before you ask, i am a whore for taylor swift and my legs are wide open for lover (2019).

now, read, ponder, and stream taylor swift!

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you;

I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you.

-Taylor Swift, Daylight

Airports were designed to be uncomfortable. Stiff-backed chairs. Travelators that seemed to go on forever. The constant sounds of wheels rolling across the linoleum floor. Endless pitter patter of countless feet going from one terminal to an exit or some such. Wi-fi that didn't even really work. And the anticipation of just getting on a plane to just get on with it.

Lena Luthor had long been desensitized to airports. They were uncomfortable, so be it. She couldn't remember the last time she had to queue up for immigration desks and sit on chairs that could give her arthritis just to wait for boarding, what with her private jet and all.

Well, that was, until now, when her jet suddenly had a breakdown and had to be sent in for maintenance, and she had a meeting in New York that she couldn't miss if she really wanted the patent for the component that could make or break L-Corp's latest prototype. The broken jet left her with no other choice but to reserve a last-minute first-class ticket on redeye, which left her here, extremely uncomfortable on a stiff-backed chair in the waiting lounge.

Her eyes tracked the busy people that crisscrossed over the huge estate of National City International Airport, trying and failing to understand how they did it. How could they bear this – the recycled air, the humidity despite the functional air conditioner, the crowd, the noise, the lack of privacy, the noise. She gained a new admiration for these people, knowing full well that she had gotten too used to her wealth, which led to her current predicament.

Her flight was going to be on time. The security checks were swift and proper. Going through the emigration desk was efficient and thorough. There were two hours until she was bound to board.

Lena was so bored.

She had done all the sudokus in a magazine that she randomly purchased while window shopping. Found the missing items in one of the kids' games in another magazine. Almost got conned into changing her phone plan. And she didn't know what else to do.

So she did what most people resort to when they were bored with all the social media applications on their phones and refused to socialize in reality. She downloaded Tinder. It wasn't her first time on it – Sam had created a profile for her two years after her breakup with Jack, claiming that the best way to get over someone was to get under someone.

That was truly bad advice. Because Lena had actually gone ahead with it and swiped on the application. Even gone out on dates. Some of them even ended up with sex. Mediocre. She could do better with her hands, really. The application was then deleted and forgotten about, because Lena had never had to wait in an airport.

She logged into her account and started swiping. Left if they weren't appealing enough. Right if they were. Even got some matches. But it wasn't like she was going to meet them or anything – she had long since given up on the effectiveness of Tinder. Plus, she had a flight in two hours.

She hummed when she landed on a blonde. Glasses. Blue eyes. Blinding smile. Really fucking cute. She tapped on the profile and started swiping through the three photos available. There was one with the blonde cuddling a dog, another with her in a workout gear and glistening with sweat – Lena gulped – the last one was just her and her glasses and a thoughtful frown on her face and a blue pen tapping her chin.

Kara, 26, was not only cute, but also really hot. She couldn't help but go back to the second photo and stare at the biceps for a moment longer, wondering whether they could compete with Sam's. Kara's could probably win, even.

I once assisted Cat Grant and now I write for CatCo Media. Would die for potstickers.

Yikes. She worked for the press. If Lena was any other person other than the CEO of a company richer than Wayne Enterprises, she would have swiped right without a thought. But she had a last name that would turn heads and bring attention if read on the paper. Her experience with the press hadn't been the best as well.

Sighing, she stared at the biceps for a moment longer, and then the blue eyes and the smile, then she exited the profile and swiped left.

"Ouch, hard no on that one?"

Lena jerked at the voice, having gotten completely engrossed in the application to pay attention to her surroundings. Huh. Tinder really was mesmerizing. She twisted around in her seat to find the source of the voice, only do a takeback when she saw Kara, 26, sitting right behind her.

As soon as she saw the real version of the digital hot stuff that had her almost swiping right if not for her occupation, Lena knew one thing – there was no justice in this world. Look, if she was already gulping at just photos of this woman, Lena would be straight up drooling if that was a real thing now that she was looking at the actual person.

A grin like sunshine that seemed to be the only source of light in this well lit airport. Eyebrows raised in amusement. Blue irises that were all kinds of bright behind tortoiseshell glasses. Draped in a white shirt with a jean jacket overtop and a pair of skinny jeans hugging her apparently long legs even when sitting. Kara, 26, looked definitively jaw dropping, and she definitely didn't know it.

"It's not – I, um – Well, you're –"

She was a Luthor. Since the moment they put a scissor to her umbilical cord, she had been trained to solve mathematical problems, study scientific theories, read profusely in at least six languages, and speak fluently in at least four of them. Right now, however, in the face of an unfairly attractive woman, the CEO wouldn't know what two plus two equaled to or be able to explain the application of thermodynamics.

Kara tilted her head, staring at Lena for a moment, and then her eyes widened, the recognition clear in her eyes. Suddenly, the roles were reversed and the CEO was not the stuttering one. Kara stammered for a moment as she resembled a goldfish, unintelligible sounds escaping her lips.

And there it was. The inevitability. The price of being a genius CEO. The consequence of a last name Sometimes, Lena hated how good her father had been at building a company simply with his brain, and how the rest of her family had gone along with the trend. Honestly, she would have been happy just being a lackey in the laboratory, as long as she got to do her own thing.

"Oh shit," the blonde hissed when she found her words.

Lena raised her brow at that.

"I mean, of course," Kara quickly corrected. "Why would you swipe on me? You're Lena Luthor, holy crap. I – wow, I can't believe Lena Luthor is sitting in the waiting lounge like the rest of us."

Releasing an affronted noise, the raven-haired woman frowned at the remark. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I just – you know, you have a jet and a personal pilot. Several, actually," Kara said, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose like she knew how she was making it worse. "I work for CatCo Media. I'm, like, supposed to know these things. Cat has actually been cursing up a storm at how difficult you've been making her job with your refusal to conduct interviews with literally anyone, and we can't even stalk you at airports because you pretty much have your own runway. And I am going to stop talking now," she added once she saw how Lena's frown turned into raised eyebrows.

"Are you really a journalist?"

Kara blinked and cleared her throat as she nodded gingerly. "Yes, yes, I'm actually very good at my job. It's just, um…" She drifted off and looked away from Lena for a second before returning to her, like she couldn't help but look back. "I always have trouble talking to beautiful women."

Well, just like that, Lena's apprehension towards the woman was gone, replaced by a bout of flattery and pleasure. She took a moment to eye up and down Kara's cutting figure before offering a placating smile, turning her body sideways on the chair so she wouldn't get a neck sprain.

"I swiped left on you not because you're not attractive. Because you are. Very attractive, I mean," she added, pleased that her ability to form words had returned, all thanks to the journalist who claimed to not know how to talk to beautiful women.

"No?"

"You're a journalist."

Overhead, the intercoms jingled one after another, followed by announcements one after another. The grilles of the shops surrounding them were beginning to shutter down, pulled by owners and staff who were ready to get the hell out and get some fresh air, maybe a cigarette or two. Parents could be heard chastising their children to stop yelling and shrieking because it was late and they were exhausted and they had just pumped out bottles of milk for their younger siblings.

The flight to New York was forty-five minutes away. She had time to allow Kara several moments to ponder and accept her reason.

Lena watched as it happened. The tightness that clinched at Kara's forehead loosened. Her lips – very kissable, by the way – forming a very small circle. The cloudiness in her eyes disappeared like mist wafting away. Her curious posture sagged against her own seat.

"Right," Kara said, soft and defeated.

For a moment, Lena felt a little forlorn for Kara. And, once again, flattery. When she swiped left on the profile, a huge part of it was because the blonde was a member of the press. The press had never been too kind to people like her, people who seemed to have everything at once, especially when she absolutely refused to do any sort of interviews before or during her reign as L-Corp CEO.

She wasn't her brother. She didn't need the attention. In fact, she hated the attention. Her time with her birth mother and a brief stint in the orphanage had been enough to help her develop a shyness that never went away, despite her ability to act it away and portray a confident façade for the camera.

"I'm not too hard on the rule."

Again, it took Kara a few moments, but Lena had learnt to be patient. It bore fruit, because Lena found that she really liked seeing that smile in real life, even if it appeared timid and wavering.

As if emboldened by a sudden burst of courage, the journalist's smile grew into a daring one and she pushed off from the back of her seat to rest her arms on the top of Lena's chair, tilting her head as she looked at the CEO sideway. Lena had to take a bracing breath at the sudden closeness and the ability to see the mild freckles dotting Kara's pale cheeks.

She sighed and waved her ticket for Kara to see. "New York, unfortunately," she said, glancing at the departure board to be reminded of the timing again.

Kara hummed, pouting a little. Lena cursed inwardly, wondering how the universe could so unfair when it came to the looks of some people. Literally, what the fuck. She resisted the urge to reach out and stroke the pout, maybe touch it with her own lips.

"Well, do you have a card?" the blonde asked. Lena blinked. "I'm determined to dissolve that rule of yours."

"Like I said, I'm not hard on it."

"Which means you're still on it."

"Maybe I'm not from here."

Kara scoffed. "Please, you're Lena Luthor. Just turned 24 a month ago. Took over LuthorCorp and rebranded it to L-Corp after your brother decided to go on a sabbatical. Just moved the headquarters to L-Corp last month." Lena raised a brow. Kara, instead of being affronted by her straightforwardness, only shrugged with a cheeky grin – Lena decided she liked this side of Kara as well. "I'm a fan."

"Well, okay, I don't date fans. I'm hard on that."

"Okay, I hate you. Very much. Passionately. Effusively."

Before she could reply anything, the intercom began to announce for the boarding of the next New York flight. They both turned up to the ceiling as they listened to the kind but efficient voice pretty much instructing all passengers to make their way to the gate if they didn't want to be abandoned by the impatient pilot.

She returned her gaze to the blonde and narrowed her eyes slightly. "Do you believe in fate, Kara, 26?"

"Well, somehow, some way, the ever-elusive Lena Luthor ended up in the same airport as I am at the same time."

Lena heaved a low chuckle. She stood up and took hold of the handle of her suitcase, watching as Kara did as well and rounded around the seats so she could stand next to the CEO, her hands tangled behind her back.

"If we have a second encounter, I will personally recite my number to you. How does that sound?"

"Even though I'm a journalist?"

"Cat Grant is my godmother."

Kara's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open again, much reminiscent of her expression earlier when she had just discovered who Lena was. There was a reason why Lena had been so adamant in refusing to conduct interviews with the press – Cat had taught her a little too much about how chasing news and discovering stories worked, much to her behest.

"Goodbye, Kara, 26."

"Danvers."

"Huh?"

"Danvers. Kara Danvers," the blonde elaborated, reaching up to adjust her glasses.

Lena didn't know how she did it – to go from awkward and adorable to confident and sexy and then back to awkward and adorable in just moments – but she supposed she liked it. She wasn't one to believe in fate; there was a flight to New York that she couldn't miss because her parents had drilled hard work into her since she began middle school.

And yet, maybe she could believe it this once. It was a shame that she didn't carry cards with her – they were simply such a hassle. Plus, even though Kara was cute and she did enjoy talking to the journalist, she definitely did not give out her number just like that; giving Kara her business number would be a mistake because it would only begin a round of queries by both Sam and Jess that she wouldn't be able to field no matter how hard she tried.

"Goodbye, Kara Danvers."

She smiled at the blonde once more and forced herself to turn away to head towards the boarding gate. In her heart, she hoped with all hopes that fate wouldn't disappoint.

Having been stuck in New York for a grueling two days of negotiations that kind of bordered on coercion, Lena did not think she would ever be so happy to see the high-rise towers that blueprinted the National City skyline. She sat in the back of the limousine and closed her eyes to allowed them a moment of rest, only to be jolted by an alert on her phone that indicated an email.

She opened it to see that the sender was Cat Grant herself. The email was detailed – beginning with inquiries into Lena's wellbeing, venturing into a two-paragraph rant about the audacity of Lena to refuse her godmother's company a proper exposé,and ending with a demand that she scheduled an interview right away and get Jess to contact the organization immediately after.

Lena smiled, feeling her heart tug at the memory of another member of CatCo Media that she still thought of fondly. During her time in New York, she had thought about the bumbling but sexy blonde journalist once too often, especially in the dead of the night when she was in her hotel nursing a glass of red wine while examining her emails. Thus far, fate had been disappointing.

In an act that would definitely garner a click of tongue by Cat, she stuck her tongue out at the email and closed it. It had always been her hobby to find out exactly how far she could go to rattle Cat and get an actual call from the woman.

When she closed the email application, her eyes caught onto a pink icon on the bottom right corner of her screen. She dipped her chin a little as her thumb hovered over the icon, hesitating. She looked out at the window and caught sight of the L-Corp logo shining bright in the dark of National City's nightlife. Randomly, her brain echoed with the words her brother had left her before he signed over the company over to her.

"I'm bald now, Lena; lost all my hair for this company. I don't want to lose my pubes too before I had an adventure."

She tapped on the icon, waited for it to load, and had to laugh when she saw the first profile that showed up on her screen, so loud that the driver had to throw her a skeptical look in the rearview mirror.

Waving a dismissive hand at him, she shrugged to herself and swiped right.

It was a match with Kara, 26.

Oh, fate, you absolute buffoon.

i know, i know, i'm a bitch for that ending :) maybe i'll write another installment. who the hell knows? not me. but stream taylor swift though.