet — and Bruce — on his phone, trying to look like he’s not listening into the conversation as he replies to the lawyers’ emails. “I don’t think I will. I’m stuck here with a bully and a cop, so you’d be the best upgrade I could ever think of getting.” 

Bruce turns to Dick, stunned. “Did he just call me a cop, when you’re right here?” 

“Don’t worry,” you assure your boyfriend, “I’ve packed a bag to stay overnight. I’ve got my computer with me so you can help me with the essay with that little bandaged head of yours.” You’re acting like it’s not him who always asks you to help write his essays — but it’s okay, it makes him feel useful and you know he needs to hear it sometimes. “About that, how’s the concussion?”

“Hurts,” he whines, definitely faking it out for you just so you’ll get to the hospital faster. Bruce raises an eyebrow at him, having rarely seen his son complain about injuries, as Dick finally bursts out laughing. “When are you getting here?”

“Oh, shush, you big baby,” you chuckle into the phone, the sound of a car door opening and slamming back closed resounding in the speaker. “I got you in time, didn’t I? You’re fine. You’ve handled worse.” 

“Is it Damian?” Jon’s voice — probably from the backseat — rises as he recognises the voice of his best friend coming from the phone. “Hi, Damian! Hope those rocks didn’t hit you too hard!” 

You can basically hear Damian deadpan. “Oh, yeah, guess you’re there too. You didn’t pack a bag, did you? Because I don’t want you here tonight.” 

Jon rolls his eyes even if his friend can’t see him as Clark laughs. “Don’t worry, cowboy, I won’t be the one who stops you from going to town this evening.”

Your father chokes on his breath and nearly hits a street lamplight at the joke, and you lean over the backseat to repeatedly smack your — by now not so much little — brother. The phone must’ve fallen on the backseat, because all Damian can hear is vague insults and the screeching of tires, and then your father’s voice yelling at you two to stop fighting. A chorus of “I didn’t start it!” can be heard before two smacks echo, and your voice comes back to the speaker after what feels like endless shuffling. 

“Damian,” you grumble, “Jon here just tried to murder me.” 

“It’s you who took out the heat vision–”

”Anyways,” you cut your brother off, “we’ll be there in five, ‘kay? Hang on tight for me until then.” 

The yelling starts again right before the line goes silent, and Damian wonders how possibly he has managed to survive the last twelve years with the both of you always at the other’s neck. You and Jon love each other and he’s never doubted it, but the love-and-homicide relationship between a brother and a sister actually needs to be studied. Thankfully enough, Cass has yet to try to murder him. 

The hospital door opens a few minutes later, and you emerge from the hallway, a big bouquet of chrysantemums in your hands. “Bonjour!” Jon is right behind you, hair looking a bit ruffled — no doubt from the scuffle the two of you had — and a floating, bright yellow GET WELL SOON! balloon in his hand. You pause, “Or is it bonsoir by now? I don’t remember anything about French.” 

“It’s bon après-midi," Damian’s pronunciation is as good as ever, but he grumbles when you first greet his father and brother instead of running to him. “Hey! I’m right here!”

He catches Jon’s attention instead, and he immediately drops the balloon in the air to smother him amidst his friend's various protests. “Aww, poor baby! Don’t worry, Nurse Jon is here now, everything will be alright!” He leaves a wet, fat kiss over his cheek as he cradles his head to his chest comically, not caring a single bit about Damian’s shrill screams. “Release me, heathen! I did not call for you — get away from me!” 

You laugh as Dick takes out his phone to snap a picture of the moment for his blackmail folder, and settle the bouquet in the vase sitting over the window counter. “Sorry, sorry — Jon, c’mon, he’s injured, let him go,”

”Does little Dami have a boo-boo?” Jon coos, voice high-pitched as Damian continues to thrash in his hold, “I’ll fix you up in no time–”

“Jonno,” Clark’s voice comes from the door — he’s just entered the room, jacket slung over his arm, “be nice to him — he’s got a concussion, bud.” 

This just escalates Jon’s teasing, even as you rip Damian away from his arms and into yours. “A concussion! You must be the first person on Earth to get one. I’ve never heard of it.” 

High school has taught Jon to finally tease people around him — and he takes every opportunity he can to pay back his best friend for years of being picked on. You swat your brother as your boyfriend settles with his cheek over your stomach, whining softly. “Leave him alone,” 

Your brother chuckles, softening up a bit before poking Damian in the arm. “You’re so fake, man — I’ve seen you handle broken bones with less fuss.” 

Clark sends a concerned glance at Bruce as the three of you bicker, retrieving the floating balloon from the ceiling. “How is he, actually?”

Bruce shrugs — he probably considers this more a facade than anything, as normally, his son would already be up and about. “Well, he has had worse. The doctors would like to keep him here for the night, see if he gets any nausea or other symptoms, but overall he should be out of here by tomorrow.” 

Your father raises his eyebrows — he sometimes hates the way your mother has rubbed off on him being nosey all the time, but it’s his daughter’s boyfriend they’re talking about, and he needs to know if Damian is a wimp whenever someone’s not looking. “So he is faking it.”

Bruce presses his lips into a thin line and nods, sighing. “He is.” 

“It’s like he’s a whole different guy whenever she’s around,” Dick whispers, his tone conspirational. “It’s either those alien genes you guys have got, or he’s down bad.” 

Clark scratches the back of his neck. “If it’s about genes, I’d say it’s the Lane ones working far too well. I don’t have that much appeal compared to my wife.” 

His friend hums. “I agree. Lois is ten times more interesting than you.” 

Your father frowns — the article only citing Lois as your parent coming to his mind. He’d lie if he said he wasn’t still a bit hurt by that. “What’s that supposed to mean, now?”

You and Jon have already settled on both sides of Damian — you on his right, seated on the cramped table chair with your computer open in your lap, and Jon on his left, sprawled over the bed chair for visitors’ overnight stays. While you’re mostly unbothered by it, your boyfriend has been glaring at him ever since he sat down. “I would say that chivalry has fallen on low ends, but that would equal saying that you’re supposedly a knight, and that would be insulting to all cavaliers.” 

Your brother snorts, “So what, you’d define yourself to be a knight?”

Damian huffs presumptuously, crossing his arms. “I would.” 

Jon cackles, “Since when do knights get saved by their ladies?”

“Since ladies started having superpowers. That doesn’t mean I don’t treat her like a lady whenever I’m not in need of saving.”

“Boys, behave,” you say absentmindedly, fingers tipper-tapping over the computer’s keyboard. “I’ve got this assignment due at midnight. I can’t waste any more time lecturing you two about manners.”

By the time your essay is turned in, the sky outside is pitch black, and both your father and brother have left. Dick’s snoring on the bed chair when Bruce nudges him awake, nodding to your form — finally rising from your uncomfortable seat, stretching your limbs out. “That has to be a new record for the most difficult spot to finish a document.”

Grayson yawns as Damian stares at him, disgruntled. “I’ll leave the couch to you,” he tells you, still a bit sleepy, “I assume you’ll stay here?”

You plug in your by now almost dead computer to its charger and nod enthusiastically. “Oh, yeah! Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on Damian for the night. Feel free to go back to your hotel.” 

When it’s finally time for the two of you to be alone, your boyfriend demands, “Beloved.” 

Still hunched over your backpack to find a hair clip, you reply, “Yes, Dami?” 

He scooches over the side on his bed, patting the now empty space. “You’ve been far too away for far too long.” 

You laugh, trotting over to his side and settling beside him — noting the way he instantly relaxes, cheek dropping to your shoulder. “I was here the whole time, hun.”

“Yes, but out of touch. Far too away, as I just said.”

Shaking your head, you take your phone from the nightstand, muttering something about how dramatic he is. “So– should we still be together? I mean, you literally cheated on me.”

His groan is the glorious crowning to a whole evening spent under Jon and Dick’s remarkable teasing, and he smushes his face against your bicep in pure, unadulterated annoyance. “Do we really have to talk about this? I don’t think I want to.”

You have to hold your laughter in just to avoid falling off the bed from it, because you know that once it comes out, it will probably never stop. “I already see tomorrow’s headlines — Damian Wayne, misogynist or result of years of Wayne patriarchy?”

“It was a kiss on the cheek!” he protests, “Vale didn’t even specify it — by reading her article, you’d think I had shoved my tongue up your throat!”

“I know that– but did you read the article about your father allegedly having an affair with Batman? Pure gold. I don’t know what that woman’s on, but I want triple the dose she has of it daily.” 

He muffles an exasperated groan on your arm, pressing a soft kiss on the exposed skin. “Years of being a gentleman at galas and with the public — gone with a kiss. And now everyone thinks I’ve violated you.”

You trace the moles on his cheek, “Well, I mean, I guess superheroines are more sexualised and all of that —and, you know, if you weren’t you, I would’ve let you down so fast you wouldn’t even have had the chance to pucker your lips before your ass was back on the rubble.” You shrug, poking where his dimples usually show, “The nice thing about being a girl and a hero, aside from wearing skirts and heels with your costume without being judged, is that you can beat creeps all you want without ever fearing how they might respond to it.”

The kiss you leave on the small unbandaged part of his forehead feels like it’s made of — what was it? Sugar and spice and everything nice? “So, when the reporters inevitably ask, I will tell them that if I was uncomfortable, I wouldn’t have been so nice with you. And that if I did perceive your behaviour like the one of a creep rather than the one of someone who had just hit their head and was clearly very disoriented, I would’ve just kicked you into the ambulance instead of being so polite.” 

Damian finally allows himself some rest, resting his head on your hip as you doomscroll over the monstrosities that are comments left under the leaked footage. “Look– there’s this girl saying ‘Don’t you guys dare lie and say that you wouldn’t have done that, because I would’ve snatched a kiss so fast that one might’ve called me the Flash’.” you giggle like a kid, “Those comments are so fun. I didn’t even realise I was so high on the Hot Heroes List up until now.” 

Your boyfriend grumbles, barely awake, his hold on your sides tightening slightly as you press a soft kiss over his temple. “Don’t get too excited now, it’s not creepy only when I do it.” 

Twirling a strand of his hair with your index finger, you hum. “Sure it isn’t, cuddlebug.” 

DAILY PLANET | MARCH 20TH SUPERGIRL SPEAKS UP AGAINST DAMIAN WAYNE’S ALLEGED HARASSMENT Article written by Catherine Grant, edited by Lois Lane

After yesterday’s incident in the business district, we’ve all been wondering how Supergirl took the situation, as this is a first for Metropolis’ heroes in general. As this morning the Supes gathered to help with cleaning up the rest of the rubble left behind by the alien attack, our staff has managed to snag an exclusive, even if brief, interview with the Girl of Steel. 

The first thing we ask is, of course, how she feels about the scandal that has taken over the Internet in the last few hours — but she just smiles, bright as ever, like all our conspiracies are just nothing more than that. I mean, I didn’t even know who the guy was until I saw the news, she replies easily. Even if it’s not really unusual, saving a big shot with this kind of job. 

When we question her well-being, she just laughs. Now, c’mon — we’ve all seen the footage; poor dude was totally out of it. This happens all the time, mostly with kids– they see something in me that reminds them of their mother or their little sister and they start clinging like crazy. It’s a totally normal, common trauma response. 

Next up is the elephant in the room — the allegations accusing Damian Wayne of harassment in her regards, brought on by the netizens and Gotham Gazette’s reporter Vicki Vale. Supergirl looks surprised, almost embarrassed at the mention of it. Well– not to undermine the gravity of any mishaps my female colleagues might have had with other men, but if a guy bothers me, I make sure he knows of it. Had he bothered me, I would’ve dropped him. 

Of course, cleaning up the city has a priority over responding to such trivial questions, so she soon left us to go back to helping the workers and the other Supes; her answers are however vital to let Damian Wayne off the hook, as they align with the version told by the latter’s lawyers on the official statement published this morning. 

Wayne’s lawyers state that he had sustained a major head injury and so was mostly incoherent during the time of the saving, attaching various medical records that seem to fully clear him of all charges of malicious intent. 

In the end, just like Supergirl said, he has probably just 'hit his head really hard’. We wish Mr. Wayne a fast recovery and leniency from Miss Kent, who has yet to speak up about the situation.

Finally out of the hospital and sat on one of the chairs in your kitchen, Damian side eyes you over his copy of the Daily Planet. “Poor dude really hit his head hard, huh?”

Swinging your legs under your kitchen table, you hum, unbothered like always. “Don’t worry, I love it when you look dumb. It makes me feel like the smart one in the relationship.” 

Your powers as a Kryptonian outmatch his.

It's good that they killed them all before they found out what the yellow sun could do for your kind.

An attack 'coincidentally' happens in Smallville, and your adoptive parents are killed. Nolan takes you into his care under the guise of raising you to be a hero. Cecil accepts, and you're taken in by him but kept separate from his family. He doesn't act as a father or anything. Raises you as someone who would be raised traditionally on Viltrum. He has you exploring your powers.

You become something of a side mission that keeps him grounded to his real mission for Viltrum. Whenever he feels himself slipping too much into Debbie's love, he returns to you to train you and remind himself of his mission, chanting over and over that his duty is to Viltrum. You begin to pick up on it.

Bc Nolan is the only parental figure you have, you become desperate to impress him. You try to become Viltrumite in nature even if you can't in blood. You don't use anything Viltrumites can't. So no laser beams, no X-ray vision, no freeze breath. Nothing but strength and flight.

But as much as you try, bc you're still on Earth and Cecil still socialized you, you can't ever truly accept the Viltrum way. But the desperation to be like them is there.

Eventually, you debut as a hero. You wear Nolan's colors. An attempt to mirror him. Nolan tries to keep you away from Mark and Debbie, but it doesn't work. Once Mark gets his powers, you're always around him, never knowing his dad is Nolan/Omni-Man.

You find out when Mark shouts, "Dad!" when he goes into the Flaxan portal. You hadn't even known he had a family. You were never even permitted to call him anything of the sort.

It broke your heart, try as you might to not have one. But the more time you spend as a hero, saving people, them giving you their love. The Viltrumite way was never going to work for you, but it doesn't stop you from wanting it.

You look over to his son. Jelousy fills you. Anger fills you. He who has everything you want and more. You want to be him. Want to be him so bad and have what he has.

You knew Nolan's mission. You'd help with it. You'd give him a true Viltrumite in blood he could raise. One he didn't have to pretend with.

Your attention turns to Mark.

Nolan knows what you're up to. Your attempt to procreate with a Viltrumite. He doesn't even want to know what that would result in. He forbade it. Keeps you away from Mark. Unfortunately for him, Mark begins to develop feelings for you, and he's also a hormonal teenager, so he finds a way to get around his father.

You do all of this whilst also helping Nolan with his mission. Instead of him killing the guardians, you do it.

You take damage, but to the extent Nolan did bc in all universes, Kryptonians are always stronger than Viltrumites. So, to shift the blame off of you and Nolan, you use your Kryptonian powers. They're underdeveloped, but you take care not to use flight or super strength in an obvious way. You laser most of them, you freeze others, and hit their frozen bodies, shattering them.

Still, though, you're found out. But that doesn't happen until your little plan succeeds. You become pregnant. You're about four months along when that whole fight between Nolan and Mark breaks out.

You want to help Mark. He calls for you. But you're torn between helping him and your loyalty to Nolan and Viltrum.

In the end, you leave both unable to choose between the two. The whole time, the two of them have no idea you're pregnant.

You end up finding Viltrum. You assume the guise of being a Viltrumite. Nolan's daughter. You throw him under the bus and say that he is a traitor.

You're taken in and bc you're pregnant, you're kept under a close eye.

You're hit with just how Viltrum actually is. Yes, Nolan was rough with you, but sometimes he'd let a smile slip out or praise. Here, it's so lonely.

You find Conquest. It's both of you. You talk sometimes. It's a somewhat shared understanding.

You keep your act. But it's hard, and sometimes you slip up. Everyone around you is quick to correct you. You come to a devastating realization that this isn't what you want for your baby.

Throughout the months, you reflect on what you've done. Do you love Mark? You don't know. He is kind, funny, sweet, and the things you two have been through, do you love him?

You don't know. If you did, did you leave the man you love to be nearly killed by his father? You don't know. You don't know!

All you know is that right now, you can't think of that. You need to find a way to leave.

But since their whole mission is to repopulate, you're not going anywhere anytime soon.

They find out Nolan is a traitor, and you're put on lockdown. Whilst on lockdown, unable to leave the main building, you find some files, and lo and behold, you find out Viltrum was responsible for the destruction of your planet. You watched the video of your people screaming. You find a video of your parents guarding you. You watch your pod being sent off. Nolan shortly thereafter killed your parents. Then Nolan, Thragg, and a couple other dive into your planet and destroy it.

The shock of it, and bc you're in your ninth month, you go into labor. It was long and hard. Painful. The hardest thing you've ever had to do. But still, you labored for a night and a day until you finally gave birth.

A girl.

Your joy doesn't last long.

You're told that bc you were raised by a traitor, you weren't raised right, so they'll raise your child.

You were strapped down to the bed, and you watched in horror as Thragg plucked your newborn baby from your hands. You're too weak from the labor to stop him. All you can do is cry and yell for him to leave her alone. You were promptly hit until you fell unconscious for such displays of weakness.

All the while, Anissa leaves to try to recruit Mark. You're reprimanded for not saying you have a brother.

You need to find a way out. With your child. She'll come back, with or without Mark knowing you're not an actual Viltrumite.

While you do that, over on Earth, Mark is still dealing with the problems from his father, and you are just leaving him. He begins to wonder if you were in on it this whole time. You'd talk about how his dad used to tell you about Vilturm. Your stories would always be different. Did you always know?

He doesn't know, and he can't even ask you. It hurts because he did love you. Not only just loved you, but admired you. You debuted as a hero when you were fourteen. He really liked you as a hero, so when he became one, he was eager to meet you. You always took care to save people.

He remembers watching you battle a monster, and even when you were battered and bruised, you always made sure to save lives around you. You helped a mother and her child out of a car after you were just thrown onto a bridge. You saved them and used your own body to shield them, and the monster punched into you.

You were a hero. One of the ones from books. His father was great, but you had compassion. He admired it, so why would you ever submit to Viltrum.

He thought you were until one day, unironically, whilst having sex for the first time, as you reached your peak, your eyes glowed red.

He was so freaked out.

You told him that you weren't Viltrumite and that you were something else. That you were from Krypton, but you didn't know anything else other than that something had happened and Krypton had exploded.

He thought it was the coolest thing, you had laser eyes and X-ray vision and everything else. It was awesome to him, so imagine his surprise when you said you don't use them and never wanted to, he pushed you to. The two of you were making real progress in getting you to accept that side of you.

Then all of this stuff happened, and you just left him. He was heartbroken.

So when Anissa told him his sister had already joined the empire and was doing right by the mission, he was so confused. Then she mentioned your name and said you were pregnant. His whole world came crashing on him.

Was it his? Probably.

But why would you claim to be Viltrumite when you know their nature? What about his child?

He ended up shouted that you weren't his sister and that you weren't Viltrumite when she kept using your name.

That stopped Anissa dead in her tracts and left. Mark wanted to follow, but he was beaten too badly to move.

Fuck. What about you? What about the kid?

You, on the other hand, figured out how to steal a ship and get out of there. Your baby, only a month old, needed to breathe.

A ship was your only option.

While Anissa was away, you began to train under the guise of becoming stronger. You trained with Conquest and, in private, practiced your heat vision and freeze breath. Your X-ray vision was on most of the time so you'd know if anyone was coming.

Using your X-ray vision, you found Nolan in prison. Unfortunately, it was around the same time you found the perfect time to get away. You stood still for what felt like days. Saving the man who raised you but killed your birth parents (and adoptive, but you don't know that yet.) and give up your chance to escape with your child, or just leave now.

You were not a Viltrumite. You had compassion. A conscience. You abandoned your plan and went to confront Nolan. You meet Alan.

You're angry. So very angry at him. He killed your parents, killed your home planet, and then indoctrinated you into loving the very world that destroyed your own.

You ask him how he could do such a thing.

A Viltrum guard comes trying to apprehend you. You end up throwing him back. Prisoners are freed. Before you fly off, Nolan asks about your daughter. You only throw him back fleeing the scene and securing your little girl.

In the midst, you sneak in to rescue your child. You killed the two on duty to keep your baby away from you. You splashed them with water, froze them both, and shattered them. You sneak her onto a ship and send her off. You'd catch up eventually. Right now, the most important thing is your baby's safety.

You were intercepted by Thragg, Kregg, Thula, and Lucan. You were able to keep them at bay. Despite everything, that propaganda by Nolan still affects you. You know there are only fifty or so left. You would rather not kill them, but you know that's not their way.

You watch the pod fly away. So long as it flies away and keeps any Viltrumites away from it, you're okay.

It's a hard fight. You rely on your strength. It's instinct. You're stronger than they are. You know this. You wonder if they knew this about Kryptonians and if that's why they killed them.

Still, it takes two on each arm to restrain you. You don't even think of using other powers. Flight and strength were always a given; it's what you trained for. Your body automatically used it. But your laser beams, cold breath, x-ray vision? All it required was for you to actually think to you use.

The way if you're not trained to keep a good posture, it requires thought to keep it.

You look in horror as you see Anissa coming back. She's about to tank the pod.

You fly forward with all four pulling you back. You're screaming and shouting for them to let go, for Anissa to stay away.

From the corner of your eye, you can see Nolan flying away with Alan. You yell at them to keep her away from the pod. They do, but in doing so they send her right back to you.

They both leave with your child in tow. You're left with now five Viltrumites holding you down while two more go after them.

Your primary focus is keeping your child safe, and that means far from Viltrum.

Your eyes close as you feel that unfamiliar heat bubble. The now five holding all make faces of confusion as they see the skin around your eyes begin to glow red.

Then they all watch as you let out your heat vision straight towards the other two. One was decapitated, and the other is now missing a leg.

You look down towards where Anissa is now punching. You charge them up once more and laser straight through her head. You keep doing so while the others try to rip your limbs off. You don't stop until she's ash.

You're thrown back into the ground as more Viltrumites go after you. You crush a couple of heads, laser though a couple more, and freeze some. You're hit more times than you count. More bones broken than ever before.

After 15 or 20 deaths, they stop, and you fly back. Your eyes are hot, ready to laser anyone. You promise that if they ever come after you again that you'll repay what they did to Krypton tenfold.

They didn't take kindly to it.

You fly off through space shouting for Nolan. You don't want her with him. Not to do with her how he raised you. You shout and shout. Your bones broken, your body mangled.

You look over to the closest yellow sun. You fly that way. You'd need to heal first. The closer you got, the more your cuts turned into bruises and then into nothing. Your broken bones mending themselves. You grunted the closer you flew, unfortunately for you, you were intercepted by Thragg, who didn't take kindly to your threat.

Your body, in the midst of healing, wasn't able to react. You cried out. He flew you farther and farther from the sun.

Punch after punch into your ribs. You coughed up blood. Then you were thrown back. A strong pull behind you. You looked and it was a black hole.

You screamed in fear as you tried to fly away. It was no use. In a second Thragg was gone and you were left fighting to get away.

Time passed and you were stuck. Eventually you got out, but you had no idea how much time had passed.

There was no way to find Nolan now. God, how old was your child by now?

You closed your eyes, racking your head for where they could be.

You came up with only one true answer.

Earth.

You flew, ignoring the internal bleeding, occasionally coughing up blood.

In an hour or so, you saw Earth. You looked towards the sun. You dashed to it, letting your body properly mend itself. From there you saw smoke and explosions.

Always something. Whatever, it wasn't your concern right now. Your first concern is your daughter and where she is.

Meanwhile, on Earth, Mark's been through so much. He's not over you. God, how could he be over you? He's not over the fact that he might or might not have a child, but now there's this thing with Eve. He's struggling, and now she's in a coma while variants of him wage war.

A part of him wants to go back out there. He knows he should, but he can't. Not with Eve in this state, and if another version of him finds her. She's as good as dead.

But still, his mind thinks about the hero he looked up to. Admired, loved. You. You said your first priority is saving lives. It's the mindset he followed.

But now look at him?

Sitting next to his girlfriend, but not really girlfriend, because things are complicated, because he told her that he might or might not have a child with you, and he still loves you, but is unsure what kind of love it is. (He knows exactly what kind, but when Eve made that face to show him he screwed up, he made the excuse that his dad raised you, and that his love might be more in a brotherly way? Which definitely isn't the way he loves you. This isn't Alabama.)

He doesn't even want to turn on his phone. He doesn't want to know whats happening, he can already hear it, but he doesn't want to see it.

It's a shame. He would've seen that you're back.

You're looking for his father.

You had tried to find Nolan without seeing Mark because you really didn't have time for that right now. You saw him in Russia, so you went instead to Chicago. You'll see him there again, and two more of him. All in different costumes.

The world around you is a mess. You went to the Guardians HQ. In there, you found Mark. He looked the same. He turned to the side. No goggles.

Immortal called your name as you floated down. Goggleless Mark turned around, his face dropping. He put his hands up as he called your name and called you to be reasonable.

Immortal yelled out that he was another Mark from an alternate dimension.

Always something.

He irked you. You grabbed his throat and pressed him against the wall. "This is me being reasonable, Mark. From what your father has taken from me, I am being more than reasonable. Now, where is the Mark from this universe? Where is his father? I'll spare your life if you show me where they are."

The Mark variant nodded.

Immortal yelled out your name, asking what was wrong with you. That he killed so many. You told him that wasn't your priority right now. He called you selfish. You snapped and yelled that your daughter is missing and in the hands of Nolan, and all you want is to have her back. In snapping, you accidentally squeezed the Mark variant's head off.

Immortal stepped back. He knew you were strong. But this strong? He hadn't known. He told you that he wouldn't be fighting because Eve was hurt. He probably wouldn't come out till all of this was resolved or Eve was better.

"Unbelievable." You hissed out. You ordered him to show you where all the Mark variants were. You looked on the screen nodded and went out.

You made quick work of them. Some recognized you, others didn't. You didn't care. One after another your tore through. The only ones you stopped for just to make sure you didn't accidentally kill the father of your child were the ones in blue and yellow. A shame you didn't know he changed his uniform.

One Mark after another torn apart by your hands, or lasered, or frozen, then punched. You stopped taking a breather. How long had it been since you breathed this air? You were covered in blood.

Your ears strained. There was one more.

You flew to Kansas. Smallville. Largely untouched. You went to the Kents' home. Your home until you were eight.

You entered. There was nothing there. You exited, and outside, there was Mark. His hand touches a pod. He turned and smiled. Goggles and a blue and yellow suit. Was this your Mark? You thought he was with Eve.

He pulled off his mask as you called his name. "You're alive!"

You had no patience for it. You asked him where his father was. He said he didn't know. But he hesitated. "Then this was a waste of time."

He told you to wait. You did. Not because he told you, but because he shouldn't know of this place. Not about the pod anyway. You didn't even know about the pod.

You turned around, your eyes red and hot. He clicked something, and the pod opened. Your eyes stopped. A hologram showed. Your parents. They spoke, and you couldn't understand them.

A compartment opened. Inside, a red and blue suit with your family crest. "This is what you wore when you were alive in my world."

You took the suit and took out the hologram to keep. You thanked him and said you'd spare his life for it. With that you went inside and showered putting on the new suit.

Something yours. From your home. No cheap knock-off of Omni-Man's suit like before. Not all white suits are like the ones you wore in Viltrum.

You left. He was the last one. There was no one else. You reappeared. You saw a woman trying to escape her car. It was under the ruble. You figured the best way to contact Cecil, if he didn't already know you're here, is to do some good deed.

You saved the woman. She cried and hugged you. Said she had missed you. She had a baby in the back seat. You picked up the child. You missed your own. You handed it to the woman, giving a smile before flying off.

All the while, Mark had been battling with himself. It's a stupid question, but he still asks himself what you would do. He knows the answer. The you he fell in love with, you would go out to help. He kissed Eve's hand and stepped out, putting his mask back on. He met Cecil only to be told the war was over.

He was tossed a phone with live footage of you putting out a fire. You are in a red and blue suit with an 'S'.

He quickly left, never hearing Cecil's warning that she was attacking any Mark variant without a blue and yellow suit. He flew, calling your name. You had a car in your hands as people ran off. You turned around as he flew to you. The people screamed at the sight of him.

You threw the car at him. He dodged through it. He called out to you. Saying it was him. You didn't listen. He tried over and over again. It wasn't until he asked about you being pregnant that you stopped.

You asked him where his father was. Mark only asked if you had been or if Anissa was lying? You just asked him where his father was. He asked if it was his. You only answered by asking where his father was. Every question he asked, you only asked where his father was.

He told you he didn't know. Told you that last, he knew he was captured by Viltrumites. You left. He chased you down. High up in space, he called out your name, asking where his child was.

He grabbed you. You pushed him off, yelling you didn't know. You're trying to find her. Yelling that his father has her, that you were trapped in a black hole by Thragg, and his father left you to deal with Viltrumites as he fled with that one-eyed alien and now you're stuck roaming the galaxy looking for them.

He asks if he has a daughter. You give a nod. Mark is angry. So angry with you. How could you leave him? How could you hide something like that!? Why didn't you help him? You answered that you were scared. If you got involved and were dealt a blow hard enough, you'd miscarry. That being raised by Nolan in the way you were confused you. You were loyal to Viltrum. What Mark said that day went against your end goal for which his father prepared you.

You told him everything. Told him the only real reason you went after him was not that you were in love with him, but because you had a desperation to prove yourself to his father. That you could help with his mission in more ways than one. Your plan from the beginning was to get pregnant.

With each word, he felt his heart, which he had only just put back together, crack all over again. Everything you both shared was just to try and prove yourself.

He asked if any of it was ever real. If you ever loved him. If everything you both went through, if it meant nothing.

You said you thought about it while on Viltrum. He asked what you thought. You said you didn't get to finish thinking because you needed to escape. In the end, he agrees to help you find his daughter, but says he wants an answer by the end of it.

You ask if he's with Eve. He only says it's not serious. He asked about your time on Viltrum as you flew back down to Earth. You told him there aren't many of them left. You killed a good fifteen. He asks why you wanted to leave. You tell him what you found on Viltrum. Cruel and mean people who have no concept of love. That you saw what they did to your planet. You saw the murder of your biological parents at the hands of his father, and the destruction of your planet by a handful of Viltrumites.

Told him that you wonder if they knew what would happen if just one of them had discovered the yellow sun. You're stronger than the average Viltrumite on Viltrum. You say that if it wasn't for the red sun your planet had, Krypton would've never been destroyed. Your people were the superior ones.

Time passes on Earth as you agree to become the new head for the Guardians due to your good PR and because he can pull a few strings to spend some money looking for Nolan.

Mark, on the other hand, refuses.

Mark doesn't ask about his daughter yet. You're still touchy about it. You both haven't told anyone. Eve is weird around you both. For good reason, but all you want is your daughter.

Eventually, Mark gathers the courage to ask for her name. You tell him her name. You say she has your last name. El. Of the stars. That's what it means. He says it's a pretty name. Says he wishes he'd have been there. You agree.

You tell him more about that day. How you took the identity of being Nolan's daughter, how you only ever wanted to be Vilturmite because it's what was hammered into you, how you thought getting rid of the laser vision, the x-ray vision, the freeze breath, and everything else would make you feel like you had a home.

But your daughter was taken from you. Because you were raised by a traitor and not raised in a true Viltrum way, your child should be. You didn't want that.

You told him you have nightmares of being sucked into the black hole and never seeing your daughter again. All you want is to hold her. The longest you've ever held her was to put her onto a ship and send her off. After that, you haven't seen her. You don't know how long you've been gone from her life. She must be a year old by now.

Mark is so conflicted. Yes, Eve is there, but you're also here. The mother of his first child. But you said you don't know if you love him, hell, if you even really like him. Only need his body. He feels gross and used. He feels stupid. So for now, he stays with Eve. It's an asshole move, he knows.

You're head of the Guardians, but you're rarely on Earth. You spend weeks at a time traveling the galaxy, calling for anyone.

You miss Conquest's arrival. You're out searching for anything. By the time you come back, Mark has completely changed. You apologize for not being there. He tells you your help would've been nice. You admit you've trained with Conquest. Only three times. You won once out of the three times. You say he wasn't one of the Vilturmites who held you back, so you have no ill will towards him.

Cecil is angry with you. Very. You could've helped, but you're out playing Marco Polo. He doesn't know you're looking for your daughter. You don't intend to tell him. You tell him you'll be there next time.

He tells you to loosen up on going to space.

You'd rather not. Being in space means you don't feel useless and hopeless without your daughter. Being in space is being away from Mark, far away from trying to understand those feelings. You don't know how you feel.

Mark is also dealing with those feelings. The fear he felt at the thought of losing Eve. The anger he felt towards you because you weren't there.

He doesn't know.

Your dilemma would be answered soon enough.

It'd be answered when you pick up a small heartbeat a couple of weeks later, whilst facing some lady who needs electricity or whatever. You really couldn't care less right now. Your eyes looked around. Why the fuck would a baby be in a power plant? Your X-ray vision is activated. You scanned the room whilst Eve and Mark handled the lady.

Mark shouted your name, asking why you weren't doing anything. If you're being honest, you could've just killed her right then and there, but you don't feel like it. You turned just as Mark was shot down. You watched Eve jump up.

Your world stopped. You saw a fetus. Your eyes darted to Mark. He was twitching on the ground.

Your heart pounded. That small heartbeat pounded.

A sudden and ugly feeling of possession and jealousy hit you. No, he was yours. You bore his child. You did not love Mark, but you two shared something. Something uniquely you and him.

You watched as Eve flew back. She hit herself on you. You only grabbed her, setting her down. Her swords melted. Anger bubbled within you.

It wasn’t supposed to turn into this. Mark had been a means to an end. Something to try and emulate. Something to give you what you so desired from Nolan. Acceptance. Love. Family. He was only supposed to be someone to match and surpass. Mark was a standard you measured yourself against and surpassed each and every time with flying colors, according to your own test.

But somewhere along the lines, it blurred, and I couldn’t tell where imitation ended and admiration began. Where wanting to be him became longing for him.

You starved off the thoughts of him on Viltrum, in space, on Earth, and now, in the middle of a fight, they come crashing down on you. The curiosity of being a real family, the need to stay close just a little longer.

You're standing and the world continues, but ever so slowly. Your eyes are on Mark. You remember the feel of him. You remember his laugh. You remember his lips. You remember his eyes. You remember everything that feels like a lifetime ago. Your eyes remembering things you used to pretend don’t matter.

Just the thought of him turning toward someone else feels wrong in a way you can’t justify, sharp and immediate, like something being taken that was never yours to claim.

That's always been there. Since you've returned. Since you've learned of Eve and him. And now seeing something that was his and yours now being shared between him and Eve.

Hatred bubbles within. Anger bubbles within you. Jeously bubbles within you. Heat bubbles beneath your eyes.

You tell yourself it isn’t love, because love would mean yielding, softening, letting him choose. (And that isn't the Viltrum way. 9 years of indoctrination never truly goes away.) But what coils inside you doesn’t want to let go.

It wants to keep, to hold, to be the only reason he keeps going. You want to be the only one.

And that’s the part you won’t name. Because once you do, you’ll have to admit that you never just want to be him—you want him.

Your body still acts with want and malice. You can see everything in slow motion.

You hide Eve behind you. A false pretense of safety. You watch as a beam of energy begins to shoot out. It's slow. Painfully slow. You have all the time in the world to turn. You still turn early. A selfless act to protect her to anyone watching, but only one pair of eyes matter to you right now.

You're looking at her. Your eyes still bright red and glowing with anger, possession, jealousy, desire, and all the nasty things love means. Her green eyes wide with fear. Not for herself, for you. You almost feel bad.

Almost.

You're looking at her. You know what you're about to do. Your blazing eyes trail down directly where something that could take away your future, curls. Safe in the womb. Unaware of what will happen.

You let the electricity hit your back. It doesn't really hurt. More like a small shock. But you act anyways. You yell, feigning pain. You shoot lasers.

You can see it happening. You see red heat from your vision aim direct at her womb, directly at the small heartbeat. You continue to yell in pain, her screams join yours. You keep at it until you hear no heartbeat. Until you don't see anything. Until her womb is all gone.

Only then do you fall and let the beam of energy hit her. An extra measure. You let it for a good three seconds before you dive over her. It hits you for another two seconds before Mark takes the hit of it.

"Eve!" He shouts. Secondly he shouts your name. Second. You came second.

You look down. Blood everywhere. You stood up. You're covered in her blood. You stand up looking at your blood stained hand. Your brows furrow as you look down to the crest of your home, stained in blood.

You feel bad that you don't feel bad. You want to, but honestly? You can't bring yourself to care about that. Just, your crest really doesn't look good covered in blood. You probably don't look the best in this light. That's your first thought.

You look up to Mark who's holding up Eve.

Your eyes begin to grow hot again. Another beam hits you. You let it hit you before you turn around blocking it. You shoot your heat vision. It fights back against the beam.

"Eve are you alright!?"

That only fuels your heat. You laser off the lady's head.

Theres a disgust within you. You looked over your shoulder. Your cape with your crest doesn't have blood. It looks better. You don't say anything. Mark looks up at you. You leave burning the blood off of you. In front of the yellow sun, you soak in the rays trying to burn this disgust.

You're not in love. (Oh but you are. Desperately. You want to cling to something. Cling to the closest thing of your daughter whom you miss. Cling to an old ideal. Is it truly love then?)

You scream into the yellow sun. Scream into space. Perhaps it will reach your daughter whom is lost to you.

You fall back. Fall back into Earth's warm embrace. It pulls you back like a mother who yearns for you.

You pick up Eve. Take her to the GDA's hospital. You're sent out to deal with some aliens.

It doesn't take long. Everyone is safe. Everyone is always bound to be safe with you. Things are always easier with you. Missions anyways.

It's proven a couple of days later. Flaxens. Again. You have half a mind to not just destroy their entire planet. You wonder if you, by yourself, could recreate what took six Viltrumites to do to Krypton.

You fly over everything, freezing the majority of them. They're tougher this time. Nothing too serious, though. You fly through the portal and destroy whatever was in front of you. The portal behind you closes. You look over the planet.

Mark is left behind. He stood still, watching where you disappeared to. You're strong. Really strong. He knows. You're stronger than him. Stronger than his dad. Stronger than fifteen Viltrumites. Stronger than the pull of a black hole.

So why did you struggle, if only a little, against that energy beam? He thought it was an accident at first. You had been ready to laser back at the electricity woman. Instead, you turned around to protect Eve and yourself. Did you lose control and accidentally laser Eve? It's what he thought. But time and time again, shows of strength. You're beyond anything.

So why did it happen? He remembers you said you still hadn't had much practice with your heat vision, but still. Something felt off.

That night you come back. He asks you about that day. He had been sitting on it for a couple of days. He asks why you did it. Asks if it was on purpose. You don't say anything. Instead, you leave. He doesn't let you. He grabs your leg. You fly up anyway. The weak rays of the sun reflected from the moon.

"I know your mind isn't right. I know you're not yourself. I know you miss her. But tell me you didn't do it on purpose. Please!" He shouts at you, and you stop. He flies to your level. Your eyes are different now, or maybe they've always been like that. He can't recall his life three years ago.

You did do it on purpose, but you don't want to face rejection of your ugly side. The fact that earlier today you bathed in blood, and before that bathed in the blood of Eve and his unborn child. Instead, you simply smiled.

"Did you know it was her birthday today?"

Mark paused.

"She turned three, Mark. Two years and eleven months I've been without my daughter." Your lips downturned, and you looked towards the stars. He pulled you in, hugging you. You hugged him back. A familiar warmth you had missed so dearly. You pulled back and looked at him. Soft brown eyes. Soft skin, somehow without scars. Black hair that took in the moon's rays. How you missed the sight. Your daughter looks exactly like you. You did not find comfort in her features. His eyes looked at your lips.

He leaned in first. You leaned in, letting yourself go in his embrace. You kissed him. He warm and you felt love. Love you had been chasing. It was freely given by him.

How could you have ever left him to fend for himself? Never again. You pulled him against you harder. You desperately tried to tell him. You wouldn't leave him anymore. You don't know if he understood.

Maybe he did. Probably. He broke up with Eve the next morning.

He also went to hell. Or so he said. You flew around the solar system. Just a habit at this point. You landed on Venus.

Venus favors the bold.

Or so they say. You whisper the name of your daughter into the hot stones. You murmur a plea of hope.

With that, you leave Venus. She favors the bold. You have always been bold.

You fly to Mark's home, but you spot something in the distance. You know that shape. Those two shapes. The two that left you behind to rot on Viltrum as they took your daughter. You charged, grabbing Nolan by his throat. Mark came in after shouting your name.

"You traitorous dog!? You left me to fend for myself, and you took my daughter! Where is she!?"

You were pulled off. Nolan told you that for the past three years, he's raised your daughter. She is safe and healthy. You asked him if he's ever hit her like he did you? He told you he's never lifted a hand to her. That what he did to you was wrong. It wasn't something he should've pushed onto you. He was struggling. He used you to keep himself tied to an idea.

He tells you that he's kept her safe, raised her as he should've raised you. As Debbie raised Mark. As Debbie helped him understand love.

You told him even if it was true, they still left you on Viltrum. He said that a part of him always knew you'd get out alive. You're strong. It's also why he'd like to join the war. To end Viltrumite's rule once and for all. A world without them.

You thought of your daughter. It seemed like an easy enough choice.

Mark, on the other hand, hadn't said anything. He'd be meeting his daughter for the first time. He felt nervous. Full of longing for someone he had never even met.

Time felt slowed as they boarded the ship. As they walked down the hallway. He heard your heart pounding, or maybe it's his own. His father walked into the room first calling her name.

He heard her giggle. Heard her run over to him. Heard his father lift her up. Heard his father ask if she wanted to meet him. She had said no. A little more convincing, and finally, she murmured an Okay.

Mark stood still. He didn't know what to expect. Would she look like him? Viltrumite DNA overpowered almost anything else. But you're Kryptonian, would it be different?

He watched as his father stepped out. His hand searched for something to hold. Your hand found his. You both gripped one another. He saw the little girl in his father's arms. She leaned against his chest, hiding away. She was so small. Finally, she turned towards them, her hand near her mouth.

Her eyes were big and round. Her lips were pursed in the way yours do, but her brows furrowed in the way he knows his does. Other than that. She looked exactly like you.

He gave a sigh, smiling.

He walked forward, and you stayed still. He turned around. Your hand is still gripping his. From the moment you came back, this has been everything you've wanted. Weeks spent in space. Nights looking towards the moon. And now you're frozen. He turns to you, rubbing your arm as he pulls you closer.

His father sets down his daughter. She stands there. The four of you simply stand. She looks over to you. "Grandpa says you're strong."

"Very strong." You mutter out smiling.

"How strong?" She takes a step closer.

You look over to Mark, who seems entranced by his daughter. "I can carry your grandpa."

"Me too." You look up towards Nolan, who nods.

"Do you want to show your father your guns?" She nodded, running to him. Nolan picked her up and told Mark to put his hands up. You watched with a smile as she shot out blue lasers. You laughed.

Such a joy filled you, a joy you've never felt before. You never had anyone else to share it with. But now you did. You laughed eagerly, telling her you could do it too. You darted to her side, letting out small, short, and weak lasers at Mark, who only let out yelps as he shielded his face.

The three of you were left alone as you both showed her you could fly. She said she can't fly yet.

As you show her your glowing red eyes, Mark sits back admiring. Since he found out, three year ago, now almost four, that you were pregnant the world moved around him. Three years ago when you came back and said his father had taken his daughter from you, the world continued to move. But nothing ever felt right. Time had seemed to pass in dull, uneven stretches, days endured, not lived, each one marked by the quiet, relentless absence of a cry or small laugh he imagines come from children.

Taking Oliver's cries and laughters when he was younger and he would imagine them it would be his daughter.

Hearing her now, he wonders how he ever bared being without her laughter. How he kept going without having you and her beside him. He began to long for her long before he had ever known she existed. How? He isn't sure, but he knows his longing for what is now in front of him never stopped.

Still hasn't stopped. His longing has become more now. He longs for for the first steps she took he didn't get to experience, longs for the first day they discovered she has heat vision just like you did, longs for those days you spent pregnant and tired so that he might have been able to ease you. Mark longs for everything that was taken from him, for everything that he can never get back, even if it stands right in front of him.

That night, his longing still aches within him. He walks to your room. He doesn't knock or ask if you're awake. All he does is take his rightful place beside you in your bed. A place that was always meant to be filled by him. You don't object. He reaches over to pull you close to him. He holds you tight against him.

Yes, he longs for it. Longs for you. Longs to see you pregnant. Longs to comfort you. Longs for his children, whom he has yet to have with you.

His body makes it clear. His hand slides lower, pushing himself against you, and as if no time has passed at all, just like when you were both seventeen again, your legs part for him.

He turns you around, kissing you as he eases himself inside of you. Normally, he'd take care to prep you, but his longing for you doesn't allow him to do it. You take him fine enough. Slow and comforting, he continues to thrust into you. He relishes in your sweet small sounds, your expressions, and his favorite thing, your eyes glowing red as you reach your peak with him.

He cums inside. Naturally. As he's meant to. As he's longed to for the past three years.

You both stay entangled in your embrace. He makes a joke of how he doesn't mind being used by you anymore. He had forgotten how good it felt with you. You only give a smile that he hasn't seen in three years. It warms him. You warm him. This is the way he longs to spend his life. Every day for the rest of eternity, or however long time will grant him. So as the two of you stay together as one, he cups your face, kissing your forehead, and asks for your hand in marriage.

You ask him if it's because you both are heading to war. He says war is the last thing on his mind; just being with you is all he wants. Being with you and his daughter, and if you want, the future children you two would have.

You accept, and if only for a night. Mark knows true happiness. You and he together, bound forever, and a creation between you and him in the next room is sleeping. He'd remember this night for the rest of his life.

But all good things come to an end. The next day, the ship is ambushed and destroyed. His first concern is his daughter. He knows you're fine, but what about his little girl? He yells for you, you appear holding your daughter close.

Thragg and what's left of the empire are here. Behind him the man who filled his thoughts with horror.

Conquest.

He locked eyes with Mark. Mark's eyes instinctively looked to you. You held your daughter close to you. It's the safest place she could be. Conquest only gave a knowing look. He yelled for him to leave you out of this. To leave his child alone. Thragg only said the child belonged to Viltrum, just as Mark does. You flew away towards a nearby planet to allow your daughter to breathe. She doesn't need to, but she's not used to it, and you'd rather her not see the horrors of war at three.

You leave Mark. A choice you'd come to regret, for the next time you'd find him, it'd be in a coma with his organs pulled out. You stayed out of the war instead, staying with Oliver and Nolan. You'd go out to help, but you don't want to leave your daughter alone.

Eventually, Mark wakes up. You're right there. All three leave. You wonder if it should've been you to go instead. A day later, you agree it should've been you. You would've purged every last one of them. Luckily, you're given another chance.

All the Viltrumites are present. You tell your daughter she doesn't need to breathe in space. She doesn't believe you. It's fine. You tell Oliver to stay behind. He objects; you give him a look. He stays behind with your daughter. You finally enter the fight.

You remind Thragg that his attempt at killing you failed, and you warned him what would happen the next time he came after you. He said it was you guys that came after him. You simply responded that they should've run then. Shortly after, you killed three Viltrumites. Thragg went after you. The battle between everyone else continued, whilst you fought against him.

It hurt. He punched and punched.

Mark threw some Viltrumite off of him, and he turned to watch your battle against Thragg. You were stronger physically, but Thragg has the better fighting technique. Mark dashed over to help, but he was backhanded away.

You were thrown against another Viltrum before being sent crashing down onto Viltrum. He held you down, choking you. Your eyes glowed, ready to shoot, but he met it with a hard punch straight to the center of your face. Over and over again. Your nose broken, your jaw cracked, your cheekbones surely misaligned.

Nolan came in, pushing him off of you. You lie down trying to subside the pain. You're sure he crushed your windpipe. It's cloudy. You need the sun.

You time of rest didn't last long. Nolan was sent straight up. However, Mark was quick to come down along with Alan.

"Stop messin around and get up!" He yelled. You lifted yourself up to look at the two as they tried to keep Thragg at bay.

"I'm not messin around, I'm doing important stuff." You muttered, falling back down. You popped your shoulder back into place before standing up. You left, taking in the sun's solar rays. As you healed, you killed a couple more Viltrumites.

Thula came, and you grabbed her braid. She tried to pull back, but you only pulled her to you before swinging her around so violently that it broke her neck.

Kregg followed. You stopped him from delivering a punch towards Thaedus. You gave him a headbutt. He gave one back. You gained the upper hand and hit him again. It shattered his head.

Off you went. You tore out the heart of one Viltrumite who was attacking Nolan. You, him and Thaedus made quick work of the rest of the Viltrumites. Mostly you, but hey, who's counting?

Once you're sure they were dead, you flew towards Nolam. You told him to destroy the planet, just like what they did to Krypton. He said Thragg would never allow it, and you said you'd hold him back.

By this time, your jaw and cheekbones had put themselves back together. You dove back onto Viltrum. Mark was about to be hit. You shot your heat vision at him. It took his hand off. You had Mark go back with his father as you threw Thragg up and out of Viltrum's atmosphere. You rushed from behind him and held him as you forced him to the destruction of his home, all the while you whispered in his ear that you'd repay what he did to your home tenfold. At the very least, your home was destroyed by invaders; his home was destroyed by his own kind.

He went still in your arms. "What you feel now, imagine what my people felt, what the people felt of the thousands of worlds you conquered. It felt just like that." Your eyes glowed, and you cut off his arms. He yelled in agony. You froze his legs and kicked them off. Now he was just a stub looking at you with pure and undiluted hatred. You reflected the look. This man took away your daughter. Now you would show him what you felt that day. Your hand slowly pushed into his chest, worming its way to his heart. You grabbed it. You felt it pumping in your hand. "You crushed my heart that day; now I repay it, with interest." You crushed it within him before ripping it out.

You let the crumpled heart go before freezing him with your cold breath. A singular flick of your finger to his head, Thragg's body shattered into a thousand microscopic pieces.

You turned around, the sun hugging you. The rest of your allies watched as small bruises on you faded into nothing, and bones just underneath your skin moved themselves into their proper places. Soon enough, you looked as if nothing had ever touched you. Not a scratch left on you.

And that was the end of that. Sure, Mark was just a little off put, but he understood it was what needed to be done. He had come to the same ideals as you after all.

You both were married within the same year. Didn't have your next child till a good five years later.

Mark got to experience all the firsts he didn't with his daughter. A total of four more times. Once with a girl, and three more times with boys.

Life continued on. Peaceful. You had created what you had so longed for.

You didn't know who'd live longer between the two of you, but you wouldn't have to think about that, not for a long time anyway.

ts took all day oml. This is terribly simplified. The angst I could've written within chapters, delicious, but I'm not doin allat. So this will have to do fr fr

From parties almost every weekend in the month of October with his friends—models, hot girls, in lingeries and corsets—to throwing his own annual Halloween bash, October is for having fun. 

Especially since Clark, the Gosh-blessed, Midwestern good boy of his best pal, brought his cousin to his party last year, starting the currently year-long friends-with-benefits situation with the hottest girl he's ever met. 

You walked into the rooftop area of his apartment building in a pair of daisy dukes and a maroon cowboy hat, in front of Clark like you're the one who knows the host. 

“Jimmy, this is my cousin—” Clark introduced, and your name had been branded in his brain since then. 

There was this air—this aura, Cat would then say later in the night—about you that Jimmy just couldn't put a finger on. It radiated off of you, pulling him in like a puppet on a string. It's alluring, it's magnetic. 

Jimmy wonders where Clark has been hiding you all this time. 

You told him your name, giving Jimmy nothing but a mere acknowledging nod and a half smirk. Like you know something he didn't, like you and Clark had this mutual understanding of a joke that Jimmy wasn't in on. And he desperately wanted to know. 

Jimmy blinked, trying to summon that oh-so-natural charm he knows he possessed to string one coherent sentence. 

“Can I get you something to drink?”

You slid your eyes over to Clark, who, despite towering over you, didn't make you look small. 

You both were having a silent conversation, he realized, by the way Clark raised an eyebrow at you. A second passed before you finally turned to Jimmy again, smirk intact and everything. 

“You know what?” Your voice was like velvet, Jimmy thought. So smooth and deeper than any other he was used to. It sent a jolt through his body, particularly down south. “I'll help myself. Thanks, Jimmy.”

If the full body shudder he got was any indication, Jimmy was screwed unless he screwed her. 

He watched as you walked away towards the direction of a table with an array of alcohol, your ass looking particularly delicious in the jean shorts. He noted the way your body moved, the way your hair bounced with every step of your cowboy boots. 

“No,” Clark said, cutting off Jimmy's ogling session. “Immediately no.”

“Whaa—I don't know what you're talking about, buddy.”

“She's my cousin, Jimmy.”

“Who is a full grown adult who can make her own decisions!”

Clark's eyes narrowed, and Jimmy could tell he wanted to say more, argue more, but he held back and sighed. 

“She'll break your heart.”

Jimmy snotted. “It's just sex, Clark.”

“She's going to eat you alive.”

Jimmy's smirks grow slowly, taking its time to light up his face. “God, I hope so.”

That was last year. Three shots and a dance later, your hat was on his head as you rode the living fuck out of him. 

And after, it felt almost like a routine. 

Every couple of weeks or so, you'd drop by Metropolis and he'd meet you and you'd have the best sex you'd ever had. Then, you'd be gone. 

When you were gone, Jimmy couldn't reach you at all. When he asked Clark about you, the guy just shrugged and said, “She'll be here when she wants to be here.”

Fuck. Jimmy Olsen had never been hung up on a girl before but you, you left no trace. 

He tried to look you up in every database he could get his hands on—nothing. He asked Cat to stalk your social media pages but you had none. You didn't leave anything in his place—no strand of hair on his pillow, no lacy panties on the floor, nothing but the memory on his body. 

The way his hips and shoulder ached, the way his skin broke and healed from your nails, the way his neck and his chest were covered in a constellation of bruises. 

Sometimes, Jimmy could've sworn he didn't hear his door open and close when you leave. 

“It's like—scarcity mindset,” Lois told him once over drinks after work. “Because you can't have her infinitely, so you crave her more. Like diamonds.”

She had been drunk, not as eloquent as she usually was, but so was he. And Jimmy understood her perfectly. 

So perfect that the next time he saw you, he almost fucked it all up. 

One of Jimmy’s favorite things about you is your strength. He can feel it, sometimes, when you ride him and the headboard cracked under your grip. Or when you accidentally pushed him too hard into the wall that it knocked the wind out of him for a few seconds. Or when he lost himself in your pussy that he rutted into you so hard—his exes would have winced or complained but you don't, you matched him so perfectly. 

He can feel you holding back, too. 

You're on top of him—your favorite position, really since it gives you more control—and Jimmy's hands grope your bouncing tits. It's a great pace, making him groan and whine all kinds of obscene things into your ears. 

But you're holding back and he wants more. 

“Give me more,” Jimmy pleads.

You pause for a second. “Jimmy—”

“You don't have to hold back,” He whispers to your mouth before capturing your lips with his own. He can taste you and him and everything in between. “I can take it.”

“I don't think you can.”

His hand slips between your bodies then, finding where you connected together. One finger presses on your clit, once, then twice, again and again. 

You buckle on top of him, one hand sliding down the headboard into his shoulder, a whine leaves your lips. 

“Fuck, Jimmy—”

“Give it to me, come on,” He says. “I need it, please, angel.”

It takes you a split second to remove the pillows from underneath him, sending him to collide with the bed. Your hand pushes him down further, another hand pins both of his above his head. 

“Fuck,” Jimmy groans. “You're unreal. You're so hot—”

“You want it, baby?” Your grin is nothing short of wicked. “Take it.”

So he takes. He takes and he takes until he can't anymore. Then he gives. 

You never stay overnight. 

It's a rule he sets up. Or, more like, a mutual understanding between the both of you that this thing, whatever it is, stays in the dark. It starts at night and it should end before dawn breaks. 

That particular night, though, he notices the weight on your shoulders. It carries in your steps, your voice. Like you're exhausted from something more than your job. 

For a split second, he sees the unshed tears in your eyes before you close them shut. 

“You don't have to go, you know,” Jimmy says as he watches you put on your boots. “You can stay for a bit, if you want.”

You look up at him, from your place on the bed, an eyebrow raised. “Are you getting soft on me, Olsen?”

Well, yes, but he won’t tell you that. 

“I’m just saying,” he leans against his door. “There is the friend part of friends with benefits.”

A soft scoff from your throat, but your lips pull into that signature smirk. His eyes are on you as you make your way out of his bedroom, stopping in front of him. Your hands reach out to push his hair back, then down to his bare chest, his abs, stopping on the waistband of his sweatpants. 

“What we’re doing works, okay, Jimmy?” Your tone is sweet, laced with just enough condensation to keep him wanting more. His eyes flicker to your lips, just a few millimeters apart from his own. “I’ll see you around.”

It has been a month and a week and two days since Jimmy last saw you. 

Clark is no help, really, because when is he ever. So Jimmy spirals alone, going on dates with different women anyway to keep his mind off of you. But not sex, never sex because he tried once with someone other than you and he threw up afterwards. 

He’s in so much trouble but he can’t even tell his best friend about it. Because then he’d have to admit that Clark was right. You are eating him alive. 

Add to that, Halloween’s been a bust. Aliens can't ever give Metropolis a break. It's as if they know it's Halloween, deciding to make more trouble for the first responders—including Superman and the Justice Gang. 

And it would have been fine. It would have been your run-off-the-mill goop monster attack downtown if it's not for the fact that Superman is rescuing a capsized ship near Siberia. 

Jimmy watches from the rooftop of the Daily Planet, camera at the ready. 

A rare but not unwelcome sighting: Supergirl, as Superman calls her, keeping the Channel 6’s news chopper afloat with her super dog at her side. Jimmy can see parts of the goop monster on the window, thwarting the pilot's view as they are about to do an emergency landing on some building's helipad.

He's so glad he invested in his long range lens. 

Tomorrow, the picture will make the front page. Now, he takes the E train, then continues to walk three blocks to his apartment. 

The night air is doing wonders for him, really, and he can feed off of his neighbors and passerby’s Halloween cheer. Orange and purple and green lights adorn the streetlights, pumpkins with candy baskets are on every door. Sure, maybe, the street is not too lit and there are occasional gunshots after two a.m, but he’ll take it, for this. 

Jimmy takes out an earbud when he spots his building. 

Correction—when he spots you sitting on the steps of his building. You’re wearing your usual cream colored jacket, the ends halfway to your thighs. He sees the lit cigarette, too close to your mini skirt for his comfort. 

You look worse for wear. You look good, really, like always, but Jimmy has spent enough time with you to know that this is one of those nights where he has to take charge. There is a certain defeat to your shoulders—a hauntedness, if he doesn’t know better. And he doesn’t. 

You never give him more than the present and Jimmy never asks for more because he’s also given you as much. 

“You know, I’m starting to feel like this arrangement is a little one sided,” he says, giving you a teasing smile. 

Jimmy looks up at you from the bottom of the steps, enjoying the way your lips wrap around one end of the cigarette, inhaling, then exhaling slowly, like you have all the time in the world.

“Whatever do you mean, Olsen?” your head tilts, a half smirk adorning your pretty face. You lift one hand. “I brought pizza.”

It’s only then he notices the box in your hand. And he lets you in, because Jimmy Olsen doesn’t have any dignity when it comes to you.

Still, skepticism rolls off him in waves. You can tell, because when you take your seat next on his couch next to him, gladly accepting a bottle of beer he handed, you say, “The friend part of the friends with benefits, right?”

“Right.” Jimmy drawls. It startles him more than he expected. “Well, friends also let their friends know if they’re going to go MIA for weeks.”

“MIA implies nobody knows where I was,” you shrug. “Clark knows exactly where I was.”

“Does he?”

“After I told him, yeah.”

Jimmy shakes his head, unsure of what he can do with you. Can he demand an update? Can he have your number, at least, or just anyway he can contact you? He finds it funny, really, the way you are so nonchalant about everything that he can’t help but find humor in the absurdity. Clark would’ve gone insane. Clark would’ve called Lois, at least. 

But you are not Clark. Not even close.

“Like I said, this is a one-sided arrangement, apparently,” he scoffs, smiling nonetheless. He angles his body closer to you, elbow resting on the headrest of the sofa, behind your shoulder. “You come when you need me and leave when you’re done.”

You turn your head fully to look at him. You’re so close that he can map out your perfect face, the crack of your lips, the individual strands of your hair. You smell faintly of smoke and lavender, lips pulling into a wider smirk when you notice his proximity. 

It’s almost suffocating, the tension, the charge of electricity in the air, the pull on his chest. 

Jimmy’s hand reaches out for your thigh, fingers against your soft skin. He pulls your leg over to his lap, relishing in the way your body is so, so compliant when he lowers you onto the cushions. 

Your arm is around his shoulders when he finally settles on top of you, one thigh between your legs.

“Are you saying I’m a bad friend?” You tease, voice dropping an octave that goes straight to his hardening cock.

Your noses are touching, lips barely grazing against each other as he whispers, “Very.”

“Hm,” you hum, “What are you going to do about it?”

His thigh moves further up, letting your cunt feel the material of his pants. He takes in your gasp of surprise and pleasure into his own lips, finally feeling your lips against his after an eternity. 

It feels like coming home. It shouldn’t. 

But he can’t help the light bursting inside his chest when your fingers card through his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. He uses one hand to hold him up and the other to push your skirt up, feeling up your thigh, your ass, like a greedy man that he is.

Your hands move towards his back, down his hips where the hem of his polo is, tugging desperately.

“Offoffoff,” you chant, and he can’t do anything but oblige. 

His hand moves between your thighs, and he lets out a groan when he finds your drenched underwear. “Someone’s eager.”

“Like you said, it’s been weeks,” you whine, bucking your hips to search for friction. For more. 

It takes everything in him to not think about what that means. You didn’t fuck anyone when you’re away, whereever you are? Haven’t you had anyone else besides him? Did he ruin you for anyone else the way you did him?

But his curious mind can wait, especially with how warm and wet and soft you feel when he finally gets to between your puffy lips. 

“Grinding on my thigh gets you this wet, angel?” he grins. “God, you must taste so sweet.”

Before Jimmy can pull away to dive into your pussy, you stop him. “Later. I need you inside me.”

“But I miss this pussy so much!”

“Jimmy, come on, give me what I want and you can eat me out later.”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” you snap, frustrated. It’s adorable the way you crave him. “Now take off your pants.”

You undo his belt in less than three seconds, and Jimmy would have cummed right there and there by how hot he finds it. He strips and kicks away his pants, his boxes, leaving his throbbing, leaking cock standing in all its glory. 

He swears he can see your mouth waters at the sight of him. 

“Fuck,” you swear, hands scrambling to pull your panties off as Jimmy strokes his member, getting it ready for you. 

He pushes your skirt up, revealing a pot of molten gold that he misses so much. And, as much as he wants to give you what you want, he likes the noises you’re making. Whining, for him. For a second he wonders if he can make you beg, but he’s not in the mood to die before fucking you. 

So he slides his cock between your leaking lips, bulbous head hitting your clit every time he pushes forward. Your warmth and wetness feels heavenly. For the first time in weeks, Jimmy feels satiated. Almost. 

“Jimmy, if you don’t fuck me right now I will—ohohohmyshit—”

He pushes in before you can finish your threat, sending you cursing and panting instead. He likes the way your eyes roll to the back of your head in pleasure, the way your t-shirt covered chest meets his bare one as you arch your back. Jesus.

It takes everything in him not to finish right then and there.

“You feel—divine,” he says right into your ear. You moan when his teeth graze the cartilage. “Fuck—so, so tight and dripping f’me. Nobody compares, do you hear me? Fuck—”

“Miss your cock so much,” your hips meet his for every thrust. Deep and hard and rough like he’s savoring it. “Jimmy, fuck, make me feel so—full.”

His mouth moves towards your jaw, your chin, before settling on the column of your neck. It’s tempting, really, to mark you up like you’re his. 

For as long as his dick is inside you, you are.

You are. God, you are. 

He can see it, then, as he rests his forehead against yours. His eyes are clear, clearer than they have ever been in his entire life as he gazes down at your lust-filled ones. As he fucks you on his couch, he catalogues every inch of your face—the way your eyebrows are furrowed, the crinkle of your nose, the parting of your lips as he hits that particular spot that drives you crazy. 

He knows you better than he knows anyone else. He knows what makes you tick and makes you moan. He knows how to get you to clench him like a vice. He knows when to let you take charge or when to take charge himself. 

He knows your tell, when you’re lying, when you’re sad—he knows exactly what you want to eat before and after sex. He knows that red Doc Marts is your favorite pair of shoes, and that jacket you wore earlier was stolen. 

And okay, he might not know much but what he knows, he loves. 

Jimmy snaps his eyes shut at the realization. Fuck. 

Did you see? Did you realize what he did?

You can’t. You couldn’t have. 

Jimmy presses a kiss for good measure, all teeth and tongue and spit and he allows himself to bask in the feeling like a greedy son of a bitch. 

If you notice, you don’t tell him. Not when he’s inside you for the second time that night, fucking his—and your—cum back in, not when he’s between your legs, and not when you let him sleep on your chest before you leave him, like always.