↳ Pairing : Superman2025!Clark Kent x Rapper!Reader
↳ Rating : M (18+)
↳ Summary : Clark discovers the reason for his inexpicable attraction to you while dealing with intense “symptoms”
↳ W.C : ~1.2k
↳ Tags: continuation of the previous fic, kyptonian biology is weird, implied A/B/O, masturbation mentions, clark fighting attraction lol, ngl idk what this is just smile and wave
Part 1
“Clark? Earth to Clark… Hello?”
Clark blinked blearily and returned to his senses. From what he could gather, he was seated at his desk with his half-read email inbox still open on his desktop in front of him. Jimmy, his best friend and coworker, set a steaming cup of coffee next to his idle mouse and gave him a knowing look.
“Long night huh? Who’s the lucky gal who’s been keeping you up?” Jimmy nudged Clark’s fist jovially with his own in mistaken solidarity.
“Lucky- what? No.” Clark shook his head, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
“Then, hangover?” Jimmy guessed. “Never seen you get drunk.”
“Not that.” Clark mumbled into the cup. He took a long swig of the hot drink, wincing at the bitter taste.
“Don’t tell me you’re losing sleep over that article Chief assigned you to.”
Clark set his jaw but didn’t deny it. If he attempted to lie, his ever astute friend would catch him in it. It was just his luck that he had been assigned to cover Cat Grant’s, their resident entertainment columnist, assignment list while she was on break. One of which included a writeup on you, a rapper who was now currently and unwittingly the main star of his spank bank.
For some inexplicable reason, seeing you had given him…urges, the sexual kind. An unwelcome development with his newfound illness. When he asked one of the Superman Robots about his condition during a stay at the Fortress of Solitude, he’d been too embarrassed to provide them with any sordid details.
“Four.” He’d said firmly, calling his most trusted robot attendant. “Run a cross-reference in the Archive for any substances that can cause weakness for a Kryptonian.”
“Besides Kryptonite, sir?” The robot droned drolly.
“Not Kryptonite.” Clark confirmed. “But something like it.”
“Is it a weakness you’re experiencing currently, sir?”
“Yes, I mean, no. N-not right now, but before.” He cleared his throat, and then added after a pause, “at night usually.”
“Can you describe your symptoms, sir?”
“For one thing I can’t stop thinking about—“ An intrusive thought gnawed at the back of his mind. Sometimes it was your eyes, or your lips. He had willed more proper images of you in his head. But this time was a bit more…lewd. Your legs open, waiting for him. Him dragging the tip of his cock against your heat, gathering the wetness until—
“I can’t stop thinking about something.” Clark continued on with much difficulty, pushing the thought away. “It’s like a spell, like magic.”
“Give me a moment to assess your physical standing. Please have a seat, sir.” Four gestured to the examination table that he’d usually use to recover after a battle in. Now and then Four would assess him, much akin to a routine check up at the doctor’s office.
“Unusual arrhythmia.” An computerized voice dictated. “Body heat levels abnormal. Increased blood flow to peni—”
“Alright, alright I get it.” Clark immediately sat up from the table hoping to God his here-and-there cousin wasn’t around to eavesdrop.
“I am also running a reference for substances or spells that may cause a Kryptonian the intense physical attraction you were describing”
Intense physical attraction. Clark cringed inwardly, hearing his diagnosis out loud suddenly made his situation feel so trivial but it was anything but. If he was losing sleep at his dayjob, he'd eventually be affected on the battlefield.
A visual projection of Four sifting through the Archive had reflected against crystal pillars that had jutted up from the hardened ice beneath. After a moment of sifting the words “Not Found” blinked back at him.
“Though there doesn’t seem to be any substances or spells, I found something in our health related archives that you might be referring to.” The projection whirred through again, this time showing a faceless diagram of a body.
“Each Kryptonian has a body signature that carries their unique attributes. On Earth, humans would refer to this as DNA.”
A 3D diagram of a DNA helix structure appeared next to the body.
“Each unique signature activates upon the sight of a potential mate. It’s a sort of Kryptonian failsafe to ensure the proliferation of your race.
Body signature? Match? This was beginning to sound like one of the dystopian novels he’d read in middle school.
“Might I suggest one way to relieve you of your symptoms, sir.”
Clark swallowed hard, feeling his throat go dry but nodded with a grimace. He had a sinking feeling he already knew what Four would say.
“Copulation,” the robot said simply.
“And.. if that isn’t exactly an option?” He said hoarsely. It’s not like he could say ‘hey stranger I’ve never met, I need to mate with you or I’ll literally be physically ill.’
“We can simulate the same mating mechanism if you provide a likeness of the potential mate in order to induce ejaculation. After which, you will feel much better—”
“I can’t do that!” He felt his ears go hot, and a fierce blush spread on his cheeks.
"Stress levels rising," a computerized voice interjected. Seems like his diagnostic assessment hadn’t stopped running.
“Your semen is very valuable to us.” Four continued unphased. “It’s preferable to masturbate in a controlled environment so as to not waste—“
“No, enough! I’m not—You know what, forget I even asked.”
“Of course, sir.”
Needless to say, his little foray into the Archives was fruitless and left him in even a worse position than before: burdened with the knowledge that he’d need to see you under him, legs over his shoulders, moaning in pleasure as he fucked his cum deep inside your—
“Clark? You’re doing it again.” Jimmy snapped his fingers in front of his eyes to catch his attention.
“Wha—” Clark blinked himself back to reality out of his thoughts. What was wrong with him? He felt like a starving dog in desperate need of a bone. “Sorry, Jimmy. What were you saying?”
“You sure you’re ok?”
Clark nodded, albeit unconvincingly.
“Well, if you’re not feeling up to the interview today you need to let Chief know, and quick.”
“Interview? What interview?” Clark said confused.
“I thought that’s what you’ve been pulling all nighters preparing for? You know, the interview with Y/N.”
Clark stared at him blankly. “I thought it was just an article.”
“That’s what I thought too. I mean what business do you have interviewing a rapper, anyway? You think music peaked at The Mighty Crabjoys” He jutted a thumb at the mini poster Clark had thumbtacked on his cubicle wall.
”For the record, music did peak at the Mighty Crabjoys,” Clark said taking offense, “but just because I’m from Kansas doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy a little rap.”
“Oh really?” Jimmy raised an eyebrow in challenge, “Name five songs by Y/N.”
Clark rattled off five and your latest mixtape for extra measure.
“So you have been researching. Then what’s the big deal?” Jimmy shrugged, leaning against the table.
If you could call jacking off to your music videos research, then yes he had been. Enough to memorize your whole discography by rote.
“Researching for the article, not for an interview,” Clark hissed lowly. It was bad enough he was sleeping on the job, but he didn’t need the whole floor hearing he hadn’t even prepped for a simple entertainment column.
“You got a front page story with fucking Superman. That’s like interviewing Jesus, Clark. If you could interview him, then this is a cakewalk.”
Before Clark could retort to Jimmy’s widely off-base comparison, the staff around them began to murmur. Clark and Jimmy turned their attention to the commotion they could see beyond the glass doors into the lobby. It was you right on schedule for your interview.
Jimmy nudged Clark forward and gave him a reassuring pat on the back.
↳ Summary: Jason asks a favor from his brother’s ex to help revamp his failing fraternity before summer ends.
↳ W.C : 2.7k
↳ Tags + Warnings: College AU - no supers only capes, Jason is capt. of the hockey team and head of his frat, mentions of panic attacks/anxiety, unrequited(?) love, older woman x younger man, ex’s little brother, Dick is your ex, bickering/banter
There was something satisfying about taking something broken and fixing it up so it could become something new. You could take an old house and make it into a home worth making memories in.
The kitchen you were standing in had been the last of the latest renovation project, and your favorite room of any house. You stepped back to admire your handiwork. The finished marble countertop island paired perfectly with the glittering light fixture that now hung from the ceiling. The cabinets had been painted white, and the appliances replaced with stainless steel.
You snapped a few pictures with your phone. It would be a great addition to your website portfolio.
A notification from your email account pinged onto your screen.
RE: Tulane Proposal Follow-up
The Tulanes want to see your final proposal for the lake house. They’re deciding between yours and another. Oh, and that guy Jason keeps calling. Do you want me to forward his calls to you?
You chewed your lip. You had been putting off answering Jason’s calls. In fact, you rarely answered phone calls without the buffer of your assistant, Kelly. You typed back a message:
Thanks for the update. You can give Jason my cell.
Pocketing the phone, you thought back to the last time you had interacted with Jason. It was probably years ago by now. Between being swamped with work and building your business, you barely had time to see Dick, let alone his little brother.
The last time you'd seen him had been years ago when he’d offered to help you flip your first house. And when the call from Jason came in asking you to help him, you thought Dick, your ex, had a medical emergency or something and needed a kidney.
If it were up to you, you’d never have to step foot on GothamU’s frat row ever again. It was a breeding ground for exclusion, sexual assault, and drunken debauchery. But the bulk of your decision to help him wasn’t because of Jason’s talent for guilt-tripping. It was because he’d never asked anything of you before. And the fact that he reached out to you specifically made it harder for you to say no.
Apparently, Jason had screened every call and blocked every form of contact from the Waynes except for Alfred, their estate manager. You knew that offhandedly from Dick. He wasn’t exactly the type to ask anyone for help.
You smiled in pity, as you recounted their conversation. He was so adamant about not asking for money from Bruce, but you wondered if he was aware that grant money was basically Wayne money anyway. The Wayne Foundation made hefty donations to the billionaire’s honorary alma mater every year. You thought it best not to divulge that fact and instead clicked around on your desktop calendar to clear up some time for a site visit.
When you arrived at Gotham University’s Fraternity Row the next week, the street looked abandoned. During the summer, most college campuses looked like ghost towns. Jason was one of the few who would rather stay on campus than go home.
You walked along the sidewalk and passed by mansion-like structures, each uniquely designed to add a bit of character to each fraternity. One of the business frats was a traditional colonial-style building with large white pillars bracketing its front doors. GothamU students termed it “The White House” for its stately presence, neatly manicured lawn, and the members who ironically donned suits at any chance they could get.
Another one was more gothic in structure, like it belonged in a European countryside. Everyone called it “The Castle,” and every Halloween they would play up their spooky aesthetic with a haunted house themed “Freaky FrightNight” party.
SigRho house rounded the end of the street. It was just as you had remembered it. Perhaps even worse. It was quaint enough on the outside, but clearly unkempt and in need of repairs. You noted the uneven cobblestone overgrown with weeds. The roof was due for reshingling, and they’d definitely need to repave the walkway. The yardwork looked like its own beast entirely. Just clearing the underbrush and replenishing the very dead garden would take up a whole month.
As you made your way to the porch you noticed a rather conspicuous hole dug in the ground. You pinched the bridge of your nose. What had you gotten yourself into? If this was what the outside looked like, you would be in for a rude awakening when you saw the interior of the house.
You rapped on the door with the knocker and waited patiently for an answer, but all you could hear was a muffled stereo blasting rap music. You raised your hand to knock again until the door swung open and you were face-to-face with pecks—sweaty ones—filling your vision. A shirtless guy wearing black basketball shorts and a pair of red and black Nike Dunks blinked down at you, clearly surprised. It was like you had just interrupted his workout.
Truthfully, you didn’t know where it was safe to look. You were eye level with his chest, and the slightest glance downward gave you an eyeful of a 6—no, 8—pack. One look at his outfit or…lack thereof, made you feel overdressed in your tailored slacks. Your clothes were casual for an office but Met Gala worthy on a college campus on summer break.
You watched his wide eyes trail from your eyes, linger at your buttoned-up cardigan, then down to your sensible flats, as if he was thinking the exact same thing.
He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again before finally uttering a “one sec” and then promptly shutting the door.
Was that…Jason? You almost thought you had the wrong person. Did he have a growth spurt? Before he left for college, he was fairly lean, but now he practically filled the entire doorframe. He was imposing in a way his older brother wasn’t. It was hard to believe he was the younger one by stature alone.
The cognitive dissonance was so great that it took you a while to register that you’d just had the door closed on you. A few minutes later, the music turned down to an appropriate level, and the door opened again to the boy now in a sleeveless shirt and loose cargo pants. It seemed like he had freshened up a bit too, given the faint scent of bergamot in the air.
Now that he was properly dressed, you could see him clearly; he still had the same shock of messy curls and blue-green eyes that you remembered.
“Did you forget our meeting?” You eyed Jason warily, slipping past him and letting yourself in. You didn’t know why you were acting so cordially. Was it because you used to have a good 5 inches on him years ago, and now he was twice your size? Was it the awkwardness of seeing Dick’s family when you wanted nothing to do with him anymore? Or maybe it was because a hug would just get his sweat all over you.
“‘Course not.” He stepped aside to make room for you, rubbing at a sore shoulder. “Just…I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”
As you walked through the foyer, you paused to inspect the things that caught your eye. “Not expecting me at the time we scheduled? Just say you forgot.”
“I didn't, I swear.” He brought his hand up in surrender.
The foyer opened into a great room littered with half-packed boxes. The furniture had already been cleared, and all that was left was a rolled-up carpet and gilded frames that had been taken down and covered with cloth.
“Where do you want these, Boss?” a deep voice called out. You directed your attention to a bulky man who was carrying a large box. It seemed you’d missed the “no shirts allowed” memo.
“Leave them by the door. And put a shirt on; we've got company.” Jason directed without batting an eye.
“Boss?” You raised an eyebrow. What is this, the mafia?
He only made a nonchalant shrug. “Team captain privileges”
You watched him direct the guys you assumed were the other frat brothers around the house. It then became clear that he had been preparing the house for renovations by emptying it out before your arrival. Within 20 minutes, each room of the first floor had been emptied and organized into boxes in the foyer.
“We have a truck coming to pick this all up and bring it into storage later today. I was hoping we’d have it all out before you got here, though.”
“It’s good to see that you had a head start.”
“Told ya I didn’t forget.” He said smugly. “Can’t afford you walking out on me.” Jason moved to take a heavy box out of another member’s hands and place it on top of one of the boxes in the foyer.
“You can’t afford me, period.” You snorted.
“I know, I know you’ll never let me forget it.”
Jason paused in setting another box onto a pile to wipe the sweat off his brow.
No central cooling. You noted to yourself. You were starting to feel hot yourself. Why did you think a sweater in the summer heat was a good idea?
“I will say,” you said, clearing the air, “I’m very impressed you’re taking so much initiative.”
His mouth quirked, amused. “You gonna give me a cookie or something?”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” You rolled your eyes. “Cookies are for when a job gets done”
“Ouch. You grading me now? What happened to ‘A for Effort’?”
“Effort is a given; Only results get rewarded.” You recited something your Dad always told you. “You should be taking notes; people would pay big money to hear the life advice I’m giving you pro bono.”
“Oh great, another boring lecture to sleep through,” he yawned theatrically, playfully dodging your swat at his arm. “What? I’m listening. I’m listening!”
As Jason finished up clearing the bottom floor, you appraised the house from room to room. It had been the first time you’d stepped foot in a frat house during the day and only the second time you’d been in one. The first time your GothamU roommates had dragged you out to an AlphaKap party, you’d spent the night dodging drunken boys and sipping lukewarm beer in one of the quieter corners of the house. Needless to say, you didn’t quite get the appeal of any of it.
You noted the game room’s pool table that teetered on an uneven leg and the library’s peeling wallpaper and rusty chandelier. The reading room, a small alcove next to the library, was the only room that seemed untouched. The floorboards creaked with every step as you made your way down to the dining area in the basement of the house. Even the banister was splintered and rough to the touch.
At the bottom of the staircase was a row of portraits. At a distance, they looked regal and rivaled the ones that you’d seen the first time you visited Wayne Manor with Dick. But when you examined them closely, you could see that they were less portraits and more caricatures.
In one photo, the active members of SigRho posed solemnly in suits, capturing the gravitas of prewar soldiers going to war. In the frame next to it was a sillier looking one: a beach theme where they posed in brightly colored Hawaiian shirts, tropical flower necklaces draped around their necks. You located Jason, who was holding a surfboard. He had his tongue out and was holding out his hand with a “hang 10” sign.
In the picture, there was also a pit bull being held up by one of the frat members. When you moved to the next portrait, you saw that it was the same dog, photographed as if it were a prize pet. Its mouth hung open, and one of the tropical flowers was pinned behind its ear. The plaque underneath it was simply engraved “Dog” with a "Best Girl" superlative underneath it. That explained the scratches on the hardwood.
It was just sinking in that you were clearly in a frat and you’d brought yourself there on your own volition.
Noticing Jason coming down the stairs behind you, you spoke up. “Please tell me you’re not going to house a dog here after you renovate.”
His eyes shifted from Dog’s portrait back to you. “Dog isn’t just ‘a dog’. She’s family.”
You glowered at him.
“Relax, you won’t have to worry about that anyway. The university already got on our case about it, so one of the brothers took her.”
“You make it sound like I kidnapped her.” Came another voice from behind you. A shorter boy with hair dyed in streaks of green strolled in from the alcove behind you, holding a box of pizza in one hand and munching on a veggie slice with the other. “She came to my arms fair and square.”
The green-haired boy gestured the box out to you in offering. When you politely declined, Jason took a slice instead.
“We circled up, put Dog in the middle, and whoever she ran to first could adopt her.” Jason began to explain in between bites, leading the way to a billiards table that had been stripped bare. “But she ran to Gar even though I’m the one that found her first.”
“Aww, they grow up so fast,” a redhead in a trucker cap and a goatee teased, greeting Jason with an elaborate handshake as a few more guys filed in.
“You still get visitation, bro,” the green-haired boy you now knew as Gar piped up.
The empty billiards table was the only thing left in the room. The dining tables and chairs had already been cleared out, and you could see them clustered through the windowed doors that opened to the outdoor patio. Gar rested the open pizza box in the center of the table, and within seconds, it was devoured.
Jason ushered you to the head of the table and counted heads. “You guys seen Bart? I swear I just saw him.” When no one could respond, he sighed. “Well, anyway, let’s just get started. Y/N, this is SigRho, well, part of it. And SigRho, this is Y/N; she’ll be helping us with the renovation.”
You examined each member as they introduced themselves in a circle.
“I’m Roy,” the redhead began first, “Technically I’m an alum. I’m a grad student in the mechanical engineering department. Just here to help my chapter out.” He held out a hand for you to shake. You nodded and shook his hand, surprised. You were expecting him to be a hockey player like Jason. You made a mental note that he would be useful for any of the more technical fixes.
“Most people call me by my last name, ‘Bizarro’. I’m on the hockey team with Jason and Bart. I study Exercise Science.” The hulking man you’d seen carrying boxes in the foyer spoke up. His voice was surprisingly timid now that all the attention was on him. He’d probably be helpful in demolition and teardowns if needed.
“Vic Stone. Comp Sci. I play football, but I’m sitting out preseason.” He shuffled backwards from the table so you could get a better look at the brace on his right foot. “Sprained my ankle. It’s getting better, though.”
You nodded sympathetically. It was probably best if he didn’t do any strenuous work.
“I’m Gar. I’m not part of any team, by the way.” He gestured to his body as if his stature made that obvious. “Everyone always seems to think so, though. Right, guys?”
A chorus of “nos” and “not reallys” filled the room, but he ignored them. “They’re just joking.” He grinned at you. You struggled to come up with a role for him, but having him around would certainly lighten the mood.
“And you already know me,” Jason concluded. “What do you think? You said you needed a team, so I brought you mine.”
↳ Summary: Jason asks a favor from his brother’s ex to help revamp his failing fraternity before summer ends.
↳ W.C : ongoing
↳ Tags + Warnings: College AU - no supers only capes, Jason is capt. of the hockey team and head of his frat, mentions of panic attacks/anxiety, unrequited(?) love, older woman x younger man, ex’s little brother, Dick is your ex, bickering/banter
🎵 A Bar Song (Tipsy) - Shaboozey
🎵 Summer in July - Yukon Blonde
🎵 The Sound - The 1975
🎵 Lisztomania - Phoenix
🎵 Mr. Brightside - The Killers
🎵 Tongue Tied - Grouplove
🎵 Stay the Night - Zedd
🎵 A Day Late - Anberlin
🎵 Your Love - The Outfield
Whenever Jason needed to destress, he went to the gym. Both his therapist and coach suggested he work out regularly—his therapist to help manage what she diagnosed as “Generalized Anxiety Disorder,” and his coach to curb what he bluntly described as “temper tantrums” on the ice.
The first time he’d been called to Dean Dawes office was for almost causing a brawl with a rival team from Vesper Tech. He’d gotten multiple warnings for breaking his hockey sticks throughout the season. His crashouts became so famous that spectators began to call him “Red-Hot” not only for the candy-red helmet he chose to wear that clashed with Gotham’s dark navy and silver colors, but also because of a meme that went semi-viral of edited steam rising from his head whenever he got angry.
Starting a full-on fist fight with another hockey player was the last straw that jeopardized his position on the team. Dean Dawes was kind enough to waive disciplinary action in exchange for summer sessions with Dr. Shaw. And by the power of mindfulness and intentional exercise, Jason mellowed out—even becoming captain of the Gotham Knights last year.
Now that hockey season was over and school had been let out for almost two months already, Jason shouldn’t have had any reason to be stressed. He should’ve been enjoying his summer vacation with the boys, relaxing at the House, or shout-singing “Sweet Caroline” on road trips to local music festivals. However, here he was now at GothamU’s training room, currently benching the maximum weight allotted for a university gym and breaking a sweat. Even though he had probably hit a new personal record, he couldn’t seem to focus because the second time he'd been called to the Dean's office was not as a hockey player but as President of his fraternity.
"I’m giving you the grant because I trust you will do your best to turn things around. But if you can’t bring your fraternity up to par, good standing included, I’m afraid we’re going to have to shut Sigma Rho House down.”
That meeting had happened back in April. It was June now, and Jason was officially S.O.L.
Sigma Rho (affectionately “SigRho”) had seen better days. It was falling apart, and though Jason had taken up some of the repairs on his own by fixing rickety doors and replacing leaky faucets, there was only so much he and a YouTube tutorial could handle. He needed professional help. But the more companies he called, the more dead ends he ran into.
Jason exhaled as he pushed the weighted barbell away from his chest and placed it back on the holding rack above him. He could always sweat himself out of an oncoming panic attack. He sat up, chest heaving, winded from exertion.
A buzz at his hip drew his attention to his phone. It was a calendar notification reminding him to make a call to his last resort. He chewed his lip as his finger hovered over the name in his contacts list. Pressing down with reluctance, he brought the phone to his ear. After two rings, the line picked up.
“Tell your brother I’m not unblocking his number.”
It was completely like you to get straight to business. Jason furrowed his brows, confused. “Actually, no, I… wait, did something happen?”
“Dick and I broke up.” You said flatly.
Again? The last time he’d seen his brother, Dick, he’d been whisking you off to some European country. What could have possibly happened between then and now?
“What did you need, Jace?” You said, steering the conversation back to the subject at hand.
“I have a favor to ask you.” He hated the way he sounded now, the way the end of his sentence seemed to lift like a question. There was something about talking to you that always made him feel so unsure of himself.
“Well, go on.”
“You remember SigRho, right?”
“Although I’d love to erase frat row from my memory, yes, unfortunately, I do. What about it?”
“We’re looking to do some renovations to the house, and I haven’t had any luck finding a company that can do what I’m looking for. I know it’s short notice and you’re probably super busy, but I know you used to flip houses so—”
“Hold up and slow down. You do know I’m in New York, right? What are you asking for that you can’t find a local company to do it? Gotham has to have contractors that’ll take you up on it.”
“There are. But the budget’s pretty limited for what we need. I haven’t found anyone willing to help us out.” Jason’s mind flickered back to the phone calls he’d had with contractors who laughed in his face when he proposed his budget.
“I don’t know if you forgot, Jason, but your Dad is the richest man in the tristate. Budget shouldn’t even be in your vocabulary. Why don’t you just ask Bruce to–I don't know–spot you?”
Jason closed his eyes and groaned inwardly. This was the exact reason why he didn’t like people knowing about his family or how he grew up in a house so big that his closet was the size of his current room at the frat.
“We had a falling out.”
“Well, fall the fuck back in.” If your voice was any indication, he could hear you rolling your eyes through the phone as if it were the simplest solution in the world. He scoffed; he could say the same for your and his brother’s on-again, off-again relationship.
You don’t just “fall out” of a fortune. If you did, you were an idiot. He knew that. And yet, he despised depending on Bruce for another cent. He did everything he could to defy his expectations and even got a hockey scholarship to play for the GothamU Knights, all on his own.
Now, it’d been three years since he started Gotham, and three years since he’d talked to Bruce. He wasn’t going to ruin his streak now.
“It’s… not that easy.” He chose his words with tact. Jason was frustrated, but he needed your help, and making some smart-ass comment was a one-way ticket to getting iced out by his brother’s girlfriend—well, ex now— who not only had experience in renovating but also had a successful contracting business.
“More like, you’re just making it hard. Why didn’t you ask Dick? You know he wouldn’t say no.”
“He’d just force me to ask Bruce.” Like you’re doing right now, Jason wanted to add but he held his tongue.
“You need the money, Jason.”
“I don’t." He gritted out back.
He couldn’t say he hadn’t thought about it. Bruce had enough money to throw around that a renovation wouldn’t make a dent in his wallet. But flaunting Wayne money around was the furthest thing from his mind. He knew what money did to people, how it transformed people. He hadn’t told his SigRho brothers yet, and he wasn’t planning to for a long time.
"The Office of Greek Life gave us a grant to fix up the place. So as long as we’re in good standing with them, I have plenty. I’ll make sure you get paid, Y/N.”
The other line was quiet for a moment, and Jason had already resigned himself to giving up until you finally spoke up.
“You better, because my services aren’t cheap.”
“Ok!” He tried to conceal how excited he was with a clearing of his throat and a nonchalant deepening of his voice. “And how much would those services cost?”
“Judging by the fact that you probably haven’t renovated since I was going to GothamU, the roof’s going to need repairs. We’re probably going to have to tear out the floors and lay down new hardwood, too. Outdoor landscaping is a separate fee…Not to mention the crew salaries—”
You rambled as you began to rattle off a few figures rapid-fire. The more you spoke, the more Jason’s confidence deflated.
“And how much is it without the crew?” He ran a hand through his hair. That had been one of his nervous tells that his therapist had clocked during their first session. That, along with the pacing he was currently doing across the weight room floor.
“I need my crew, and they don’t work for free.”
“You can use me.” He countered. “Use me and the other members. I’m good with direction. Plus I helped you out before, remember? And, actually now that I think of it, you didn’t even pay me that time.”
“You said, and I quote, ‘not to sweat it.’ Those were your words verbatim.”
“You should’ve gotten it in writing then,” He cooed. “But don’t worry, Y/N, if you help me out, you can consider us even.”
There was a brief pause, and then finally, a sigh—The glorious sound of your resignation and his triumph. “I’ll come down to see the property. It’s not a yes, but you’re getting my very precious time, Jace. Don’t waste it.”
↳ Summary : After losing a bet, Jason is at your beck and call for the rest of the year. Pt. 2 of Wildcard
↳ W.C : ~5k
↳ Tags + Warnings: references to the previous fic, banter, oral (female receiving), face-sitting, grinding, shyish!reader x tsundereish!jason, reader wears glasses, jason is still a kind of dickhead but less of the dick and more of the giving head, once again side characters are there (rachel, rose, gar, conner, and dickkory)
“Y’know if you wanted DoorDash, there’s a little something called ‘the App Store’. Just thought you might like to know.”
You glanced up from the book you were reading on your bed and, sure enough, there was a certain messy-haired boy glowering back at you, hand stuffed in one pocket with the other cradling a plastic bag full of your Bat Burger order.
He unceremoniously plopped the bag on the desk by your bed.
“And why would I do that, when I have you?” You said simply trying to emulate Rose’s confident way of speech.
You sat up, closing your book to examine the plastic bag. It had been a week since you, Rachel, and Rose had all agreed on the terms of your agreement. The boys—Jason, Conner, and Gar had all lost a bet over Game Night, and as one does, had to bear the consequences of being the girls’ gophers, or as Rose liked to call it “errand bitches”, for the rest of the year.
Thanks to Game Night, Jason was your gopher. That night had been the first night you’d spoken at length to Jason other than greetings or pleasantries. While Rachel and Rose had readily accepted their new positions of power, it was almost daunting for you to tell the King of Back-Sass himself what to do.
You started small at first, asking him for simple things like opening jars or reaching high places. It wasn’t until Conner and Gar had seen how sparingly you were ordering him around that they started to complain.
“If they see Jason barely doing anything, then they’re not gonna listen to us Y/N. And then the whole integrity of the bet gets thrown off. What’s gonna be the point of making bets in the first place if we don’t follow through?” Rachel hissed at you between sparring trainings.
It was agreed that any time you were near Dick (or any other older Titan for that matter) that the agreement was off. If Dick had caught any whiff of the bet, he’d probably ban Game Night—or worse, lecture them on how divisions on the basis of gender would erode teamwork on the field and blah blah blah.
From then on, you agreed to give Jason more orders. Or at least, the illusion of keeping him busy so Rachel and Rose would get off your back. Making Jason your personal UberEats seemed to do the trick. And it actually worked for a few days until… it didn’t.
You opened the bag and wrinkled your nose at the half-eaten Bat Burger and a handful of fries. You didn’t get mad, you rarely ever did, but this was certainly annoying.
“Jason,” You said giving him a withering look.
“What? You should be glad I saved you some. Besides, princess,” He said sarcastically, "You can’t just be eating anything. I’m testing for poison.” He reached into the bag and snatched a single fry. He took a bite and chewed for a moment thoughtfully. “Yep, all clear. Anything else you need?”
Jason was clearly testing your patience, pushing your buttons and the limits of your authority. At this rate, the few days he actually listened to you seemed too good to be true.
“No, just—I don’t need anything.” You cursed yourself for stammering and felt yourself fluster seeing his smug face. “Can you please just leave?” You got up from the bed to shoo him away.
“You’re not really good at this are you?” He snorted, dodging your lunge at him to leave the room.
“That’s not how this works.” You took a breath to compose yourself and adjusted your glasses from falling off your nose. “We have an agreement that you follow my orders. And I just ordered you to do something, so you can go now.”
“Yea, I understand that perfectly fine.” He crossed his arms and tilted his head as if in pity. “It’s just… you’re not good at it.” He laughed again.
You rolled your eyes. “I don’t need to be good at it if that’s what was agreed.” He was implying you were meek, and maybe that was true, but that wasn’t even the whole point of the agreement. Leave it to Jason to be difficult about something as simple as this.
“I get that but, at least make it believable. You know, ‘cuz then maybe I’d actually be inclined to play along.”
You shot him a weirded out look under his scrutiny. “You’re unbelievable. I’ll leave.” You made a move for the door but Jason quickly stepped in the way. Annoying.
“I’m serious, I swear. Why do you think we all listen to Dick?”
“We listen to Dick. You’re the one that doesn’t.”
He grinned. “Ok, fair enough. But, why do you all listen to Dick?”
“I don’t know, maybe because he’s a good leader?” You threw up your hands in exasperation. “What’s your point, Jason? You’re starting to sound like him.”
“Ok first, I’m disgusted you’d even say that. And second, my point is Dick doesn’t say ‘can you please leave?’ He doesn’t ask. He either tells you or makes you.”
You stared blankly at him, but he seemed eager to make a point. “You want me to act like Dick? That way you’ll listen to me?”
“Well, no ‘cuz that wouldn’t really work, remember?” The corner of his mouth quirked up. He was all too happy to get on your nerves now. “What I’m saying is you need to Make. Me. Listen.” He leaned in a little bit, letting his voice lower as he emphasized the words.
How're you a virgin when you're takin' my cock this good, hm?
“Ugh.” You shuddered, his voice by your ear involuntarily taking you back to that night you both seemed to pretend never happened. You pushed him away, having grown tired of his smug face. When you stepped towards the door again, he rushed over and closed it shut. “Oh for God’s sake.”
You tried to step around him to no avail.
“Move.” You glowered.
Jason's eyebrows raised slightly, almost impressed. “Acceptable.” He stepped aside to let you pass.
As you walked through the hallway, you could hear Jason’s soft footsteps behind you.
You whipped around. “Stop following me.”
“I’m not ‘following you’, there’s only one hallway. If anything you’re in my way.” He shrugged. The look on his face bore no emotion but you swore you could see amusement twinkle in his eye.
Just ahead, Dick was walking in your direction sipping on a steaming mug of coffee.
“Y/N, Jason! Glad to see you two getting along.”
Your frustration dissipated at the sight of the chipper man. On the field, he was as serious as can be, but off the field, he was as intimidating as a substitute teacher.
You and Dick’s eyes both followed after Jason, who hadn’t bothered to stop and say hello. The elder brother only shook his head with a good-natured sigh and returned his attention back to you.
“I’ve noticed you warming up to everyone lately. With the other girls, I mean. You, Rose, and Rachel really seem to be a good team, especially during our practices. Even Jason is playing nice with the others. He can be a bit abrasive sometimes but these days, I can see he’s making progress with teamwork too.”
“Thanks uh- I guess it’s all thanks to you. Game Nights really helped us to get closer.”
“Glad to hear it.” He patted you on the shoulder and turned the corner to the computer room.
When you walked into the living room, you heard everyone exhale in relief.
“What?” You looked around quizzically. Game Night Crew had gathered again on the couches, this time—thankfully—fully clothed.
“We thought you were Grayson,” Rose called from the couch. “He almost caught us the first time.”
Caught? Doing what?
You weren’t entirely prepared for what you saw but Rose and Rachel were concentrating hard on painting Conner and Gar’s nails.
“Are you completely sure this is vegan?”
“Yes, now hold still.” Rose admonished Gar, applying another coat with professional precision.
Rachel looked up from her handiwork with Conner’s hand. She wordlessly tossed a look from you to Jason who was currently looking more interested in whatever was in the fridge than at the group in the living room. Her face clearly read, make him do something now. You sent her back a look that read, fine.
You cleared your throat. “Jason.” You tried to muster up as much authority as you could. Knowing what you knew now, you knew he wouldn’t budge at the slightest tremor of your voice.
“Hn.” Was his only response, but at least you knew you caught his attention. When he turned, you locked eyes on his. “Come here, ple—I mean. Come here.”
You watched him crack a smile. He closed the refrigerator door and ambled over. So far so good.
He didn’t seem to register anyone else in the room. He only tilted his head, waiting for the next direction.
“Sit down.”
He paused as if contemplating whether or not to answer to an instruction one gave a dog thinly veiled as an order. Even so, he sat. Well, that was easy enough, you thought to yourself. It was almost comical to see him be so obedient.
“Give me your hand.” You primed.
You could see his hesitation as you reached for the nearest nail polish bottle, but it was erased as soon as you met his gaze again.
“That’s… not my color.”
“Of course.” You picked up a burgundy red. “How could I forget?”
He sneered at your teasing but still allowed your light hold under the palm of his hand.
“Why does he get a choice and we don’t?” Gar pouted, looking longingly at a green bottle of nail polish
“I kinda like the black.” Conner shrugged and gave his other unpolished hand to Rachel.
“You can never go wrong with black.” Rachel agreed.
Jason grimaced as he watched the polish coat his nail. It was wholly apparent that under any other circumstance, he would’ve never allowed you to do this, but you were thankful that he liked to keep whatever honor he had to words. Under the agreement and as long as you spoke to him with confidence, he would listen.
౨ৎ
The next week Dick had decided that based on the success of Game Night with team morale, an outing would be another great chance for the younger members of the team to get closer. That’s why you were now sitting at the beach and squinting the sun out of your eyes.
You had volunteered to watch everyone’s stuff while they explored the bordering pier. Jason had practically disappeared the moment his flip-flops hit the sand.
It was nice to be out just to be out, not in the field on a mission. Titan’s tower felt like one giant bubble and it was easy to forget that there was life outside being a hero.
You settled into people-watching as you waited for the rest of the group to return. There was a group of teens playing volleyball by the net, a family of three showing their toddler how to make a sandcastle, and couples—lots of couples.
“You not gonna go to the pier?”
You were in the middle of gazing wistfully at a couple that was sharing their ice cream when you felt a shadow over you.
“I’m watching everyone’s stuff until they get back.” You squinted up at him. Even with your hat on, it was an incredibly bright summer day.
Jason plopped down on the beach towel next to you. He was wearing swim trunks and an unbuttoned linen shirt which didn’t do much to hide the lean cuts of muscle on his abdomen. Judging by his damp curls, he had just returned from a swim in the ocean.
“I can watch,” He jutted his chin in the direction of the pier. “You should go.”
“Maybe in a little bit.” You dug your feet into the sand, feeling the warmth tingle your toes. You didn’t feel like leaving your spot just yet.
He reached behind you for his towel and bent a bit over to muss his hair dry. You were close enough to feel the tiny droplets of water tickle your skin.
“Do you have to do that right next to me?” You said, not incredibly annoyed though—the water felt cool. It was enough to make you want to go for a swim to cool down too.
“Sorry,” he said a bit sheepishly, peeking up at you from beneath the towel. His hair, now much drier and fluffed, made him look somewhat like a puppy. Cute.
You gave him a small smile before returning your attention to the ebbing and receding of the ocean tide.
“Got a lot on your mind?”
You quickly broke your stare from the water to see that Jason was still looking at up you, eyebrow cocked in curiosity. It was the look he gave you that always made you think he didn’t quite get you. A fascinated look that made you feel like you were another species under his gaze.
“I was just thinking it’s nice to take a break and be normal for a change.”
“Normal?”
“Like,” you gestured vaguely around the beach. “Everyone here. No missions, no bad guys. Normal.”
“Yea, hanging out?” he snorted, “We do that all the time.”
Jason had been a cape since before you’d even met Dick and the rest of the group. You were still getting used to your new way of life. He was either being willfully obtuse or he really just didn’t understand you at all. You and Jason were opposites after all. Your quiet and shy often clashed with his bold and boisterous.
“I don’t mean just hanging out, I mean other stuff too.”
The couple you had seen earlier caught your eye again. They were now sitting on a beach towel further ahead of where you were. They looked like they were in their own world, nudging each other playfully in laughter. If you hadn’t joined the Titans what would you be doing now?
He followed your line of sight, gazing silently at the couple for a moment before flickering his eyes away to the water.
“We could do other stuff.”
You expected him to be smirking at you like he usually did when he teased or made a joke, but he wasn’t looking at you anymore. When you glanced at him you could see a faint flush on his cheeks. Probably from the heat.
You shook your head, realizing what you implied and trying now to take it back. “I didn’t mean with you, I mean with regular people.”
“What? Like it makes a difference?”
“Well, yea fundamentally. Gar can turn into animals, Rachel has a demon trapped inside her, Rose can’t die, Conner is Superboy. You’re...”
He frowned at your pause. “Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.”
You let out a laugh, happy that you’d annoyed him for a change.
“Well, by your logic,” he began, pointedly ignoring your laughter, “then we’re the most normal Titans here.”
He had a point. You didn’t have any special powers either but Dick had taken you in just the same.
“If you want to be a regular person for a day, I guess, now’s as good a time as any.” He shrugged noncommittally as he rose from his spot on the sand. Jason took your wrist and gently pulled you on your feet. “C’mon, before they get here.”
You furrowed your brow, worried about your unguarded post but you were relieved that Game Night crew were already on their way back.
You heard them before you could fully spot them. Conner and Gar had been happily chatting away at the head of the group. Rachel and Rose were holding prizes from the boardwalk games. Dick and Kory, being the ones that drove you here, rounded out the back of the small crowd. Kory seemed to have found delight in the terrestrial delicacy, cotton candy.
After having guided you through the throngs of pedestrians to the main attractions, he released his hold on your wrist and gestured around theatrically as he spoke, "Now we’re just two regular people at the boardwalk. There’s the very normal Ferris Wheel, normal Whack-a-Mole, normal churros gotta love those—”
“I get it,” you laughed cutting him off before he could rattle on everything within visible range around you.
"Nah, I don't think you do, but you're lucky you have me to show you. Watch this."
You shot him a skeptical look and followed after to a target shot game booth. Arrays of red targets were displayed in rows while giant stuffed animals hung along the back wall.
"Which one you want?" He pulled out a few bills to hand the attendant and passed you a few of the colorful balls for you to play a round too.
You pointed at a giant brown teddy bear hanging by its ears.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.
One by one the targets fell in succession. He held the last ball in his hand and after a moment of thought, lobbed it lightly askew and letting it fall short of any target.
He gave you a smug smile and collected the teddy bear before handing it off to you.
"You call that normal?" You said incredulously, but still accepting the bear in your arms.
"What? I missed that last one."
"Sure." Jason was nothing if not terrifyingly accurate.
You played a few more games, amassing a trove of arcade treasures for each other, both of you trying your best not to be too good at the games. As you ventured down the boardwalk, you couldn't help but find your eyes linger on the young couples that surrounded you.
"When you said 'other stuff' earlier, you meant like dating stuff, right?" He said innocently between bites of funnel cake. You had decided to rest and were currently sitting down in a shaded food court, stuffed animals in tow.
You contemplated denying it but saw no reason to keep it from him. This revelation being objectively less embarrassing than the time you revealed you were still a virgin during a round of “Never Have I Ever.”
Taking your silence as an answer, he continued. "Well, since we're still doing normal shit we could try that."
You tried not to gape at him. “T-then we’d just be faking it. It wouldn’t be real...”
“So? How would you know real from fake if you've never dated anyone before?"
“Where did you get that from? I never said I didn’t date anyone before.”
“W-well I just assumed since—"
“I’ve been on dates, Jason. I’ve just never had sex.” You retorted.
“Well, Technically. We kinda, y’know..."
You don't know how fucking pretty you look with my cock in your mouth, Y/N
You pursed your lips, mind flashing to his moans, him begging you to put your mouth on him, the sloppy makeout session with him after he'd punished his cock down your throat. That’s the whole reason you guys were even talking this much now. The bet.
This is the first time you addressed that sexcapade since it happened and it's just been this weird tension ever since. It was the elephant-sized weirdness in the room, whenever you guys were around each other. You wondered faintly if Rachel and Rose were having the same issues after that night too.
"But if you don’t want to…"
"Fine."
"I-Oh,” He stammered as if he hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Ok...um what do you want me to do?" He rubbed the back of his neck, this time the tips of his ears tinged a faint pink.
“I don’t know." You felt yourself blush, "Act like you like me.”
He blinked back his surprise, bemused. “And what would that entail exactly?”
“You know what it entails.” You scoffed, exasperated.
“Not really no. I wouldn’t know something like that.” He recovered the annoying twinkle he usually carried in his eyes.
“I’d rather not do this if you’re going to make fun of me.”
“I’m joking. You mean act like your boyfriend and whatnot. I got it.”
In one swift motion, he leaned in closer and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. The powdered sugar was still sweet on his tongue but as quickly as it started, you could already feel him pulling away.
"W-why did you do that? At least warn me first.”
"'Cuz that’s not what boyfriends do.
“Are you the boyfriend expert now?”
“I happen to be,” He smirked. "You got a little something." He swiped his thumb at what was most likely some leftover sugar at the corner of your mouth and brought it to his lips to taste.
౨ৎ
The ride back home was not totally uncomfortable, but it was still awkward. Jason appeared to be unfazed, joking and laughing with the boys like nothing happened. You tried your best to match his nonchalance, but given the curious looks Rachel kept throwing the both of you, you'd failed.
Jason confused you. One moment it seemed like he liked you, and the next he would act like he barely knew you. You hated it. And to avoid the sting of another unrequited crush, you didn't ask anything of him for a few days, Game Night Bet be damned.
You had been reading a book on one of those rare free-schedule days when a light knock came at your door. When you opened it, Jason was on the other side holding a brown paper bag. You eyed the Bat Burger bag first, and then the boy holding it warily.
“I didn't order anything."
With all the missions and trouble in the city, everyone gradually stopped doing the bet thing anyway.
He shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. “I owe you. For last time."
“Oh. um. Ok, I guess.” You took the bag from him and set it down at your desk. You figured that would be the end of the conversation but he remained at your doorway appearing to look like he wanted to say something else. You paused, waiting for him to speak and when he didn't, you moved to close the door again.
“W-wait! I… I’m giving you a warning this time.”
Warning?
Then it finally clicked.
“Is… that ok?”
There was a slight worry in his gaze as if he was unsure you'd say yes. You felt something in your stomach flip, words got caught in your throat and you could only give him a small nod.
Upon your approval he stepped in closer, eyes dropping languidly from yours down to your lips. He carefully slid your glasses off his face, folding them neatly on the desk. You felt his hands pull you in by the hip to press your body against him. This time when he kissed you, it wasn't the same as when you were at the beach. It was slower, deliberate. Like he had been building up to this very moment.
You closed the door behind you as the kisses became more wanton and his hands began to roam grasping at your waist and hips, kneading handfuls of your ass beneath your skirt. You loved how he felt pressed against you, sturdy and strong. It wasn't long before you stumbled backward onto the bed and found yourself under him.
"What? Am I too loud?" His brow furrowed in worry when he felt your kisses subside. "I’ll be quieter."
"No, it's not that," you laughed a bit. He did have a habit of making tiny moans through kisses. But you gave him an extra peck on the lips for reassurance. "It’s just...You’re doing this because you want to right?"
“Not even gonna lie, I wanted to do this since the day you showed up.” His smile was bashful, like he just admitted a secret.
The guy you've liked since you joined the Titans had been thinking about you the same way? You thought back to the times you interacted. Jason's attention to you always came in the form of teasing but the weirdness after Game Night and the beach only served to confuse you more.
“Well, you did a shit job of showing it.” You pouted, adjusting your position beneath him to slide your shirt off.
“That’s only ‘cuz I thought you hated me." He sat up a bit to take his own shirt off before returning to plant kisses across your body.
“Ok, hate is a strong word.”
“You’re not denying it.” You could feel him smiling against your skin.
“More like minor dislike. But that’s only because I thought you didn’t like me.”
“I’m sorry." He murmured kissing your jaw, then down your neck. "I think pretty girls make my brain stop working. But I can make it up to you." He slid a hand underneath your unclasped bra and thumbed over the nipple. You let out a small gasp of air. “D'you want me to?”
You nodded, meeting his eyes.
“Use your words.”
“I want you to-oh fuck." Before you could even finish your sentence, his mouth had replaced his hand on your breast. He made sure to keep his eyes on you as he sucked and made warm licks at one breast, making sure to keep the other occupied with his hand.
In any other circumstance, he would never have missed the chance to tease you about your new choice of vocabulary, but he had a different kind of teasing in mind. He had removed his mouth from your breast and was now kissing up your inner thigh, rubbing his thumb in gentle circles over your panties.
“You’re so fucking wet."
He pulled down your panties and worked one finger and then two until his fingers were squelching in and out of your pussy. You'd masturbated before—maybe even masturbated to the fantasy of him fingering you too—but it was nothing like this. His hands were much bigger and roughened by years of combat on and off the field. It was better than you could’ve imagined yourself
“Can I taste it?” He asked, voice hoarse with need. Like if you’d denied him, you might as well have denied a desperately thirsty man water.
Before you could even reply, he replaced his fingers with his mouth. He laved at your entrance, relishing in your whimpering his name and your tangling your fingers through his hair. Jason might've loved a good blowjob, but he practically worshiped pussy. Every suck and kiss of your folds was accompanied by his pretty moans.
It was at this point where you felt yourself hurtling towards climax, but before you could get your much-needed release, you felt the warmth from his mouth leave you.
“Please...your mouth,” was all you could say upon regaining lucidity.
“What'd I say about saying please?” He rubbed a knuckle against your mound; You tried desperately to grind on it.
"J-jason," You whined, squirming under him in impatience. He seemed to enjoy watching you writhe to the same degree he loved to annoy you.
Make. Me. Listen.
Technically the bet was still in effect. As long as you spoke to him with confidence, he would listen, right? You sat up, pushing him onto his back to straddle him. His eyes widened, flashing equal parts in anticipation and welcomed confusion as he ran his hands along your thighs and you could feel his length underneath you. You would take care of that later, but for now, you had your own needs to fulfill.
Jason attempted to meet your lips again, but you only pushed him back to the bed again.
"I… want to cum," You declared simply, trying your best to be confident.
"Yea?" He grinned. "I can help you with that. You gonna sit on my face or do you need to ask for permission?"
"No, just—it’s embarrassing," You said almost breaking character. Almost.
He rolled his eyes. "If y'wanna cum, you're gonna need to come closer."
You crawled over him, tentatively hovering above his face scared to accidentally crush him. Once you got into position, he pressed you down resuming his kisses and licks, moaning as he lapped from underneath you.
"Oh fu—I'm gonna cum," you whimpered unconsciously fisting his hair as you ground against him, using his face shamelessly to ride out your orgasm.
When you sat back on his lap, you felt something under some wetness under you. Had he cum just from eating you out?
"Be honest.” Jason was now catching breath, face glistening with your juices, with a dumb smile playing on his pink and swollen lips.
The pure sight of him—messy and pussy drunk—was enough to make you want to sit on his face again.
“You really did wanna fuck me so bad at Game Night.”
"You’re so full of it." You shook your head, humored. Leave it to Jason to crack a joke post-coital. Not that he wasn't incorrect.
“I'm so flattered you hump your pillow at night and think of me. Since you were riding me like one."
"Are you forgetting that you’re the one that lost the bet? I still have a good two months on you."
"Is that supposed to scare me?" He whispered absently rubbing circles into your hip with his thumb.
"Yes, it should. I can make your life hell."
"Oh really?" His eyes flickered from your lips and back up to your face. That seemed like a risk he was willing to take. From your seat on his lap, you could feel him growing hard again beneath you.
"Yes, really. I was going easy on you."
"You do realize you can’t make me do anything I wouldn’t want to do myself.”
"What about the DoorDash?"
"Well, I ate some of it."
"And the nail polish?"
"I happen to like that color."
Now it was your turn to roll your eyes, it seemed he had an answer for everything and his smile was growing wider to match every smartass retort.
"Just get over here." You missed the feel of his lips on yours already.
Finding no answer for that, he could only let out a laugh, "Yes, ma’am."
Tell Me How You Really Feel | Dick Grayson x Fem!Reader
↳ Pairing : Dick Grayson x Fem!Reader
↳ Rating : T
↳ Summary : You're a new Titan and the stern and serious team leader Dick Grayson treats you like you don’t exist. Convinced that he hates you, you confront him about what his issue with you truly is.
↳ W.C : ~2.1K
↳ Tags: fluff, misunderstandings, aggressively shy boy dick, mild language, this is Titans DC!verse y'all, dickkory hasn't happened yet, there’s some mild Jason Todd x Reader in here if you squint.
Titans Tower had never been more festive. Gold foil streamers hung along the rafters, Gar’s disco lights spun across the dimly lit common room, and Jason’s playlist boomed on their surround sound speakers. Everyone had now abandoned the living room and gathered in the kitchen, party hats and all, but you lingered behind scrolling through your phone.
As much as being a Titan was hard work, they always made sure to take time to celebrate holidays and birthdays. And after officially becoming a Titan, you were thankful to have friends who actually cared about you, a team who had your back.
You smiled at the camera roll full of pictures you had snapped with the team: one with a big bear hug from Dawn, another of you happily sandwiched in between Conner and Gar, a selfie with Jason, and one of Rachel, Kory, and you making silly faces. When you flipped to a shot of you and the man of the hour, Dick Grayson, you paused with a frown.
Hank had ushered you and Dick together for a picture, but you knew he was just trying to get you two to get along. It was no secret that everyone could notice the weird tension the team leader had with their new recruit, but Hank was probably the only one bold enough to voice it out loud.
“How about one with birthday boy, new kid?” Hank snatched your phone from your hands and dragged Dick over by the arm. He hadn’t so much as looked your direction the whole day; in fact, it was like you didn’t even exist to him. You got used to it over time, but it was even worse when others pointed it out.
“Get closer together,” The brawny man insisted from behind the camera but neither of you moved. Hank lowered the phone and gave you a desperately pointed look. You took a small step closer to Dick and you could feel him tense up.
“Dick who fucking peed in your cereal today? It’s your birthday act like it.” You glanced up at the man everyone referred to as leader next to you briefly. He looked like he would rather be anywhere but next to you.
“Smile,” Hank said, which was rather ironic since it seemed he was the only one smiling.
You felt mortified seeing the picture now juxtaposed with the scene in the kitchen in front of you. In the picture, Dick looked uncomfortable—angry even—that he had to even stand next to you let alone take a picture with you. But in the kitchen, however, he stood in front of a birthday cake ready to blow out the candles, smiling at everybody but you.
Jason, who had come to the living room to pause his playlist, raised an eyebrow at you. “You coming for the cake or you just gonna stare into space all day?”
You nodded, breaking yourself out of your thoughts. He gave you a weird look, begging an answer but a short “Sorry,” was all you could give him before following the teen into the kitchen.
Kory latched onto your arm, giving it a squeeze when you joined their circle around the table. “Dick was just singing our praises, you almost missed it.”
“Yea, he was getting all sappy on us,” Gar piped up to tease. “‘Gar, you’re like a brother to me,’” he quoted dramatically before pretending to gag.
You cracked a smile at the green-haired boy. He always knew how to make everyone laugh. When your eyes flashed over to your team leader, you saw that he was smiling too. You envied that smile that he gave so easily to others. When your eyes met briefly, he looked away almost immediately and that smile turned into something like a grimace.
You frowned and looked away too. One look at you had stolen every bit of joy away from him in that split second. More than being sad, you were embarrassed. It was like he didn’t even think you deserved to be looked at, like you didn’t deserve your place as a Titan.
Jason looked from you to Dick and scratched his head in frustrated confusion. Rachel broke the silence by clearing her throat. “Anyway, how about some cake—”
“No wait, Rach I’m really curious.” Jason finally spoke up. “He still needs to tell us what he thinks about us. All of us.”
Jason stared at the elder Wayne brother with an intensity that rivaled their previous spats. If there was one thing Jason hated, it was authority and unfairness. And to Jason, Dick’s ignoring you was an extremely biased assertion of his role as leader.
“Here we go,” Rachel said rolling her eyes. “Can’t we ever have one birthday party without arguing?”
“No actually, the kid’s right!” Hank raised his voice, gesticulating towards you as if you weren’t even in the room. “Hey, what the hell’s your problem with her?”
Dawn put her head in her hands with a groan. “I can’t believe we’re doing this right now.”
Dick’s eyes were now boring into yours, jaw set with a clench. You stared back, eyes threatening to spill tears at all the unwanted attention now turning towards you in the room. He redirected his attention back to Jason.
“If you must know, Jason. I think you’re a huge pain in the ass.” Dick smirked, bringing back some levity into the room. You could feel the tension in the room relax and everyone seemed relieved for it.
“Ok, we knew that,” Jason continued exasperatedly, “And?” He motioned for the elder to continue, nodding his head toward you rather unsubtly.
“A-And—” He faltered in his speech, flickering his gaze at you. “She’s—” He blinked in surprise when your gazes met and quickly looked down, unwilling to continue.
That was enough for you. You didn’t want to stick around anymore. Not when you could feel tears already escaping down your cheek. You tore away from the table, wiping the wetness from your face furiously.
“Y/N!” Jason called after you only to be held back by Gar.
You slammed the door and locked it behind you, throwing yourself on the bed. Now you knew what your team leader really thought of you, and it was absolutely nothing, nothing at all. You didn’t mean anything to him. You weren’t a friend and even much less a teammate. What was the point of being part of a team, if the team leader hated your existence? What was the point of all that training if he never even let you do anything? You were excluded from most missions and left to stay behind because it was “too dangerous”. At this point, you were about as important to him as a plastic bag.
A knock came at the door. You curled into your pillow even more. It was probably Dick being forced to apologize to you.
He knocked again and you felt the anger in your chest rising. You suddenly had the urge to tell him off. Fuck the fact that he was technically your superior. You had so much patience due to your poor upbringing that you had let his mistreatment slide. You thought that was just how things were as part of a team and you just had to deal with it. But now that even the team was calling him out on it, you couldn’t ignore it any further.
You opened the door to find Dick standing outside, arm still outstretched in mid-knock. He blinked back his surprise and settled back into the neutral “leader-like” expression you hated so much.
“We need to talk. Can I come in?” He waited for you to respond. Upon seeing your angry glare, he took a short inhale. “Please Y/N.”
Your heart stuttered against your will. It had been the first time he’d addressed you by name and there was something else stirring in his eyes. His face wore a vulnerability you’d never seen on him before. You stepped aside warily, letting him in.
When the door closed behind you, you spun around wildly to face him.
“What the fuck is your problem with me, Grayson? Why do you hate me so much? What did I ever do to you—” You hated the fact that you were tearing up again.
“I don’t hate you.” He cut in lamely. When your eyes met, he held your gaze briefly breaking to looking off to the side again.
“See? What the fuck? You can barely even look at me. Hank had to force you to even stand next to me. How the hell am I supposed to be a part of this team if the leader can’t even pretend to like me? Just admit you can’t fucking stand me.” You continued airing your grievances out at him, growing more agitated at the man’s silence. “Fucking say something!”
“I don’t hate you,” He said again, jaw set sternly. He took a step forward, and you took a step back. “I don’t want to look at you.” Another step. Another step back.
“W-what?” Your back was at the door, and he was now standing—towering— over you.
“I don’t want to stand next to you.”
“I…don’t understand.” You furrowed your brow in confusion, searching his eyes for the meaning behind his words. His professional poise had disappeared and was replaced with something else—something darker. Nothing made sense anymore; He said he didn't want to stand next to you, but you were now practically breathing the same air.
“And you’re right. I can’t fucking stand you.”
You flinched at his words. Admittedly, you had been cursing at him the whole time since he’d entered your room, but he rarely cursed, and hearing him repeat your words back at you gave you pause.
You tried to move but he kept you caged in on either side of his arms. You had enough; you heard enough, and now you just wanted him gone. Once he was out of your room, you could resign yourself to ignoring each other for the rest of your time on the team. Fuck him.
“Thanks. I got it the first time so just let me go.” You were hurt, and whenever you tried to mask your feelings, sarcasm came out as a defense mechanism. When he didn’t budge to let you move, you pushed against his chest. “Let me go, Grayson,” you applied more pressure to his chest as a warning. You wouldn’t hesitate to use your powers to make him move.
Dick leaned back, allowing for more space between you. You caught your breath, relishing the newfound breathing space. Instead of letting you go fully, he circled your right wrist keeping it at his chest. You felt his heartbeat erratically pulsing under your palm.
“I can’t be near you. I…I can’t even hear myself think.” He spoke a little quieter now, splaying his fingers flat against your hand deepening the pressure on his chest. His heart was beating faster now. “That’s all I can fucking hear.” Seeing that you got the point he was referring to his heartbeat, he released your hand. You watched his throat bob as he swallowed thickly. His face looked flushed.
“I can barely look at you because then…you’d probably notice.” He mumbled the last part but you heard him quite clearly. He looked more boyish than ever as he stood before you.
“I’d probably notice…?” You trailed off, hoping he would continue. You were curious mostly not as to what he would say, but how he would say it.
“Don’t make me say it, Y/N” Dick grimaced again. You had come to know this look as disdain, but with the man’s revelation, you were beginning to see that expression in a new light. He looked more embarrassed than anything, and now the tips of his ears began to burn a bright red. Holy Shit. This is what Dick Grayson was like when he had a crush.
“I can’t pretend to like you because…I already like you. Like a lot. I can’t stop thinking about you-mmph“
You pulled him down by the collar and into a kiss. His initial surprise from your sudden interruption melted into passion as he deepened it, hungrily grasping at your waist to pull you closer to him.
You stopped kissing him for a moment to stare seriously up at him. “What about for missions? You never let me come.” You were beginning to put 2 and 2 together for all the other stuff like the times he would make that weird face at you, or avoid you completely. But you still couldn’t see why, as an active member he wouldn’t let you participate in missions.
“You,” He said simply. He was looking at you fondly now, eyelids languid and lazy as his thumbs rubbed circles into your waist.
“What about me?”
“You’re distracting.” His gaze flitted to your lips, “To me specifically.” He added, looking at you with such an innocent honesty that you could only partly contain your laugh.
“You’re such a fucking idiot,” You groaned feigning annoyance. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
“Tell me how you really feel.” He grinned dumbly into your lips as you pulled him down into another kiss.
↳ Summary : Clark knows Kryptonians don't experience sexual attraction in the same way humans do. One night, he figures out who exactly turns him on.
↳ W.C : ~1.2k
↳ Tags + Warnings : logicalnerd!clark, clark is a late bloomer kinda, kryptonian biology is weird i guess, allusions to asexuality, sexual awakening(?), pwp, masturbation, fantasizing, onlyfans lol, mentions of leaked sextape
Part 2
Masturbation was healthy; that much Clark had already known from sex ed classes and Google searches. And though he knew from his research that most pubescent kids started jerking off in middle school, along with having erections, he had never in his 30 years of life experienced sexual attraction. Ever.
When kids in high school drooled over naked women posing on the covers of Playboys or Maxims, he still tried his best to act the part of "horny teenager". He had crushes in his teen years too, but he never actively sought out sex.
There was this one time when a girl he liked had tried to initiate sex, but he was honest to a fault and truthfully told her that he didn’t like her in that way. Needless to say, she’d gotten offended and never spoke to him again. Since then, he’d hidden that quirk about himself from every single one of his romantic partners without fail.
Don’t get him wrong, Clark has had sex before and from what he could tell, he was pretty good at it too. Just like with his studies, as long he understood the proper mechanics of the subject at hand, he could go above and beyond for any performance.
It was basic biology. Having an erection required a higher flow of blood towards his penis; which he could do himself pretty easily since he had amazing control over his body. That was the result of learning how to be Superman for the past few years. Because of his “training” he lasted long and the (very) few men and women he chose to bed loved him more for it.
There were still some things he thought he’d never understand the concept of, however. Like, how do Kryptonians procreate if he can’t seem to produce the semen to ejaculate? The white liquid he’d seen in porn as a teen was like a myth to him. Jor-El never mentioned that in the Fortress of Solitude. He wouldn't be finding any Kryptonian biological literature available to read at any Metropolis public library either. It wasn’t like he didn’t try, but after some (controlled) tests, he concluded that perhaps Kryptonians didn’t ejaculate and he was okay with that.
So when Clark felt a strange sensation in his pants one night when he saw you on TV, he immediately thought that he’d fallen ill. Which was strange for him because, well, he’d never gotten sick. But there you were, mesmerizing him as clips flashed on screen of you rapping while wearing a risqué outfit leaving nothing to the imagination. Suddenly everything felt too tight, too hot. He gulped, nervously pulling at the collar of his t-shirt, but a knot remained lodged in his throat.
The camera angles panned across your chocolatey skin and ample curves, cutting right at moments where it veered dangerously into porn instead of what it was supposed to be—a rap music video. Clark had seen porn before and full-on bare naked women anyway, but he’d never been affected like this before. So why now? And why you?
Once the music video ended, Clark snapped out of his trance, but it wasn’t long before the now rock-hard and throbbing situation in his pants urgently reminded him of more pressing matters.
He quickly powered on his computer to search your name and, not long after, pictures of you filled the screen. There was a never-ending stream of shots of you on the red carpet, you on stage, photoshoots, and pictures you’d uploaded yourself on social media.
Every time his eyes would linger on a photo of you in a suggestive position, i.e. licking a popsicle or pushing your breasts together, his cock would twitch against his zipper. It didn’t take a genius to figure out where his cock wanted to be right now and it was right at the back of your throat. He unbuckled his pants, letting his first-ever unassisted erection bob up and against his sweater-clad stomach.
He’d never fantasized about someone having his cock in their mouth until tonight. Sure, his partners had given him blowjobs before, but he couldn’t even pretend to enjoy them. Truthfully, it looked like it hurt when they couldn’t even take all of him in, and he never liked to be the reason anyone felt pain. Clark scrolled on.
You had a sex tape? His brow furrowed in disapproval though he could feel his face grow warm. He couldn’t pinpoint what exact emotion he was feeling right now. Whatever it was, it definitely wasn’t a positive one.
The page he had landed on showed a closeup of you, eyebrows knitted in ecstasy as someone (he didn’t want to know who) hovered behind, hands gripping your ass, already in the middle of ravishing you. The screenshot made the corners of his mouth tug down in a frown. He didn’t particularly like the idea of watching other people have sex at all. And he especially didn’t want to see some other guy “balls deep” inside you instead of him.
More importantly, it just wasn’t right. He’d seen reports that your tape had been leaked without your consent; by watching it he would be actively infringing on your sexual boundaries. That definitely wasn’t right either and though he desperately wanted to, he didn’t have the heart to press play.
Onlyfans? Clark's eyebrows quirked up in curiosity. He clicked on a link he’d found on your Instagram page and there you were; verified with pages of content ready to be unlocked. After a moment of thought, he concluded that this was the most ethical alternative; much better than masturbating to your pictures or your sex tape. This way you would be paid for your work, and he would gain implied consent as a customer. He felt much better about this as he clicked the blue purchase button.
His cock throbbed again when he finally saw you, full lips planting soft kisses onto a dildo, your large almond eyes heavy-lidded and boring into him with lust. That’s when Clark brought a hand to his cock and began to stroke. What was once a motion that was alien to him, felt more and more natural as he pumped, matching his strokes to your pace. Your image on screen bobbed your mouth up and down making lewd slurps and moans, purposefully throating the shaft to the hilt. Each brief moment you came up for air brought a mess of saliva with you.
Clark watched on, immersed, bucking his hips into his fist as he imagined he was the one making you make those vulgar sounds. But something in the back of his mind was disturbed. Was this what he, Clark Kent, liked or was it an innate biological desire he couldn’t control from a planet he never knew? He felt disconnected; outside his body until, not even a minute after he had started the video, a sensation he’d never felt before came over him. He groaned and tightened his grip as he felt himself release.
A warm sticky liquid had dripped down his cock and onto his hand. Clark grimaced down at the mess he’d made, breathing erratically until he finally calmed down. His cock twitched and the last of dregs of his cum spilled out from his reddened tip.
He'd made two major discoveries that night:
1. Kryptonians did ejaculate after all, and 2. When it came to you, he wouldn’t be able to last very long.
↳ Summary : Clark frequents Waid's Cafe to see his pretty barista crush
↳ W.C : ~1k
↳ Tags: college era, crushes, staring, clark is super shy and blushy, he’s a pure boy
There was only one thing Clark enjoyed more than sweets, and that was the feeling of obtaining the last stamp on his loyalty card to Waid's Cafe. Who didn't like receiving free coffee? Especially coffee that was well-earned after a workout. Of course, not directly after a workout. He had already gone back to the dorm, showered, and thrown on another casual and freshly laundered workout outfit. After all, you were going to be there. He couldn’t just walk in looking like a sweaty gross mess.
“You’re working out again?” Jimmy, his eccentric roommate of two years, called out from his desk. He was writing a script for his conspiracy YouTube channel and a pile of crumpled pieces of paper were scattered at his feet. He eyed Clark’s sweater and shorts outfit up and down with suspicion.
Startled, Clark jumped. He had been looking intently at his reflection in the mirror, trying his best to flatten a cowlick jutting from his head.
“N-no. Just going to Waid’s.” He hadn’t told Jimmy about his crush on you. He probably wouldn’t hear the end of his teasing if he did.
Jimmy peered at him through narrowed eyes as if he could sniff out whatever truth Clark was omitting. It’s not like he was lying. He was going to get coffee, that was true. But he didn’t want to say he was also deliberately going at the same time every day to see a certain someone.
“You’re not telling me something.” He swiveled around in his chair to face him directly, eyes still squinted.
“I… get a free coffee? Do you... want anything?” Clark offered weakly. Maybe that would get Jimmy off his back for a while. His cowlick popped back up and Clark moved quickly to smooth it back down.
Jimmy had known Clark since freshman year and like the astute journalism student he was, he could tell almost immediately when his roommate was lying, or in this case specifically, when he had a crush. Jimmy swiveled back towards his computer, satisfied with his deducing skills.
“Sure, I could use an espresso. I’m running out of steam.”
Clark hoped that would be the end of it.
“Oh and… get her number this time, man.”
“W-what?” Clark wanted to retort. He didn’t want to give Jimmy the satisfaction of being right, but he was already blushing too hard to be convincing.
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Clark sputtered and escaped out the front door.
He got to Waid’s Cafe faster than he’d expected. Partly because of nerves, but also because he was rehearsing what he’d finally say to you. He made some progress since last week. Though you knew his name (you wrote it on his cup all the time), he had shyly introduced himself to you for the first time. Since then, you began to greet him with his name and a friendly smile.
“Hey Clark.”
He felt his heart lurch. He didn’t think much of his name but hearing it from you made it sound much better.
You had your hair up today, and your hair created a halo of curls around your face. He’d been so fixated on how pretty your eyes were, and how your plush lips curved into a smile just for him.
And it wasn't just your face—he had eyes. Your modest workwear didn’t do much to hide your figure. Unconsciously his eyes trailed from your lips and dipped lower to your chest. He gulped.
“Clark? You ok?” You tilted your head to peer curiously at the very broad-chested man who stood frozen, wide-eyed and breathless in front of the register. His hair was damp and he looked like he just finished a workout. Ever since you’d started working this shift, you’d been seeing him more and he’d come by every day at the same time loyalty card in hand.
“H-hi Y/N. Sorry.” He immediately looked down silently cursing himself for ogling you so openly. What was wrong with him? He was worse than a sex offender. He hoped you didn’t notice.
Visibly flustered, Clark made a show of searching his pockets for his coffee card. Clark had a habit of staring at his crushes, but he was usually better about being discreet, much unlike now. He felt a blush creep back onto his cheeks.
“I uh finished another one.” He brought a hand up to scratch sheepishly at his cheek as you inspected the card.
You punched the last stamp on the card and passed him back a golden punch card.
“We might need to make a new tier at this rate.” You joked. “Vanilla Bean Frappe right?” You found it amusing that the most frequent customer at the cafe was someone who only drank the equivalent of condensed milk.
“And a small espresso,” Clark added mildly with a small smile. Only you had the privilege of teasing him, Jimmy be damned.
“Someone’s graduating to coffee drinker today.” You arched a brow cheekily, meeting his eyes for a split second.
You watched his eyes widen and look away once more. You could tell he liked you; it was a bit too obvious. Every time you met his eyes, his would dart away, but you could still feel his eyes on you when you weren’t looking. Call it a woman’s intuition or just a painfully transparent shy guy.
The cafe was not as busy at this time save for two college students who were working quietly at some tables on the other side of the room. The sounds of beans grinding and blenders whirring filled the silence.
Clark fiddled with his new gold loyalty card and Jimmy’s voice floated into his head. Get her number this time.
He could be fine with continuing like this for a while longer. He could come every day to collect stamps just to see your face, hear your voice, make small talk. But something told him he’d have to ask now or he’d never get another chance to do it.
“One Vanilla frap and small espresso.” You placed the two cups on the counter in front of him.
“I know we don’t know each other that well but I’ve been meaning to ask if you had some time with me I mean to go with me to I mean if you want you don’t have to but I’d really like to—”
“Clark—” You interrupted his nervous rambling and turned the espresso cup around to show your phone number written in Sharpie under his name. “I’d love to.”
↳ Summary : childhood friends meet again under unlikely circumstances
↳ W.C : ~1.3k
↳ Tags: fluff, mild language, flashback, childhood friends, extrovert!reader x introvert!clark, reader giving manic pixie dream girl vibes, heat vision when excited/agitated/stressed, mixed in some MoS backstory
“Give them back!” Clark swiped at the older boy who was now dangling his glasses high above his head.
“Or what, four eyes?” His bully since the first day of middle school, Billy sneered. “I just wanna see ’em.”
Clark knew that wasn’t true. Every time Billy wanted to “see” something he’d just outright take it without giving it back. It started with his pencils, which was innocuous enough, until it moved on to the lunches his mom packed, and even his new sneakers at one point.
Clark was okay with losing those things. He had plenty of pencils, and he was never really that hungry. He could try and fly home if worst came to worst too, but his glasses were the one thing he couldn’t give up to Billy.
The first time his heat vision had flared up, Billy had spilled his carton of milk in his lap on purpose, making it look like Clark had peed himself in front of half the school. He’d almost burned a hole into the school lunch table out of embarrassment. The second time happened on that same day, after school when he’d snapped at his mother for prying too much, singeing the doorframe.
A few days later Martha Kent would give him a special pair of glasses that she’d made herself using the glass of the spaceship he landed in. And upon seeing her gift, he’d bury his face into his mother’s arms as an apology and a ‘thank you’.
“How the hell are you even seeing through these?” Billy inspected the glasses, all the while avoiding Clark’s reach. “They don’t even work. Just a piece of garbage.”
Clark could feel his anger rising and a prickling heat behind his eyes. Reflexively he squeezed his eyes shut and stumbled, tripping backward from Billy’s rough shove.
“What? You crying, loser?” He taunted. “Don’t worry I’ll take out the trash for you.” Billy wound up, preparing to throw the glasses like a baseball.
“Hey! Leave him alone you big bully!”
Clark peeked his eyes open to see you barreling down the road wielding a baseball bat and already swinging wildly.
Clark had heard about you offhandedly from his peers. You were like a Smallville Middle School urban legend mostly for your weird outfits and lack of filter. Unlike Clark, no one dared to bully you for fear of your unpredictable nature. Even Billy, big as he was, knew better than to stick around to test it.
“That’s right! You better run!” You shouted as Billy escaped.
Clark blinked dumbly back at you, and even more dumbly when he felt his glasses being placed back on his face. Your face was close, and your mouth was moving but he could only hear the sound of his heartbeat thumping in his ears. Your tugging him to his feet was what finally pulled him back to reality.
“—and if any one bothers you again they’re gonna have to go through me! And if I’m not there you better fight back and kick his butt, Clark!”
You held out a pinky, the look on your face leaving no room for Clark to refuse it. He linked his pinky with your own, marking the beginning of your friendship along with the unofficial beginning of Clark’s crush on you. The next day you would sit next to him at lunch, naturally, as if you had always been friends.
The Kents began to notice that their usually quiet son was visibly happier and becoming much more talkative. Imagine Martha Kent’s surprise when a phone call for Clark came into the house phone, and a female voice was on the other end.
Jonathan Kent would be equally surprised when he accidentally picked up the house phone and overheard Clark talking to you excitedly about his favorite book series. Needless to say, they would hint incessantly to Clark that he should invite his new “friend” over for dinner.
It wasn’t long before you were inseparable; and for all of middle school everywhere he was, you were not far off. Until one day you told him you were moving away, 100 miles away to be exact, to Metropolis.
You would pinky promise each other to keep in touch but as you both got busier and Clark discovered more about his own origins, the letters and phone calls became more sparse until communication stopped entirely.
10 years later
The one day you decided to get your hair done was the day some eldritch abomination decided to descend upon the city of Metropolis.
You were used to it by now; you had your fair share of close calls. Most people would hole themselves up in their apartments and never come out with all the intermittent attacks lately, but you weren’t most people and in your opinion, living in fear was not living at all.
So when you found yourself falling to your death from a building, you accepted your fate and braced yourself for the inevitable impact. Only...it never came. You did feel your cheek resting against something hard though, and when you looked up at what seemed to break your fall, you found yourself face to face with the “Man of Steel” himself: Superman.
“Fear not, citizen. You’re safe now.” You could hear his deep voice rumble from his chest to your ear as he spoke.
When Clark finally got a good look at your face, it felt like he was back in Smallville again, back to the day you’d chased Billy off. Back to the moment your face had filled his vision entirely; All he could see was you. He almost blurted out your name out of surprise until he remembered he was supposed to be a hero now and not Clark Kent, the farm boy.
“You look…” You began but then trailed off as you stared at his face. You were breathless from everything; the fall, the chaos, and now the handsome man who made you feel safe in his arms. You couldn't quite place it, but he looked oddly familiar. “You look a lot like someone I know.”
“I…get that a lot, Ma’am.” Clark tried to sound professional and not alarmed at the fact that there was a chance you’d recognize him. “Get to safety quickly.” He recovered the authority in his voice, but it was now clashing with his reddening face. When he set you down, you wondered why the charismatic superhero you’d seen on TV seemed much shyer in person.
“Well, I would but--” Your eyes both drifted to where he still had a protective arm circled around your waist, pulling you close to his body. Upon realizing he hadn’t let you go, he jerked his arm away to give an awkward salute.
You gave him a curious look; He was so jumpy and…cute? Oh god, it was killing you. Where had you seen that face before?
A loud crash accompanied by a guttural roar from the 50-foot-tall monster in the background saved Clark from further embarrassment. “Well, uh, that’s my cue.”
“Hey, Superman?” You suddenly spoke up as he turned around.
He paused to look back at you, mid-preparation for flight.
“Kick its fucking ass!”
And with that, he returned you a bashful smile with a thumbs up and took off into the air.
That night, after a long fight with the inter-dimensional threat, Clark had gotten a voicemail from his Mom saying that you had called her asking for his number. Not shortly after, his phone vibrated, an unknown number with a Metropolis area code filling the screen. It must’ve been you.
“Hey, it’s me, Y/N. Something reminded me of you today." His heart leaped. Ten years later and yet your voice still made his heart rate erratic; a form of muscle memory.
"I got your number from your Mom," You continued. "Do you…still remember that promise we made when we were kids? The day before I moved.” You talked to him like you’d never left. Like you were picking back up a conversation that began yesterday and not a decade ago.
How could Clark possibly forget? And what happened to ‘Hello, how are you?’ But being too embarrassed to say it out loud, he could only breathe out a shaky “Y-yea. I remember.”
On a warm summer day, you made rings out of dandelions and a half-joking pinky promise that you would marry each other someday.
You were kids who didn’t know much about marriage or how it worked exactly, but you knew that’s what people did if they liked each other enough. And there was no doubt that you both liked each other because that pinky promise was the first and only one that had been sealed with a kiss.
