Lemon oneshots

My Kryptonite: DC Barbara Gordon X Kara Zor-el

Batgirl tied her grapple line around the stone gargoyle looming against Gotham's dim moonlight. His shouts of terror wrought his team, all accompanying in similar shouts of fear and paranoia.
"Another one!" Barbara mused quietly. She'd already zipped toward the entrance of this decaying carnival where two men were stationed: hands shaking their rifles, murmurs of fear carried within each visible breath. She readied her smoke-pellet, threw, and dropped between the pair knocking both out quick. Gunshots! She -
"Damn!" Her leg gave way; blood scattering the chained gate producing a light smoke of its own.
"You're gonna shoot our guys!"
"I don't care man!"
"But that's Carlo!"
"I never liked Carlo anyway!"
Barbara struggled on her feet and grappled up.
"There - there! Shoot her!"
Another grapple toward the once occupied ticket-booth with Barbara hunkering underneath its desk safe behind several sheets of admittedly rusted metal.
"Keep firing!"
"Yeah - it's bound to cave!"
Loud, deafening rings surely did punch against her; the safety of her prison gnawing away with haste; each fidget sent jolts of agony up her thigh, her mind fogged by pain, yet calm, devising her escape. More dents; her side sore from both the heat of each round sunk and vibration rippling through her organs.
"Last mag, man!"
"Doesn't matter - keep firing!"
"What if we run out!"
"Then use your fists, Don! Better than your mouth anyway."

Barbara pulled out her batarang using the tip of one side to peer out, its reflective surface showing the two men firing wildly against her.
"Can't wait for their guns to dry."
She took her weapon and coated the middle with a small strip of explosive gel; took a breath, and -
"Oh no!"
"Run man!"
"You know I gotta bad foot!"
Barbara raised her batarang, and laughed both nervously, and with relief.
"Sorry, boys," Supergirl said. "I know scaring you isn't my thing."
Barbara lifted herself up and watched Kara knock the two men out with ease: her crimson skirt flowing gently while her blue, long-sleeved chest-piece glowed brilliantly against her scarlet boots. She turned towards Barbara, her golden hair short, meeting her cheeks; a whimper compared to Barbara's long red hair meeting her hips.
"How we doin'?" Kara asked, floating toward her.
"Not great," Barbara winced. "It'll heal."
Kara narrowed her eyes, Barbara knowing its reason and finding a nearby bench.
"The bullet is still in there," Kara said worridly.
"That's where it's staying," Barbara gasped. "What are you doing here?"
"Saving you."
Barbara frowned, saying, "I had - had it handled."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Can't I worry about you?" Asked Kara, holding Barbara's hand.
"Of course: trust me as well."
Kara squeezed Barbara's hand smiling, kissing her quickly. "Your dad's almost here."
Barbara tilted her head focusing on the distant echoe of sirens encroaching.
"Come on."
"No," said Barbara. "I need to report; keep the trust."
Kara frowned deeply while crossing her arms. She turned and burnt every puddle of blood she'd left behind.
"They don't test those," Barbara revealed.
"I know," Kara whispered. She flew off leaving Barbara to limp toward the blinding red and blue lights.

*

Rain sputtered against the fogged window which Kara stared up at. Her blue umbrella kept her red shirt and black jeans dry. She took a lungful of Gotham's cold air and entered the apartment. Up several stairs did she listen to her boots cry, stall meeting Barbara's door. She knocked softly hearing water squeak off.
"It's unlocked!"
Kara opened into the familiar bedroom hosting a large bed with a red blanket and similar sheets. A filled bookcase stood to its left while a small lamp, atop a black nightstand, filled the room of a myriad band posters, neatly folded clothes, unpacked vinyls and dvds, and a small desk with its glow.
"Are you always late!?" Kara shouted.
"Only with you!"
Kara mocked Barbara quietly taking her seat at her desk. She gently blew dry all the water she carried in, and her umbrella, before tossing it upon the bed. Her eyes roamed across Barbara's desk holding several make-up brands and miniatures of both cartoon and game characters.
"Someone could steal these things, Barb," Kara mused, holding one up. She twirled it against the lamplight, smiling into its cute design. She pocketed it.
"I can buy her another."