clark kent x barbie!reader when

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clark kent x barbie!reader when
Soft
Summery: Arvin thinks about the women he's loved.
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A/N - I've run out of Arvin Russell fics to read, so I guess I'm going to have to make a few myself. Also, gif shamelessly stolen off Google because I don't know Jack about creating things.
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One train of thought had haunted Arvin Russell for as long as he could remember. A word, really.
His mother had been soft. Her voice was soft, her soft hums while she was baking being one of his favorite sounds from his childhood. Arvin had often find himself reading comics or playing with his car right outside the kitchen just to hear it.
Her features had also been soft. Arvin had trouble remembering what they looked like, exactly, but he did remember that they subtly faded into one another in a pretty way. Her eyes seemed to almost hide behind her cheeks, possibly protecting themselves from the harsh light of the world around her.
Arvin sometimes wondered how long it took for her to go from soft cheeks to bones.
His sister, too, had been soft. Especially her eyes, tears often gathering in them over something inconsequential. Always lighting up when anyone she enjoyed entered the room, or going round and afraid whenever she was put in an uncomfortable situation. They showed her every emotion, her every thought. Arvin had often scolded her about showing her hand, though the metaphor was mostly lost on her.
Her heart had been soft, as well. Giving every man or woman she'd ever met the benefit of the doubt, believing they were capable or even destined for more than the snide looks and mean comments they would constantly shoot at her. She wanted good to come to everybody, even when they deserved the worst.
Arvin never understood how her heart could go from being soft to being stone right under his nose.
You were soft, too, in your own way. It was a different kind of soft than Arvin had ever seen, though. One that balanced itself on something more.
Your eyes were sharp, calculated, hardened by a fast-paced life in a cold city. Your hands were rough, calloused by the many hobbies you'd picked up over the years, and you had no inclination of trying to get rid of them. Your words was stern, never beating around the bush or sparing anyone's feelings.
And yet you weren't… tainted the way Arvin felt he was. You could throw jabs around with the best of them, but had the empathy to send extra lunches to work with him for the guys who went without. You couldn't be molded or manipulated into doing anything you didn't want to, yet you'd bend over backwards to make someone feel wanted or welcome. You looked out for people others never looked twice at.
Arvin took a drag as he watched you scrub supper's dishes. You were a big pile of differences, he decided. Soft hair, set jaw. Soft skin, hard muscle. Soft dresses, tough jeans. A new discovery on every inch of you.
All the women he'd loved before had been soft. He'd loved them just the way they were, never thought to want them to change that, but they left him. Maybe it was because of it. A sort of weakness connected to thier… soft. He hated when the bitter parts of his heart thought of them that way, but he found himself hoping beyond hope that your rough edges gave you an edge. That maybe, finally, someone he loved would be just hard enough to stay.
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