The moment you regain consciousness, a wave of grogginess washes over you, pulling you back into focus. Your head throbs faintly, a dull reminder of how much you’d had to drink at the bar earlier. A shame, really—you’d been having a good time. At least, you think you were. Everything past your third drink is a bit of a blur.
You blink once, then again, as your surroundings come into sharper focus. The air is cold and sterile, carrying a faint metallic tang. Your back aches from the hard surface pressed against it, and the sensation of something biting into your wrists finally registers. Your lips twitch into a wry smile.
Captured. Again.
A soft, humorless chuckle escapes your lips, the sound echoing faintly in the dimly lit space. "Gotta say, this isn’t exactly the warmest welcome," you mutter to no one in particular, your voice carrying a touch of dry amusement. You shift in your chair, testing the restraints. High-tech cuffs keep your wrists firmly in place—sleek, efficient, unmistakably Luthor tech.
You tilt your head back, closing your eyes for a moment as a rueful grin spreads across your face. Of course.
When you open your eyes, you’re already scanning the room. Bare concrete walls, a single dim light above casting harsh shadows, and a subtle whiff of something chemical in the air. It’s all so cold, so clinical. So… Lena.
“Lena,” you say, dragging her name out like it’s a sweet, forbidden indulgence. Your voice echoes softly, dancing in the stillness as you look around with a smirk curling at your lips. “I was wondering when you’d make your move.”
Your tone is deliberately casual, as if this is all part of some thrilling game. Because to you, it is.
Then you hear it. The sharp, deliberate click of heels against the floor. And when she finally emerges from the shadows, her piercing green eyes lock onto you, blazing with a cold fury that sends an involuntary shiver down your spine.
Lena Luthor in full fury is a sight to behold. Impeccably dressed, her tailored black suit clings to her like armor, radiating power. Her jaw is tight, and there’s a stiffness in her posture that tells you just how deeply you’ve already gotten under her skin. Oh, this is going to be fun.
"Where is she?" Lena’s voice cuts through the air like a blade, sharp and unyielding. No greetings, no preamble—just the raw edge of a demand. She closes the distance between you, her heels striking the floor with a precision that matches the clipped tone of her words.
You let your head fall to one side, feigning boredom as you observe her approach. “Straight to business, huh? No ‘How are you feeling? Are you comfortable? Would you like a nice cup of tea?’ Honestly, Lena, I expected better manners from you.”
The corner of her mouth twitches, and for a fleeting moment, you wonder if she might actually smile. But she doesn’t. She’s too focused, too controlled, though you can see the fire flickering behind her eyes.
"You know why you're here," she bites out, her voice low and simmering with restrained anger. "Where. Is. Supergirl?"
You arch a brow, leaning back as far as the restraints allow. “Wow, Lena, someone’s got a one-track mind. You sure you’re not a little too obsessed? Maybe you should talk to someone about it. Therapy does wonders for people with unhealthy attachments.”
The way her jaw clenches makes your grin widen. Oh, she hates that.
Lena's patience is unraveling, and it’s everything you’ve been waiting for. The slight tremor in her fingers, the rigid tension in her shoulders—she’s on the verge, teetering at the edge of her infamous Luthor control. And that’s exactly where you want her.
You love moments like this. When the mask of composure cracks, when the cool and calculated facade begins to slip. Watching someone like Lena—so poised, so untouchable—come undone? It’s a thrill like no other. And Lena? She’s a masterpiece of restraint, a tough nut to crack. But you’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge.
Her voice cuts through the air, low and lethal, each word sharp enough to draw blood. “You and your little alien minions made a huge mistake taking her.” She leans in, her green eyes blazing with cold fury, and the intensity of her presence sends a chill down your spine. “You’re going to tell me where she is. Or I’ll make you.”
You bite back a grin, your heart pounding in your chest—not from fear, but from exhilaration. She’s getting there. Slowly but surely. You tilt your head, meeting her glare with a playful smirk.
“Oooh, I love it when you’re all threatening. Really gets the blood pumping,” you purr, your voice dripping with mockery. You lean forward as much as the restraints will allow,.“But sweetheart, I hate to break it to you… there’s no way I’m giving her back. She’s having the time of her life with my friends right now.”
The words leave your lips like venom, and you don’t miss the way her jaw tightens, the faintest flicker of something dangerous sparking in her eyes. You think back to the lead-lined cage you designed, laced with kryptonite dust—enough to keep Supergirl weak but alive. The thought brings a wicked satisfaction that you can’t help but let show in your smirk.
“You have no idea who you’re dealing with, do you?”
You can’t help the laugh that spills from your lips, light and utterly unbothered. “Oh, trust me, I know exactly who I’m dealing with, The genius, billionaire, Luthor princess herself.” You gasp theatrically, your smirk growing wider. “Are you going to dust off Lex’s old playbook? Maybe bring out one of his little toys? Or—” You lean in as far as the cuffs will allow, lowering your voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “—will you use your mommy’s tactics? I’m partial to those. They’re nostalgic.”
Her composure wavers, just for a fraction of a second, but it’s enough to spark your amusement. Oh, she hates that. You see it in the way her eyes narrow, the way her chest rises and falls as she reins herself in. She’s trying so hard to keep her cool, but you were sure you could make her crack.
“Still, I’m open to suggestions,” you continue, your tone light and teasing. “If you want to try something new, princess, I’m game.”
Lena stares down at you, her jaw clenched so tightly you can almost hear her teeth grinding. For a split second, something flickers in her eyes—hesitation? Doubt?—but it vanishes as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a cold, unyielding determination.
“You think this is a joke?” she asks, her voice low and venomous. “You’re playing games while Supergirl is—”
“—in danger, I know, I know,” you interrupt with an exaggerated eye roll. “Spare me the speech, Lena. Your caped wonder is tougher than you give her credit for. A little lead, a little kryptonite—it’s not like she’s never been locked up before.”
Her fists clench at her sides, and you can see the fire in her eyes, burning hotter with every word you speak. She’s unreadable now, her face a mask of calm, but you know better. You know her. Beneath that icy exterior is a woman barely holding herself together, trying to figure out how to break you.
But she won’t.
“You’re wasting your time, you know,” you continue, your tone light, almost mocking. “Lex tried this with me once. Got real creative. And look at me—still here, still unbroken.” You grin up at her, your voice dropping to a playful drawl. “So, what’s your next move, princess? Psychological torture? A guilt trip? I do love it when people try that. Really spices things up.”
For the first time, her composure cracks, just the tiniest shift in her stance, a flicker of frustration in her eyes. She crosses her arms over her chest, trying to appear in control, but you can see the cracks forming. You’ve always had a talent for finding buttons to push, and Lena’s are practically glowing.
“You don’t get it, do you?” Her voice is deadly quiet now, every syllable dripping with cold fury. “I will do whatever it takes to get her back.”
“Oh, I get it,” you say with a mocking laugh, leaning forward again. “You’re ready to do anything. So brave, so selfless.” Your grin sharpens, your voice turning softer, more dangerous. “But here’s the thing, Lena. You can try whatever you like. At the end of the day…” You let the words hang in the air, savoring the tension. Then, with a smirk, you add, “You’re just like your family.”
Her eyes ignite with a dangerous flash, and you feel a surge of triumph—she’s breaking.
"You don’t know anything about me," Lena spits angrily. Her fists are clenched so tightly at her sides that her knuckles gleam white, tension radiating from her like a coiled spring ready to snap.
You raise an eyebrow, your smirk widening. "Really?" you drawl, your tone thick with mockery. "Let’s see. You’re obsessed with Supergirl who is an alien. You’ve got that ever-present Luthor chip on your shoulder, always trying to prove you’re better, different. But deep down? You’re still dancing to their tune. Lex. Lillian. Lionel. Just another Luthor wanting to get their way no matter what the cost is. How am I doing so far?"
The words hang in the air, sharp and heavy, and for the first time, you see her composure crack. It’s fleeting—a spark of fury in her green eyes, a subtle twitch at the corner of her mouth—but it’s there. And it’s glorious.
She forces herself back under control, though you can see the effort it takes. Her voice is calm, but taut. "This isn’t about me." She steps closer, the sharp scent of her perfume mingling with the sterile air. Her face is so close now that you can see the faint tremor in her jaw. "This is about Supergirl."
A low, mocking laugh escapes your lips, and you tilt your head, studying her with predatory amusement. "Still on that, huh?" you ask, your grin widening into something wicked. "You could at least make this fun for me."
She doesn’t respond immediately, and for a moment, you think you’ve silenced her. But then, with precise, deliberate movements, she reaches into her coat pocket and produces a small, sleek device. The dim light catches the cold, metallic edges of it, and you arch a brow in mild curiosity.
"This," Lena says quietly, her voice steady but carrying a sinister undertone, "is a neural interface device. Capable of breaking down mental defenses. Forcing compliance. It was one of Lex's designs." She pauses, her gaze hard as steel. "I’ve improved it."
You lean back slightly, your grin not faltering for a second. "Oh, neat," you reply, your voice thick with sarcasm. "Lex’s little toy? How very on-brand. Let me guess—this is the part where you strap me down, plug me in, and I start babbling all my secrets like a good little drone? Very original."
Her gaze doesn’t waver. "I’m not playing with you," she says, her voice cold and devoid of emotion. "Either you tell me where Supergirl is, or I’ll make you."
For a second, you feign deliberation, tilting your head as though considering her offer. Then you meet her unwavering stare with a wolfish grin. "You’re really committed, aren’t you?" you purr, your tone dropping into something darker, more provocative. "Hate to disappoint, but I’ve been through worse. A lot worse." You lean forward just enough to feel the tension in the air crackle. "You want me to talk, Lena? You’re going to have to earn it."
Her jaw tightens, her lips pressing into a razor-thin line as her fingers curl tightly around the device. You notice, for the first time, a faint tremor in her hand, her composure fraying at the edges.
"You think this is a game," she murmurs, her voice so low it’s almost a growl. Despite the quiet tone, there’s no mistaking the rage behind it.
"It is a game, Lena," you reply smoothly, a chuckle slipping past your lips. "And you’re losing."
The words are barely out of your mouth before she moves, closing the space between you in an instant. Her hand lashes out, grabbing your chin in a vice-like grip, her nails digging into your skin just enough to sting. Her face is inches from yours, and her green eyes blaze with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat—for all the wrong reasons.
"Tell me where she is," she hisses, her voice trembling with barely-contained fury.
You meet her glare head-on, utterly unbothered, and let your lips curl into the kind of smirk that you know will drive her insane. With deliberate slowness, you lean in just enough to brush a mocking kiss against the tip of her nose.
"Make me, princess," you whisper, your tone laced with defiance and glee.
Lena's grip on your chin lingers, her green eyes boring into yours with a ferocity that burns, her nails faintly pressing into your skin. The tension between you is suffocating, the air charged with something electric and volatile. Her face is so close you can feel the heat radiating from her, but you refuse to flinch, holding her gaze with a defiance that’s as much a reflex as it is a thrill.
Her grip tightens slightly, her voice barely above a whisper but no less deadly for it. "You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into... for Supergirl... I’m willing to do whatever it takes."
You let your lips curl into a sweet, mocking smile, the kind you know will drive her mad. "Awww," you coo, your tone syrupy and insincere. "That’s so sweet. You two are best friends." The smirk sharpens, cutting like glass as you lean into her hand just enough to throw her off. "It’s going to hurt a lot more when I decide to kill her."
Her eyes flash dangerously, her hand dropping as if touching you any longer might burn her. But she doesn’t step back. No, Lena Luthor doesn’t retreat. Instead, she straightens, her face slipping back into its familiar mask of cold composure. She stares at you like you’re a puzzle she can’t quite solve—infuriating, but impossible to abandon.
Time loses all meaning in that room. It could have been days or weeks—an eternity lived in dim light and oppressive silence. The only constants are the faint hum of the ventilation and Lena’s unrelenting presence, her green eyes drilling into you every time she steps into the room. Her tactics shift like the tides—bribes one moment, threats the next, and on rare occasions, an almost unnerving quiet that’s somehow worse.
And yet, through it all, you don’t break. You never do.
Lena, however, is another story.
The room is eerily still, save for the low whine of some machine in the corner, its purpose a mystery but its existence threatening. Lena stands across from you, backlit by the faint glow of a new device she’s brought in, her hands resting on the table before her. She hasn’t spoken in what feels like hours, her fingers tapping rhythmically against the metal surface—a deliberate, almost taunting sound that somehow unnerves more than her sharpest words.
"You know if you wanted to have dinner or something, you could’ve just asked. This whole torturing routine? Getting a bit old, don’t you think?"
She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even blink. Her expression remains perfectly controlled, but you can see it—the faint tightness at the corners of her mouth, the subtle flare of her nostrils.
Her eyes flicker toward the device on the table. Sleek and foreboding, it hums faintly, the kind of gadget that could only have been born of Luthor ingenuity.
"Subtle," you remark, nodding toward it with a smirk. "What is that? Some new and improved truth serum dispenser? Or did you finally take a page out of Lex’s ‘Overcomplicated Villain Tech’ handbook?"
She ignores the jab, stepping forward with deliberate precision. Her eyes glint with something sharper than anger—determination, cold and clinical, the kind that sends a faint chill up your spine despite your best efforts to appear unfazed.
"This doesn’t have to be difficult, You could make this easy. Just tell me where she is, and it all stops."
Your laugh is quiet but heavy with disdain, your shoulders sagging as though the weight of her words bores you. "Lena, darling," you say, dragging out her name like it’s some sweet indulgence, "if I haven’t cracked by now, what makes you think this is going to do the trick? Come on, you’re smarter than that."
Her jaw tightens, and for the briefest moment, you see it—the frustration flashing across her face, the slightest crack in her polished veneer. It’s fleeting, but it’s there, and you savor it like a victory.
Her fingers hover over the controls of the device. "This will make you talk," she mutters, more to herself than to you, as though the words are a reassurance she desperately needs to hear.
"Oooh, ominous. Very Luthor of you," you quip, your grin widening even as the exhaustion pulls at you. "But really, Lena, you need to work on your villain speeches. You’re missing the drama. Or, as Megamind would say, ‘presentationnnn!’"
Still, she doesn’t respond. Her hand lowers, pressing the button with calm, calculated intent.
The machine roars to life, the hum growing into a sharp whine that reverberates through the room. The pain hits you instantly—a sharp, searing sensation at the base of your skull, radiating outward like a wildfire. Your vision blurs for a second, but you grit your teeth, determined not to give her the satisfaction of seeing you falter.
When the machine finally quiets, you take a shuddering breath, your smirk returning, albeit weaker than before. "That all you got?" you rasp, your voice strained but still dripping with defiance.
Lena’s voice cuts through the air like a whip, sharp and fraying at the edges. “You’re impossible!” she snaps, her tone trembling with frustration. Her composure, so carefully constructed, finally cracks, revealing the raw edge beneath. “No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, you just—” She breaks off abruptly, taking a sharp breath. Her hands curl into fists at her sides, and she looks like she’s physically holding herself back from lashing out.
You arch an eyebrow, watching her carefully as she fights to steady herself. Her eyes dart to the floor, her chest rising and falling with shallow, angry breaths. For a moment, you almost feel a twinge of guilt. Almost.
Then, the words spill out before she can catch herself: “You're just as infuriating as the idiots working on the merger! How hard is it to follow a paper trail?!”
That throws you off. Your smirk falters as you blink at her, caught off guard by the outburst. A beat of silence hangs between you before your lips twitch upward again, slow and deliberate. "Wait, wait, hold on." You lean forward as much as the restraints allow, your eyes gleaming with mischief. "Did you just compare me to a corporate merger?"
Lena groans, spinning on her heel to pace the room, her movements quick and agitated. She rakes a hand through her dark hair, mussing its perfect arrangement. “It’s falling apart,” she mutters, mostly to herself, her voice laced with exasperation. Her strides are short and tense, each step carrying the weight of her frayed nerves. “The merger, everything… Someone’s sabotaging the deal from the inside, and no one will listen to me, no one believes me. This wouldn’t even be happening if I didn’t have to waste time in here, trying to find out where Supergirl is! I can’t focus on you and the merger at the same time!"
Her words tumble out in a torrent, fast and sharp, as though speaking them aloud might lighten the crushing weight on her shoulders. But the more she talks, the tighter her posture becomes, her frustration bleeding into every syllable.
Your smirk grows as you watch her unravel, and you settle back into the chair, chains clinking faintly. "Ahh, now I see the real problem," you say, your tone light and teasing, but with an edge of mock sympathy. "You poor thing. Dealing with corporate sabotage and a stubborn alien all in one week? Must be exhausting."
She freezes mid-step, turning sharply to glare at you, her green eyes flashing. You know you’ve hit a nerve, but she doesn’t snap at you this time. Instead, her jaw tightens, and she resumes pacing, muttering under her breath.
"So," you continue, unbothered by the simmering anger rolling off her in waves. "What’s your brilliant plan? Torture the board members too? Or maybe hack their emails? Ooh, I know! You could stage a hostile takeover." You waggle your eyebrows, unable to suppress the chuckle that follows. "Very Luthor of you."
That vein in her temple—the one that always pops up when you’ve pushed her just far enough—makes its appearance, and you can’t help but savor it.
Her eyes narrow dangerously, but instead of biting back, she stills, her expression shifting. For a moment, she looks almost thoughtful, her brow furrowing as though considering your words. That flicker of hesitation, brief as it is, is enough to make your grin widen.
"I’m not taking advice from you," she hisses finally, her voice low but with far less venom than before. She turns toward the device on the table, but her movements lack the decisive sharpness they usually carry.
"Yeah, sure, of course not." You shrug, keeping your tone casual as your eyes follow her every move. "But, you know… if you were taking advice from me, I’d tell you to stop wasting time trying to convince everyone and just burn the whole thing down. Play them at their own game."
She freezes, her fingers hovering over the edge of the table, her back turned to you. The tension in her frame is palpable, every line of her body coiled tight. She doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, and for a second, you wonder if you’ve finally crossed a line.
But then, slowly, she straightens, her head tilting slightly to the side as though weighing the implications of your words.
"Take control, Lena," you press, your voice softer now but no less taunting. "Isn’t that what you Luthors do best?" You give her a playful wink, though your body feels heavy with exhaustion. "Come on, it’s not like you haven’t done worse before. And honestly? It sounds like you’re dealing with a bunch of morons. You’re smarter than them, right?"
She turns then, her gaze locking onto yours. There’s something different in her expression, a spark of… agreement? She doesn’t speak, but her shoulders relax, the weight she’s carrying visibly shifting, if only slightly.
You know her well enough to see the gears turning in her mind, the plans already forming. It’s subtle, but it’s there.
Lena stares at you for another long moment, and then, without a word, she pivots sharply on her heel and strides toward the door. She was done with you for the day, she needed to handle the merger before it got too out of hand.
]
Lena strides into the room, her presence as commanding as ever, but there’s a shift in her demeanor that you notice immediately. Her anger is still there but It’s controlled, deliberate, as though she’s decided on a new approach.
Instead, you lean back in your chair, feigning a relaxed ease even as exhaustion tugs at your every muscle. The familiar smirk creeps onto your lips as you study her closely. Something’s different. Her posture is rigid, yes, but not as tightly wound as before, and her eyes… they aren’t burning into you with the usual intensity. She looks distracted, her focus elsewhere, like she’s only half in the room with you.
"Aw, did you miss me?" you purr, the taunt slipping easily from your lips despite the fatigue weighing you down. "I was starting to think you got bored of me. You weren’t gone too long, were you? I didn’t even get a chance to nap."
Lena stops in front of you, crossing her arms over her chest. Her gaze is steady, but it lacks the fire you’re used to seeing. Instead, she regards you with a cold calculation that feels almost clinical. For a moment, you wonder if she’s going to ignore you entirely, but then she speaks, her voice calm and measured.
"Supergirl’s free."
That catches your attention. You arch an eyebrow, your smirk faltering just slightly. "Huh. I guess my little friends are slacking," you reply, though there’s a faint edge to your voice now, curiosity creeping in.
"Superman and the DEO found her," she says, her tone clipped. The tension in her shoulders tightens as she speaks, and you can tell she’s not pleased about this turn of events. Her eyes finally lock onto yours, colder now, sharper. "She’s safe." Her jaw clenches before she adds, "And you—" She takes a deliberate step closer, her presence pressing down on you like a weight. "You’re going to stay right here."
"So, let me get this straight—you don’t need me anymore. Supergirl’s all safe and sound, and yet…" You tilt your head, your amusement returning in full force as your grin spreads. "You’re keeping me? How very possessive of you, Lena. I didn’t realize we were getting so serious."
her jaw tightens further, her lips pressing into a thin line
"Admit it," you continue, your voice softer now, almost intimate as you lean forward as much as your restraints allow. "You don’t even care about getting information anymore. You just hate that you couldn’t beat me. That’s what this is about now, isn’t it? I won."
"You didn’t win," Lena says, her voice low and steady, but there’s a dangerous edge to it that makes your grin widen.
"Didn’t I?" you challenge, raising an eyebrow. "Supergirl’s free, and you’ve got nothing to show for it. All that effort, the merger that nearly collapsed… all those sleepless nights trying to figure out how to make me talk, and here we are—still playing this game." You pause, letting the silence stretch just long enough to dig under her skin. "Well…maybe I’m wrong…you proved you were just like every other Luthor."
That does it. The calm mask she’s been holding onto shatters as she steps forward in a flash, grabbing your collar with both hands and yanking you toward her. The restraints bite into your wrists as your body jerks forward, but you barely notice.
"You’re not getting out of this," she hisses, her voice trembling with anger. "You’re going to stay here, and I’ll make sure you regret every single second you made me waste."
You let out a dramatic sigh, your grin softening into something almost teasingly sweet. "Oh, Lena," you breathe, feigning a dreamy tone. "You really know how to sweet talk a girl. Is this your way of saying you like having me around? Because, honestly, I’m flattered. I didn’t know you cared so much."
You lean into the tension, your grin widening as you push her further. "Tell me," you whisper, your voice dripping with mockery, "is this how you handle all your problems? Locking them away when they don’t do what you want?"
Her hands tremble slightly before she lets go of your collar with a sharp shove, stepping back like she needs the distance to regain control.
"You think I’ll let you go after what you’ve done?" she finally says, her voice cold, but there’s a faint tremor beneath it.
"Let me go?" you repeat, arching an eyebrow as you settle back into your chair. "Oh, Lena, I never expected you to let me go." Your smirk returns, sharper now. "In fact, I’m starting to think you need me here. Who else is going to get under your skin like I do?"
Her eyes narrow into slits, but she doesn’t take the bait this time. Instead, she draws herself up, crossing her arms over her chest in a gesture of control that feels more like armor than confidence. "I could leave you here to rot," she says quietly, the words deliberate, measured.
"Sure you could." You shrug as best you can, still grinning as your voice takes on a taunting edge. "But you won’t. This game we’re playing? You can’t walk away from it. You hate to lose, after all… and so far…" You pause, letting the silence linger just long enough to be maddening. "I’m winning."
For a moment, she says nothing. Her eyes lock onto yours, but after a while, she turns on her heels and storms out of the room. She was not in a mood to deal with you.
The days blur into weeks, the monotony of your confinement settling into a dull ache you no longer fully notice. The bite of the restraints on your wrists, the sterile hum of the lights overhead, the faint whir of the ventilation system—they’ve all become part of the background. What hasn’t faded, though, is Lena Luthor.
Her visits are the one constant, a strange rhythm in your otherwise static existence. When Supergirl was in danger, her presence carried an edge of purpose, her determined gaze boring into you as she tried every trick in her arsenal to get you to crack. But lately, it’s been different. Now, she walks in without the sharp focus she once wielded, and it’s as if she has no real purpose to even do anything there…so now… she talks.
It started slowly, fragments of complaints slipping out between her veiled threats and half-hearted interrogations. At first, you thought it was a tactic—some reverse psychology trick to lower your defenses. But the longer it went on, the more you realized it was something else. A slip. A crack.
Today, she strides into the room with brisk, clipped steps. Her posture is rigid, her hands tightly clutching a tablet that she sets down on the table with more force than necessary. You watch her carefully, noting the tightness around her eyes, the faint tension in her jaw.
"Another bad day at the office, princess?Let me guess. Another mean boy didn’t want to play nice?"
Lena freezes mid-step, her back to you, and for a moment, you think she might ignore you entirely. But then she turns sharply, her glare sharp enough to cut. "Do you ever stop talking?"
"Not really." You shrug as much as the restraints allow. "It’s kind of my thing." Your voice drops into something softer, more teasing. "Besides, it looks like you need someone to talk to. Why else would you keep coming back here?"
Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t snap back. Instead, she sighs, a sharp exhale of frustration, and folds her arms across her chest.
“The board doesn’t trust me,” she says finally, her voice tight with irritation. “They want proof that my latest project will succeed before they approve funding, but without the funding, I can’t give them the evidence they want. It’s an endless cycle of incompetence and short-sightedness.”
You blink, momentarily caught off guard. She rarely admits these things out loud, especially not to you.
"Corporate assholes, huh?" you say, recovering quickly. "Always with the red tape. Sounds boring as hell."
Lena glares at you, her eyes narrowing as if to warn you off from mocking her, but it’s half-hearted at best. The exhaustion in her face is obvious now—the kind that runs deeper than just physical fatigue.
"You wouldn’t understand," she snaps, but the heat in her voice is muted, like she doesn’t have the energy to argue properly.
"Oh, I understand plenty." You tilt your head, watching her closely. "You’re stuck because you’re still trying to play by their rules. You want my advice?"
Lena’s lips tighten, the familiar mask of exasperation settling over her features. "No."
"Sure you do." You grin, leaning forward as much as the restraints allow. " Give them what they want—falsify the information they want”
Her eyes narrow, her suspicion palpable, but you can tell she’s listening. It’s in the slight pause, the faint furrow in her brow.
"You think I should lie to them?"
You shrug again, your grin never wavering. "Not lie. Just... Make them believe you have what they requested and they’ll be throwing money at you in no time. You Luthors are good at that, right?"
"You’re impossible," she mutters, shaking her head.
"True." You flash her a lopsided grin, your voice softening into something almost warm. "But admit it—I make sense sometimes. My last advice worked, didn’t it?"
Lena doesn’t respond, but the slight tilt of her head, the faintest flicker of thoughtfulness in her eyes, is all the confirmation you need. She’s turning the idea over in her mind, weighing it, trying to decide if it’s worth considering.
As she turns away, her focus shifting to whatever calculations are already forming in her head, you let yourself relax slightly in your chair. The dull ache in your wrists flares momentarily, but you barely notice. You’ve wormed your way into her head, not just as an adversary, but as something else entirely.
And the best part? She doesn’t even realize it yet.
The weeks had blurred into a rhythm of biting sarcasm, cutting remarks, and the occasional crack in her composure that you relished like a small victory.
Her visits had shifted over time. She’d walk in with questions, always with the intention of getting something out of you. Sure Supergirl was free, but your people were still out there causing trouble, but somehow, they’d morph into complaints about L-Corp’s board members, stubborn employees, or her latest scientific endeavor.
You’d sit there, bound but amused, throwing out your usual casual remarks. "Maybe you’re overthinking it, Lena. Have you ever tried bribery?" Or, "Fire the idiot slowing things down; sounds like dead weight to me."
At first, she dismissed your comments with an eye roll or a huff of irritation, but over time, you noticed the subtle changes. The way she’d pause, the slight narrowing of her eyes, the faint crease in her brow as she processed what you’d said. Even buried beneath your sarcasm, there was a truth she couldn’t quite ignore.
Now, as the sterile white walls of the room press in on you, the familiar hum of the lights overhead blending into the monotony, something is different. It’s been days—long enough you to actually notice her absence.
Lena hasn’t visited.
There’s no sharp click of her heels, no icy glares, no one calling you a heartless idiot
You shift in your restraints, the cold metal digging into your wrists and ankles, a sensation you’ve grown used to. The ache in your shoulders feels sharper today, though, like the stillness has made you more aware of the strain. But it’s not the physical discomfort that bothers you—it’s the quiet. The absence of her.
Your mind drifts back to her last visit. The frustration in her voice as she ranted about the board, the faint flicker of intrigue in her eyes while the two of you spoke.
While you hated to admit it, she’s in your head now, and you didn’t know how to deal with it.
You huff a soft laugh, shaking your head. "Unbelievable," you mutter under your breath.
But the restlessness doesn’t go away. You’re not used to this kind of silence.
Your fingers flex against the restraints, the metal creaking faintly in response. A thought lingers at the edges of your mind, one you’ve entertained before but always dismissed. You glance around the room, noting every detail—the reinforced walls, the faint glow of a monitoring device in the corner, the camera lens mounted high in the corner.
You could’ve left at any moment. The realization isn’t new, but now…there’s nothing to keep you there.
With a single, deliberate motion, you tense your arms, your strength surging. The cuffs snap with a sharp metallic sound that echoes in the quiet room, the sudden release sending a shiver through your muscles.
You flex your fingers, rolling your shoulders to ease the stiffness that’s built up over weeks of confinement.
Standing, you stretch your legs, feeling the faint pull of unused muscles waking up. You glance at the door, the barrier that’s kept you contained all this time, and allow a small, knowing smirk to play across your lips.
Lena may think she’s been in control, but she was never the one holding you here.
For the first time in weeks, a genuine smile spreads across your face—this isn’t about freedom, not really. It’s about her. About how she amuses you while she had tried to break you. She had pushed your further than anyone else.
But now? Now it’s time to push things even further.
The facility is eerily quiet as you move through it. You knew your way though the building, it wasn’t your first time there.
Surveillance cameras, locked doors, security patrols—they’re all obstacles you bypass with ease. Before anyone even realizes what’s happening, you’re free.
Still, you don’t head for the city streets, don’t vanish into the night like anyone else in your position might. Your feet carry you in the opposite direction, through the familiar skyline, to the one place you know she’ll be.
Lena’s office looms ahead. The building is silent, but you can see a light coming from under her door. You know without a doubt that it’s her.
As you go into the office, you find her, she’s exactly where you expect—behind her desk, bathed in the soft light of a single lamp. She’s surrounded by papers and a tablet, her fingers drumming an uneven rhythm against the glass. She doesn’t notice you right away, too absorbed in her work.
For a moment, you pause in the doorway, watching her. There’s something raw about the way she looks right now—exhausted, frustrated, and so very human beneath the armor she always tries to wear. The corner of your mouth quirks upward in a smirk before you step into the room.
"You know," you say, your voice breaking the stillness, "if you wanted space, you could’ve just said so. But disappearing? That broke my heart”
Her head snaps up, and she turns toward you with a sharp, startled movement. Her eyes widen, and for the briefest second, you see shock flicker across her face before it hardens into something else. “You—” Her voice is low, incredulous, before she cuts herself off, narrowing her eyes. “How did you—?”
You cross the room slowly, rubbing your wrists absently. The ache there is faint, almost phantom. Maybe it’s the lingering tension of being bound for so long.
"Come on," you say, your tone casual but carrying just enough of an edge to needle her. "Did you really think those little chains were going to keep me there?"
She stands abruptly, the chair behind her scraping faintly against the floor. Her shock gives way to something sharper—anger, and disbelief.
"You mean to tell me," she says, her words clipped and measured, though the heat in her voice betrays her, "you could’ve escaped… at any time?"
You stop at the edge of her desk, leaning against it with the same deliberate ease that’s carried you through every interaction with her. “Pretty much,” you reply, the grin on your face widening just enough to make her glare intensify.
Lena’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, the only sound is the faint hum of the desk lamp. Her hands curl into fists at her sides.
For a long moment, she just stares at you, her lips parting slightly as if to speak but failing to form the words. The disbelief is evident in the way her brow furrows, her fingers twitching faintly at her sides.
“Then why… why didn’t you leave?” she finally asks, her voice quiet but tight with tension.
You tilt your head, a sly smile curving your lips. “I would have missed all of the fun.”
Her eyes narrow sharply, anger flaring back to life in an instant. “You stayed to toy with me?”
“I mean,” you say, shrugging, your tone drenched in sarcasm, “you seemed very persistent on having me around. And I figured, why not? But then you stopped showing up. And, well… I got bored.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“And yet, here I am, Still here. Just for you.” You give her an overly dramatic wink before you laugh and she sighs a bit rubbing her temples before she turns back to you studying you for a moment. You could tell something was on her mind…but she seemed to be debating on whether she should say anything or not.
“I can’t… I can’t keep coming to you like that. Like you’re some kind of twisted therapist. I do terrible things, and you… you make it seem like it’s okay.”
“It’s not about making it okay, Lena. It’s about accepting that it’s necessary. Sometimes, a little darkness is needed. Yours just happens to come with a legacy.”
You watch her closely, expecting her to lash out, to spit venom back at you. But instead, she hesitates. Her lips press into a thin line, and the fight in her posture wavers as she looks away.
“I stopped coming because I liked it,” she admits finally, the words so soft you almost miss them. Her gaze is fixed on the papers scattered across her desk, as though looking at you might make her admission too real. “I liked feeling like someone understood me. I love Kara, and my friends, but…” Her voice trails off, and she exhales sharply, shaking her head as though trying to rid herself of the thought. “They’re too idealistic. They always want to fix everything the right way… the way I should be trying to solve things.”
You let the silence stretch for a moment before responding, your voice steady and low. “Please. We both know you bend over backward trying to do things the ‘right’ way. But when you finally take the other route, it’s because the ‘right’ way didn’t work.”
Her jaw tightens, her shoulders slumping just slightly as your words sink in.
“Just… go,” she says finally, her voice trembling ever so slightly. She turns away, her hands gripping the edge of the desk . “I don’t want to deal with you anymore.”
You watch her quietly, you couldn’t help but feel some disappointment. But you bury it quickly, letting a smirk curl onto your lips instead. “What? No little kiss for the road? That’s very unfriendly of you, Lena. You keep me locked up for months, and you won’t even give me a goodbye kiss?”
“I’m not your plaything,” she hisses, whipping around to face you. “I’m not some… game for you to enjoy.”
Your smirk softened, just slightly, and though your tone remained playful a little sincerity managed to slip by. "You liked playing it, didn’t you? That’s why you kept coming back."
“I came because I thought… I thought maybe you understood me,” she admitted quietly, her voice trembling. “And that scared me. It scared me because I started to need that validation”
Her voice wavered, but then she inhaled sharply, her jaw tightening as she steeled herself. “But I forgot something important.”
“What’s that?” you asked, tilting your head, your curiosity genuine now.
“…That you’re a terrible person, you hurt others for your own enjoyment.”
You chuckled softly, the sound low and unapologetic. “Not just for that,” you replied, leaning back casually. “I do it for business, too.”
Lena exhaled sharply, a bitter laugh escaping her lips as she shook her head. “I don’t want to be like you. Or them…I don’t want to need you to be okay with the things I have to do.”
Her eyes flickered downward, landing on your lips for the briefest second before she quickly looked away, her throat working as she swallowed hard. “You should go,”
The corner of your mouth quirked into a knowing smile as you leaned in slightly,. “You don’t really want that.”
“I can’t… I can’t let you keep doing this to me.”
You straightened, your smirk fading as you stepped back, “You’re the one who started this, Lena,” you said, your tone serious now. “You kidnapped me. You kept me around even when you had no more use for me. And now you think you can just shut me out? That’s not how this works,.”
The only sound that followed was the faint ticking of the clock on her desk, the rhythmic pulse of time filling the tense space between you.
You chuckled lightly, breaking the silence as you stepped toward the door. “Fine,” you said with a casual shrug, “I’ll go. For now.” You paused, your smirk returning as you glanced back at her over your shoulder. “But the next time you want to take me somewhere, no need for the chains. Well…” You let the grin sharpen. “Not for me, anyway. I’ve always enjoyed doing the restraining.”
Lena’s frown deepened, her eyes narrowing in frustration as she turned her face away from you. “You take everything as a joke,” she muttered, her voice full of exasperation.
“Of course I do,” you replied easily, spreading your hands in mock innocence. “What’s the point of being so serious?”
At the door, you hesitated for a moment, looking back at her one last time. Her back was to you, her shoulders stiff, her grip on the desk white-knuckled. “Bye, princess,” you called lightly, your voice laced with that same infuriating charm. “Come and see me when you get bored of playing with Supergirl and her friends.”
Over the past few months, the dynamic between you and Lena had shifted dramatically.
You still enjoy pushing her buttons, of course, but now it’s different. You’re no longer doing it just to see her snap. You’ve started caring about what she enjoys, what makes her smile.
You’ve accompanied her to events that would’ve bored you to death before, fundraisers and charity galas where she’s always poised and commanding. You’ve sat through her late-night lab sessions, watching her meticulously work through equations and theories with a focus that would’ve made anyone else look dull—but on her, it’s fascinating.
Still, Lena remains guarded around you, her wariness evident in the way she glances at you when she thinks you’re not looking. She’s waiting for you to strike back for what she had done…you had yet to do anything against her yet and your planned revenge made her nervous.
You could admit that there was some merit to her way of thinking. You would have been good at thinking ahead, playing the long game. But even you can admit—this time, there was no grand plan.
Today, you’re walking alongside Lena in a botanical garden she suggested. It’s quiet and peaceful, a world away from her usual haunts. Not your kind of place, but you’ve learned to appreciate it. She seems more at ease here, her shoulders less tense, her expression softer. As she moves ahead of you, pointing out rare flowers with a quiet enthusiasm, she tells stories of how her mother used to take her to places like this when she was younger.
You don’t understand half of what she’s saying—names of flowers and botanical facts have never been your strong suit—but you listen anyway.
“Do you ever get tired of this?” she asks suddenly, stopping in front of a particularly vibrant orchid.
You pause beside her, glancing at the flower she’s looking at. “Tired of what?”
She turns to you, her expression unreadable, her gaze sharp. “Your charade, of pretending to care.”
The bluntness of her words catches you off guard for a moment, but you recover quickly, raising an eyebrow. “Who says I’m pretending?”
She lets out a small, humorless laugh, shaking her head. “Because this… none of this is your style. And it’s been months. You’ve been… supportive, patient. Understanding.” The words sound foreign, even to her, as she says them. “There’s something you want. There has to be. And I can’t figure out what it is.”
Your lips quirk into a smirk, but this time there’s no malice behind it. “Lena, if I wanted something from you, you’d know. I’m not exactly subtle.”
Her gaze lingers on you, skeptical. “Then what is this? Why are you doing this?” Her voice lowers, and for the first time in a long while, there’s something vulnerable in her tone. “Why do you care?”
“Payback,” you say simply.
“Payback?” she echoes, her brow furrowing.
“That’s right.”
She folds her arms, narrowing her eyes. “How is this payback?”
“You kidnapped me,” you reply, your tone light but teasing, “which was basically just forcing me to spend time with you against my will. So, I’m doing the same.”
Her lips twitch into a faint frown. “In a beautiful garden. Without chains. Or… torture.”
You grin, leaning in slightly. “I don’t know. I’m pretty sure you consider spending time with me its own kind of torture.”
Lena lets out a small huff, something almost like a laugh, though she tries to hide it. “Well… you’re not the most pleasant company.”
“See?” you reply, the smirk on your lips widening. “Payback.”
Lena gives you a small smile—barely there, but genuine. For a moment, the tension between you eases, and all that’s left is the quiet sound of the garden around you.
“And you’re willing to do all this—walk through gardens, sit through meetings, pretend to care—just to… get payback on me?” she asks, her voice quiet but sharp. “Isn’t this torture for you too?”
You smirk, shrugging casually. “Please, Lena. I had to sit through Supergirl whining about her morals and values for hours. Now that that was real torture.”
Lena’s not wrong to be on edge around you. You always play games, always move pieces across the board to your advantage. From the moment she kidnapped you, this game began, and she’s been playing ever since. The problem for Lena? You never lose. The question is: How do you win?
Later, the mood has shifted again. The day had taken you both to the Luthor Family Children’s Hospital, where Lena had read to a group of kids, her voice warm and steady, her smile as radiant as you’d ever seen it. She’d poured herself into the moment, and though you hadn’t shown it, you’d found yourself watching her more than the children, studying her closely.
When the last story wrapped up, the children clapped excitedly, their small hands creating a symphony of pure joy. Lena’s smile widened as she knelt down, speaking softly to a few of them before standing, her expression glowing with a mixture of pride and tenderness.
You followed her outside in silence, the brisk evening air cooling your skin. The warmth of the hospital was gone now, replaced by the crisp night.
For once, you didn’t speak. Your mind was too preoccupied. The game—if you could even call it that anymore—had changed, though you weren’t sure when. Manipulating a situation was one thing; losing yourself in it was something else entirely.
You glanced at her, noting the slight tension in her posture, the way her fingers tapped against her arm. She was distracted, but not at ease. Her suspicion, her constant need to figure out your angle, was still there. But for once, even you weren’t entirely sure of your own motivations.
The silence was shattered by a deafening crash, the ground trembling beneath your feet. You whipped around just in time to see a massive figure slam through one of the hospital’s upper floors, glass exploding outward in a shower of debris. The screech of bending steel followed, and then the boom of an explosion sent a fiery plume into the night sky.
Chaos erupted. Screams filled the air as people ran, their panic cutting through the otherwise still evening.
“Supergirl,” you muttered under your breath, your eyes narrowing as you spotted the unmistakable caped figure grappling with an alien in mid-air. The battle was fierce, and every blow sent shockwaves rippling through the building.
Beside you, Lena froze, her wide, horrified eyes fixed on the hospital.
“No…” she whispered, her voice breaking with a mixture of fear and disbelief.
Then, without hesitation, she took off, sprinting toward the chaos.
“Lena, wait!” you shouted, reaching for her arm as she bolted past you. Your hand caught her wrist, but she yanked free with a force that surprised you.
“There are children in there!” she yelled over her shoulder.
Her pace didn’t falter, her determination blazing as brightly as the flames now licking the edges of the shattered building.
“Lena, you can’t go back in there—it’s dangerous!” you called after her, your own voice rising against the noise, but it was useless.
“I don’t care!”
She didn’t slow, didn’t hesitate, didn’t look back. Her figure disappeared into the storm of smoke and debris.
Cursing under your breath, you take off after her. You know Lena well enough to understand she won’t stop—not for you, not for anyone. And if you didn’t follow, you were certain she wouldn’t make it out of this in one piece.
You catch up to her just as she pushes through the panicked crowd gathered at the hospital entrance. Smoke and dust billow out from the shattered doors, stinging your eyes and coating the air with a thick, acrid taste. People are rushing out, frantic and desperate, while Lena fights her way in, slipping between fleeing doctors and terrified patients.
“This is insane!” you hiss, grabbing her arm with more force than before. She twists sharply, trying to pull away, but you hold firm. “You’ll get yourself killed!”
“I can’t just stand here and do nothing!” Lena shouts back. Her gaze burns into yours. “Those kids—they need help!”
For a moment, you think of trying to force her to stop, to drag her back out of this chaos. But the look in her eyes is enough to make you hesitate. There’s no convincing her otherwise. Her mind’s already made up, and she’s not going to back down.
“Fine,” you growl, your grip tightening briefly before you release her and step ahead. “But if you’re going in there, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
You push through the chaos together, navigating the smoke-filled corridors of the hospital as alarms wail and the structure groans ominously under the strain. The children’s ward, where you’d been just moments ago, feels impossibly far away. The thought of those kids being caught in the middle of this carnage makes your chest tighten, though you can’t explain why.
Lena doesn’t hesitate for a second. As soon as you reach the ward, she throws herself into action, guiding the injured toward safety. You move ahead of her, clearing paths where debris has fallen and keeping an eye on the trembling ceiling. Each shockwave from the battle outside sends another shower of dust and plaster raining down, and you don’t miss the way the walls crack further with every impact.
Through it all, Lena is tireless. She doesn’t stop, doesn’t falter. Her focus is so unwavering that it’s almost infuriating. She’s risking everything, and you’re not just impressed—you’re terrified. Terrified that she’ll misstep, that she won’t notice the next piece of falling rubble, and you won’t reach her in time.
When a beam comes crashing down dangerously close, you lunge forward, grabbing her and pulling her out of the way just before it smashes into the ground. “Be careful, damn it!” you snap, your voice sharper than you intend as your adrenaline spikes.
Lena glances at you, her chest heaving, her face streaked with dust. For a moment, her expression softens, and she says quietly, “I can’t stop.” Then, without waiting for a response, she rushes back into the fray, her attention on a child struggling to move through the smoke.
You clench your teeth, the frustration boiling in your chest as you follow her yet again. Protecting her has become second nature, but this—this reckless heroism? It’s too much. It terrifies you in a way you can’t quite put into words, the fear gnawing at the edges of whatever plan, whatever game you thought you were playing.
Because right now, none of that matters. Right now, the only thing that matters is making sure Lena survives.
By the time the chaos settles, the hospital is a wreck. The battle has moved on, Supergirl and the alien disappearing into the sky, leaving a trail of destruction behind. Emergency responders swarm the area, guiding the last of the evacuees to safety and tending to the injured. You and Lena stand in the middle of it all, covered in dust and smoke, both of you visibly shaken.
The adrenaline that kept you moving is fading, replaced by something else. Anger.
You whirl around to face her, your eyes blazing. “What the hell were you thinking?!”
Lena blinks at you, startled, still catching her breath. But before she can say anything, you step closer, your voice rising with every word.
“You could’ve been killed, Lena! Do you realize how reckless that was? You ran straight into danger without a second thought—multiple times! You didn’t care about the falling debris, the fire, the alien smashing the building apart above us!” Your fists clench at your sides as you glare at her. “You didn’t even think about what could’ve happened to you!”
Lena opens her mouth, but you cut her off before she can form a response. “You could’ve died in there! Do you get that? You’re lucky I was there, or you’d be buried under rubble right now!”
The words come out harsher than you intended. The silence that follows is deafening, broken only by the distant wail of sirens and the crackling remains of the hospital. You can see the tension in her face, the way she’s bracing herself against your anger.
Lena’s face is flushed, her chest heaving as she takes in your words.
“And for what?” you continue, your voice rising, frustration spilling out in waves. “You could’ve let the responders handle it! But no, you had to be the hero! You had to—”
Before you can finish, Lena grabs the front of your jacket and pulls you into a kiss.
It’s rough, unexpected, and it takes you completely off guard. For a moment, your mind blanks, all your sharp words and lingering anger dissolving into the feel of her lips against yours. The chaos of the world around you—the smoke, the sirens, the scattered cries—fades into nothing. There’s only her.
Her lips are fierce and demanding, moving against yours like she’s been holding this in for far too long. Maybe she has. Maybe you both have. Her hands grip your jacket tightly, keeping you close, and for a second, you don’t care about anything else.
When she finally pulls back, her breathing is ragged, her hands still clutching your jacket like she’s afraid to let go. Her eyes meet yours, her gaze holding yours.
“You talk too much,” she mutters breathlessly, her voice low and shaky, adrenaline still coursing through her.
You’re stunned, frozen in place for the first time in what feels like forever. Your mind races, but nothing coherent comes to the surface. All you can focus on is the lingering warmth of her lips and the erratic pounding of your heart.
Lena takes a step back, finally releasing your jacket, though her hands hover for a moment as if she’s unsure what to do with them. “I didn’t need you to protect me,” she says quietly, though the words lack their usual bite. “But… I’m glad you did.”
You search her face, looking for some kind of explanation, some sign of what she’s feeling, but all you see is the same fire you’ve always admired in her. Only now, it feels like it’s aimed directly at you.
“I… I have to go,” you stammer, your voice uncharacteristically unsteady. You don’t know what else to say, don’t know how to process what just happened. The only thing you can think to do is leave.
Without waiting for her response, you turn sharply and walk away, your steps quick and uneven as you put distance between you and the chaos behind you. But even as you leave, the feel of her lips lingers, seared into your memory.
That had been one hell of a kiss.
________________________________________
The days that follow are a blur of confusion and restless thoughts. You’ve always been good at reading people, at dissecting their motivations, but Lena? Lena is different. She’s always been different, and now, after the kiss, you find yourself completely off balance.
Every time you’re around her, your mind races. You’ve replayed the moment over and over, trying to make sense of it—the intensity, the way she grabbed you like she couldn’t hold it back anymore. It wasn’t part of the game, wasn’t part of any plan you could anticipate. And that terrifies you.
Weeks pass, but the memory doesn’t fade. Instead, it grows heavier, a presence that you can’t shake. You catch yourself watching her more closely now, studying the way she moves, the way her lips curl into a faint smile when she’s focused on something she loves. And each time, you feel something stirring in your chest that you can’t quite name.
One afternoon, you sit across from her at a café, her attention fixed on her tablet as she scrolls through a string of business reports. She’s reading aloud to herself, her lips moving softly as she tries to work through the numbers. You should be paying attention—you should—but all you can focus on is the way she bites her lower lip when she concentrates.
And then it happens.
You and Lena are walking through the lobby of her office building, her voice calm and measured as she explains the details of her latest project. You’re only half listening, distracted by the way her hands gesture as she speaks, when a familiar voice cuts through the air.
“Lena!”
James Olsen approaches, his smile warm and open as he greets her. Lena brightens immediately, returning his smile with ease, and the two of them fall into an easy, natural conversation.
You hang back slightly, watching the way she laughs at something James says, the sound soft and genuine. When he places a hand on her shoulder, your chest tightens unexpectedly.
It’s irrational. It’s stupid. But the way her eyes light up when she talks to him, the way she leans just slightly into his presence—it twists something in you.
You clench your jaw, forcing yourself to keep your expression neutral, but you can’t ignore the unfamiliar sensation crawling through you. Jealousy.
It’s ridiculous, you tell yourself. You have no claim on her, no right to feel this way. But as you watch the two of them together, their easy banter, their shared laughter, the feeling festers.
For the first time in as long as you can remember, you feel out of place. Like you don’t belong in this moment between them. And worse, you hate how much it bothers you.
The jealousy gnaws at you, sharper and deeper than you’d expected. Standing there, watching Lena and James laugh like old friends, their easy banter flowing effortlessly, it’s like a slow burn in your chest. You tell yourself it’s nothing—that it shouldn’t matter. But it does. The way her eyes soften when she looks at him, the way she tilts her head slightly as she listens, the way her laugh seems so unrestrained—it all bites at you, each moment twisting the knot tighter.
Before you can stop yourself, you turn sharply on your heel and storm off. You need space, air, something to clear your head, but your legs carry you straight to Lena’s office instead.
The door slams behind you harder than you intended, the sound echoing in the quiet, dimly lit room. The blinds are half-drawn, casting soft shadows across the floor, but the stillness does nothing to calm the storm inside you. Your breath is uneven, your hands twitching at your sides as you pace back and forth in front of her desk.
Your thoughts are a chaotic mess, questions crashing into each other with no answers in sight. What was the kiss to her? Adrenaline? A momentary lapse in judgment? Or was it something more? And why the hell is it bothering you this much?
You rake a hand through your hair, the motion doing little to release the tension coiled in your chest. You’ve never felt like this before—off balance, unsure of your own footing.
Dropping heavily into the chair by her desk, you lean forward, elbows on your knees, staring blankly at the floor. The questions keep spiraling. Do you like her like that? Does she like you? Or are you just letting one impulsive moment get under your skin in a way it shouldn’t?
The sound of the door swinging open jolts you. You glance up as Lena steps inside, her expression a mix of concern and confusion.
“Hey,” she says, slightly breathless. “What the hell was that? You just stormed off.”
Lena closes the door behind her, the soft click seeming impossibly loud in the stillness. She takes a hesitant step closer, her arms crossing over her chest, more out of habit than defensiveness. Her brows are knit together, and her lips press into a thin line as she studies you.
“I’ve never seen you like this,” she continues, her voice softer now, no less curious. “What’s going on?”
Lena takes another step forward, the faint rustle of her clothes the only sound in the room. You can tell she’s waiting, her patience wavering as the silence stretches. She’s confused. Concerned. You can see it in the way her expression flickers between irritation and worry, her own mind trying to process your sudden change in demeanor.
But for you, it’s different. You’ve always prided yourself on being composed, always one step ahead, but now? Now you’re standing on shaky ground, unsure of what’s coming next.
And for the first time in a long time, you have no idea what to say.
Lena sighs, her shoulders dropping slightly as she sits on the edge of her desk, directly in your line of sight. Her movement is deliberate, a silent insistence that you confront her. Her arms cross loosely, but the posture doesn’t hide the concern etched into her features. “Talk to me,” she says softly, her voice steady but probing.
“I don’t know,” you mutter finally, the words falling out before you can think them through. Your voice is low, almost bitter, and laced with frustration you can’t quite control. “I don’t know what I’m feeling.”
Lena’s frown deepens, confusion flickering across her face. “About what?”
You draw in a sharp breath, trying to steady yourself, but it doesn’t help. The words spill out sharper than you mean them to. “About you. About the kiss. About everything.”
“The kiss?” she echoes, her voice softer now, almost hesitant, as though saying it aloud makes it more real.
“Yeah,” you snap, the tension inside you boiling over as you push yourself to your feet. The sudden movement feels like a release, but it doesn’t ease the tightness in your chest. “What the hell was that, Lena? Was it just... in the moment? Did it mean anything to you? Because I sure as hell don’t know what it meant to me.”
“Of course it meant something,” she says finally, her voice quiet but insistent, tinged with uncertainty. “But... I didn’t think you—”
“You didn’t think I’d what? Care? Get confused? Or is this just a game to you?”
The words hit harder than you intend, and you see the flinch in her posture. Her expression hardens reflexively, but it doesn’t mask the flash of hurt in her eyes. “It’s not a game,” she says, her voice steady but low.
“Then what is it?” you demand, stepping closer to her, your frustration pouring out in waves. “Because I can’t figure it out, Lena. I don’t know what you want from me, and I’m not used to feeling like this.”
She doesn’t respond right away, her jaw tightening as she processes your words. Her gaze flickers over you, taking in the way you’re standing too stiffly, your hands clenched at your sides, your breathing uneven.
“I didn’t think you could feel like this,” she says finally
You scoff, shaking your head as the bitterness rises again. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Lena hesitates, biting her lower lip, her arms uncrossing as she braces her hands on the desk. You can see the conflict in her eyes, the way she’s weighing what to say, what to hold back.
“You’ve always been...” She trails off, her brow furrowing as she searches for the right word. “Unreachable. By emotions, by me. I thought—” She pauses, lowering her gaze to the floor, her voice dropping almost to a whisper. “I thought you were just playing with me.”
The vulnerability in her tone catches you off guard, silencing the sharp retort that had been forming on your tongue. She looks smaller somehow, not in stature but in presence, like the weight of what she’s just admitted has drawn her inward.
And for the first time, you’re not sure what to say. The fire inside you, the frustration and confusion that’s been eating at you, falters. You can’t deny the truth in her words—because maybe, for a while, that’s exactly what you were doing. But now? Now, everything feels different.
And you hate how much you’re struggling to admit that, even to yourself.
Your chest tightens at her words, guilt twisting together with something deeper—something you can’t quite name. “And what if I was?”
Her eyes don’t waver, locking onto yours with an intensity that feels like it’s stripping away every wall you’ve ever put up. “Then why are you so angry?”
Why are you so angry? Is it because of the kiss? Because of James? Or is it because she’s right—that you’re not as untouchable as you’ve always told yourself you were?
Lena takes a step closer, her movements slow and deliberate. Her voice softens, the sharp edges of her usual tone replaced by something raw and pleading. “I’m not playing games with you. I wouldn’t do that. Not to you. Not anymore, at least...”
You let out a shaky breath, your voice coming out more brittle than you intend. “Whatever you did, I need you to undo it.”
Lena tilts her head, her brow furrowing as she studies you. “Undo what, exactly?”
“I don’t know…” You run a hand through your hair, pacing the length of her office like the movement might somehow untangle the mess in your head. “But undo it. I don’t like how I’m feeling. I don’t like this… new me. I want to go back to how I used to be.”
Lena’s lips twitch into a faint smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Sarcastic and unbearable?”
“Exactly!” You stop mid-step, spinning to face her with an almost desperate certainty. But the moment you meet her gaze, the certainty falters. The realization hits you hard and fast, leaving a hollow ache in its wake. It’s Lena.
She’s the reason you feel this way. The confusion, the anger, the vulnerability—it all leads back to her. And if you want to go back to the version of yourself that wasn’t tied up in these feelings, there’s only one solution. Lena has to go.
The thought makes your chest tighten unbearably, but you can’t ignore it.
Lena’s expression shifts as she watches you, her smile fading. “…What are you planning?”
You hesitate, swallowing hard, the words sticking in your throat. When you finally force them out, they sound hollow, even to you. “…I can’t see you anymore.”
Lena freezes, her breath catching audibly. “What?”
You glance away, unable to meet her gaze. Saying it feels like tearing a piece of yourself out, but the alternative—staying in this tangled mess of emotions—feels unbearable. “I can’t see you anymore,” you repeat, quieter now. “I need you out of my life so I can go back to normal.”
The room falls silent, heavy and suffocating. When you finally muster the courage to look at her, Lena’s face is pale, her eyes wide with disbelief. Her lips part as if to speak, but no sound comes out at first. She looks like you’ve hit her, and it twists something deep inside you.
“What…” she whispers, her voice cracking slightly. “What do you mean, you can’t see me anymore?”
You don’t respond immediately, your gaze dropping to the floor. Saying it out loud makes it real, and the weight of it presses down on you like a stone. You can’t stand the way she’s looking at you, like you’re about to destroy something she’s barely begun to trust. And maybe you are.
But what other choice do you have?
“I mean,” you begin, your voice rough and strained, “I can’t keep doing this. It’s too much. I don’t know who I am anymore.”
Lena shakes her head sharply, her steps closing the space between you as her hand reaches out, tentative but firm, brushing against your arm. That’s not true,” she says, her voice tight with emotion. “You do know who you are. This—this isn’t something you just run from.”
“I’m not running!” you snap, the words coming out louder than you intended. But as they hang in the air, you feel the sting of them, the weight of their lie. Because you are running—you’ve been running from this ever since that kiss, from the feelings it unearthed and the way it’s shattered the carefully constructed version of yourself you’ve clung to for so long.
Lena doesn’t flinch at your tone, “Don’t push me away,” she pleads, her voice trembling. “Not like this. You can’t just cut me out because you’re afraid of what this means. Don’t you think I’m scared too?”
Lena Luthor—the woman who is always in control, always calculating, always two steps ahead—looks lost. It’s a version of her you’ve never seen before.
“I don’t want to lose you,” she whispers, stepping closer. Her hand lingers against your arm, hesitant, like she’s afraid even the smallest pressure will scare you away. “You’re the one person who… who understands me, who doesn’t judge me for the dark parts of who I am.” She swallows hard, her voice breaking slightly. “I can’t lose that. I can’t lose you. I need to know there’s someone who sees me—all of me—and doesn’t hate me for not being… perfect.”
The crack in her voice, the way her eyes glisten as she looks at you—it’s almost too much. Your chest tightens painfully, your breath hitching as the truth of her words settles over you. It’s one thing to feel like you’re unraveling, to struggle with the way she’s gotten under your skin and flipped your world upside down. But hearing her admit she’s just as terrified? That she’s just as afraid of losing you?
It’s unbearable.
“I’m not… trying to hurt you,” you say quietly, your voice shaky and uneven. “But I don’t know how to deal with this. I don’t know how to deal with… caring about someone other than me.” The words feel foreign on your tongue, unfamiliar and exposed, but they’re the only ones you have.
“I’ll help you figure it out,” Lena says softly, her voice steady despite the tremble in her hands as she grips your arm tighter. “We don’t have to have all the answers right now. But don’t walk away. Not like this.”
You want to believe her. You want to believe there’s a way to make this work, to find something solid amidst the chaos swirling inside you. But the fear is too big, too consuming. It clouds everything, leaving you trapped between two impossible choices.
“I don’t know if I can,” you murmur, your voice barely audible. “I’m not like you, Lena. I can’t just… feel things. It doesn’t work that way for me.”
“Then teach me how to break through to you. Don’t run, don’t close yourself off because you’re scared. I need you, more than I’ve ever needed anyone.”
The rawness in her voice, the way her words tremble but never falter, strikes something deep inside you. For the first time, you see just how much you’ve come to mean to her. She’s holding herself open, completely exposed, and the thought of hurting her—of breaking her the way you’ve broken so many others—sends a fresh wave of panic through you.
Because the truth is, she’s become just as important to you as you are to her.
Your heart pounds in your chest. Every instinct screams at you to run, to go back to the safety of who you used to be, someone untouchable, unreachable. you don’t know if you have the strength to walk away. Because Lena… Lena makes you want to stay.
“I don’t know how to do this,” you admit, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “I don’t know how to be what you need.”
Lena shakes her head, her tears catching the light as they brim in her eyes. “I don’t need you to be anything but you,” she says softly, her voice trembling but resolute. “Just… be here. Stay. Please.”
You take a shaky breath, the tightness in your chest growing until it feels unbearable. Walking away won’t fix this—it won’t make the feelings go away, won’t erase the weight pressing down on you. Deep down, you know the truth. Leaving Lena would only make everything worse.
“I can’t lose you either,” you whisper, the words slipping out before you even realize you’ve said them. They’re barely audible, but the truth in them reverberates through you.
Lena’s breath catches, her wide, tear-filled eyes locking onto yours. Her gaze holds you there, suspended in the moment, as if she’s afraid to move and shatter whatever fragile thing is forming between you. The world seems to still, the air thick with the weight of unspoken emotions, as you both wait for the other to act.
Finally, she steps closer, closing the gap between you. Her hands come up to cup your face, her touch light but steady. Her thumbs brush against your skin, and the tenderness in the gesture is enough to undo you completely.
“Then don’t,” she murmurs, her forehead resting against yours.
“I’ll stay,” you whisper, the words so quiet you’re not even sure if they’re real until you hear them leave your lips.
Lena exhales shakily, a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Her arms slip around you, pulling you into a soft, lingering embrace.
For the first time, you let yourself lean into it.
You’re not sure how long you stay like that, holding each other in the quiet of the room. But when Lena pulls back just slightly, her hands still resting on your shoulders, something shifts in the air between you. Her face is inches from yours, her breath warm against your skin, and her eyes—drift to your lips.
Without thinking, you close the distance, your lips meeting hers in a kiss that’s both hesitant and desperate.
Her lips move against yours with a softness that makes your chest ache, but there’s a hunger there too, a longing that neither of you can ignore anymore.
Lena’s hands slide up to your neck, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulls you closer. The tenderness of her touch contrasts with the intensity of the kiss, and it makes your heart race in a way that’s both exhilarating and terrifying.
Your hands find her waist, gripping tightly as though letting go might mean losing this moment. The kiss deepens, and every lingering doubt, every thought of running, evaporates under the warmth of her touch.
Lena lets out a soft, breathless sigh against your lips, her fingers curling into your hair. The sound stirs something and before you know it, you’re backing her up toward the edge of the desk.
She gasps softly as her back meets the wood, her hands tightening around your shoulders as she pulls you down with her. The air between you grows heavy, thick with the intensity of everything you’ve both been running from for so long.
Your hand drifts to her hip, your fingers brushing against the soft fabric of her blouse as you let yourself be lost in her touch, her warmth, her presence.
And then, a sharp knock shatters the moment, jolting you both back to reality.
“Ms.Luthor?” Jess’s voice cuts through the stillness. “The board is ready for the meeting.”
The spell breaks. Lena blinks rapidly, her gaze darting toward the door and then back to you. Her chest rises and falls quickly, her lips still red and slightly swollen from your kiss.
“I—I forgot about the meeting,” she stammers, her voice rough and unsteady. Her hand moves absently to smooth her blouse, her movements jittery as though grounding herself back into the present.
. “I should… go,” you mutter, the words feeling foreign on your tongue. Part of you wants to stay, to close the space again, to forget about the knock at the door and everything else outside this moment.
Lena’s hands hover at her sides, her fingers curling into loose fists as though she’s fighting the same instinct. She straightens her posture, smoothing her skirt with trembling hands. For a fleeting second, she looks like she might reach for you, might tell you to stay. But instead, she nods, her voice barely above a whisper. “We’ll… talk later.”
You nod once, curt and almost automatic, your body already turning toward the door. When you open it, Jess glances up from her tablet, her sharp, inquisitive gaze flickering between you and Lena.
As you stride down the hall, the weight of the moment presses down on you. Your thoughts are a jumbled mess: you didn’t want to stop. Every fiber of your being had screamed at you to stay, to push everything else aside and let yourself get lost in Lena.
Lena, meanwhile, remains standing in her office, staring at the door long after it closes behind you. She presses a hand to her chest, feeling the rapid thud of her heartbeat beneath her palm. Her lips still tingle from the kiss, and she closes her eyes briefly, trying to steady herself. The meeting looms in the back of her mind, but it feels distant, inconsequential compared to what just happened.
She exhales shakily, her thoughts swirling in every direction. She hadn’t meant for things to escalate like that. And now, with you gone, she’s left questioning everything.
For you, as you leave the building, the cool air outside hits your face, but it does nothing to clear your head. The kiss wasn’t just an impulsive moment—it was something bigger, something that made you feel unmoored in a way you weren’t sure you could handle.
Lena wasn’t just someone you could walk away from. The thought scared you, and you weren’t sure how to deal with all the new emotions crashing over you, but one thing was certain.
You weren’t going to let go of Lena. Not now. Not ever.