OLDER!DAMIAN WAYNE X F!READER, OLDER!JONATHON KENT X F!READER
★ SYNOPSIS: Up until now, Jon has only ever known the sweet, doe-eyed country girls of his hometown. But upon being introduced to you by his best friend, upon meeting your coy smile and sly, hauntingly beautiful eyes, he thinks he's starting to understand just why, exactly, Damian never spared those girls a second glance whenever he came to visit.
★ TAGS: damian is 18+, jon is 18+, slightly suggestive themes, flirty!reader, you and damian are friends but he's into you, jon kind of briefly comparing you to country girls, nothing negative though dw, yearning, jon majorly thirsting over you, damian lowkey giving him a side-eye for it, they both subtly fight over you <33
★ A/N: no, they're not into each other (i'm not a shipper, sorry guys 😔), just both into you <333
line divider: @cafekitsune, left art: @/cr0wkid (instagram)
Jon's throat is dry. No—full. No—dry. Fuck.
He swallows a whole load of nothing and everything at once—of saliva and sandpaper both at the same time—and continues to just stare ahead like an idiot.
You're gazing back at him, the quirk of your lips hidden beneath that sweet treat of yours—a sly smirk barely visible to the untrained eye, but so heavily prominent under Jon's unfairly strong vision; so incredibly seen through his superhuman sight.
He gulps down air again.
You tilt your head to the side, and in a voice he can only describe as one belonging to a fox that could talk, drawl out a slow, coy:
"Hello."
"Uh—hi."
'Stuttering? Really, Kent?' he curses himself.
Your smirk only broadens, the lollipop against your lips moving further and further away as you let it drop forward on your fingers and drag your lidded gaze to the right.
"Dami," you coo, and Jon's stoic best friend's eyes leave his canvas to train onto you, "you didn't tell me we were gonna have company. "
"I wasn't aware," comes his response, as clear and cutting as his narrow gaze that's sent full-throttle into the half-Kryptonian's form behind him.
Not that Jon's paying enough attention to feel it.
Instead, he finds his eyes on your exposed thighs as you shift in your seat ontop of the desk, one leg sliding over the other in a way that draws his gaze between them like a magnet, his Adam's apple rolling up in yet another large gulp.
He can already hear his father's scolding tone in the back of his mind.
You hum with another shift, leaning back onto your arms. "You must be the country boy I've heard about."
Jon blinks slowly, forcing his gaze back up, albeit, after a slight pause. "You've heard about me?"
"Only negative things, don't you worry." Damian cuts in with a scoff, narrowing his gaze even further at the Kent as if he knew just what, exactly, was going on in his head just now.
You jump off the desk then, and Jon immediately finds himself uncaring of what Damian thinks, gaze drawn right back to you like a moth to a flame.
Deliberate enough to almost be considered a stalk, you walk towards him with something glinting in your eyes, speaking again in that slow, almost-smug tone of yours, "Dami says you're trouble."
You keep coming, pinning him in place with just your gaze like he's a deer caught in headlights, wide-eyed and so unsure of where to go or what to do under the pressure of a circumstance so unfairly unfamiliar to him; a scenario so amazingly foreign for him.
You're nothing like the girls of his hometown. All curved gazes and knowing smirks where he's used to doe eyes and shy smiles. All tall postures and sly looks where he's used to fiddling hands and quick glances. All confidence and sway and enough self-assurance to give even Catwoman a run for her money where he's used to... used to...
"I like trouble."
Impossible as it may be, Jon can feel his pupils dilating.
Your breath is fanning against his lips, head tilted to the side as you stand so close to him, he can smell the faint trace of your long-dispersed perfume that probably couldn't have been sensed by a normal human.
Oh how Jon has never been more grateful to his mom for fucking a Kryptonian than now.
"Yeah?"
Your smirk widens, and he can almost feel it as it does so (you're that close to him), eyes drawn and stuck on your glossy lips like they're the salvation he's been waiting for his whole life.
"Yeah."
If he leans any more forward, he could kiss you.
The thought is tempting, like a full-blown feast to a near-starving man, but before he can even gather the balls to go through with it—his breath heavy and his torso heaving—a voice cuts through the moment with the mercy of a tsunami to a coastline.
"Beloved, I haven't finished my painting."
And just like that, you take a step back, and Jon curses everything alive—Damian especially—the moment you do.
"Oh right." You giggle. The sound jingles in his ears like wedding bells. "My bad."
With another step back by you, Jon's parted lips frown at the loss of your heat, but the expression lasts for all but a second, for the very next one, he can taste something sweet on his tongue, and you're right back on top of that desk.
Jon's eyes go wide, his tongue tracing the shape of a sticky ball in his mouth as his hand moves up almost automatically, fingers wrapping around the plastic stick protruding from his lips with near-reverence.
You only send him a sly look from over Damian's shoulder, the latter's body having completely shadowed yours against his desk to hide you from view in an action that screams of a certain hideous green monster; a hideous green monster that Jon's sure would've affected him too at the sight of Damian's arms caging you in as he mutters something close to your lips.
But with one lick of the sweet treat in his mouth—of your sweet taste on his tongue—the Kryptonian can only hum and close his eyes in pure, unadulterated bliss.
He thinks he's starting to get just why, exactly, Damian never gives any other girl a second glance now.
either theyre both pining and longing for years in the most tension filled, heart clenching, yearning slowburn that everyone and their mother is fully aware of and wishes theyd get together already
OR
they start dating as soon as theyre both fifteen, assume its obvious bc its always been obvious to Them where theyre headed, and tell no one meanwhile Nobody is aware that they arent just Best Friends
I love the idea of Damian awkwardly comforting Jon. Like some point early in their relationship during their Supersons era, something upsets Jon to the point of tears and Damian doesn't know how to comfort people but Jon being sad is just so wrong that he HAS to do something.
And so he just does the first thing that pops into his head and slowly opens his arms for a hug. He wants to say something like "I know I'm not good at providing comfort bu-" and immediately gets caught off by Jon launching himself in his arms. And hugging him a bit too tight but he bears it because Jon needs it and it's all he can do.
Ma and Pa Kent wake up one night to hear Clark crying, clinging to his bedroom ceiling with no idea how he got up there and how to get down.
Jonathon drags his little homework desk chair over and reaches up, Martha whispering sweet nothings and half lullabies up at the ceiling, holding her hands out just in case.
They soothe him back to sleep, cuddled up under his quilt and wet patches on their shoulders and chests and arms, listening as the sniffles get slower and more spaced and he finally, finally falls back asleep.
Jonathon slowly eases Clark off his chest and marches out the barn, Martha not half a step behind him and fretting her hands in wide circles and twisted fingers.
The pod, or cradle, or traveling nursery, has been in the barn cellar for 6 years and 3 months. It has gathered dust at the same rate it has lost their interest, hovering at the back of their minds but never pressing, concerning, in the way it is now.
He drags the old tarp off, shoving it in the corner, and glaring up at the shining silver chrome with the steady gaze of a farmer urging an old cow into the correct pasture.
“We don’t know how to help him. And i have to guess you do, because someone loved him enough to build you just for him. So you’re going to help us.”
The pod, obviously, said nothing, and Jonathon frowned. “Marty, I’m gonna need a screwdriver. Maybe that wrench in the corner.”
Jonathon had never seen a machine he wasnt willing to pull apart and put back together again. And if he reconnected the wires that brought the pod AI back to life, well, that was the point of this whole thing.
And thats how Jonathon and Martha Kent became the first humans on Earth to speak Kryptonian.
