Supergirl Defender Of Love

Kara adjusted her red blouse in the mirror, giving herself a once-over with a satisfied smirk. The fabric clung in all the right places, highlighting her curves while maintaining just the right amount of modesty. Paired with sleek dark jeans and ankle boots, she was leaning into "casual goddess"—confident but not trying too hard. She knew she didn't need to try; she was Kara Zor-El. The sun's favorite daughter.

She stretched, feeling the steady hum of her power growing stronger every day under this world's sun. Her reflection almost seemed to glow. She had to be careful not to flex too hard—accidentally punching a hole through her guesthouse wall wasn't the kind of holiday spectacle she was aiming for.

In the kitchen, Natasha was already there, of course. Legs crossed, boot resting on her knee, sipping her coffee like she owned the place. Her fitted leather jacket and casual black jeans gave her that effortless "I could kill you, but I won't unless you deserve it" vibe. It was hot. Everything about Natasha was hot.

"You're staring," Natasha said without looking up.

Kara grinned, leaning against the counter. "I was waiting for you to say I look amazing."

Natasha took a slow sip. "Functional."

Kara laughed. "That's wife-speak for 'stunning.'"

Natasha didn't argue. That was progress.

As Kara grabbed an apple, she remembered something that had been bothering her. "Hey… I haven't seen a guy on my security detail in like… a month. Did Fury finally purge all the testosterone?"

Natasha barely blinked. "Men are unreliable."

Kara snorted. "Fair. But seriously. Did Fury reassign them?"

Natasha set her mug down with casual precision. "I told you already—they're buried six feet under… in paperwork."

Kara cackled, nearly choking on her apple. "Brutal. Paperwork's the real killer."

Natasha smirked faintly, but there was a gleam in her eyes that said, If only you knew.

The Osborn penthouse was what Kara expected: sleek, expensive, and desperately trying to scream wealth and power. It reminded her of a Lex Luthor kind of aesthetic—clean, sharp, but lacking warmth. She felt Natasha bristle slightly as they stepped inside, already sizing up the room like she was planning a tactical assault. Which, knowing Natasha, she probably was.

Harry greeted them first, flashing his smooth, practiced smile. His eyes drifted a little too long over Kara's outfit, and his hand found its way to her lower back as he guided her in. It was subtle—probably innocent by normal standards—but Kara noticed. And so did Natasha. Her eyes sharpened, her jaw tightening ever so slightly.

"Glad you could make it," Harry said. "You look… wow."

Kara smiled. "I know."

Natasha's hand twitched near her jacket pocket reaching for her gun in instinct or maby her knife.

Before Harry could push his luck further, Gwen appeared. Her smile was bright, welcoming—perfect, as always. But Kara felt the shift. That subtle possessive energy as Gwen's hand brushed over her wrist, claiming her.

"Kara! I was hoping you'd come."

"Wouldn't miss it," Kara said.

Peter hovered awkwardly by the dining table, already sweating. MJ greeted Kara politely but kept her distance, more curious than anything. And Norman Osborn—the host himself—was perfectly polite, though his handshake lingered a moment longer than necessary. There was something in his eyes, a calculating glint. She could see the tension coiled in his shoulders, his polite smile stretched just a little too tight.

Dinner was pleasant on the surface. Turkey, wine, laughter. But under the polite conversation, it was a battleground.

Harry turned the charm on Kara every chance he got. Compliments about her strength, her confidence, subtle hints about showing her the view from his penthouse later. She humored him—because it was funny. Natasha, on the other hand, was not laughing. Every time Harry leaned in or his hand strayed near Kara's arm, Natasha shifted just enough to remind everyone she was there.

"You must work out constantly," Harry said, eyes flicking over Kara's toned arms.

Kara grinned. "I lift buildings sometimes."

Harry laughed, thinking it was a joke. Natasha didn't.

"You don't want to know what she could do to a man," Natasha said smoothly, cutting her turkey with military precision. "Or what I'd do to anyone who tried."

Harry's laughter faltered.

Gwen, sitting next to Kara, rested her hand lightly on Kara's knee. Casual to anyone watching. A declaration of ownership to Natasha.

Natasha's fork tensed.

Kara ate her turkey with a smile, fully aware she was the trophy. These two were ready to fight over and she is loving every minute of it.

Peter, meanwhile, looked like he was barely holding himself together. The pressure of Norman's gaze was crushing him. His nervousness peaked when Norman spotted the bandage on his arm—the same injury from their earlier fight.

"What happened to your arm, son?" Norman's voice was calm, but his eyes were sharp.

Peter froze. Kara's ears perked up.

"Bike messenger," Peter said, too quickly. "Clipped me."

Norman held his gaze a second longer than necessary. The tension was suffocating. Peter squirmed under it.

Kara glanced between them, piecing it together. She already knew Peter was Spider-Man, but seeing this play out in real-time was like watching a slow car crash. Entertaining in a sad kind of way.

Dinner continued, but the power struggle never stopped. Gwen kept her hand on Kara. Harry kept trying to charm her. Natasha's knife scraped just a little too loudly. Norman observed everything. MJ noticed the weird energy but wisely stayed quiet.

As plates were cleared, Harry took another swing.

"You should come by sometime," he said, leaning in. "Just us. The view is amazing at night."

Before Kara could reply, Natasha was there. She didn't touch Harry. She didn't need to.

"She's busy."

Harry blinked. "Oh… right. Of course."

Natasha's eyes didn't leave his until he stepped back.

On the way out, Kara casually brought up her earlier observation again. "Seriously though, I haven't seen a guy on my detail in a month."

Natasha didn't hesitate. "I told you already—they're buried six feet under… in paperwork."

Kara laughed, shaking her head. "Bureaucracy's the real villain."

As they stepped into the elevator, Gwen looped her arm around Kara's, holding her a little too close. Natasha stood on the other side, practically radiating territorial energy.

Kara was sandwiched between them. She had never felt more powerful.

Behind them, Norman watched the elevator doors close. His smile had vanished. He was still thinking about Peter. About Kara. About threats.

Peter walked home that night, his heart racing for more reasons than one.

Kara? She lay in bed later, staring at the ceiling, thinking about Harry's stupid grin. About Natasha's hand twitching near her weapon. About Gwen's fingers tracing circles on her thigh under the table.

Marvel Earth was perfect.

And she was the queen of a harem from the way things were looking just like she saw in those anime. Kara wondered if a Marvel world exists could the anime worlds she saw on batman's TV also be real ones like Bleach or Naruto. Kara was eager to see she could already feel that her teleportation ability may be more than meets the eye.

Kara rolled her eyes in amusement. Bruce would be so jealous if she made it to an anime world before he did.

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