noise dept.
Kaledo Art
No title available
Misplaced Lens Cap
oozey mess
blake kathryn
titsay
⁂
sheepfilms
🪼
taylor price
Not today Justin
pixel skylines
Keni
Monterey Bay Aquarium
d e v o n
Xuebing Du
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
dirt enthusiast
Show & Tell
seen from Belgium
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Belgium
seen from India
seen from Germany
seen from Canada
seen from Türkiye
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from India
seen from United States
seen from Mexico
seen from Sweden
seen from Singapore
seen from Germany
@valisa-malisa
✨Valisa Malisa Writing Masterlist✨:
Hazbin Hotel:
—The Overdrive Demon
Ao3 Link
Original Oc insert Story (Vynal)
Chapter 1/Chapter 2/Chapter 3/Chapter 4/Chapter 5/Chapter 6
(Ongoing)
Dc Universe:
—Found you.
Ao3 link
Bruce Wayne x Clark Kent (5+1 Trope)
Chapter 1/Chapter 2/Chapter 3/Chapter 4/Chapter 5/Chapter 6
(Complete)
Original Story:
—Love me Unique, Love me New
Ao3 Link
Original Male x Yandere Original God
Chapter 1/Chapter 2
(Ongoing)
New updated Artfight reference for my OC Orna!✨✨ Left is from 2025, right is from now 2026! They seem so similar but soooo different to me!
I would like to gather some advice!!✨💖 This is Reiba, my personal Oc I’m revamping for Artfight! One the left is the design I made last year, and the right is her most current WIP piece! But I just can’t decide if I should give her newest design the shirt and waist wrap, or if I should keep her as is😭😭 Any advice is SUPER appreciated!💖🔥
Created my first ever run cycle because I’ve been listening to Mollie Elizabeth’s “Run Rabbit Run”. I think it looks pretty good for being such a rough draft!
More art of my Spidersona!✨✨ Still trying to figure her out lol! As you can see, her first draft didn’t feel right, so I really leaned more into stylization and I really think I like that! And woof, seeing my art from 2023 of her side by side to these really boggles my mind lol, like they look almost similar but different to me at the same time!
Found some old art from like, 2023 of my Spidersona that I never posted! So I got inspired to try and give her a design I actually liked😭😭 I think I’ve landed on a name ‘Obsidian Spider’, and I think I’m liking the concept I’ve done in the second drawing!
The Overdrive Demon
Chapter 6: A Mask Wearing Thin
“Time ticks closer, and control begins to slip beneath careful routines. Familiar company offers comfort, but doubt gnaws louder in the quiet moments alone. When every possible future fractures the same way, a choice will be made that cannot be undone.”
This is a fix about my Hazbin Hotel OC Vynal, and some other oc’s but it’s mainly about her! This story takes place rn during the events of season 1!
No warnings needed imo for this chapter!✨
👇👇Link to the OG AO3 Fic!👇👇
https://archiveofourown.org/works/73814521/chapters/207021451
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Vynal had given herself four days. Now she was down to two. Including today, that left her with one full day before she had to go to the Hazbin Hotel. She sat at her glass desk, fingers tapping at the holographic controls, scanning report after report, managing systems, keeping everything in line with precise efficiency. Nexus Industries was thriving, its glow bleeding through the glass behind her and illuminating the office. The skyline of Nexus, crowned by her tower, pulsed with electricity. Currents flowed to and from the conductor at the tower’s peak, sparks glided across glass walls and walkways, and the lights of her room pulsed subtly with her heartbeat.
To anyone else, Vynal looked like the definition of calm and control. In a way, that was true. Underneath, her anxieties brewed. Her chest rose and fell evenly, though the rhythm occasionally stuttered. Her hair flickered naturally, though once or twice it flared brighter before settling again. Two days… One day. Vynal let out a controlled, deep breath as she tapped a few more commands into the console's interface. Data flew across her screens like a dance the naked eye couldn’t follow, fluid and flowing in a way only Vynal could see.
The elevator door swooshed open, Frosyne stepping out with a dramatic skip. In her arms sat a pile of files, unsorted, crumpled, and barely contained.
"Goooood morning, my dearest Vynal~!" she trilled, twirling neatly before depositing the files onto Vynal's desk.
"The files you requested, as promised! And yes, I’m aware—appallingly disorganized, unforgivably late… but they’ve arrived, and that’s what matters. Voilà~!"
A smirk tugged at the corner of Vynal’s mouth. "Afternoon, Frosyne. "Files go over there, my dear. You know this." She gestured with her head.
A table stood behind the elevator on the opposite wall, neat stacks of files arranged in orderly sections across its surface. Then behind the table, nestled against the wall, was a large set of file cabinets. Each clearly labeled, color-coordinated to perfection.
Frosyne's gaze traced the motion, a snort escaping before she perched herself on the desk. "Well, well~! No opportunity to tidy before the next avalanche arrived? How deliciously scandalous! Nexus Industries’ dazzling leader undone by paperwork, why, the newsies would have a field day!~" she teased.
Vynal snorted, her nose scrunching as her digital face briefly rendered extra lines.
Leaning forward in her chair, Vynal stared at Frosyne with mock agitation. "Hahaha, how funny! Do you have nothing better to do than tease me?"
Frosyne raised a hand to her chin, mockingly tapping her chin in an exaggerated motion of thinking. Just before the act wore thin, she burst into a loud, fox-like cackle. Frosyne leaned backwards, bracing her upper body on her arms as her head flipped upside down to stare at Vynal without having turned around.
A smug leer was plastered to her face. "No."
Vynal rolled her eyes, leaning back into her chair. "Of course."
With a steady hand, not taking her eyes off her screens, she reached out and flicked Frosyne's forehead. A small zap of electricity sparked off Vynal's glass finger, giving the Fennec sinner a sharp shock. Frosyne yelped, shooting up to sit normally, rubbing her tingling head. She flicked an ear as she pouted at Vynal, who was staring at her screen but the tiniest smile quirked her digital lips.
"My word, how rude." Frosyne muttered, lips pursed.
Vynal hummed, shuffling in her seat with an air of nonchalance. She glanced at Frosyne quickly before returning to her screens. "And I'll get even more rude if you do not put your files away, and put them away in order, Frosyne my dear."
Frosyne groaned, sliding off the desk as she grabbed her misshapen paper mountain. Shambling over to the table, she slapped the files down and began sorting them. Frosyne pretended to be annoyed at first, but after a few minutes she got into the groove of the repetitive motion. Vynal snickered as she glanced over, watching Frosyne get so caught up in sorting she began placing everything on the table into their respective file cabinets. When she was done, Frosyne clapped her hands as she spun around, sauntering back over to Vynal.
As she passed behind Vynal, Frosyne trailed her gloved hands across her shoulders. Vynal playfully shrugged her hand off, both women giggling at the other. Frosyne continued walking, this time making her way over to the plush chaise lounge. With a dramatic flourish, she fell into the lounge. Shuffling around to make herself comfortable, Frosyne quietly chittered in contentment and she relaxed into the chair.
Vynal smiled, not taking her eyes off her holo screens. "Don't you have work to do, my dear?"
She yawned languidly, teeth flashing. "Mm…no, darling, we’re officially on break. Shoots are finished, the editors are doing their magic, and until someone comes a-calling for me, the rest of us may lounge guilt-free~!"
Vynal chuckled. "How wonderful. And I take, by you making yourself so comfortable on my lounge, you plan on staying up here?"
"But of course!" Frosyne purred, her ears giving the faintest twitch.
"Well alright then." Vynal hummed. "Then you rest there, and I shall continue working on our systems. Hopefully uninterrupted this time." she teased.
Frosyne bared her teeth in jest, both women chuckling as they returned to their own devices. Frosyne closed her eyes as she nuzzled into the plush chaise lounge, and Vynal checked systems, emails, upkeep notes, anything and everything she could think of. Minutes ticked by in comfortable silence, punctuated now and then by electricity whispering across Vynal’s desk and the tower’s low hum swelling before leveling out.
Vynal's hands hovered over her desk, tracing patterns on the glass keyboard and in the air. As she worked, her mind began to… wander. She imagined the Hazbin Hotel, its lobby, its inhabitants, Luminelle, and the fate of that identity. She imagined how things could possibly go, spiraling silently with each rendition of rejection and scorn her brain could conjure. Something tightened in her chest, her brows pulling together before she smoothed her expression back into place.
With a soft swoosh, Onyx appeared in the glass elevator. Stepping out when the doors opened, she made her way to the file table and cabinets. Vynal watched out of the corner of her eye. When Onyx was done, she turned around and took in the space. When she saw Frosyne quietly snoring away on the lounge, her muzzle quirked in a small smirk before she rolled her eye. Then her eye landed on Vynal, and her gaze was returned. Vynal gave Onyx a small smile, and quietly giggled when Onyx's ears twitched. Onyx smiled back, making her way to stand beside Vynal. She leaned down slightly, watching Vynal work and all the data rushing by like a swarm of fireflies.
“You're stalling…" Onyx quietly murmured.
Vynal didn't respond, and to outsiders it would almost seem as if she had completely ignored Onyx. But Onyx herself knew better, knew that Vynal was just thinking, choosing her words carefully. And after a moment of silence, Vynal sighed.
"I am." she admitted.
Onyx nodded, returning to her full height. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
Vynal thought for a moment, her fingers tapping rhythmically on her desk but no longer for a purpose. She shook her head, "No, I don't believe so, my dear."
Onyx nodded, "I understand. Then, is there anything you need from me before I leave?"
Vynal opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out as she froze. The tips of her hair stuttered as she thought. "As a matter of fact, yes, I do. Would you mind stopping by Sector 3 for me? Check on how our Angelic Security is coming along. And how soon on the Nexus timeline we can expect to start advertising and selling."
Before Onyx could respond, a chirping alarm sounded. Frosyne startled up from her sleep on the lounge, fumbling with her jacket to bring out her phone. When she silenced the alarm of the phone call, she read the voicemail note and groaned. She pulled herself up, stretching and yawning as she did.
"Back to action, I presume?" Vynal raised an eyebrow.
Frosyne hummed in affirmation, strolling over to Vynal. With a flourish she bent down and gave Vynal a hug, rubbing her cheek against Vynal's glass one.
"Well, good timing then, I was just leaving as well." Onyx interjected, one of her ears flicking back. "I'll walk with you to make sure you make it back on time."
Frosyne rolled her eyes. "As you wish, Mother." Frosyne drawled, letting go before standing and sweeping her hands outward. "After you, darling friend of mine~."
Onyx groaned in exhaustion, but began walking towards the elevator, Frosyne trailing behind her. When they both stood in the middle of the glass tube, Onyx quickly reached up and smacked the back of Frosyne's head. Frosyne's yelp was muffled by the closing doors, and Vynal watched as the elevator began its descent, the ensuing argument slowly fading as they got farther and farther away.
Vynal was still for a moment, elbows resting on her desk and hands folded in front of her face.
"Those two will be the death of me someday…" she muttered.
And after a long while of sitting still, staring at the empty glass elevator, Vynal heavily sighed and spun around in her chair. She stopped herself just before she hit the glass wall, and shuffled her feet to fully face outside. Hunching over, she threaded her fingers together as she rested her elbows on her knees.
She let out another heavy sigh. "Two days…"
Vynal turned her head, catching sight of the bright sun… or moon. Whatever it was that lit up the sky down here in Hell. Everyone just calls it the sun… so, y'know. The sun was just past the middle of the sky, sitting just besides the glowing and ethereal ball that was heaven.
She hummed, "Day and a half…"
Then after a moment of silence, mounted only by the sound of her jumping leg, she mumbled again. "One day…"
A groan tore out of her as her hands flew up to clutch her face, shoulders hunching inward.
Static snapped as she shook herself, feet stomping against the glass floor. Her ponytail began poofing up in response to her emotions, the waveforms on her torso mirroring the growing frantic beating of her mechanical heart. The lights began to slowly flicker around and in the tower, the deep rumbling coming back and now growing in feeling like a growling earthquake. When everything in the office start to shake and clink around, Vynal dragged in a breath by force rather than instinct.
As she forced each stinging inhale in, and cutting exhale out, the lights of Nexus began returning to their normal glows. The rumble began to subside as her hair simmered back down to its usual form. Vynal let out on final exhale, finally composing herself.
Opening her eyes, she stared out over her Nexus Industries.
"This is not healthy." Her face glitched.
"But I'm… I'm in Hell. Hell's not exactly known for being 'healthy' is it…" she whispered, voice rough with static.
Vynal began to pace, each clicking step reverberating throughout the space as she stared out the glass.
"God, this is pathetic," Vynal snarled. "Founder of Nexus. Creator of Syncra. Panicking like a child in private!"
A broken laugh tore out of her, sharp and humorless.
"What a sinner I am! Sent down here for eternal punishment, and here I am worrying people won't like me because of the actions I made! One decision…" she hissed. "One mistake. God damn it, one god damn mistake!"
She slammed her fist against the glass, a low growl of interference rolling out of her throat. Her hair blazed with her temper and her face glitched out completely, no longer having visible features. The waveforms displayed on her glass torso flared, all lines at full capacity as if she was screaming non-stop, no matter how she had stopped. Vynal breathed heavily, each exhale whistling with feedback. Slowly, she leaned forward and placed her forehead against the glass wall. Slumping, resting her weight against the window and slouching in her chair, Vynal forced herself to breathe again.
With her forehead against the glass, she could feel the hum of the tower thrumming through her bones. A reminder to stay grounded no matter what, a relentless reminder of her responsibility. And even here in her own personal space, she couldn't let herself crack, lest they spider and shatter her entire being. She whimpered out a breath, her fist clenching a little tighter, her body slumping just that bit more against the glass.
Finally, Vynal opened her eyes, though due to her emotional turmoil her face was still fuzzy and blank. She gazed out at Nexus, at each warehouse she helped build from the ground up, the plaza she helped cultivate for her employees and contractees' to relax and interact with one another. She stared at the blinking lights of her small city that lit up the blood red sky above it, the colors blending together into deep ethereal purples and blues.
A familiar ping echoed from her desk, and Vynal froze. Turning slightly to look over her shoulder, she watched the email fizzle into existence over her desk. As it floated in the air, she watched the words appear on the holographic screen. Vynal groaned when her brain finally recognized what she was seeing. She turned back around and let her head smack back onto the glass wall.
"Ughh, fuckin' Vox…" she moaned.
After the incident with Vox, she’d gotten cocky once and responded to one of his 'threatening' and whining emails. That seemed to open a whole tsunami inside of Vox, because ever since then he had, or as he likes to pretend, 'Voxtek' emailed Nexus at least once every single day. And then, of course, she'd also started getting the occasional email from Velvette and Valentino. She'd taken to responding a tiny bit more to Velvette, but not as much, since she was just as predatory as Vox and Valentino in her own way. And of course she never responded to any of Valentino's emails. But then Vox must've found out about her answering Velvette, or maybe even Velvette told Vox, because once that happened he'd moved up to at least two emails a day.
With sweeping gesture of her hand, she dismissed the email. It fizzled away in a puff of pixilated smoke. Huffing, Vynal pulled herself off of the glass. Kicking out her feet, she sent herself rolling back over to her desk. Vynal stared at the desk, her leg bouncing hard enough to send a faint tremor through the glass desk. She reached out and opened a new workspace. It was the workspace she used to predict outcomes for Nexus and Syncra. Trends, both emerging and decaying. Advertising efficacy. Retention patterns. Loyalty curves. She opened a private interface, isolated from both Nexus and Syncra.
Vynal hesitated before typing.
Hazbin Hotel: Behavioral Forecast
The cursor blinked on the empty screen, patient and accusatory. She scrubbed a hand across her glass face and exhaled, slow and static-laced.
"Ridiculous…" she muttered. "Truly ridiculous."
She entered a prompt, instructing the system to begin data filtration. Public footage. Known residents. Profiles scraped from rumor and verified truth alike.
Charlie Morningstar. Vaggie. Alastor. Sir Pentious. Niffty. Husk.
Angel Dust.
The system chirped as it worked, assembling profiles inch by inch. Vynal watched the words fly by, her eyes static but unreading. She watched videos of the hotel residents pop up, then be analyzed by the system and incorporated into the profiles of whoever it was about. With a musical chime, the system announced the completion of its search.
Vynal stared at the screen as the system awaited its next instructions.
"God… what am I doing?"
START
Behavioral Forecast Analysis Commencing…
Projected Scenario—
Nexus Industries Representative Visit
Identity Disclosure: CONFIRMED
Alias "Luminelle": TO BE RETIRED
The interface restructured itself, panes snapping into place with surgical precision. A skeletal model of the Hazbin Hotel rendered in pale wireframe at the center of the workspace, slowly rotating. Below it, branching timelines unfurled like roots through glass.
RUN 001:
Projected arrival at Hazbin Hotel: neutral-positive.
Charlie Morningstar initiated greeting protocol within twelve seconds.
Tone: enthusiastic. Open body language.
Vaggie maintained proximity but displayed no immediate hostility.
Protective instincts present. No escalation.
Angel Dust recognition delayed.
Luminelle explained Nexus Industries’ involvement with the Vees in controlled terms.
Disclosure framed as necessity, not allegiance.
Angel Dust response: conflicted, guarded. Verbal aggression absent.
Probability of continued dialogue: 63%.
True form revealed after explanation.
Charlie expressed surprise, followed by curiosity.
Verbal reassurance offered.
Alastor observed. No interference detected.
Risk assessment: Within acceptable parameters.
The run concluded with a soft tone.
Vynal blinked. "…Huh."
Her hair dimmed slightly, settling into a calmer glow. She exhaled, slow and careful, as if afraid to disturb the outcome.
"How reasonable…" she muttered to herself.
She reran it.
RUN 002:
Minor deviations.
Angel Dust recognized Luminelle sooner.
Visible emotional spike recorded.
However, explanation proceeded uninterrupted.
Angel Dust anger redirected toward the Vee's.
Hostility toward Vynal: limited.
Reveal of true identity resulted in shock, but not rejection.
Outcome probability: acceptable.
Vynal nodded once, firm.
"Again."
RUN 003:
Angel Dust recognition: instantaneous.
Emotional response elevated.
Voice raised.
Explanation attempted.
Angel Dust interruption probability: 47%.
Vynal leaned closer to the screen, fingers curling against the desk.
"Wait," she whispered. "That’s… this is—this is fine. This is still workable."
The simulation continued.
Luminelle attempted clarification regarding Vees Tower incident.
Valentino affiliation flagged.
Angel Dust agitation spiked.
Dialogue fractured.
Reveal of true form triggered mid-confrontation.
Charlie attempted de-escalation.
Outcome probability: unstable.
System paused, awaiting further confirmation.
Vynal swallowed.
"Again," she said, quieter.
The runs began stacking.
Angel appeared sooner each time.
Closer. Sharper.
Sometimes he didn’t let her finish a sentence. Sometimes he laughed. Not kindly. Sometimes Valentino’s name alone caused the projection to fracture outright.
The system stopped presenting clean summaries. Warnings bled into one another, amber and insistent.
Recognition thresholds EXCEEDED
Emotional volatility: HIGH
Trust fracture: IMMINENT
By RUN 009, Luminelle barely crossed the threshold.
By RUN 011,, Angel walked away.
By RUN 014, the truth came either too late or too early, never when it mattered.
Each time, the same core divergence appeared, highlighted in an accusing amber glow.
Angel Dust perceived betrayal prior to explanation.
She tried to force the system to prioritize her intent.
Care. Protection.
Fear.
Righting wrongs.
The system and projections didn’t care.
The final runs no longer bothered with structure.
Charlie’s smile froze mid-frame.
Vaggie’s hand went to her spear.
Alastor lingered too long in the doorway, radio static bleeding into the air.
Every time, Angel Dust's expression landed somewhere between hurt and fury.
Every time, Luminelle vanished.
Every time, Vynal stood alone. Her cries echoing louder and louder with each run.
The system chimed softly.
No further simulations concluded with restored trust. Awaiting further instructions…
Vynal’s face glitched.
She reached out and closed the workspace with a sharp gesture. The projections collapsed inward, vanishing like a snuffed constellation.
Silence filled the office.
Her hands remained suspended in the air for a moment before dropping into her lap. She leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling, chest rising unevenly.
"…So that’s it," she murmured, voice wavering.
"No version where I keep both."
The tower hummed beneath her, steady and uncaring. Vynal closed her eyes.
"Then I’ll tell them the truth," she said, quiet but unyielding.
"All of it." Her fingers curled against the armrest.
"If Luminelle must die for honesty to survive… then so it shall be. No more hiding behind a mask."
Vynal pulled up a projection of Luminelle. Her glowing bell and swaying electrical arms, her figure hugging dress, her signature smirk plastered on her half covered face. Vynal stared at the hologram for a long while, her blank face fuzzy with static. With a harsh swiping movement, she dispersed the projection. Luminelle faded away in a cloud of pixels, twinkling like fading stars.
Vynal huffed, her other hand raising to cradle her face, covering where her eyes would be. As her body began to shiver, the empire around her moved along as usual. Its twinkling lights continued to glow, its employees working as dutifully as ever, unaware of the turmoil their beloved boss carried within her mechanical and glass frame.
I recreated @blackkatdraws2 characters Jack Desmond and Gavriel Huffman!✨ I seriously adore their art and all their characters and their Toon x Mobster content, you should totally go check them out and follow them‼️‼️
I made the Freeling family + Abaddon from Haunted Hotel in my Tomodachi Life Living the Dream island✨✨
A little doodle redraw/redesign I made for my persona that I put on my artfight profile!✨✨
Bruce Wayne x Clark Kent
SuperBat fanfic, a 5+1 trope
This Fic was inspired by a tiktok I saw! jakefisher, @ratpapa19, thank you so much for the cute art you made!! Guys go check out their video and art, they're amazing! <3
Chapter 4 of this fic is the one that is directly inspired by their tiktok!
———————————————————————————
Found you.
Five times Bruce found Clark... and one time Clark found Bruce.
Between fleeting glances, quiet smiles, and moments only they understand, something begins to shift. A subtle game of attention and affection unfolds, and what starts as curiosity slowly grows into something neither of them expected.
OG AO3 Link👇👇
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
———————————————————————————
Chapter 6: As Long As It’s You
The one time Clark found Bruce. The game is something more, something different in the face of their blossoming love.
———————————————————————————
Wayne Tower glittered against Gotham’s evening skyline, light spilling from towering windows like warm gold against deep blue dusk. Black cars lined the street below while a steady stream of well-dressed guests climbed the grand staircase beneath banners bearing the Wayne Enterprises logo.
Inside, the ballroom shimmered with wealth and careful design. Crystal chandeliers cast soft halos across marble floors while a string quartet played somewhere near the back of the room. Waiters drifted through the crowd with trays of champagne, and the low murmur of conversation filled the air like a constant tide.
Clark Kent adjusted the cuff of his sleeve as he stepped through the entrance beside Lois Lane. Lois barely slowed long enough to admire the room. Her sharp eyes scanned the crowd like a hawk circling above a field.
"Okay," she murmured, leaning slightly toward Clark, "you see that guy near the sculpture display?"
Clark followed her gaze. "I do."
"Good. That’s the CFO of a medical supply company that’s been quietly undercutting half the hospitals in Gotham, and he's been looking to expand into Metropolis." Lois said. "Rumors or not, there has got to be some story there."
Clark chuckled softly. "Always on the move, Lo."
"Of course! Can't stop this beautiful brain from working, or from wanting snobby rich white dudes to suffer the repercussions of their selfish and greedy actions!"
Clark smiled, watching her confidently walk off. Then, his attention drifted across the ballroom. Bruce stood near a cluster of investors and donors, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit. The polished image of Gotham’s favorite billionaire philanthropist. His posture was relaxed, his smile practiced and sweet, and his attention appeared focused on the conversation happening around him.
Clark couldn't help but relax a little bit, a small smile creeping onto his face as he stared at Bruce.
Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump.
Bruce glanced up, feeling familiar eyes on him. Their eyes met from across the room. Just for a second, but it was enough. Clark’s mouth curved into a larger smile, cheeks flushing bright red. Bruce’s expression softened in return, something quieter beneath the public mask he wore for everyone else.
Then someone stepped between them. Clark blinked as Lois grabbed his sleeve.
"Clark!"
He turned back to her. "W-what? What's wrong?"
"You’re tall." she said.
Clark blinked at her. "I…I am?"
"You are." Lois declared, steering him toward the center of the room. "And you, tall boy, are going to help me get a better look at that table over there."
Clark allowed himself to be dragged along, glancing over his shoulder once more. Bruce had already been swallowed by another group of guests.
Clark chuckled quietly under his breath, already predicting how this night was going to go.
Across the ballroom, Bruce tried very hard to focus on the conversation in front of him.
"…and of course Wayne Enterprises remains committed to expanding our environmental infrastructure projects— charity donations—"
Bruce nodded politely, but his attention kept drifting elsewhere.
Clark stood on the far side of the room beside Lois Lane, both of them speaking animatedly with another reporter. Clark’s broad but hunched shoulders made him easy to spot even among the dense crowd of guests. Bruce watched him laugh at something Lois said.
Someone cleared their throat.
Bruce blinked and looked back at the executive in front of him.
"Apologies," he said smoothly, quickly turning his Brucie back on. "That wine must already be getting to me! Please, continue."
The conversation resumed, but Bruce lasted less than half a minute before his gaze drifted again. Clark had moved. Now he was speaking with a city councilman while Lois scribbled something into a notebook.
Bruce folded his arms loosely and exhaled. He had known Clark would be here tonight. They had talked about it earlier that week like normal people in a normal relationship. Bruce's cheeks unwillingly flushed at the thought. Relationship, he still couldn't believe it…
But neither of them had managed to actually speak to the other since arriving.
Bruce had been cornered by donors, investors, and board members. Clark appeared permanently attached to Lois. Bruce swiped a hand across his face, a sigh escaping him. But he quickly adjusted himself, not letting his Brucie mask slip off again.
Across the room, Clark suddenly looked up again. Their eyes met for the second time that night. Clark lifted his glass slightly in greeting. Bruce inclined his head in response, a genuine Bruce smile quirking his lips instead of a Brucie one.
Then Lois grabbed Clark’s arm and dragged him in another direction toward a new conversation. Bruce watched him disappear into the crowd, before returning his attention back to the conversation.
Nearly forty minutes later, Clark had spoken to three politicians, two corporate executives, one environmental researcher, and a woman who insisted on describing the entire history of her nonprofit foundation.
Lois was thriving, and Clark was exhausted. Nothing unusual.
"You’re doing great, Smallville." Lois whispered approvingly as they drifted toward the drink table.
Clark leaned closer and murmured, "Lois, I have spoken to more people in the last half hour than I normally do in a week. Even with including interviews for other cases."
"That’s because you’re charming, Clark! That Midwestern charm does the work for you, I’m tellin’ ya!" she replied.
Clark looked deeply unconvinced, but he didn't bother to fight her on it. Lois scanned the room again.
"Oh! Wait, hold on!"
Clark immediately braced himself. "Lois—"
But she was already moving, strutting with purpose and determination echoing with each click of her heels. Clark followed with a quiet sigh, his own shoes quietly scuffing the marble floor.
Bruce finally escaped the thickest knot of guests and slipped out onto one of the balconies overlooking Gotham. Cool, thick air greeted him instantly. The city stretched below in a sea of lights and shadow, traffic crawling slowly through the streets far beneath Wayne Tower.
Bruce rested his hands against the railing, allowing himself a moment of quiet.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
Bruce frowned slightly and pulled it out. A new message from Clark. He opened it, and his screen filled with a photograph.
Bruce standing at the balcony railing, Gotham glowing behind him. His posture relaxed, his expression thoughtful as he looked out over the city. Not the carefully constructed billionaire smile. Just… Bruce. A second message appeared beneath the image.
Found you
Bruce blinked, then slowly turned around. Clark stood in the doorway to the balcony, phone still in hand. Clark smiled at him, one so bright it made Bruce want to shield his face. Bruce let out a huff, then looked back down at his phone.
Clark’s phone buzzed almost immediately. Clark checked it and burst out laughing.
"You didn’t find me," he read aloud. "You sure 'bout that?" Clark giggled, slowly walking towards Bruce's recline form.
Bruce leaned one shoulder against the railing, faint amusement in his eyes.
"Doesn't count, we knew we'd both be here."
Clark grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, guess that's true, huh?"
Bruce shook his head slightly, a smile beginning to creep across his face.
"Indeed. It defeats the purpose."
Clark stepped closer to join him at the railing. "Hmm, I guess it does." He said. As he leaned against the railing, he gently bumped his shoulder against Bruce's.
Bruce raised an eyebrow, but gently bumped Clark back.
Clark gestured toward Bruce’s phone. "I may not have done it right, so in the future, I'll make sure to get you and follow our rules to a T. But I still think that photo's a keeper. I like it a lot, B."
Bruce glanced down at the photo again.
Clark rested his forearms against the railing beside him.
"Just couldn't help myself. You looked like a painting in real life." Clark admitted quietly.
Bruce looked over at him, quirking an eyebrow at the cliche wording.
Clark shrugged lightly, chuckling softly. "Yeah I know, that was cliche. But it's true! Even if you're just eating breakfast or putting on your socks, you always look like a dream to me~."
Bruce blushed, turning his face away to study the image again, trying to see what Clark saw.
"… If you want to keep it, you can… I don't exactly mind how this one came out."
Clark’s smile widened, just dripping with affection.
"Then I will. I'll look at it every single day."
Bruce looked up, his face warm, not just from the wine he drank. Clark met his gaze head on. Warm, steady, and adoration shining openly in his eyes. For a moment neither of them said anything. The sounds of the gala drifted faintly through the balcony doors behind them. Music, laughter, the clink of glasses. Out here it felt distant, like another world entirely.
Bruce cleared his throat quietly, still looking at Clark. "You’re staring."
Clark blinked, then grinned sheepishly. "Aw yeah, I am aren't I?"
"You are…" Bruce repeated dryly, "But I don't mind." he softly added. His voice was almost carried away by the wind for human ears, but was heard loud and clear for Clark's.
Clark laughed, leaning a little more against the railing as he looked out over Gotham’s skyline. The city lights shimmered like a constellation scattered across the earth.
"It’s nice up here," Clark said softly. "Peaceful."
Bruce hummed in agreement. "That was the intention when the balcony was designed."
Clark tilted his head slightly toward him. "You design a lot of quiet places in this building?"
"A few," Bruce said. "They’re… useful."
Clark’s smile turned knowing. "Oh, it's a Batman thing?"
Bruce gave him a sidelong look, warning clear in his eyes.
Clark lifted both hands in surrender, sly playfulness sparkling in his crystal blue eyes.
"What? I’m a reporter. Observant by nature! No shame, Bruce, everyone loves Batman! I think it's real swell that you're trying to help him get around, so he can have an easier time helping the people of Gotham."
Bruce snorted quietly, rolling his eyes, turning away to stare out at the horizon. For a few seconds they simply stood there together, shoulders nearly touching, watching the slow movement of traffic far below. Then Clark pulled his phone out again, turning around to have his back facing Bruce.
"What are you doing."
Clark glanced at him innocently. "What?"
"You just turned your back on me. What are you doing, Clark?"
Clark tilted his phone, raised it in the air, and clicked. Bruce’s eyes narrowed instantly.
Clark looked down at the photo, laughing softly as his ears and cheeks reddened. Bruce tried to remain stern, but curiosity got the better of him.
"Hand it over, let me see."
Clark turned the phone around, a smile so sappy it almost made Bruce's teeth hurt. The picture showed Bruce leaning against the railing, city lights glowing behind him. Clark stood in front of him, facing the camera but his eyes were clearly focused on Bruce, smiling like the happiest man in the world.
Bruce stared at it.
"…You took a selfie."
Clark nodded proudly. "Sure did!"
Bruce rubbed the bridge of his nose, gentle exasperation in his voice.
"Why?"
Clark laughed again, bright and warm. "I just thought you looked real lovely, so I wanted a picture of my boyfriend~!"
Bruce froze. Clark watched the reaction spread across his face with poorly hidden delight. The faint flush that had already been lingering on Bruce’s cheeks deepened immediately.
"Clark…" Bruce said quietly.
Clark tilted his head. "Mhmm?"
Bruce gestured vaguely toward the phone still in Clark’s hand. "You say that very… casually."
Clark blinked. "Boyfriend?"
"Yes.”
Clark’s grin softened into something warm and patient. "Boyfriend. Bruce, my wonderful, amazing boyfriend~."
Bruce looked away toward the skyline again, rubbing the back of his neck. "You’re very… comfortable with that word."
"Well," Clark said lightly, "we have been officially dating for like, five months."
Bruce still looked faintly baffled by the concept. Clark bumped his shoulder gently against Bruce’s again.
"You’ll get used to it. You don't have to say it back to me, you show me your love in other ways than words. I can understand you just fine, B."
Bruce huffed quietly, though the corner of his mouth betrayed him by lifting slightly. Clark glanced down at the photo again, smiling in quiet satisfaction before slipping his phone back into his pocket.
For a few peaceful seconds they simply stood there together.
The wind stirred softly around the balcony. Gotham stretched endlessly below them, lights blinking across the city like stars fallen to earth. From inside the ballroom came the distant swell of music and conversation, the steady rhythm of the gala continuing without them. Clark tilted his head slightly, listening.
Ba-bump Ba-bump Ba-bump Ba-bump
He smiled, a small giggle escaping him.
Bruce glanced sideways. "What?"
Clark looked back out over the city again. "Mm, nothing."
Bruce didn’t believe that for a second, but he let it go. After another quiet moment, Clark straightened and sighed contentedly.
"Well," he said, clapping his hands softly together, "we should probably head back inside before Lois starts filing a missing persons report, and your attendees start rioting that they can't find you."
Bruce snorted. "Please, they wouldn't riot. They'd just assume I got drunk and stumbled somewhere else."
"Yeah well, I’m pretty sure one of your kids has already noticed your disappearance."
Bruce groaned under his breath.
Clark laughed. "C’mon, B."
He pushed off the railing and started toward the balcony doors before pausing. Clark turned back. Bruce was still leaning against the railing, watching him. Clark’s smile softened again.
"You know," he said casually, "this whole game started because you sent me one picture."
Bruce raised an eyebrow. "You remember that?"
"Of course I do!" Clark said proudly. "You’ve sent a lot of pictures, but there's five I remember clearer than anything."
Bruce folded his arms. "You’re keeping track."
Clark’s grin widened. Bruce already didn’t like where this was going.
Clark tapped the pocket holding his phone.
"That selfie counts as mine, even if it isn't 'official'. You've been the one takin' the photos, but now, I'm gonna start doin' it too!"
Bruce stared at him. Clark rocked back on his heels, looking entirely pleased with himself. Bruce sighed slowly, shaking his head.
"…You’re impossible. Seriously?"
Clark beamed. "Yup. As serious as a heart attack!"
Bruce rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help the besotted smile from creeping back onto his face. Clark opened the balcony door and stepped backward into the light spilling from the ballroom.
"C’mon, Bruce," he said warmly. "Let’s go mingle!"
Bruce lingered for one more second, looking out over Gotham. Then he pushed away from the railing and followed.
Inside, the gala continued in a glittering swirl of music, conversation, and champagne. Across the room, Lois immediately spotted Clark.
"There you are!" she called. "Kent, I swear if you disappeared to go make out with your little billionaire—
Clark raised both hands innocently.
"Well now, why would I do that? Just went to get some air, honest!"
Lois squinted at him suspiciously.
Behind Clark, Bruce Wayne stepped calmly back into the crowd, the polished billionaire mask settling easily into place. But just before they were swallowed by the ballroom again, Bruce’s phone buzzed quietly in his pocket.
Bruce pulled it out. A new message from Clark. Attached was the selfie.
Clark smiling at the camera, eyes focused on Bruce. Bruce behind him at the railing, his eyes focused on Clark. Gotham glowing around them. Then another picture was sent. It was his back, him still staring out at Gotham. Clark must've taken it when he'd turned his back before they left the balcony.
Beneath the second picture was a single message.
Found you. Again, lol. Love you, B <3
Bruce stared at the screen, a genuine smile spreading across his face. He quickly typed back, cheeks blushing softly as he hit send before overthinking it.
As long as it's you, I don't mind being found. Love you too, Clark
Bruce Wayne x Clark Kent
SuperBat fanfic, a 5+1 trope
This Fic was inspired by a tiktok I saw! jakefisher, @ratpapa19, thank you so much for the cute art you made!! Guys go check out their video and art, they're amazing! <3
Chapter 4 of this fic is the one that is directly inspired by their tiktok!
———————————————————————————
Found you.
Five times Bruce found Clark... and one time Clark found Bruce.
Between fleeting glances, quiet smiles, and moments only they understand, something begins to shift. A subtle game of attention and affection unfolds, and what starts as curiosity slowly grows into something neither of them expected.
OG AO3 Link👇👇
https://archiveofourown.org/works/82046876/chapters/215898526
———————————————————————————
Chapter 5: Through the Glass
The fifth time Bruce found Clark. The game has become something more, something deeper than before.
———————————————————————————
Clark Kent stood just outside the entrance of the Gotham Gazette building, one hand resting casually against a newspaper stand while the other held his phone. He had spent the better part of the day following up on a lead tied to a shipping company that seemed to be quietly losing cargo somewhere between Gotham Harbor and Blüdhaven. Nothing explosive yet. Just a trail of paperwork and nervous dock workers who suddenly remembered they had somewhere else to be.
Midday in Gotham had a completely different personality than its nights. At night the city breathed in shadows and neon, alleyways swallowing secrets and sirens echoing between buildings like distant thunder. During the day, though, Gotham tried very hard to look respectable. Sunlight spilled across old stone architecture and newer glass towers alike, softening the harsher edges of the city. But even in the light, everything still had a monotone hue. Taxis crawled through crowded intersections. Pedestrians moved in hurried clusters along the sidewalks. Street vendors called out to passing office workers, the smell of hot pretzels and roasted nuts drifting through the air.
The large windows of the Gotham Gazette behind him reflected the bright and grey afternoon sky, while inside the newsroom buzzed with activity. Reporters hurried between desks, phones rang constantly, and somewhere deeper in the building someone shouted about a missed deadline.
Clark flipped a page in his notebook, jotting down a quick note before pausing. His tie was slightly crooked again, sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows. A leather satchel hung from his shoulder, stuffed with notebooks and papers. To anyone passing by, he simply looked like a visiting reporter waiting for someone to finish a meeting.
Which, technically, he was. But Clark’s attention wasn’t on the building.
Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump.
Clark’s lips twitched. Nearly eight months into their strange little game and their blossoming relationship, Clark still felt his heart skip when he listened to Bruce's heartbeat. Clark didn’t look up toward the building across the street where the heartbeat echoed faintly through glass and steel. Instead he adjusted his glasses and shifted his weight against the newspaper stand, pretending to skim a headline. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the reflection in the window behind him.
Across the street stood a tall building with wide office windows and polished marble framing the entrance. Several stories up, just barely visible through the glare of sunlight on the glass, was a familiar silhouette standing near one of the windows. Clark bit back a smile.
The large Midwestern man hummed quietly to himself, lowering his gaze to his phone as if reading something important. Then, very casually, he adjusted his stance.
One foot crossed loosely over the other. His shoulder leaned just a little more against the newspaper stand. He tilted his head slightly, sunlight catching the edge of his glasses.
Picture perfect.
Inside the building across the street, Bruce Wayne stood near the large office window of a conference room, half listening to the low murmur of executives discussing quarterly investments. The meeting had technically ended ten minutes ago. Most of the executives had already begun gathering their papers, talking among themselves while assistants prepared to escort Bruce out of the building.
Bruce wasn’t paying attention to any of it. His gaze had drifted down to the street the moment he stepped near the window.
Clark Kent stood outside the Gazette building.
Bruce had noticed him instantly. Clark leaned against a newspaper stand, head bowed slightly toward his phone as pedestrians passed around him. From this height he looked relaxed, almost deliberately unremarkable.
Bruce watched him for several seconds. Then several more. His fingers slipped into the pocket of his coat. He hadn’t planned this. Again. It just… kept happening. Bruce pulled out his phone and opened the camera, zooming until Clark filled the frame. The sunlight framed him perfectly, the reflection of the building windows glimmering behind him like a halo of glass and steel. Bruce exhaled quietly. Still impossible to ignore. He tapped the screen, capturing the moment once again in this ritual and habit he'd started.
Clark leaning against the stand, glasses catching the light, expression soft and thoughtful as he stared down at his phone. Bruce stared at the image for a second. He opened his messages. Clark’s contact sat neatly at the top.
Found you.
Clark’s phone chimed, the now familiar piano tune playing. Clark glanced down, already smiling. He opened the message, and the picture filled his screen. Clark’s grin widened into something bright and completely sappy.
Omg that looks amazing, B! You always take the best pictures <3
Bruce stared at the message, his brow furrowed but a small smile gracing his lips. Clark’s second response came a second later.
How'd you like my pose? You think it helped highlight my good side?
Bruce went very still, confusion knitting his brow now instead of fondness.
Across the street, Clark finally lifted his gaze from his phone and looked up toward the window. Their eyes met through the distance and glare of the afternoon sun. Clark raised his hand and gave him a cheerful little wave. Bruce’s ears turned beet red, lowering his phone slowly, staring down at Clark in astonishment.
Impossible.
…Had he actually posed?
Bruce opened the photo again. Clark leaned against the stand, glasses catching the light, his posture almost suspiciously composed. Bruce zoomed in more to the photo. Clark’s foot was crossed at a suspiciously perfect angle. His shoulders were square. Even the tilt of his head looked deliberate.
Across the street, Clark’s phone buzzed again.
Knew I was here then, huh, Big Blue?
Clark laughed out loud right there on the sidewalk, drawing a confused glance from a passerby.
Just got lucky, I guess!
Well now I just know you're lying to me.
I'd never dare! I texted you about me coming here to follow up on that shipping company lead!
You did. And yet for some reason you're all the way over here by the Gazette?
Just a lucky, wonderful coincidence! <3 It was real nice to see ya, B! Dinner still on tonight at yours?
Bruce stared at his phone, something itching in his brain, but he just couldn't put a finger on it. When Clark sent a kiss and heart emoji, Bruce just rolled his eyes as his cheeks burned.
Fine, don't tell me the truth. But yes, it is, don't miss it. Dick has been blowing my ear off about finally meeting you, and everyone else is expecting you as well with varying excitement.
I wouldn't miss it for the world! <3
Clark sighed, a dreamy and wispy sound. Then he slipped the phone into his pocket, still smiling, and pushed away from the newspaper stand to continue down the street. Briefly, he softly knocked three times on a wooden stand as he walked to the train station.
Behind the glass window several floors above, Bruce Wayne stood frozen for a long time. Then, very slowly, he raised his hand and rubbed the back of his neck.
"That man, I swear…" Bruce muttered under his breath.
When his name was called, he turned around and finally walked away from the window. Letting his assistants begin to escort him to his next meeting of his busy day.
Bruce Wayne x Clark Kent
SuperBat fanfic, a 5+1 trope
This Fic was inspired by a tiktok I saw! jakefisher, @ratpapa19, thank you so much for the cute art you made!! Guys go check out their video and art, they're amazing! <3
Chapter 4 of this fic is the one that is directly inspired by their tiktok!
———————————————————————————
Found you.
Five times Bruce found Clark... and one time Clark found Bruce.
Between fleeting glances, quiet smiles, and moments only they understand, something begins to shift. A subtle game of attention and affection unfolds, and what starts as curiosity slowly grows into something neither of them expected.
OG AO3 Link👇👇
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
———————————————————————————
Chapter 4: Hidden in Plain Sight
The fourth time Bruce found Clark. Their game has evolved, deeper meaning dripping from each photo sent.
(This is the chapter that's inspired by jakefisher's tiktok!)
———————————————————————————
Clark Kent and Lois Lane had stepped out of the office for their break, heading toward a new coffee shop that had opened the week before. Clark was happily chatting with Lois, who was mainly listening as Clark jabbered, inputting her own snarky and witty comments in when she felt like it.
Metropolis always had a way of shining even on late afternoons. The sidewalks buzzed with the usual orchestra of the city. Taxi horns, hurried footsteps, the distant hum of construction several blocks away. Above it all, the sky stretched wide and blue like someone had polished it just for the occasion, fluffy white clouds painting the sky like brush strokes.
Clark’s phone chimed with a pair of gentle piano notes that made him perk up instantly.
Clark jumped, hand flailing down to fumble at his pockets for his phone. When he finally retrieved it, a radiant smile stretched across his face when he saw the notification was from B.
Lois leaned over to try and snoop, and Clark playfully leaned away. When Clark opened the message, the towering man's steps faltered for a moment as he stared at the screen before a huge, utterly sappy smile spread across his face.
Lois slowed as well, keeping pace with Clark as the man began to slow down. She tried to peek again, but Clark still wouldn’t let her see the screen. Playfully groaning, she gently shouldered Clark's side.
"What is it? What's gotten you so cheerful?" she asked, squinting at him with mock annoyance.
Clark didn’t answer right away. He was staring at his phone like someone had just handed him the best news in the world, an utterly besotted look that made Lois want to fake gag… and absolutely tease the giant Midwestern farm boy. Clark finally turned to let Lois see his screen, and when she did, her teasing smile quickly dropped from her face.
A photo.
The photo was clearly taken from somewhere nearby, or maybe far away if the photographer had a good camera. It showed Clark from the side, sunlight catching the edge of his glasses and the back of his curly black hair while he seemingly talked to Lois. A candid shot, perfectly framed. No identifiers to show where exactly the photo was taken besides the angle of Clark himself. Under it was a single message.
Found you.
While Clark’s smile was exuberant, Lois could feel her concerned grimace scrunch her face as she stared at Clark's phone. The two had almost come to a complete stop, more shambling than walking.
"So cute! Oh man, that's a good one!" he giggled, completely delighted.
Lois stopped walking entirely now. She slowly turned to stare at Clark, bewilderment and exasperation etched across her face.
"Clark…" she said carefully. "Are you okay? Like, seriously?"
Across the street, partially hidden behind a brick wall and doing a truly terrible job at blending in with the pedestrians, Bruce Wayne—his face still smudged black with the ghost of a half-erased eye makeup—slowly leaned back out of sight.
Bruce glanced down at his phone. He watched the "message seen" indicator appear, and a moment later, Clark Kent sent a heart then a kiss emoji. Bruce stared at it, then the corner of Gotham’s most feared vigilante’s mouth twitched upwards. His ears burned red and his face flushed, but he felt no need to hide his face.
Clark turned to Lois, no hint of worry evident in the man while he pocketed his phone again.
"Oh you betcha! Honestly, if I were any better, I'd be twins! Why?"
"…Clark… Clark Kent, that is literally the most stereotypical photo from a stalker I have ever seen, and I would know! I've been stalked once or twice when someone I wrote about didn't like what I had to say!"
Clark's smile slightly dimmed, the gears visibly turning in his head.
He gasped. "Oh! Oh no! Oh yeah, jeez, I can see how that looks now! I promise, Lois, it's— that wasn't from a stalker! It's—" his words cut off, his ears turning red as he whispered. "…That was from B…"
Lois blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Then she barked out a laugh, quickly jumping to get in front of Clark in her excitement to tease the man.
"Ooooh, B? That B? The B you refuse to tell me anything else about~?" She skipped along, her tone melodic as she side-eyed her tomato red best friend.
Clark let Lois tease him, but he had already tuned her out. His attention drifted elsewhere, staring out of the corner of his eye the corner of a brick building.
Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump.
There he was. Subtly, hidden behind his calloused hands, Clark smiled as he listened to Bruce’s heartbeat. When he glanced back across the street, he caught only a brief glimpse. The tall man leaned against a brick wall, half swallowed by the alley’s shadows as he stared down at his phone, completely unaware that he was being watched.
Clark shook his head, pushing the thoughts of Bruce to the back of his mind for the moment as he and Lois finally reached the new café. A small cluster of people stretched along the sunny sidewalk outside both standing and sitting, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries drifting out the open doors. Clark held the door for Lois, and she gave him a mock curtsy before slipping inside.
The interior was airy, filled with hanging plants, warm wooden tables, and the faint hum of a jazzy playlist somewhere in the background. Lois immediately claimed a small table by the window, sliding her bag onto the chair next to her. Clark followed, placing his bag and notebooks down, carefully sitting in the wicker chair.
"Right, I'm gonna go order! Whatchu want, Clark?" Lois said, leaning back and stretching her arms above her head, beginning to turn away to walk to the counter.
Clark’s eyes flicked to her for a brief second, his grin softening into something more private.
"Hmm, I dunno. You pick for me?" he said lightly, though his thumb was already hovering over his phone in his jacket pocket.
Lois rolled her eyes playfully, but turned away to go to the counter. Clark waited until she began to talk to the cashier, her back fully towards him, before slipping his phone back out. His fingers typed with deliberate care.
B, dinner tonight? I'm thinking Bessolo Bistro or Ace O' Clubs, but I’m good with whatever you're wanting! <3
He hesitated, smirking faintly at his own boldness, then hit send. Almost instantly, the tiny piano-note ringtone—carefully chosen months ago—buzzed from his phone.
LeMarvin Bistro, my treat. Reservation set for 7, I'll meet you at your place.
Clark couldn't help but laugh, his hand raising to slightly cover his mouth. His cheeks blushed a vibrant red, but he couldn't care in the slightest at anyone seeing him blush at his phone. He jumped when a sandwich and coffee cup were slapped onto the table in front of him. Eyes shooting up, he was met with Lois grinning down at him like a cat who got some cream.
"Still talkin' to your lover boy? What he say this time, tomato man?"
Clark tucked his phone into his pocket, his blush coloring beginning to fade.
"Ah, nothing much." he said, voice soft. "Nothin' I'd ever tell you, that is."
Lois gasped with exaggerated offense, collapsing down into her own chair. Clark laughed at her, throwing a small ball of crumpled napkin at her. Lois laughed at that as well, digging into her own order. As they ate, they conversed like normal, but slowly, Lois's smile slipped off her face. Setting her food down, she folded her hands and looked at Clark, intently staring into his eyes. He swallowed, and set his food down as well.
"Will you ever tell me? Eventually?" she twiddled her fingers, her eyes flicking away for a moment but never straying from Clark's face.
"You want to keep this private, and I get that, I totally do! But I don't… I don't know, just… when you figure everything out with you and B, will you finally tell me? You—you know you can trust me right, with absolutely anything?"
Clark stared at her for a moment, before sighing and grabbing her folded hands with his one large one. He nodded, squeezing her hands.
"I promise, I'll tell you eventually. Me and B are just… figuring everything out, right now. Once we're settled with everything, I'll tell you, Lo."
Lois stayed still for a moment, just staring into Clark's eyes. But she seemed to find what she wanted, because her body relaxed and a soft smile once again graced her lips.
"Okay. I trust you Clark, and I respect that. But, you better tell me everything when that happens, no details spared unless I say so!"
Clark laughed, agreeing to her demands as he brought his food close again. The friend's lunch break continued on without a hitch, their moods lifted and bright once again. Clark took another big bite of his sandwich, carefully hiding the faint upward twitch of his lips as he glanced at his phone on the table. Lois was distracted for a moment, reaching for her coffee and typing on her own phone, giving him the perfect excuse.
He typed quickly, fingers hovering for a second before hitting send.
Sounds good, counting down the hours already! See ya soon B <3
Almost immediately, a tiny musical buzz answered him.
Good. See you soon, Clark
Clark tucked the phone back into his jacket pocket, cheeks warming up all over again. He looked up at Lois, who was stirring her coffee, completely oblivious. The smile he wore now had a little more weight to it. Quiet, private, and entirely for himself.
Bruce Wayne x Clark Kent
SuperBat fanfic, a 5+1 trope
This Fic was inspired by a tiktok I saw! jakefisher, @ratpapa19, thank you so much for the cute art you made!! Guys go check out their video and art, they're amazing! <3
Chapter 4 of this fic is the one that is directly inspired by their tiktok!
———————————————————————————
Found you.
Five times Bruce found Clark... and one time Clark found Bruce.
Between fleeting glances, quiet smiles, and moments only they understand, something begins to shift. A subtle game of attention and affection unfolds, and what starts as curiosity slowly grows into something neither of them expected.
OG AO3 Link👇👇
https://archiveofourown.org/works/82046876/chapters/215897796#workskin
———————————————————————————
Chapter 3: Across the Street
The third time Bruce found Clark. Their game continues, and feelings continue to grow.
———————————————————————————
Clark Kent stood near the corner outside the Daily Planet building, one hand holding a paper bag from a nearby sandwich shop while the other balanced his phone and a small stack of notes. His tie had already loosened itself sometime between his morning interviews and now, and his sleeves were pushed halfway up his forearms. To anyone passing by, he looked exactly like what he was. A slightly disheveled reporter enjoying a lunch break.
The hustle and bustle of Metropolis always calmed a little during midday. Sunlight glinted off towering glass buildings, traffic rolled steadily through intersections, and the sidewalks bustled with office workers escaping their desks for lunch. Conversations overlapped into a steady hum of voices, punctuated by the hiss of espresso machines and the rumble of buses passing by.
Clark chewed thoughtfully on a bite of sandwich as he skimmed through the notes on his phone. But beneath the ordinary rhythm of the city, he was listening. Always listening, even unconsciously. Somewhere in the layered symphony of engines, voices, and footsteps, there was a sound Clark had begun recognizing instantly. Slowly, the sounds of the city faded to almost nothing. The chatter of pedestrians softened, engines blurred into a distant hum, footsteps dissolved into the background.
Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump.
Steady. Controlled. Familiar.
Clark’s eyes flicked up briefly. There he was.
Clark didn’t turn his head. Didn’t look toward the rooftops or the opposite side of the street. Instead he took another casual bite of his sandwich, leaning his shoulder against the stone wall of the building as if nothing at all had caught his attention. A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he tuned in more to the heartbeat, the sound melodic and comforting to him. It had been almost three months since that first photo, and now it was something Clark couldn't help but look forward to.
Several stories above the street, Bruce Wayne stood near the edge of a rooftop garden terrace attached to a corporate building. From where he stood, the view across the street was unobstructed.
There he was.
Clark Kent.
Bruce had not planned this. His visit to Metropolis had been scheduled for entirely legitimate Wayne Enterprises business. Meetings. Contracts. The sort of daylight obligations Bruce Wayne was expected to attend. And if he had been accepting more meetings in Metropolis instead of blowing them off, so what?
It was totally coincidental. Clark just simply happened to be there. Standing casually on the sidewalk like the city had arranged itself around him.
Bruce watched him for a moment longer than necessary, like he always did. Clark leaned against the wall, sunlight catching in his hair as he glanced down at his phone, chewing thoughtfully on what looked like a sandwich. Bruce felt a faint tug of recognition in his chest. This had happened several times now.
The photos. This… game he couldn't stop himself from playing.
At first they had been impulsive. An odd little decision Bruce still wasn’t sure how to explain, even to himself. Now it had become something else. A habit, one he couldn't yet tell if it was bad or good.
Bruce reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his phone. From this height, Clark looked smaller against the massive buildings around him, framed by the busy movement of pedestrians passing by. Still bright. Still somehow impossible to ignore, at least for him.
Bruce opened the camera. The lens zoomed smoothly, focusing on his target. Clark shifted slightly, adjusting the paper bag in his hand while he read something on his phone.
Bruce tapped the screen. The photo captured the moment perfectly. Clark leaning against the wall, one foot crossed loosely over the other, sunlight warm across his face. Bruce stared at the image for a second, feeling his cheeks flush slightly. Then he opened his messages. Clark’s contact still sat near the top.
He attached the photo and sent two words, putting his phone back in his pocket, but still watching the man down below.
Found you.
Clark’s phone buzzed with a special notification sound he had very deliberately assigned.
Right on cue. Clark swallowed the last bite of his sandwich and wiped his fingers on a napkin before pulling the phone out of his pocket. He didn’t even pretend to look surprised when he opened the message.
A photo of himself filled the screen. Clark’s smile widened, sappy but also sort of smug. He typed back quickly.
Hi B!
Bruce’s phone buzzed. Slowly, he pulled the phone out again. His brow furrowed slightly as he read the message, but his lips minutely quirked upwards.
Clark’s typing bubble appeared again.
What r u doing all the way up there today?
Bruce stared at the screen for a moment longer than necessary. Then he typed, slow. Measured.
I have no idea what you're talking about
Of course, how silly of me!
Bruce’s eyes narrowed slightly as he glanced down at the street again. Clark had pushed away from the wall now and was slowly walking down the sidewalk, phone still in hand as pedestrians flowed around him.
Bruce huffed, an almost petulant sound.
Am I already boring you?
A few seconds passed. Clark’s reply appeared.
Never
Bruce grunted quietly, his ears turning red. His phone buzzed again.
You were across the street from me. The Solarium Tower? Ooh, you were on the Sky Garden Terrace, weren't you? How fancy!
Bruce went still, his breath momentarily hitching.
Is it a nice view up there, B?
Bruce looked down toward the street again. Clark had stopped walking. He stood near the curb now, phone in one hand as he looked up. And their eyes met, even from this great distance between them, Bruce could see the mirth glowing in the man's inhumanly blue eyes.
Bruce’s thumb hovered over the keyboard, not looking away from Clark as he typed.
Yes.
Clark’s response came back with suspicious speed.
Careful, Mr. Wayne. A certain someone might think you're flirting with them.
Bruce felt heat creep faintly into his ears. He tore his gaze away from Clark's, staring intently at his phone.
I'm always careful. I know what I'm doing.
Three little typing dots appeared, disappeared, then reappeared again.
Do you now?
Bruce slipped the phone back into his pocket, resisting the strange urge to take another photo. Below, Clark also pocketed his phone.
And their eyes met again. Bruce took a slow calming breath, and he nodded his head softly, knowing Clark could see him way better than Bruce could see him. Bruce blushed again when Clark smiled directly at him, sunlight catching his stupidly handsome face, that grin somehow visible even from this distance.
Clark chuckled quietly to himself and started walking again, waving goodbye to Bruce's distant form as he disappeared into the Metropolis crowd. Bruce stared after the man as long as he could, resisting the urge to wave back. He had no intention of encouraging this. He only turned away from the street below when his associates finally came back, having finally gathered all of their food for their lunch breaks.
I redrew my Ocs Reiba and Orna and holy shit, my art style is so different than their references sheets😭😭 Now I gotta redo those as well😭
Bruce Wayne x Clark Kent
SuperBat fanfic, a 5+1 trope
This Fic was inspired by a tiktok I saw! jakefisher, @ratpapa19, thank you so much for the cute art you made!! Guys go check out their video and art, they're amazing! <3
Chapter 4 of this fic is the one that is directly inspired by their tiktok!
———————————————————————————
Found you.
Five times Bruce found Clark… and one time Clark found Bruce
Between fleeting glances, quiet smiles, and moments only they understand, something begins to shift. A subtle game of attention and affection unfolds, and what starts as curiosity slowly grows into something neither of them expected.
OG AO3 Link👇👇
https://archiveofourown.org/works/82046876/chapters/215897081#workskin
———————————————————————————
Chapter 2: Caught in Motion
The second time Bruce found Clark, the game begins.
———————————————————————————
Morning always came to Metropolis with unapologetic brightness.
Sunlight spilled across glass towers and polished steel, turning the city into a mosaic of reflected shimmering sunlight. Traffic hummed through the streets in orderly waves, horns sounding in quick bursts as commuters hurried toward work. Coffee cups steamed in passing hands. Newsstands rattled as fresh papers were stacked for the morning rush.
It was a city that woke up so loudly, it was nearly disorienting to a man like Bruce Wayne. Bruce adjusted his sunglasses as he walked through the city surrounded by a small procession of Wayne Enterprises associates, the group moving steadily down the sidewalk toward a waiting car a few blocks away. The conversation around him flowed with the tidy rhythm of business.
Quarterly projections.
Expansion opportunities.
A mention of a potential partnership with a Metropolis tech firm.
Bruce listened, nodding occasionally, offering the occasional response when necessary. To anyone watching, he looked exactly as expected. Brucie Wayne doing his job the way the public believed he always did. A little distracted, a little air-headed, the billionaire playboy surrounded by people who quietly handled the details.
But his attention drifted for a moment when a familiar figure appeared across the street.
Clark Kent.
The reporter walked along the opposite sidewalk with a paper coffee cup in one hand and a worn notebook tucked beneath his arm. His tie hung slightly crooked beneath his coat and a loose curl of black hair had escaped whatever attempt he'd made that morning to tame it. Clark slowed occasionally, glancing down at his notebook as if reviewing something he had written earlier.
Bruce’s heartbeat stumbled once in his chest, his breath momentarily hitching. The memories from that night a few days ago flickered through his mind uninvited. A lone streetlight in Gotham. Clark’s warm laugh in the dark. His face glowing beneath amber light.
Bruce dragged his focus back to the present, eyes narrowing just slightly as he kept walking with the group.
Across the street, Clark paused at the curb, lifting the lid of his coffee to take a careful sip. A passing car rolled by, sunlight catching briefly on his glasses.
Bruce felt the faint pull of something impulsive, never a good sign. Before he could reconsider, his hand slipped casually into the pocket of his coat and retrieved his phone. He angled it low, the movement subtle enough that none of the associates beside him paid any attention.
His camera app opened and quickly focused.
Clark stood framed by the bright morning light, one hand curled around his coffee while he flipped absentmindedly through a page of his notebook.
Bruce tapped the screen. The photo saved with a soft click. He glanced down at it and huffed quietly. Clark looked exactly like he always did. Slightly rumpled and distractingly earnest. Completely unaware he was being observed. Bruce hesitated for half a second. Then he opened his messages. Clark’s contact was still near the top, just underneath the group chat his kids kept adding him back into, and Alfred. Bruce opened Clark's contact, selected the photo, and typed two words.
Message sent
Bruce slipped the phone back into his pocket just as one of the executives beside him began explaining something about a new development contract. Bruce nodded along as they walked, gaze forward, expression gentle and totally Brucie. From the corner of his eye, he watched the other side of the street for as long as he could.
Clark’s phone buzzed. Clark slowed, adjusting everything in his arms to one side. He pulled the device from his coat pocket, squinting slightly at the dim screen in the bright sunlight.
Found you.
He huffed, a smile unconsciously spreading across his face.
Bruce had to turn his attention back toward the conversation as one of the associates asked him a direct question about funding timelines. He answered smoothly, voice airy and composed. His phone vibrated in his pocket. Bruce pulled it out a moment later, lowering his gaze just enough to read the message without breaking stride.
Clark had already replied.
R u stalking me now Bruce? That's not very nice!
A quiet laugh slipped out of him before he could stop it. One of the associates glanced sideways at him, momentarily puzzled but not concerned. Thankfully, Brucie Wayne had always been known to get easily distracted by his phone.
I'm never nice
The reply came almost instantly.
Well that's just not true at all! You are one of the nicest people I've ever met!
You're lying.
Three little typing dots appeared.
I would never! Scout's honor!
Bruce’s mouth twitched, a small laugh escaping him.
You were never a scout
It's the thought that counts! Sure you can be a tiny bit prickly, but who isn't?
Bruce let out another quiet laugh, quickly disguising it with a small cough when one of the executives glanced over again. The warmth rising to his ears surprised him. He slipped the phone back into his pocket, straightening slightly as the group continued walking down the street.
Across the road, Clark lowered his phone slowly. His eyes lifted and settled immediately on Bruce. Clark’s kryptonian vision made spotting Bruce in the middle of the business group embarrassingly easy. He had noticed the subtle movement of Bruce’s phone earlier, but he knew how much the man liked being unnoticed.
He watched the billionaire walk away with the cluster of sharply dressed executives, Bruce’s posture composed and professional but still somehow loose.
Clark pressed his phone lightly against his chest. A quiet giggle slipped out of him before he could stop it. He walked away from the curb, coffee still warm in his hand, and continued down the street, a bright smile plastered on his face.
Bruce Wayne x Clark Kent
SuperBat fanfic, a 5+1 trope
This Fic was inspired by a tiktok I saw! jakefisher, @ratpapa19, thank you so much for the cute art you made!! Guys go check out their video and art, they're amazing! <3
Chapter 4 of this fic is the one that is directly inspired by their tiktok!
———————————————————————————
Found You.
Five times Bruce found Clark... and one time Clark found Bruce.
Between fleeting glances, quiet smiles, and moments only they understand, something begins to shift. A subtle game of attention and affection unfolds, and what starts as curiosity slowly grows into something neither of them expected.
OG AO3 fic link👇👇
https://archiveofourown.org/works/82046876/chapters/215896621
———————————————————————————
Chapter 1: First Glance
The first time Bruce saw Clark.
———————————————————————————
Night settled over Gotham like a heavy curtain, swallowing the last scraps of daylight and replacing them with neon flicker and distant sirens. Rain earlier in the evening had left the streets slick and reflective, turning every streetlamp into a trembling pool of gold on the pavement below. The city breathed in its usual rhythm. Low engines growling. Footsteps echoing down alleys. Somewhere far off, the wail of police lights cut through the dark.
High above it all, the city's dark protector watched.
Bruce stood balanced on the edge of a stone gargoyle, cape shifting slightly in the cool wind as his eyes swept the street below. Patrol had been quiet so far. Too quiet, which meant the city was holding its breath for something unpleasant. That's how it always went…
Movement near the corner of the block caught his attention.
A man stood beneath a streetlight, notebook open, pen moving quickly across the page. Glasses glinted as he tilted his head to listen to the owner of a late-night deli, who was gesturing animatedly toward the end of the street. The man nodded along, occasionally jotting something down.
Bruce’s gaze narrowed. Clark Kent, Metropolis’ most recognizable reporter, stood in the middle of Gotham at nearly midnight, coat collar turned up against the chill while he scribbled notes like the city around him wasn’t infamous for swallowing people whole. The man and heart behind Superman. For reasons Bruce still didn’t fully understand, Clark trusted Batman, and therefore Bruce Wayne, with that secret. Bruce watched longer than necessary, eyes fixed on the man who somehow still carried sunshine into Gotham’s darkness.
Clark laughed at something the deli owner said, warm and bright even in the dim streetlight. He pushed his glasses up his nose with one finger and went back to writing, completely absorbed as he continued interviewing the man.
Bruce reached into his utility belt and pulled out his phone. The camera zoomed in smoothly.
Clark stood framed by the amber glow of the streetlight, pen hovering over his notebook while he listened carefully to the man speaking. Focused. Calm. Entirely out of place in Gotham at this hour.
Bruce stared, his camera catching the way the light bounced off of Clark's black hair, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. Bruce took the photo.
For documentation.
That was the reason.
He stared at the image for a moment longer than required. Then, for some reason, instead of just filing it away, he opened his messages. He clicked Clark's contact, and sent the photo. He immediately regretted it.
Down on the street, Clark’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Clark paused mid-step while walking away from the deli owner, having already gathered what he needed. Clark pulled his phone out, briefly recoiling at the blinding light and lowering it. Once the light wasn't burning his eyes, Clark saw the notification was from Bruce. His brow furrowed, opening the message.
A photo.
Of himself.
Clark slowly turned in a circle, scanning the street around him. Passing cars. A couple walking their dog. A flickering traffic light at the intersection. No sign of the bat vigilante to human eyes. Clark looked back down at the phone. There was one message beneath the photo. Clark stared at it for a moment. Confusion and slight concern flickered across his face.
What are you doing?
He lifted his gaze toward the rooftops, trying to locate the mysterious man. When he still couldn't see him, Clark decided to write back.
Somewhere above, Bruce’s phone buzzed. The hero held his breath, slowly pulling his phone back out and opening his messages.
I could ask you the same thing? What r u doing??
Bruce huffed, his heart still beating fast against his ribcage.
I asked first. Why are you in Gotham so late?
Following a lead! Sorry I didn't text, it was a pretty last minute thing!
Bruce’s jaw tightened just slightly, shoulders stiffening. He briefly looked up to stare at Clark, who was standing still on the street also staring down at his phone.
A lead? What kind of lead gets you wandering Gotham at midnight?
Clark glanced around once more and finally spotted a black blur high above him, the silhouette highlighted by the moon. Raising an eyebrow, his mouth twitched in quiet recognition.
Bruce watched Clark glance toward the rooftops and wondered if he'd been spotted.
Clark turned away again, texting. Bruce let out a small sigh, seeing the bubble pop up again.
A fraud ring. There hasn't been much info on it, but this lead came up and I came to interview him. He seemed legit, nothing sketchy, and if his information is right I may be able to get this one off the ground!
Bruce huffed, lowering the phone, though his eyes didn’t leave the man still standing below him. Something about Clark under that lone streetlight, notebook in one hand and phone in the other, still felt far too… bright for Gotham. A buzz made him jump, just slightly. Pulling out the device, it was Oracle telling him there was a crime in progress and the address. Glancing around as he stood to take off, he sent one last text.
Good. If you get stuck and need any other information, bring it to me and I'll see if I can help. Area's clear, you can take off if you want.
Clark read the text, a small smile blossoming across his face. But when he heard a scuffle from up above, his head snapped up. And he watched Batman jumping across the rooftops, his cape flowing behind him before the man disappeared again. Clark stood there for a second, still gazing at the spot where Batman disappeared. Then, a chuckle bubbled up from his throat as he rose from the concrete. With a soft burst of air, he was off, flying his way back to Metropolis. He debated on it as he flew home, before finally pulling his phone out one more time.
Aw jeez, thank you Bruce! That's a real sweet of you to offer! I don't know if I'll need it yet, but it'd be super swell if that offer stayed on the table just in case! Have a nice night B, hope patrol goes well!
Bruce read the message.
Then again.
The corner of his mouth twitched upward before he tucked the phone away and disappeared into the night, heading towards the address Oracle had sent him.