just fuse it to her scalp

ratherembarrassing  asked:

supercorp and 13. or 14. or 06. this list is a lot, i'm sorry i want them all.

ok you’re getting #13: stroking hair


It starts out like any other weekend. They’re sitting on Kara’s couch, because Kara has the night off from everything, Supergirl included. There was brunch, and then coffee, and then Lena mentioned that she’d never seen an episode of Friends and Kara’s not even from this planet and she’s seen every single one.

“This show’s not bad,” Lena mutters thoughtfully.

“Not bad?” Kara says. “This show is iconic. I mean, I didn’t really get to watch it while it was on TV, but when I first came to stay with my family, it was in reruns all the time.”

Lena frowns, the way she always does when Kara mentions her past. Kara still hasn’t found the right balance of half-truths yet, when it comes to talking about her childhood in front of Lena. The sadness in Lena’s eyes tells Kara that she’s probably assuming the worst. She nudges Lena’s side, trying to change the subject. “I was such a dork, I wanted to get Rachel’s haircut for like a month before Alex talked me out of it.”

Lena tugs at the ends of Kara’s hair, playfully. “I think you could rock a Rachel, if you wanted.”

Kara hears herself laugh in an out-of-body sort of way, too loud and too big. “Yeah, eight years too late.”

“Nevertheless,” Lena says, laughingly. She reaches up and trails her fingertips along Kara’s hairline, then drags them across her scalp and over, combing through.

Kara’s response is instinctive: she shudders into her touch, eyes fluttering closed and it takes every last bit of her self-control to keep herself from sighing. Kryptonite may be her one weakness, but this is a close second.

When Kara opens her eyes, Lena’s watching her with a thoughtful look on her face. She cards through Kara’s hair once more, taking extra care to scratch a little at her scalp, and Kara feels like her whole body shivers. Having her hair played with always makes her so - she doesn’t even know the right word. It’s not sexual or anything like that but it’s intimate, making her feel soft and calm in a way she can’t quite articulate. Melty, like a popsicle on a hot day, like she could just fuse right with the couch if Lena kept playing with her hair like that.

“Sorry,” Kara whispers. “I’m really, um. Sensitive.”

She smiles, like it’s normal. Like she feels normal, and not dreamy and content and really connected to Lena. But then - gosh - Lena smiles back. “You know, as much as I loved Lex, he was terrible for working on my hairdressing skills.”

Lena gestures to the space on the floor in front of her, and Kara sits, settling her back against Lena’s crossed ankles. Lena braids her hair, twisting and combing out and twisting, over and over. Kara listens to Ross and Rachel bicker on the TV, and lets herself float away to the feel of Lena’s touch.

Pulse Points:  Chapter 10

This chapter got away from me, so yes, it’s a long one. I hope nobody minds. :) Oh…it’s also rated M. 

You can read it here or on ff.net. 

Regina had no idea how long she and Robin been wrapped up together on the sofa.

To be honest, she really didn’t remember moving from the kitchen floor to the living room. But somehow they had, and they were still here, snuggled into each other under a blanket, legs tangled, hearts full, all warm and water-limbed, exhausted in every way possible.

She’d cried harder than she had in years, to the point where she was certain she couldn’t have any moisture left in her body. Her eyes had to be red and swollen, her cheeks a blotchy mess if the state of Robin’s face bore any resemblance to her own. But it didn’t matter. He was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen besides Henry.

“What are you thinking?”

His voice was low, barely more than a rumble in his chest. She snuggled in closer, wrapping her arms around him, reveling in the feel of him under her cheek.

“Not much, actually,” she hummed. “Too tired to think anymore.”

He chuckled and hugged her closer.

“Same here,” he breathed. His lips caressed her forehead, and she closed her eyes, sated and content. “It’s nice just to feel for a while, isn’t it?”

She chuckled.

“Now it is,” she answered. “It wasn’t before you came over tonight.”

“No,” he sighed. “You’re right. Before we talked, it hurt like hell.”

He was right–it had hurt like hell, had drained her of energy like a hemorrhage that wouldn’t clot. She raised her head and stared at this man who’d somehow carved out a huge place for himself in her life.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I never should have–”

He cut her off with his mouth, kissing her as best as he could manage in their current position. It was awkward, but wonderful, and she slid up his body to give them both a better angle, kissing him back soundly.

“No more apologies,” he muttered, drawing back just enough to speak. “I thought we agreed on that.”

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