“COMICS 'ND DRINKS.”
Pairing; Superboy prime x Venom Isekai'd!Reader
⋆.˚wherein; You and prime talk over drinks.
Tags; short, crack, fluff, this is my first time writing for prime plz dont execute me, reader is oblivious+idgafer final boss, gender neutral pronouns, reader is also more of a marvel fan, confessions, proof-read by my friend so if anything goes wrong thats them
“I’m just saying that it will be a better use of our time,” you hear the agitating, grating voice of the symbiote in your head.
You groaned internally, “No, Venom—staying at our crappy hotel watching TV while snacking on chocolate is not a better use of our time.”
Let’s go over this one more time—
“You’re not this spider person you think you are,” said Venom.
Can’t even let a person dream these days.
You ignore the parasite and continue on with your mental recap. Venom was almost—no, they were sure you were losing your mind.
You’re not from around here.
You got into a classic truck crash from saving a kid and woke up in Gotham with an alien in your head.
Fine and dandy, am I right?
It would’ve been fine and dandy—
if you had only been transmigrated into your fandom.
You were ultimately as clueless as a newborn baby when you awakened and immediately saw cops chasing a criminal who was knocking down trash cans, a mugging happening right in front of a convenience store, and some bat with a kid wearing Christmas colors beating a couple of goons on the rooftop of the building you were leaning on for support.
Everything was also in monochrome for some odd reason. Except for the kid wearing Christmas colors.
It was safe to say you instantly clocked that you weren’t in the Marvel universe.
You remembered saying goodbye to the dream of having an upside-down kiss with Spider-Man.
You scrunched your nose at how you had to get used to the pollution in Gotham. The stink and water there were no joke.
At least you had your buddy—Venom—with you.
You were surprised that you had transmigrated with the symbiote—a pleasant surprise, though.
It was relieving to have some sort of protection—and something familiar you understood—with you in this new place.
You don’t want to go into all the details and adventures you and Venom had in Gotham, because it would take too long.
One thing was for sure—you had fun. With Venom.
The run-ins with the bats were pretty A-okay.
You were sure a superfan would sell their soul to be in your place, but when you only know four things—like you—it wasn’t all that. (With the exception of being in a world where actual superheroes exist—that was, like—really, really cool.)
The first thing you knew was Superman. Everybody knows Superman, duh.
Since you realized you were in Gotham (if it wasn’t already painfully obvious from how depressing the city was) from a huge sign on a billboard, that came second.
Third was that Batman is Bruce Wayne.
Fourth, Bruce Wayne is like Tony Stark but more emo.
Fifth, Nightwing fans are Larpers. (You didn’t even know who Nightwing was.)
That was actually five things, but you don’t really care. Venom had no idea until recently that you’re from another Earth or whatever—since you set up a boundary that they weren’t allowed to poke around your mind.
You adjusted the strap of your bag while you unhurriedly walked down the streets of Metropolis. You were only in this city for business (buying comics and manga that weren’t released in Gotham yet).
That business actually brought you to meet your sort-of-new friend.
Clark Kent.
Nope—not the one you know.
The one who went bonkers from the destruction of your home. The one who got a redemption arc recently and is working in a comic bookstore.
Chill guy, am I right?
The two of you met in said comic bookstore, 500 Days of Summer record store scene style.
You were looking over the new releases and maybe accidentally said a Marvel reference under your breath—because that man went dashing to your side.
He was THRILLED to meet you as one of the last remnants of your homeworld. And hey, you were thrilled too, because someone could finally tell you what’s up.
And when he heard you were the Venom in Gotham, boy—you thought he was about to combust. (He earned a lot of shushes and glares that day.)
He basically yapped your ears off (not that you minded), to the point the manager had to grab his attention to assist the other customers.
When you checked out the comics, he complimented you on your taste—and slid his number, written on a piece of paper you assumed he had torn off in a hurry.
[You]
Hi
+67 67676767
Meet me tomorrow at Super Café 3pm
[You]
Ok
And that encounter led you to even more hangouts. Yay to a new friend. He was really helpful, because you finally clocked on who Nightwing is (labeled as “blue weird guy” in your brain).
This Saturday at 3 PM in the afternoon—because that was prime time apparently—you were on your way to meet CK again at Super Café.
Venom usually does whatever they do in your brain because they don’t want to hear your “nerd discussions for nerds.”
They were interested. Sometimes. Often. Seldom.
Oh hey, you're finally here.
Clark waved—grinning already. His dark hair was tousled like usual, and his glasses rested on the bridge of his nose. He was wearing a plaid red-and-black jacket with a black T-shirt underneath and pants.
He kind of looked like a millennial, if you were being honest.
You walked closer. He had picked one of the more secluded tables outside the café, an umbrella shielding you both from the sun. You’d mentioned once that you liked being outside—how you could actually feel and see the sunshine in Metropolis.
“Hi, Clark. Sorry I was late,” you greeted, taking the seat across from him.
“Late?” he said, like he had to process it for a second. Then he smiled. “Nah, it’s fine. You’re here.”
He slid a drink across the table toward you. “I ordered for you. Same as last time.”
You took the plastic cup. Nice—still cold.
“Thanks, buddy,” you nodded, taking a sip through the straw, the cold drink cutting cleanly through the warm afternoon.
He looked proud of himself. Maybe you should order a venti with one extra sweet drizzle caramel latte with two pumps of vanilla extract, whipped cream, two extra shots of espresso, plus a rainbow unicorn smoothie with pink sprinkles instead of rainbow and low-fat milk instead of regular cow next time.
He kept looking around, but he finally blurted out, “You should come by often.”
You were busy taking another long, comically loud sip of your drink.
You licked your lips. “Where?”
“—the comic bookstore,” he said quickly, like he’d been holding it in for a while. “I mean—not just for the comics. I just—” he scratched the back of his neck, glancing away for half a second. “It’d be nicer to have you around more.”
You nodded with a hum.
“True. But don’t you have other buddies there?” You raised a brow, setting your drink down with a soft thunk.
He huffed a laugh—quick, almost disbelieving, like the question didn’t even make sense.
“Uh, no. Not really.”
Then he leaned forward slightly, more serious now.
“You’re the only one who actually gets it.”
Yeah, you kind of—already got used to his weird mood swings, so you just laughed it off. He said that a lot—you being the only one who understands him or something.
“Yeah, yeah,” you waved him off lightly, leaning back in your chair. “I get it. I’m special. Try not to cry about it.”
“I’m not—” he cut himself off, exhaling through his nose. “That’s not what I—whatever.”
You snorted, tapping your fingers against your cup. “Relax, I’m messing with you.”
“So,” you tilted your head, “what are we arguing about today?”
His eyes lit up almost instantly, like a switch flipped.
“Okay—no, because I’ve been thinking about this,” he leaned forward again, elbows on the table, fully locked in. “That run we talked about? The alternate timeline one?”
“The depressing one where everything goes wrong because people can’t communicate?” you deadpanned.
“That’s not—” he stopped, frowned, then pointed at you. “Okay, yeah, a little, but that’s not the point.”
“It’s a pretty big point.”
“You’re missing it,” he insisted, faster now, words starting to stack over each other. “The whole thing is about how one change affects everything. Like, it’s not just bad decisions—it’s cause and effect. It matters.”
'This guy is really geeked out.' surprisingly, Venom speaks up.
You hummed, dragging your straw around the inside of your cup. “I still think half of it was just the writer wanting an excuse to make everyone miserable.”
“That’s not—” he leaned back for a second, running a hand through his hair, clearly trying to reset. Then he leaned in again. “No, because if you look at the original version—”
“I have looked at the original version.”
“Then you should know it’s not as developed.”
You raised a brow. “Not as developed? That version actually takes time with the character instead of throwing him into a suffering speedrun.”
“That’s the point!” he said again, louder this time, earning a glance from a nearby table. He lowered his voice slightly, but the intensity stayed. “It shows what happens when things don’t go the way they’re supposed to.”
Wow, he is fired up about this stuff. Memories flash in your mind where you successfully rage-baited him by saying Wolverine should be on the Mount Rushmore of superheroes instead of Wonder Woman.
You glanced at the sidewalk, watching a teenager attempt to do a skateboarding trick—only to fail horrendously.
“Okay. You're not even listening to me,” Clark flatly said, taking one long sip of his drink.
You stuck your tongue out at him. “You need to take a chill pill. And we need to talk about something better.”
He stared at you, unimpressed.
“Yeah, dude. Chill pill.” You nodded. “You’re like—two sentences away from writing a whole essay on why continuity is the backbone of society.”
“It is important,” he muttered, but there was less bite in it now.
“Mm-hm. Sure. We’ll circle back to your manifesto later.” You waved your hand dismissively. “New topic.”
He leaned back in his chair, arms still crossed, but he was listening.
“…Fine,” he said. “Pick one.”
You looked up at the sky, as if it has all the answers. Then you perked up. “I know! Comic couples.”
You went on, “My personal favorite is Gwen Stacy and Peter Parker—”
He immediately coughed, loud and dramatically covering his mouth like he’d just been personally attacked.
“BIASED!” he choked out, coughing again for emphasis.
You shot him a look. “Dude. Okay, fine—maybe it’s because of The Amazing Spider-Man movies, but—”
he drawled, “Biiiaaaased,” pretending to sneeze right after.
You ignored him and continued, “Mary Jane Watson is, like, obviously cool too. She’s perfect for him, and we need Paul DEAD—” you waved your hands around. “Okay, enough about that. How about you, Clark? What’s your favorite comic pairing?”
He scoffed, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “I don’t give a fuck. It’s just writers bashing each other’s pairs. One run is this couple, the next is that. It’s the same shit over and over again.”
You rested your cheek on your hand. “Yeah… but what’s your favorite pair?”
Clark took a second too long to respond, but he mumbled out, “superboyandvenom.”
“What? Didn’t quite catch that, buddy.” You leaned in slightly closer.
“Superboy and Venom,” he said—absolutely certain this time.
You blinked at him.
“Okay. Wow. Didn’t take you as a rare pair guy, but—” Clark opened his mouth to argue, but it died on his tongue as he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed instead.
“It’s okay, buddy. I don’t judge.”
“…You are literally judging me right now.”
“I’m not,” you said immediately. “I’m thinking. There’s a difference.”
He dropped his hand from his face and looked at you—really looked at you this time—like he was trying to decide if you were messing with him or if this was just how you operated as a person.
“...You’re unbelievable.”
“Thank you,” you nodded, taking another sip of your drink.
“Superboy and Venom?” you repeated, slower this time, tilting your head. “Like—romantically? Or are we talking… like a team-up?”
“Take it as anything you want..” Clark replied vaguely, his ears were tipped red. Poor guy, must've gotten slammed for shipping Venom and Superboy back then.
Huh.. You've never considered Eddie Brock and Conner Kent though. (Yes you know conner thanks to Clark.)
It would be an interesting duo.. to say the least.
You leaned back in your chair, straw still between your lips, eyes unfocused as your brain started connecting dots that probably shouldn’t be connected.
“…That’s kind of insane.”
Clark immediately perked up. “Right? It's nice though rig—”
“No, like—actually,” you continued, lowering your drink. “You’ve got a person who willingly shares their body with an alien parasite—”
‘WE prefer partner,’ Venom cut in, mildly offended.
“—and then a super with, like, pre-installed identity issues,” you finished, gesturing vaguely with your cup. “Thats like, wow. Already tons of problems.”
Clark shook his head immediately. “No, it’s not. It’s—” he hesitated, searching, then leaned forward like he’d just found the perfect argument, “—it’s complementary.”
You stared at him, “Yeah—okay? maybe I see it,”
“Think about it—one of them chose what they are. The other one didn’t get that luxury,” he said, a little bit more defensive.
You clicked your tongue. “Still sounds like they’d argue every five minutes.”
“They would,” he admitted.
You rubbed your temple. “Anyway—point is, yeah, it’s interesting. In a ‘this could go horribly wrong’ kind of way.”
Clark’s lips twitched, like he was holding back a smile. “...Or right.”
You snorted. “You’re really rooting for this, huh?”
And he definitely put a lot of thought in this pairing. Venom groaned, like they were getting something you weren't.
“Also, isn't the age gap big—like eddie is,” you were about to continue but Clark stared at you so dumbfoundedly.
“What eddie—? Do you seriously think I'm talking about Eddie Brock right now—” Clark lets out a frustrated groan, burying his head on his hands.
“IM TALKING ABOUT US! YOU AND ME!”
The other customers glanced at your table, making your cheeks go warm. Or was it because of Clark saying that you two would be a good pair—ugh whatever. You don't know.
“Oh.” you said out of automatic response, then paused—“Ohh…” as realization finally dawned on you.
Clark looked like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.
His ears were still red. Actually—worse now. He dragged a hand down his face again, groaning under his breath. “Yeah. ‘Oh.’ Great. Awesome. Glad we got there.”
His hands were still in his hair, shoulders tense, like he was trying to rewind the last five seconds and failing miserably.
“I didn’t mean—” he started, then stopped, groaning under his breath. “No, I did mean it, just—not like—”
“Like what?” you asked, tilting your head.
“I mean, I did mean it—just..” he forced the words out, “Not in the team way,”
“Wait—so this whole time—you weren’t talking about Eddie Brock and Conner?”
Clark stared at you like you’d just asked if air was optional.
“No.”
“And not, like, hypothetically?”
“No.”
“And not in a ‘cool concept, would be fun to read’ way?”
“No,” he repeated, more tired now.
“I mean,” you shrugged after a second, “you could’ve just said that.”
Clark let out a disbelieving laugh. “I tried.”
“When?”
“Just now. And earlier. And—” he gestured vaguely, clearly exasperated. “You just—keep missing it.”
“Well, you should've been more specific—”
Clark let out a breath, leaning back in his chair, one hand covering his eyes now. “Unbelievable.”
You tapped your fingers against your cup again, glancing at him.
“…So,” you said, casual—too casual, “you think we’d work?”
‘He literally just technically said that, you dumb oaf,’ Venom, once again voices out another unwanted opinion, and you once again, ignore them.
Clark didn’t answer right away. His hand dropped from his face, and he looked at you again—less flustered now, more certain.
“Yeah,” he said.
Great. Because you think so too.
A/N; I am literally taking shots in the dark rn. Plz let me know if i shot atleast one. Reader is based off on this fic, check it out its so good.
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