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[vanilla-bean-18]

Masterlist!

Hobie Brown fics

sleepy - bf!Hobie x Reader fluff

drunk - bf!Hobie x drunk!Reader at a wedding fluff

baby - new dad!Hobie x new mum!Reader fluff

sick - bf!Hobie x sick!Reader fluff

patrol - dad/husband!Hobie x pregnant/new mum!Reader fluff

Clark Kent Fics

work pt1 - reporter!Clark x editor!Reader smut, fluff

work pt2 - reporter!Clark x editor!Reader fluff

anaesthesia - Clark Kent x Reader fluff

Bruce Wayne Fics

gala - Bruce Wayne x journalist!reader smut

[the-kr8tor]

So Easy to Fall in Love

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 5.8k

Synopsis: You go to work like normal even though you don't feel normal. But a Co-worker is ready to lend a shoulder to cry on.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader except for clothing, Part 6 of my series, mockumentary AU, the office AU, Co-worker AU, CW food mentions, R is going through it, hurt/comfort.

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Co-worker AU Masterlist

Part 6 >>> Part 7

Miguel calls for a meeting right at the start of the shift, and Hobie finds you already sitting up front. Looking just like how he remembered— pretty, sunshine kissing your cheeks with a smile worthy of a portrait.

He maneuvers over to you, or tries to anyway but Lyla and Jessica get to sit by your side before he could.

You couldn’t even pretend that you didn’t see him as Hobie goes to sit at the back together with the lunch club. Feeling eyes on you, you see the camera right on you as you act casually despite your fingers tapping incessantly at your thigh.

“Did you see that she’s back?” Pavitr exclaims excitedly to the lunch club. “Do you think she brought us exotic snacks?”

“She didn’t go to some far flung country, Pav.” Gayatri says, hands intertwined with his. “But she did say that she got us something. What do you think, Hobie?” Her brown eyes look at him teasingly. “I missed her, did you miss her?”

The rest of the lunch club stifle their laugh, even Miles turns his head away to have a giggle.

“She got you guys keychains and magnets, she told me.” He casually answers to annoy them, they’re not getting a reaction out of him.

You did tell him in a text when you showed off your haul of souvenirs that were haphazardly placed on top of a hotel bed. Hobie won’t tell them that he zoomed in on each one to look for his souvenir.

“Oh, fuck off, the surprise is ruined.” Gwen sighs, shaking his head at Hobie. “She does look great though.” Tilting her head, the others join in, simultaneously tilting their heads at an angle to get a better look at you. “I bet Hobie thinks so too.” She cheekily jabs his bicep, earning an annoyed yet flustered grunt from him.

“Yeah, she’s glowing.” Miles remarks as the other three agree wholeheartedly. “Man, we should’ve volunteered instead.”

“Please, as if we could sit still during a boring ass conference about electric toothbrushes.”

Their banter falls in the back of Hobie’s mind in favour of seeing your smile and hearing your laugh. After months of missing you, wanting to see that same smile again after Peter said something stupid to you like today, Hobie was so close to volunteering to join you on the road. He almost did, but Lyla, in all her kind-heartedness hidden underneath all that perfume and faux fur lined around her stilettos, told him that it’s for the best to leave you alone. To leave you to your soul searching. Hobie didn’t understand it at first, why you would leave and prefer to be all alone for months on end going from boring conferences to another. Until he remembered the night he followed you after what happened during your birthday.

Maybe he buried that moment deep in his heart because the hurt and pain he saw on your face almost broke him. You didn’t deserve it, MJ didn’t deserve you.

MJ tried to get him into her band and join them on their record label, but despite his dreams, despite his wants, he declined. Not after what he witnessed.

He blinks and he’s standing back on the hill with your car parked haphazardly, lights opened as the night chill lingers in his bones.

The camera crew found you first, he would credit them in following you before he could but they have their cameras pointed right at you as you sit still inside the driver’s seat. As if you’re in a catatonic state, as if MJ’s betrayal took a part of your heart that makes it tick.

He exclaims your name, and he could hear the camera lenses whirr right behind him. He ignores them in favour of you, it’s a good thing that they’re not invading the already volatile tension or else he’d be shoving them on their asses, and breaking their equipment, contract be damned. Hobie doesn’t even shut off the van nor close the door when he’s urgently making his way over to you. The headlights illuminate his way to you, shadows dancing on the grassy ground.

“Love.” He makes it to your car, knocking on the window as you stare blankly at the view in front of you.

The stars are out, and the moon shines in a cloudless sky. It’s beautiful out, and the city skyline below blinks at him whilst the sounds muffle from where he stands above. It would’ve been a romantic spot, and it might’ve been a prime make out point for teenagers but he doesn’t feel the love tonight when tears are still streaming down your frozen expression.

Instead of banging at the windows, he stays right there, leaning on the door, all the while keeping an eye on you. He doesn’t speak when he knows that no words could ever make you feel better.

You just lost your best friend, and unfortunately, he knows the feeling.

The lock clicks, and the squeak of the windows has him moving away from the door.

You meet with his eyes, a calming brown, a familiar sight, one that you needed most. You open your mouth to speak, to say anything, but no words come out.

So he speaks for you. “Can I sit with you?” He asks, soft, gentle and understanding.

You nod, and it’s enough for him to move. He goes around the hood of the car and opens the door.

Hobie sits in silence, your car smells like lemon, freshly cleaned, and the bobblehead of a cat on the dashboard bobs up and down in greeting. The car feels like you, warm, comforting, just like the crocheted blanket draped on the backseat, and the easel and paint brush keychain dangling right on the rearview mirror. Just like everything in your life, you carved a place of yourself in it the moment you finally could. The moment you finally feel at ease and just breathe.

The barbed wire bracelet hangs loose around your wrist, the metal catching the moonlight as it dangles aimlessly. You feel like the bracelet, just dangling there, holding on by your teeth.

Hobie thinks that he should've given you a better present for your birthday, something sweeter, something more meaningful, not a five year old bracelet he bought on a whim at a flea market. What MJ did to you was awful, he feels awful, today was supposed to be your day, something to smile and reminisce about in the future. Not like this, ending up in the middle of nowhere with your heart broken into pieces with someone who has no right words to say to you.

It feels easy to sink into the plush of the seat, and Hobie thinks that it should be easy for you to relax in your own space, but instead he sees your shoulders taut, and knuckles shaking around the steering wheel as if you don’t belong here, as if you’re about to be yanked by the collar and tossed right outside and kicked down the hill for intruding.

You were happy, and you were finally coming out of your shell, only for that shell to be bashed and broken down into pieces with a hammer. You can never go back.

The whirr of the engine sings as it hums, and what seemed to be for hours, he stayed there with you in silence.

The cameras keeps a long distance away from the two of you, capturing the scene from behind as they could see the two silhouettes through the glass. Then, your hands leave the steering wheel, and the crew captures the moment you lay your head against his shoulder. No words exchanged, just a simple comforting gesture that means the world to you, that he gladly lets you have.

It’s been like that ever since your birthday, just a quiet yet gentle reassurance that he’s there for you, whether you’re willing to talk it out or just to be in someone’s presence. He’s there, a nod at you in the hallways as you pass by, hands grazing along the other, or a smile tossed at you from across the bullpen. And you’d give him that tight lipped smile that tugs at the corner of your lips, the one that you regret giving him when he deserves more than a half-hearted smile, when you want to smile at him fully like before.

Sometimes he lets you know that he’s there with you through food, making sure that you’ve at least eaten something for that day. Hobie meal preps for two, and has to wake up an hour earlier than usual, but that’s alright for him, you’d usually eat it, sometimes you won’t, either way, it’s all worth it just to see your shoulders relax and your fists unfurl the moment you take the first bite or just to see that someone still remembers you.

He would offer words, but when he was in your shoes all those years ago, all he wanted was for someone to understand, to just be there and not talk about the pain of being left by someone you once loved. So he stayed, lingered and kept an eye on you at the office, until the day you didn’t come to work, only to find out through Miguel that you volunteered to leave for months.

He was actually happy for you, glad that you have taken the reins and pulled yourself up from the hole of your grief to get out of it. Even if that means he would miss you dearly. He can always text and call you anyway.

And he did a few times, more than a few times. You’d always reply though, despite the time difference. You’d always go out of your way to respond to him, whether it’s just a picture of his lunch, a silly picture of the lunch club during band practice, or a random cat he saw on the street, you’d always reply. And in turn, you send him pictures of your dinner, the boring conferences with a little snooze emoji added in, or where you are occasionally. A hotel you’re currently staying at, a restaurant you’re in, or even a gas station where you have a stop over to grab some snacks for the road, whatever it is, Hobie is there to keep track of you, like a wordless agreement that you two have. Someone has to know your location, and you trust Hobie enough to let him know where you are. Sometimes it’s blatant, where you would actually ping your location and send it to him, that’s when he would always check his phone every two minutes to check on you, and only after you message him that you’re at the airport or that you’re finally in your car, that’s when he lets out a sigh of relief.

The band and the lunch club thinks he has become a lovelorn loser pining for you across the ocean, while the documentary crew thinks he’s irritated like he has a wooden splinter up his ass. He’s both, but he’ll never say it out loud, or to anyone for that matter.

Jared pans the camera to Hobie’s resting bitch face and he flinches when Hobie flicks his eyes at him, flipping him the bird that he has to edit out and take another overtime just to do so.

“Holy shit, Hobie.” Gwen snatches his wrist, fingers digging in that has him waking up from his thoughts of you. “Is that—?”

Leather heels clack from outside as he sees a glimpse of shiny raven hair from the conference room windows. The door opens, and Miguel pauses from his speech about workplace safety.

The man sighs tiredly. “You’re late.”

All eyes are on the newcomer as Hobie and the lunch club’s eyes widen in shock. “What the actual fuck.” They simultaneously say to the delight of the producer.

“Yuri?” You’re the first person to acknowledge her by name. “What are you doing here?”

“I work here now.” She shrugs casually, and the lunch club breaks from their shock to laugh loudly that it makes the boom mics peak. “Oh, hey, you guys are here too.”

“What?” Hobie blinks and rubs his eyes, when he opens them she’s still there standing in her three piece suit and pencil skirt. “You can’t work ‘ere!”

“Why not?”

You look over your shoulder over to them to stifle a laugh, only to realize that it’s the first time you’ve seen him fully. Hobie’s gaze turns to you, and he immediately softens. Giving him a small wave, Lyla interrupts.

“Yeah, why not?” She stands up, giving her chair to Yuri, making a show of it as she raises a brow at Hobie. “I hired her as our social media manager.”

Miles scrunches his face. “We’re an electric toothbrush company.”

“We’re not getting any collabs with that mindset, Mr. Morales.” Yuri says teasingly to irk him. “So this is where you go off to, Hobie, I thought you worked at the diner.”

“That was nearly a decade ago, Yuri.” There’s a blooming headache in between his brows.

She simply rolls her eyes, turning to face you as she sits down. “Oh, hey gorgeous, I didn’t know all the pretty ones get to sit up front.” Winking at Lyla, then over to Jess, she sets her manicured nails onto the first row.

“Hi, I’m Peter—”

“No, thank you, Paul.” Yuri waves him away casually. “So, don’t let me keep you, boss man.”

Miguel looks like he’s about to burst a vein, he’s definitely going to have a stern talking to Lyla about her bias on hiring new people.

“Welcome, Miss Yuri Watanabe.” He greets monotonously to scattered applause. “As I was saying, we will have a union meeting about what happened in shipping…”

—

The day went on as usual despite the little surprise at the start. Turns out Yuri was a great addition to the team, she had great suggestions that would help increase sales. Plus she’s getting along well with everyone, especially Lyla. The downside is that she might call for some people to help in making those said internet content. You’ll probably be hiding from her just like everyone else after hearing that.

You’ve seen everyone, greeted and chatted with pretty much every single co-worker, and have given them the small souvenir you stocked for them. Lyla gets a pretty pink scarf that was fully weaved, Miguel gets a novelty mug of mount Rushmore, while Jessica gets a pair of baby booties that have palm trees from your trip to LA. The lunch club gets their keychains and magnets that have their names on it from all the places you stopped, each looking gaudy as the next. And Harry gets the classic souvenir t-shirt that he may or may not wear. Even Peter and Jared get something, but one person hasn’t received theirs, and coincidentally, he’s the only person whom you haven’t spoken to yet since you got here.

It was a busy day for you, and you didn’t have enough time to speak to Hobie, even at lunch when you had to skip it in favour of catching up to some work. Miguel noticed and handed you some vending machine biscuits to stave off the hunger, which you appreciate, but now you’re starving.

You stayed back fifteen minutes after you’re supposed to clock out purposefully. Harry has kissed your cheek goodbye with a promise to catch up next time, and the lunch club has invited you over for a movie night with the band on the weekend.

Whilst you hear the fading giggles of Lyla and Yuri from the closing elevators, you grab your bag quickly and take the present in your hand with one mission in mind— get to the mailroom.

To your surprise, you find the room already empty. You’re sure that he hasn’t left yet when your eyes were glued to the elevators. You’re about to pull out your phone to call him, but you hear rustling from behind his desk.

The place was a convoluted mess, it probably only makes sense to him and Gwen. It’s filled with piles of boxes, manila envelopes, and tons of files haphazardly placed in the corner. The shredder is filled to the brim and probably breathing its last life. There is one thing that caught your eye though, in a sea of boxes and blanched papers, is an orchid. It’s purple and pretty, a sight to behold in the mess.

“You like Terrence?” Hobie pokes his head from under the desk, hair sticking out from all angles, and a few pieces of shredded paper clings to him.

You almost shriek, staggering back as your back hits the wall. “Fucking hell, Hobie!”

Hobie has the audacity to laugh. “Shit, sorry, love.” Standing up, dusting himself, he tilts his head teasingly at you. “You got somethin’ for me to send out?” He gestures for the box in your hands.

“Yeah, wait, no, actually this is for you.” You close the distance, offering the present to him bashfully. “Consider this mail delivered.”

His eyes shine under the humming fluorescent lights as he takes the box gingerly in his hand. He weighs it in his hold, chuckling under his breath, and instead of opening it, he turns to gaze at you with the same smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You utter with the same warmth.

He still doesn’t open it, and you’re now bouncing on the heels of your feet.

“You look happy.”

Chortling, your head tilts down to hide your bashful smile and your heated cheeks. “Yeah, fresh air and two hours of screentime a day will do that to you.”

“Nah, you did this yourself. I’m happy that you’re happy.” His thumb scratches at the box nervously. “‘m…” he takes a deep breath, and your sweetened familiar perfume wafts in his nose that immediately eases the tension in his shoulders. “It’s good to see you back, really, ‘m happy you’re back.”

Your eyes flick towards him, still smiling. “I heard that you were irritated the whole time I was gone.”

He groans, head tilting back as he runs a hand on his expression. “Damnit, Jared.”

Giggling, you close the distance again, a hand gingerly brushing along the petals of the orchid. “Why terrence?”

“Gwen named him, I don’t know why she picked that though.”

“What would you have chosen instead?”

“Leopold.”

You let out a laugh that has him smiling even more. “Yeah, as if that’s any better.”

“It’s a mighty name for an orchid, love.” Hobie finally opens the present when he notices your eyes kept flicking over to it and then back to him with unbridled anticipation.

A domed glass greets him, and as he gently takes it out of the box, he sees the Colorado mountains inside the snowglobe, perfectly still as snow drifts inside. It’s not some cheap novelty globe, it’s well made, wood and glass with a metal band around it. His thumb feels an engraving up front, and he turns it to read the words, ‘wish you were here, Hobie!’ engraved right on the metal. His heart almost stopped, and his breath hitched in his throat.

“They almost misspelled it as ‘Hobby,’ I made them redo it. I was very brave about it actually.” Biting the inside of your cheek, you look at him with trembling anticipation. “I know it’s gaudy and probably not to your taste but it reminded me of you. I just thought, ‘wow, Hobie would love to see the mountains.’ And a snowglobe of it is the closest thing I could get you, a picture just doesn’t do it justice.”

“Lovie.” Stepping over boxes and around the table, he comes closer to you, eyes gazing into your own tenderly, russet swimming with something you’re not yet privy to. “It’s beautiful, I love it.” Your name almost slips off his tongue in place of ‘it’.

Your shoulders physically relax as you let out a sigh of relief. “That’s great, maybe you could find a place for it in your houseboat.”

“Speakin’ of,” he rolls the snowglobe in his hands, feeling the coldness of the glass. “D’you want to pick the spot for it? I’ll make us dinner, nothin’ fancy, jus’ some leftovers I have.”

Past you would’ve said no, but this version of you, who is just finding out how to truly live? What’s stopping you?

“As long as you let me buy the drinks.”

“Deal.”

—

Hobie admires the snowglobe on his desk, tucked in between his soldering machine and a wrench, a prettier sight amidst metal and unfinished projects.

He catches a giddy smile on his face from the reflection on a sheet of metal, and instead of fixing his face and flattening the smile, he grins even more. You thought of him when you saw those beautiful mountains, enough that when you saw the snowglobe at a gift shop it reminded you of him. It makes his heart lurch in his chest, to be seen as something as beautiful as those mountains felt more than familial, more than friendship, he could only hope at least.

A warm feeling underneath his ribcage calls your name, and he doesn’t muffle it.

The microwave beeps, and he wakes up from his lovestruck thoughts to grab the two bowls of leftover pesto that has angel hair pasta instead of the usual when angel hair was the only thing left in his cupboard.

Placing each one on a wooden tray that Ned left behind, he also grabs two mismatched glasses on his way out.

When he steps out of the houseboat, the cold seeping into his jeans and the cloudless sky spanning across the bay, he doesn’t see you in the same place where he left you on the patio chair.

“Love?” You might’ve fallen overboard, or hell, left without a word.

“Over here!” Your voice echoes amidst the rushing sound of water below. He follows the source, head looking up to see you sitting on his roof.

The way the moon lines up with the back of your head is heavenly, silver painting your smile, and the stars flickering right around you is a sight to behold that it takes his breath away.

“How’d you get up there?” His chuckles echo, bouncing off the waters as he gazes up at you with reverence.

“I used the chair,” you say it like it’s the most obvious thing. “The roof is stable right?”

“I hope so. Don’t want you fallin’ through it.”

“Insurance will cover idiocracy, I’m sure.” Shrugging with a laugh, you reach out to the tray. “Come up here, the view is amazing.”

He can’t resist your invitation. So he gives you the tray with some maneuvering, glasses and utensils clanking against the other as you place it on your lap.

“Right, move over, itsy bitsy spider.” Hands gripping the edge of the roof, he makes it look effortless to climb up with one pull up. His shirt rides up, stomach peeking in between the hem and the waistband of his jeans. In truth he could already feel his shoulders and lower back ache from the exercise. Groaning, he positions himself beside you, finding that the plastic bags from the shop are placed right behind you. He dusts his hands, and chuckles to himself, feeling your gaze on him. “Fuckin’ hell, love, you got me climbin’ my own roof for some slurpees and hotdogs.”

“And here I thought you climbed up here for the view.”

He considers you as the view, the best kind, probably a favorite of his. “That too.”

“So,” you reach for the slurpees, one raspberry and one electric blue that will surely taste nothing like blueberry as you pour it into each glass. “What’s been happening with you while I was gone?”

‘Wait for you to come back.’ Is what he wanted to say, but he bites his lip, teeth caught in the piercing as he unweaves it as nonchalantly as he could without you noticing. “Jus’ the usual, work, band, cook, band again.”

“That’s good. Keeping yourself occupied.” You mutter, looking at each drink in hand, trying to choose. Red or blue?

“I’ve got an idea.” Hobie takes both drinks, dumps half of the red into the plastic cup where it came from, and does the same with the blue. He then mixes both in the glass, making purple. He does the same to the other, making two new drinks. “There, save you some time.”

Your laughter brings out the moonlight even more as the light catches in your eyes. “Brilliant. This will surely not give us diabetes.” His fingers brushes along your own as he hands you your share. He’s cold, as cold as the drink in your grasp, and you want nothing more but to warm his hands with your own.

“As if these hotdogs won’t give us food poisonin’.” Despite his words, he takes a generous bite of the gas station hotdog that he lathered in ketchup and mustard.

“I’m immune to food poison at this point.” You grab a napkin and gesture to the stubble on his chin. “Sorry, you got a little…” he wipes but doesn’t get the blob of ketchup. Shaking your head with a grin, you move. “Can I?”

Hobie nods, then freezes in place whilst you wipe his chin gently. His eyes watch as you concentrate on the stain, the tip of your tongue poking out from between your lips and eyes narrowed like it’s the bane of your existence. “Got it all?”

“Yep,” your soft expression returns once you do. “Got it.”

The interaction didn’t feel awkward nor forced, it felt natural to the both of you, as if no time apart has passed.

“So, why the orchid?” You ask after a bite of your pasta that warms your insides.

“A client left it for Miguel.” Hobie pauses eating to watch the reaction on your blissful face when you take the first bite of his cooking. “But he said he didn’t want to take care of it, so Gwen and I have been takin’ care of it. It’s the office mascot now.”

“Can’t believe you had me replaced for a flower. A Terrence too.” You test the name on your tongue, garnering a chortle from Hobie. “The name is still weird, but sort of makes sense in a way.”

“You and a flower, there's barely any difference, both lovely.” He declares wholeheartedly.

“You’re a cheeseball, Hobie Brown.” Shaking your head with a smile, you feel your cheeks warm up despite the cold.

“You love it.” Nudging your arm, he watches the smile appear on your face. Lyla was right, the time apart made you feel better. “Any stories to tell me from your trips or am I not worthy to hear ‘em?”

“When were you not worthy?” You nudge him back, meeting with eyes, catching his gaze on your own that takes your breath away. The breeze flutters your lashes, and you get wind of his cologne, the same one you smelled on a random sunny day in California, one that you speed walked to follow, thinking that Hobie was there, only to see a stranger at the end.

Clearing your throat, you face your meal, stabbing your fork into the pasta before deciding to take a sip at the sickeningly sweet drink that lines your mouth. “Anyway, it was okay, the hotels I’ve been to were nice. And…” your tone fades as your thumb wipes away the condensation on the glass. “It was a good distraction.”

“Yeah,” Hobie swipes his tongue over his lips, elbow atop his knee as he looks into the water. “It probably wasn’t easy for you, being alone after what happened.”

“It’s weird though,” you shake your head, ducking down to meet with eyes as he returns your gaze. “I didn’t feel as lonely as I thought I would be. Being alone wasn’t so…lonely. I had you, you were one message or call away, and so were everyone else. And I haven’t felt like myself in a long time. I think the time I spent with myself helped me find— I don’t know how to put this, myself again. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, it does.” Hobie’s russet eyes shine underneath the silver moonlight. Catching sight of the barbed wire bracelet he has gifted you that is still clasped around your wrist securely. You kept it. His heart swells.

“It was good and all, but I don't think I would've survived another month like that.”

“‘No man is an island,’ they said.”

“Yeah. I’ve got a story actually,” sitting up, you lay the tray behind you as you hold onto your slushie. “I signed up for a guided tour of New Orleans while I was there, y’know the touristy ones that shows you all the spooky places.” Hobie nods, listening along as he angles his body towards you unconsciously. “And I befriended this nice sweet old lady named Janet, and we chatted the whole way, turns out she’s been going to the same tour for a decade or so because her husband used to be a tour guide. I think she knew more than our tour guide.”

You chuckle, eyes glossing over as you continue. “Well, anyway, I went to the bathroom and when I came back out, the bus was gone. So I was like, ‘not again.’” Tone catching at the end, his hand instinctively reaches out to you, before his own trepidation stops him. “I didn’t know anyone, didn’t know where I was and my battery was dead. I sat there on the curb, wondering what to do, then five minutes later, the bus came back around again with a screaming Janet. She noticed I was gone, and she came back for me when she has only known me for an hour. An hour,” your cadence pitches higher, anger this time rather than sadness. “when I’ve known MJ for more than a decade.”

“Love…” Hobie calls your name softly as your head falls into your hands, fists rubbing in your eyes. Your body shakes, and he holds you, his own reluctance makes him pause but he does it anyway, and lets you cry, keeps the trembling to a minimum, absorbing it into himself.

“I–I think I’ve always been alone,” your words are muffled by your hands. “I just didn’t notice it whenever she was with me.” Lifting your head, you rest your cheek atop his waiting shoulder, and he lets you, he cradles you beside him on the creaky roof of his houseboat. “I don’t think she saw me like how I saw her. I love her, I really do, but she wouldn’t have noticed that I was left by the bus. But Janet did, you did, you always did. Hobie, I don’t want to be left by the bus anymore.”

A beat passes, and his palm gently brushes along the length of your arm, gently, softly, like a rock skipping on water.

“When I was a kid,” Hobie takes a deep breath, blinking away the blurriness in his eyes as he lays his chin on the crown of your head. “I got left by the bus too durin’ a trip, and Ned noticed that I was gone jus’ like your old lady did.” You let out a wet chuckle. “How ‘bout we both make sure that we don’t get left by the bus, hm? We’ll be each other’s…what do you call ‘em ‘ere?”

“Buddy, a buddy.”

“Yeah, that, a buddy, we’ll be each other’s buddy. Keepin’ an eye on each other, hm?”

“That sounds nice.” The breath you let out feels like the weight on your shoulders were finally lifted off of you. He feels nice under your cheek, warm, steady, whilst you feel his breath fan the top of your head, a familiar presence that you have been longing for. “I’d like that.”

“Me too, love.” Craning his neck down, he ducks to look at you.

The slow smile appearing on your face reassures him that you’ll be alright. “You know what the trip made me realize?” He hums. “It made me realize that I shouldn’t let everything pass by me, like I’m a bystander in my own life. That I should go and— and live. The world is fucking huge, Hobie, and I was missing it.”

“Then go and see it, lovie.” He holds your chin in between his thumb and index, grinning lovingly at you, a grin that you could feel in your chest.

You chortle, cheeks warm, heart feeling light. “I will, maybe once I’m financially stable, and when I find an apartment.”

Hobie’s brows furrow in worry. “You have no place to stay? Love,” he’s leaning away, holding you by your shoulders. “Since when?” He fears the worst.

Your jaw clenches, swallowing down the lump in your throat. “...Since my birthday.”

“Shit, love…” His face contorts into deep concern, not chastising or judging you, just incredibly worried. “So there wasn’t an aunt?”

“I know. And no, there isn’t.” You mumble apologetically. “I’ve been working on it and I haven’t found a good place where the locks actually work and where the place doesn’t smell like black mold.”

“Love.”

“I know, I’m…picky.”

“No, I— I’ve got a free room.” Scratching the back of his flaming neck, he feels utterly ridiculous for even saying that. Great, he just made things complicated and awkward between the two of you.

“Hobie, I can’t— that’s, that’s too much of an ask.”

“Funny when ‘m the one who feels like ‘m askin’ for too much from you. You’re in a vulnerable state and I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable—”

“You’re not!” You touch his cheek, and he immediately clamps up. “I mean, I know what you’re saying, and you’re not taking advantage of me, it’s probably me taking advantage of your kindness.”

“You’re not.” He’s trying incredibly hard not to fumble his words. “I was the one who asked, love.”

“Can we start again?” You wince, fists curling in front of your face to hide your gritted expression that he’s endeared at.

“D’you want to be my roommate?” He starts again, more steady, more sure this time around.

“Only until I find my own place,” a hand patting his bicep, you smile lopsidedly. “and I will pay you, no buts, no saying no to my payment.”

“Lovie, d’you want to come live with me until you find your own place, and with reasonable rent?” Hobie restructures his words with a teasing glint in his eyes.

“Yes.”

Raising his cup, he clinks it with you, the slushie melting, the night growing colder. “Welcome home, then.”

Grinning giddily, you can’t help it when your legs kick about as it dangles from the roof. “To being roommates.” The two of you take a drink together, letting the same teeth rotting sweetness coat your tongue. “I’ve got more interesting stories actually. Less sad this time.”

“You can tell me more about it, roommate.”

[vanilla-bean-18]

Gala - Bruce Wayne x Journalist!reader

wc: 3067

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or inserted into ai

cw: smut, pinv, oral - f!receiving, fingering f!receiving, making out/groping. no body descriptions but touching and clothes described.

not well proofread so if you see anything glaringly obvious or super bad please tell me

masterlist

You get the call when you’re just about to dig into the air-fryer meal you just made, fork part way to your mouth as you look down at the screen. The name ‘Clark K’ lights the screen, and you roll your eyes, lifting the phone to your ear.

“What is it Kent? I’m eating.”

“Keep eating, I just have to ask you a question.”

“Shoot.” You start to eat, taking comfort in the fact that the sound is probably super irritating for Clark and his super hearing.

“So I’m meant to be covering the Wayne Foundation Gala, but there’s a situation that needs Superman quite urgently, and it seems like it will take a while, so I need you to go for me.”

“What on earth would I wear, I don’t have anything remotely fancy enough-“

“I’m sending Lois over, a bunch of her friends from Metropolis Uni got married recently, so we have a bunch of black tie dresses, and I’m sure they’ll fit.”

“Fine, I’ll go do your job for you Kent, when do I need to be there?”

“Limo’s coming for you at half past eight, so two hours.” You repeat ‘half past eight’ back to him and run to get into the shower, scrubbing your hair to the best of your ability when you’re doing everything in 2x speed. You jump out of the shower, a soap suds still slipping over your shoulders, and pull on underwear, shorts and a strappy top, planning to wear those until Lois arrives with the dress options. You start to dry your hair as quick as you can, but the heat protective product in it slows the process. You hair gets to around 80% dry, when the doorbell rings. You rush over and swing it open and she bustles in with a whole collection of garment bags.

“Thanks so much for coming Lois” You tie your hair up, planning to do it after the outfits. “So… black tie dresses?”

You and Lois try on what feels like a million dresses before you decide on a black one with an open back and lace detail. You get Lois to do your hair while you do your makeup, when the doorbell rings. You still have a couple rollers in and you hadn’t put lipgloss on yet, but you hopped over to open the door, pulling on one heel when an older man in a suit coughs politely. You slowly lift you head, to where a friendly looking man is standing in front of you.

“Hello ma’am, I will be driving you to and from the gala tonight. Are you ready or do you need me to wait in the car.” He says professionally and politely, which you appreciate given the fact that you are very clearly *not* ready.

“Would you mind giving me five minutes, I’m so sorry.”

“Of course. And theres no need to apologise.” The kind man smiles before walking off to wait at the car. You finish your makeup as Lois fixes your hair. You grab a clutch and stuff in a granola bar just in case, as well as your phone and keys.

“Lock yourself out when you leave, make sure to stay safe, ideally call Clark to pick you up, you’re welcome to my food and you can stay as long as you’d like.” You ramble off vague instructions,a string of consciousness falling from your lips as you leave.

You run to the limo, getting in the back through the door held for you.

When you arrive at the gala, Bruce Wayne walks over.

“Excuse me ma’am, I’m not sure we’ve met.” He says politely, resting his hand on your elbow to get your attention as you turn to him.

“I’m from the Daily Planet, covering for Clark Kent.” You explain, telling him your name.

“Well, it is a pleasure to meet you. Can I interest you in a drink?”

“You can, Mr. Wayne.” You say as he places his hand on the small of your back, your back warming under his skin as he steers you towards the bar.

“Please, call me Bruce” You get to the bar and order a champagne for both of you. You stand there in a pocket of quiet amidst the noise of the gala. Its an intimate moment that feels reserved for the two of you. Bruce’s hand hasn’t left your back yet, and you lean into him, soaking up the warmth of his body like a cat lying on a roof in a Parisian summer. His hand slips down over the top of the curve of your butt, his palm resting on your hip, your other side touching his. He looks at your face, waiting for any change that would indicate if the hand placement was too much. Once you got your drinks, you meander around the hall, sipping your champagne. You stop with Bruce, in a lovely vantage point, and ask him a few questions. ‘So Bruce tell me about your opinion of the gala. Do you feel obligated to throw it because your parents did?’ ‘How do you juggle parenting and your public appearance?’ ‘How active would you say your role is in the planning and organisation of the gala?’ Bruce answers honestly and you ask follow up questions. He’s not stopped touching you, if his hand happens to leave your back theres already a large hand with a signet ring on it touching your arm or your waist. He leads you out to the terrace off the hall.

“It’s been a pleasure talking to you Bruce but I really should go and mingle, or I’m not doing my job.”

“I get it sweetheart, I’m sure I won’t quite die without your touch.” You laugh, a hand pressing against his chest.

“You’re very brave Bruce.” You murmur to him, a teasing tone in your voice that is quickly swallowed up by his lips as he kisses you. You reciprocate, one hand in his hair and the other on the back of his neck, pulling him towards you. One of his hands is on the back of your neck, fingers curling into the hair. The other is around your waist, pulling your body against him. You let out a small moan as his hand kneaded your side and you can feel your core warm with desire. Bruce’s arousal is just as obvious as your moan, the hardness pressing against your pelvis. You kiss in a familiar rhythm, like you’ve kissed him a million times before. Bruce lets out a low whine, his tongue seeking permission from your lips. Your mouth accepts him and the kiss deepens, hands roaming each other’s bodies. You’re feeling lucky you decided to put underwear on before you left, or you’d be making an embarrassing mess of your thighs right now. You’re both too lost in pleasure to notice the tabloid reporter taking a photo of the two of you. The shot is damning, Bruce freaking Wayne making out with a random woman at his own charity gala, hand squeezing her butt. You moan into him as he feels you up, his other hand having moved from your neck to explore your breasts. He kisses your neck as you whine.

“Are you wearing underwear baby?” He pulls back from your neck, hand still holding your butt, his thumb rubbing back and forth. You nod shyly, feeling up his biceps.

“A thong, it’s seamless so it shouldn’t show.” You explain as he listens intently.

“Ah, that explains why I couldn’t feel it, got me excited for a minute.”

“A minute?” You laugh, throwing your head back “You’ve been excited longer than that…” You finally reach down to touch the impressive bulge you’ve had pressing against you this whole time. You feel it twitch under your hand, and squeeze ever so gently. Its like a switch flips and Bruce hoists you up, throwing you over his shoulder. Your butt wiggles in his face as he carries you through the door at the end of the terrace and checks rooms until he finds an empty one with a lock. The door shuts behind you with a soft click, and Bruce twists the lock. He places you down and pushes up your dress, kneeling for you. Bruce pulls your thong down and makes you lift your legs so he can take it. He takes off his suit jacket and tie and leaves it in a pile with your wet underwear. He looks up at you from his knees, before moving your legs over his shoulders, and positioning himself so he’s lined up with your slick-coated cunt. He makes an experimental lick, and you moan, fingers immediately curling into his hair, you push him into you with the movement, but Bruce isn’t exactly complaining, He laps up your arousal, and sucks on your clit as your hips rut against him. His tongue delves into you, and both of you are moaning at the sensation. You don’t even realise he’s moving until a finger fills you and your walls clench. His fingers curl into that gummy spot that always makes you come, and his mouth focuses on your clit, tongue circling it. A second finger fills you, and you can barely cope. You throw your head back against the wall you’ve been bracing yourself with, crying his name.

“Bruce, oh god baby, oh its so good. Bruce I’m close please.” At this Bruce goes above and beyond, every atom in his body seemingly focused on your pleasure. Your vision goes white as you come, slick dripping from his fingers to his mouth. Your body shakes against him, as you come all over his face. Bruce stands, licking your arousal off his fingers before pulling out his cock. it springs up against his stomach, hard. The tip is leaking precum and you wrap your fingers around the length. You move it to angle it, letting it rub your slick folds. He moans, lifting one of your legs. You nod at him, giving permission. His hips move slowly in an experimental thrust, your arousal covers him as he fills you and you let him hold you up as you try not to come. After he pulls back his hips snap into you, finding a pace that you both like. You let him drill into you, and the only thing you have remotely enough energy to do is moan. You’re seeing stars as his tip kisses your cervix.

“There you go baby. Do you like that?” You can barely respond more than a nod. You feel his hips stuttering and tell him a quick ‘imonthepill’ before he spills inside you, cock twitching against your clenching walls.

He rests his head on your shoulder, and you stroke his hair ever so gently, finding comfort in the half embrace of the small room. You’re both panting slightly, chests rising and falling heavily, the movement of your chest falling into a rhythm against Bruce’s. Your hair is messier than you’d like, but it was already blown out so it doesn’t look too bad. You kiss his jaw, the intimacy of the moment not lost on you. His cum-covered cock is still inside you, the aftermath of both of your orgasms is rolling through your body. Bruce pulls out, and goes over to his jacket.He pulls out his phone and calls someone.

“Yes, Alfred. I need a towel and some warm water to the west wing drawing room. And women’s underwear.” You tell him your size and he repeats it into the phone, giving ‘Alfred’ specific instructions on leaving everything outside of the door and clearing off back to the gala.

“Oh my gosh the gala. I haven’t been investigating.” You gasp at the realisation, and your breathing audibly changes pace. Bruce walks back over to your side, holding you gently, soothing you.

“The night is still young. It’s okay sweetheart.” He placates you, helping you smooth down your hair. Someone, presumably Alfred knocks the door. Bruce goes over and opens it, lifting the towel, underwear and the small tub of warm water. He gets the towel partially wet and wrings it out, cleaning you up with more care than you’ve felt in a long while, maybe ever. He passes you the underwear and you slip them on. He leads you back to the gala. He enters subtly and you part, both integrating seamlessly into the crowd. You mingle, asking perceptive questions for all the rich and famous, though doing it in a way that sounds witty and intelligent, rather than directly interrogating them. Every so often you cross paths with Bruce. Sometimes you each join the other’s conversation but mostly it’s a squeeze on the hand or something just as intimate. After a couple more hours, the gala started to fizzle out, people slowly leaving. Bruce stays, saying a thank you and goodbye to everyone, and you hold back under the guise of wanting a final soundbite from Bruce. You walk over to him and look up at him when you’re almost chest to chest.

“How’d you find your evening, Mr Wayne?”

“It was pleasant, did you get something good for your article?”

“I did. Perhaps I should give you my phone number just in case I think of anything to ask you…”

“Very wise.” He holds out his phone and you put your number in. You kiss him, standing there for a moment before leaving to find the limo that you came in.

Before you can get to the limo something drops onto the floor in front of you. A teenaged boy.

“Hi there” you keep your tone friendly despite the fact that you’re pretty freaked out.

“Are you and my dad dating or are you just another fling.”

“Your dad is-“

“Bruce Wayne.”

“Ah, that makes sense. I’m not dating your father, no.” Confessing to it puts a small weight on your chest.

“Bye then.” And the boy disappears into the night.

You get in the limo and start driving towards your apartment building. You rest your head in your hands and murmured to yourself ‘i slept with bruce fucking wayne’. You breathe harder, starting to spiral slightly at the thought that he probably just used you like one of his millions of models he is always pictured around.

Finally you reach your apartment and walk into the dark room. You kick of your shoes and leave your bag and jewellery on the kitchen counter. When you open your bedroom door you see a figure curled up in your bed. Lois. You get into the same shorts and top from earlier, leave your dress draped over a chair, scrub your makeup off and plug your phone in. Lois rolls over as you get into bed.

“Hi” she murmurs.

“Hey Lois, did Clark not come and get you?” You smooth her hair down as you talk

“No, Clarks away stilllll. How was the gala?”

“Well I’m always up for a sleepover. The gala was good, i’ll tell you about it in the morning.” You let her settle, a small smile spreading across your face at the memories of the night. Your phone buzzes and lights up.

Are you home yet? - unknown number

It’s Bruce - unknown number

you quickly amend the contact name

Yes Bruce, at home safe and sound - you

My best friend is staying over, so that’s fun - you

Glad you’re okay. - bruce

Damien told me he met you. - bruce

That was Damien? got it. - you

He just asked me if me and you were dating or if I was just another fling - you

What did you say? - bruce

I said we aren’t dating - you

I hope you know you aren’t just another fling. I’d like to see you again. - bruce

Me too. - you

Are you free on Friday after work? - bruce

Dinner? - bruce

it’s a date! - you

Sleep well gorgeous. - bruce

Sleep well handsome - you

————————————

The next morning you and Lois wake up around the same time and go into the kitchen to have coffee and toast.

“So… How was the gala?” Lois asks, and you can’t hold yourself back from telling her what happened.

“I had sex with Bruce Wayne.”

silence

“You WHAT?!?!”

“Bruce Wayne. I had sex with him. You can’t tell anyone.”

“You had sex with Bruce Wayne?”

“Yes”

———

The next day you make it into work. Everything seems normal enough except Lois knows you slept with Billionaire Playboy Bruce Freaking Wayne, and said Billionaire Playboy is texting you photos of his lunch and asking you about yourself, as well as flirting a lot. You’re sat at your desk, beginning to write up your notes on the Wayne Foundation Gala when Perry calls you into his office. You look to Cat and Lois nervously, but walk towards him, utilising that awkward half-jog you do when someone’s holding a door for you. He gestures for you to take a seat opposite him at his desk. The cold plastic touches the back of your arms, making you sit as straight as a kid on the first day of school, trying to make a good impression.

“It seems you made an impression at the Wayne Gala.” Perry says, raising an eyebrow. You cant tell if this is a good impression or a bad one, Perry’s face gives nothing away.

“I hope it’s positive.” You joke nervously.

“Did you do anything that would warrant a negative impression?” He says and you go back to being dead serious.

“Not that I was aware of, Sir.”

“Well Mr. Wayne certainly seemed impressed, he’s given permission for you to interview him directly. This is important, Mr. Wayne is selective with who he gives interviews to.”

“That’s amazing! I’ll email his agent to set up a date.”

“Ask him about his new woman.” You feel your heart sink. thoughts of did i unknowingly help Bruce cheat? has Bruce already started with someone new? fill your head but you keep a straight face.

“What new woman?”

“You haven’t seen the tabloids?” Perry passes you a tabloid and there you and Bruce are. It’s from the back so your face isn’t visible but Bruce is, and his large hands groping your ass. He even had his signet ring on, it’s damning.

Pt2 coming in the future. Thank you so much for reading.

[vanilla-bean-18]

Hey, sweetie! I was browsing the clark x reader tag this morning and came across your lovely story. Coincidentally, I posted a jaafar x reader story yesterday with the same premise (wisdom teeth removal/anesthesia), and it was honestly a complete coincidence. I just wanted to reach out and clarify that it wasn’t a copy, I really hadn’t seen your work before writing mine, but I wanted to talk to you directly in case the similarity might cause any misunderstandings.

If you feel that my story being posted after yours (yours in the afternoon and mine later that night) could negatively impact your work in any way, please let me know. I would be willing to take mine down if necessary. Even though there was no copying or plagiarism involved, I completely understand how the situation could be perceived and I don’t want to cause any issues! 💜

Its all good, it’s clearly different enough (mine the reader is under anaesthesia, yours jaafar is under anaesthesia). Thank you so much for messaging me to clear this up and if anyone sees this please go take a look at @kryptonianheart ‘s fic because i’ve read it and it’s great!

tbh if you could read mine and plagiarise it in an couple hours it would be impressive (unless you used ai).

-Vanilla 💋

[vanilla-bean-18]

Anaesthesia - Clark Kent x Reader

wc: 500ish

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or inserted into ai

cw: no mentions of actual illness but hospital, anaesthesia, iv. also fluff and stuff like that

as always i am not perfect and do not really proofread so please let me know if there are any issues

I wrote this and I was going to write a beginning but I was tired so I didn’t

masterlist

Clark watches you slowly regain consciousness, your fingers flexing against the surprisingly warm hospital blanket. Your eyes slowly open, and you look around the room to gain your bearings. Your eyes land on Clark, glossing over everyone else in the room.

“Woah there handsome!” You murmur, clearly out of it, the anaesthesia not worn off yet. Clark chuckles lowly, his hand reaching out to hold yours, being careful not to disturb your IV.

“Hey sweetheart, how are you feeling?”

“‘M okay, you’re pretty.” The words fall out of your mouth, your ‘pretty’ getting drawn out by your drug induced slurring.

“Thank you honey, you’re pretty too.” He murmurs softly, looking down at your face, watching your eyes move as you try to take in your surroundings. He reaches up a big thumb and wipes a bead of saliva from the corner of your mouth.

“I know. You look like Superman, d’ja know that?” You close your eyes again, struggling to keep them open. They’re heavy like lead, and you’re too out of it to make your eyelids work for more than a minute or two at a time. Clark coughs loudly, laughing at your words, a bit over the top to try and throw of you and the rest of the people in the room.

“Thats a new one, I think he’s very different to me. We have the same hair colour but he’s definitely taller than me.” Clark rambles on, and your sleepy eyes open again.

“Yeah, you’re pretty short. Pretty short Mr. Handsome Pantsome.” You murmur again, pulling at his index finger.

“Handsome Pantsome? Thank you honey. I don’t think I’m that short, I’m sat on a chair sweetheart.”

“Ohhhhh a chair, I get it, I get it, I like chairs.”

“You like chairs?”

“Yes I love chairs I like you with all my liking.” Your face changes, turning into a panicked look, your eyebrows tilting up in an almost cartoonish manner. “I need twenty bucks.” You frantically search around your bed, and Clark reaches over to hold you down.

“Shhhhh, shhhh baby, it’s okay i’ll give you twenty bucks. Look heres my wallet, take however much you want okay, it’s okay sweetheart.” He says, soothing you softly, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket and passing it to you. You pull out twenty dollars and give back his wallet. “Can you tell me why you need it?”

“Because I want to marry you and you wont say yes unless I have 20 buckaroonies.”

“Oh well that’s nice, but you don’t need to have twenty dollars for me to say yes.”

“Yes I do or I’m a gold digger.”

“Do you know that’s twenty bucks you just got from my wallet?”

“Yeah but I stolen it so it’s mine.” You look up at him, big doe eyes staring into what seems like the depths of his soul. “Please marry me, I have twenty whole dollars now, I even stole for you please I just want to kisses you please.”

Clark leans over you, planting a soft kiss on your lips, his index finger curled into a small hook to lift your chin.

“There you go my sweet girl, look you didn’t even have to give me any money.”

Thank you for reading!

[vanilla-bean-18]

from pinterest

[hazardousyuri-deactivated202510]

me when i get one (1) note on tumblr dot com from my beloved mutuals: they lovme❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️🙏🙏🙏😭😭❤️❤️😁😁😁😁😁✨️✨️☝️☝️☝️☝️😁😁👅👅👅👅👅👅👅💜💜💜💗❤️‍🩹❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥🫂🫂🫂🫂i love them 😁😁😁❤️❤️❤️❤️💜💜💜 f ried n

[vanilla-bean-18]

Patrol - Dad/Husband!Hobie x Pregnant/New Mum!Reader

wc: 1.5k ish

cw: pregnancy, mentions of childbirth, contractions, food (pizza 😋).

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or inserted into ai

as always i am not perfect and do not really proofread so please let me know if there are any issues

masterlist

You’re at home, heavily pregnant, sat on the couch and sorting out baby clothes. Its late and your husband still isn’t home yet, so you decide to call him. You dial his number and sit, waiting for any response. You fiddle with little baby booties, phone on speaker.

“‘Lo?” Hobie’s gruff voice crackles through the receiver.

“Hi baby, how’s patrol going? Eradicated all evil yet?”

You tease him, and you can hear his breathing change as he relaxes now he knows its you. He walks away from Miles Morales and Pavitr Prabhakar, his usual patrol partners, to the edge of the roof they’re on to talk to you.

“I’m working on it luv, we’re all good, it’s quiet enough. More of a ‘helping people with their shopping’ night than a ‘fighting inter dimensional evil’ one. How are you feeling?” His voice is soft, and he hears you laugh as he replies to your joke about ending ‘all evil’.

“I’m good, but tired. I went to the fire station earlier to get the car seat fitted in our van, and that was fun because I got a tour. I’m watching the episode of our show that I fell asleep during last night. Oh and i’ve put all our baby clothes in the laundry today so I’m folding them all.”

“Sounds like you’ve been busy. D’ja eat dinner?”

“I had my lunch-dinner snack at like 4 so I haven’t quite gotten hungry enough yet, do you wanna bring back a pizza or something?”

“On it, I should be back in like 45.”

“Love you Hobes”

“Love ya lovie”. Hobie hangs up and turns around, to Miles and Pavitr right in front of him and clearly suspicious. “Wot?” Hobie raises an eyebrow, pretending to be completely oblivious.

“Love ya? Who was that!”. Miles pipes up.

“Friend of mine.” Hobie replies nonchalantly, trying to play off the way he’d been practically swooning over you.

“Girlfriend of yours?” Pavitr interjects, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Something like that, yeah.”

“What does that mean?”

“Means we’re us, I dunno” he shrugs.

“And if you had to put a label on it… what would it be?” Miles cuts back in, and both of them look up at him, waiting.

…

“Wife. Is that what you wanted to hear?” He grunts, and both of their heads snap up in shock, they look at each other, and him, and each other, and him.

“MARRIED?!” They shout in shocked unison.

“Keep it down lads, don’t need the whole of New York knowing my business” He shakes his head at them, chuckling at their reactions. “Look, I don’t have time for this, I’ve got to get the missus a pizza.”

“Can we come too… and meet her?” Pavitr asks nervously, testing the waters.

“Sure bruv.” Hobie shrugs, “She’s chill enough, but get your own pizza because she’s not a sharer.”

————————————

Hobie picks up the pizzas and the three of them swing back to your place. Hobie unlocks the front door, taking his mask and boots off, leaving them both by the door.

“‘M home luv,” he calls into the house. You push yourself up from the sofa and waddle-walk over to him with a happy smile. He places down the pizza as you lift your arms up, wrapping them around his shoulders and kissing him. Hobie leans down, lips meeting yours and arms wrapping around you. You’re… enthusiastic to say the least. A whole day without him, just missing each other as you both come and go from the flat you share. And he’s come home from patrol, in that tight suit and he brought you pizza… it’s like Christmas came early.

Hobie gently pulls away.

“We have guests, luv” He says and your head snaps up.

“Hobart Larry Brown I swear to all that is holy if you brought your parents-“ You hiss

“No parents, luv” He chuckles at you. “Jus’ some friends.”

“Oh, well that’s nice” You pull away and Hobie moves you a little so you’re in full view of Miles and Pavitr. They stare at you.

“Hi, are you two… okay?” You ask, face filled with concern.

“They’re fine, they weren’t expecting you to be pregnant.”

“Meaning you didn’t tell them I was pregnant?”

“Spot on”. He grins at you as you stand on your tiptoes to kiss him, lips meeting yours again.

Miles and Pavitr gradually reanimate and they introduce themselves to you when you pull away from Hobie. You smile and give them your name in return, and walk back to the couch, your hand on your back as you walk. You lower yourself back down, very awkwardly. Hobie passes you a box of pizza and you take the biggest bite you can out of the biggest slice in the box. You hum with pleasure.

“Perfect, I love you so much Hobes.”

“I’m glad you approve, I got them to put your pizza box between mine and Pavitr’s so it’s the warmest.” You look up at him with pure adoration in your eyes.

“So, how’d you two meet?” Pavitr asked, and your face lit up.

“We were both at a party and I think I just fell in love with him, Hobie was less focused on finding love and more on me drinking water, I was super drunk.” You all laugh, but Hobie looks at you with incredible amounts of love in his eyes. “I ended up forcing him to come with me to get gummy worms but most of the night after that was a blur.”

“I remember it.” Hobie speaks up, rubbing your bump. “She told me she wanted to marry me, and I said ‘yeah yeah’ and she took my credit card to pay for her gummies, and was a little bit of a mess.” Both of the boys laugh, and the room is familiar and domestic. You explain the elopement and subsequent pregnancy, squeezing Hobie’s hand as they question how you’re more months pregnant than you are married.

“Perhaps there was a bit of… overlap, but honestly we didn’t know when we got married.” You explain and Hobie kisses the side of your head. “We found out… shortly after.”

“How ‘shortly’?” Miles asks, tilting his head at you and Hobie.

“Like twenty minutes…”

“It was our choice, she said she didn’t want it to feel like we were gettin’ married because I knocked her up, so we looked after.” Hobie defends you both as you look down at your bump. “I’m glad we did, it made it more special, I don’t think little dude minded. He wasn’t like sentient so he wouldn’t have known either way.” Miles and Pavitr both look at you as you speak.

“HE?” they shout and you murmur fuck under your breath.

“Yeah, ‘he’” Hobie affirms, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand, soothing you from the anxiety that he knows is bound to come now you revealed the baby’s sex.

You sigh, before letting out a small, pained groan. A sharp pain goes through you, like a cramp with an ache down your back and into your pelvis. It’s another Braxton Hick.

All three men turn to you as you arch your back away from the sofa cushions, tensing in pain.

“‘Sup lovie, are you okay?” Hobie is almost out of character with how attentive he is.

“Just a Braxton Hick, it’s fine.” It was in fact, not fine

“Whats a ‘Braxton Hick’?” Pavitr asks, equally concerned.

“It’s like a fake contraction, but bloody capitalism means some wanker called whatever-Braxton-Hick coined the term for a normal bodily function.” You laugh, Hobie never could resist a mini rant about Capitalism.

Half an hour later, you had gone off to get drinks, when you had another one of these ‘fake’ contractions. This time a puddle of water formed under you and you dropped a glass, and it shattered around your feet. All three men jump to their feet

“That’s not a fake contraction.” Hobie says.

“Very astute babe. Three spider people and not one of you got spidersense about that glass?” You manage to joke as you double over, holding the counter for stability. Hobie comes over and helps you over the glass before cleaning it up. He talks to you the whole time and after about 15 minutes he convinces you to go to the hospital, despite your arguments that it would be rude to leave your guests, and that the hospital will be mad because you’re bot in active labour. He kicks the boys out of the apartment and gets your hospital bags, arms full but he manages to help you out and in to the van. You complain the whole way there, both about how much you want to be there because of the pain and about how ridiculous it is that he’s making you go. The duality of woman.

After what feels like a millions hours later your baby boy is born.

“Thank you for making me come here.” You smile at Hobie as the baby sleeps.

“Thank you for bein’ so brave, you did amazin’” Hobie replies.

“I love you, Hobes.”

“I love ya too, Lovie”

————————————

I don’t know how to end my fics. I also don’t know the difference between between a drabble and a one shot. Oh well.

[thoughtkick]

“I wanted it so much. I don’t know why I wanted it so much.”

— Ernest Hemingway, Cat in the Rain

[vanilla-bean-18]

In my feels

[vanilla-bean-18]

Work - Clark Kent x Editor!Reader Part 2!

wc: under 500

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or inserted into ai

cw: mentions of sex, suggestive but no actual nsfw

as always i am not perfect and do not really proofread so please let me know if there are any issues

pt1 of this fic

masterlist

Although you and Clark have been making eyes at each other all day, you’ve avoided speaking to each other out of fear that one of you will give away the fact that you both had great sex last night… and a little this morning. A few people had come up to you to ask how you were feeling, and one of the editors even brought you flowers, regardless of your assurances that you were totally fine.

Eventually Lois rolls her chair over to you, raising her eyebrows suspiciously.

“Why aren’t you and Smallville talking? Did something happen at yours?” she interrogates. Your face flushes slightly and your eyes dart to Clark for a second, before you work up the nerve to answer her.

“Nothing happened, it’s just been busy I guess.” You shrug but you can see on her face that Lois is not convinced.

“Cmon, you can tell me, did you drool on him, or pass out in a weird place or- Did you guys have sex?” Your eyes widen and across the bullpen Clark chokes on his coffee.

“No Lois, why would you think that?!” You splutter, trying your best to dispel the rumours as Cat walks over. She faces Lois.

“What’s going on guys? Why is she so red?” Cat asks you both, but mainly seeking information from Lois.

“I think her and Smallville hooked up.” Cats eyes widen, her jaw drops as she looks between the red-faced you and the choking Clark. You and Clark make eye contact, a silent agreement passing between you.

“We did it once, okay? Is that what you want to hear?” Their eyes go wider and Lois, Cat and Jimmy’s heads snap between you and Clark. “ It was an accident, it isn’t gonna happen again.”

They seem to accept that, Cat and Lois make you tell them about it, and Jimmy pats Clark on the shoulder and says

“Good on you, man.”

You and Clark exchange soft knowing smiles.

That night you’d meet at his apartment and laugh over wine and pizza at the ‘never gonna happen’ comment, before you’d kiss him tipsily, and let him lead you clumsily to his bed, where you’d strip off each other’s clothes. In the middle of the night, after you’d both finished more than once, you’d make a quiet promise to keep this to yourself, to stay in this bubble as long as you can, skin on skin. You’d keep that promise to each other, until one day you’d walk into work with a ring on your fourth finger, the diamond making small sparkles reflect onto the ceiling above you as you type. You’d get swarmed by Jimmy, Lois and Cat, and you’d explain the whole story, inviting them to the wedding to soften the blow. There’d be plenty of whispers of ‘I knew it’ around the office for the next few days, but eventually everyone would get over it.

@abschaffer2 thank you for encouraging me to write this (let me know if you want me to remove the tag)

[vanilla-bean-18]

Sick - Hobie x sick!Reader

wc: 1.1k ish

cw: sickness, just a cold no blood or vom

as always i am not perfect and do not really proofread so please let me know if there are any issues

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or inserted into ai

masterlist

You wake up, joints aching, skin slick with sweat, your hair stuck to your forehead and your throat sore. You check your clock, and it looks like around 6:15 but you’re struggling to figure out if it’s the morning or the evening. You feel around blindly on your bedside table, until you manage to find your phone. You press buttons randomly, squinting from the light of the phone. Eventually its starts to ring.

“Hello?” Gwen Stacy’s voice is projected through the receiver as you let out a squeal.

“Gwen? Where are you?” you ask loudly, coughing obnoxiously into the receiver.

“I’m in the spider society, are you okay?”

“Are you telling a lies?” You say in a sing-sing voice.

“No honey, I’m really in the spider society.”

“Then how come I can hear you in my bedroom? My bedroom isn’t a spider society Gwendy”

“I’m on your phone honey, but my body is in the spider society.”

“Oooooohhhhh, I know that.”

“Well done” She says gently, but with a clear sarcastic tone.

You cough loudly again.

“I think I’m dead” you tell her with complete certainty.

“Are you sure honey? Dead people don’t usually talk.” She’s placating you, but you’re too full of feverish delusions to notice.

“Yes they do, there’s a show called the talking dead?”

“Its the walking dead.”

“No it’s not silly, dead people can’t walk.”

“But they can talk?”

“Yes silly, bye bye”

“Wait-“ Gwen calls but the line goes dead.

————————————

Hobie is with Miles and Pavitr, swinging around and having fun, racing from building to billboard to rooftop with them when his comms crackle to life.

“Hobie, its Gwen”

“Sup Gwen, you good?”

“I am, but your girl isn’t. Do you know she’s sick?

“I know she’s got a cold, yeah.”

“I think you should swing round and check on her, she sounds off, a bit delusional. She said she was dead.”

“Yeah, sounds worse than when I left, I’ll swing by, thanks for the heads up.”

Theres a quiet affirmation on the line before it goes dead. Hobie shouts to Miles and Pavitr, letting them know that he’s diverting to check on you, and that he’ll catch up.

————————————

Hobie lands of the fire escape outside your apartment and opens the window. You’re in bed, rolled up in the duvet, his sweater grasped in your hand. He can see the hair stuck to the back of your neck and your forehead. You’re flushed and as he walks over to you he can see how chapped your lips are. He’s a lot more concerned than he was when Gwen first called him, and he can feel the heat radiating off your forehead before his hand touches your skin. Your face scrunches up and you open your eyes.

“Are you here to snatch me?” You say, your face in a sad pout.

“No luv, It’s Hobie.”

“No it’s not, Hobie doesn’t wear skinny pyjamas and a mask, and Hobie has hair.” You nod as you speak, as if to convince him more. Hobie takes off his mask and your eyes widen. “Oh my goodness you look just like my Hobie!”

“That’s because I am your Hobie, now unwrap yourself, you have a fever and you’re gonna overheat.”

“I don’t wannaaaaaa”

“Mkay then.” Hobie lifts you up and unwraps the blankets from around you. He carries you to the bathroom and sits you on the toilet as he starts to run a bath. You shiver, frowning at him as you tremble.

“I don’t want a bath!” You whine, “It’s wet and i don’t like wet!” Hobie watches you, and he rubs his hand over your knee, his other hand in the bath, checking the temperature of the water. His heart aches as you whine.

“I know luv, but you’re gonna feel a lot better after. Have ya taken any cold n flu medicine?”

“Only when you made me.” Hobie’s eyes widen, he last made you take medicine 6 hours ago. He gets some sleepy cold and flu medicine from the bathroom cabinet, and makes you take it, much to your dismay. Eventually the bath fills and he makes sure its at the right temperature before helping you undress and lowering you in. You sigh in relief, and make him hold you the whole time. He uses a cup to pour water over you hair and washes it gently. His long fingers scrub slowly into the roots, the shampoo on his hands foaming up into sweet smelling suds on your head.

“What flavour is it?” You ask him quietly, docile and sleepy from the medication and the bath.

“It says it’s raspberry scented.” He replies as he washes out the second round of shampoo, quietly hoping you don’t try to eat it.

“It smells nice. I like that.” You tell him, nodding emphatically and he has to avoid pouring water down your face with the movement.

“You got it from the shops, so good job lovie.” You grin, and close your eyes.

“You’re more quiet than my Hobie. My Hobie does concerts and he tries to ‘dismantle capitalism’. He doesn’t do bath time unless it’s sexy bath time.” You muse, looking up at Hobie.

“You’re good at dismantling capitalism luv, every time I bring you with me you do great.” He laughs, before his tone shifts to something more gentle. “Do you want more bath time that isn’t sexy bath time?”

“Yeah sometimes, my Hobie does do face masks though, I like that, you don’t do that mister other Hobie. I do like sexy bath time too, I think I like sex.” He nods, thinking out how he can improve in the future, before laughing as you think aloud about how much you like sex.

“Ya like a good shag huh?” He asks and you giggle, as if you were scandalised by the question. Eventually he gets all the products out of your hair and lifts you back up and into a towel. He wraps you in it and you sit on the toilet seat again as he dries and dresses you. He puts fresh pyjamas on you and lets you nap on the sofa while he changes the sweat soaked sheets. He radios to Miles and Pavitr to tell them he isn’t coming back to patrol. He decides Miguel doesn’t need, or deserve to know his whereabouts. Being soft for one night doesn’t get rid of all his morals. He pulls on an old band t-shirt, one of the first he ever got. Its old and worn with holes in it, and you can barely see what band it is anymore, but it’s his. He walks back out in that and boxers and you cheer as you wake up.

“Hobie you’re home! A man that looked just like you was here in tight pyjamas but he didn’t snatch me don’t worry.” You tell him and he chuckles, carrying you back to bed.

“Sounds proper mad luv, now shush and sleep.”

Thanks for reading

[vanilla-bean-18]

Baby - New dad!Hobie x new mum!Reader

wc: 500ish

Thank you so much for voting for this one, I am working on my others

Not well proofread so if you see anything glaringly obvious and super bad please tell me

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or inserted into ai

masterlist

You’re asleep in the hospital bed, and Hobie is holding your newborn baby, looking between her and you. Shes so small that she fits perfectly in his hands, and at this moment shes sleeping on his chest. Hobie joked earlier that she sleeps on him just like you, but the similarities between you two are uncanny. He’s glad you got to sleep, after the long and gruelling labour you went through. You had broke one of the bones in his pinkie finger with how hard you were squeezing his hands, but it was all worth it for the little miracle in his arms (although she’s already made foiled attempts at grabbing his broken finger). She lets out a squeak, testing her voice as she wakes up.

“Hi luv” he coos and she squirms against him, letting out another squeak before starting to cry. He carries her out into the corridor, so he doesn’t disturb your sleep. A nurse sees him and walks over.

“Is everything okay sir?”

“Yeah, all good mate, the missus is sleeping so I don’t want the little miss to wake her up.”

“Ah okay, she’s a very sweet baby, look at her little nose.” They coo, smiling at the crying baby.

“Yeah, I’m not sure why she’s cryin’ so much though.” Hobie looks down at her in concern, then back up at the nurse.

“In my opinion, I think it’s probably a mix between being a bit cold, because we always have the AC on in here, and she’s probably a bit confused about being awake. It happens with a lot of newborns, they get shocked at the shift from asleep to awake.” Hobie nods, holding her closer and bouncing her a little. He goes back into your room and gets one of her onesies. He gets her in it to warm her up and goes back outside to rock her until she stops crying. Her big eyes look up at him and she pouts before squeaking again.

————————————

About ten minutes later a group of nurses rush into you room. Hobie is sat outside your room with the baby, because she kept crying. He stands up, worried as he hears you crying. He rushes in, going moving around the nurses to your side. “What’s up luv?” He says, one hand leaving your baby to rest on your cheek. “Are you hurting?”

He feels you relax under him.

“I didn’t know where you were, and then the cot was empty.” You cry, holding your arms out as he lifts the little girl against you. You feel the warm weight on your chest.

“Shhh babe, it’s okay, I didn’t run off with ya baby. ‘sides, she needs to eat and im not equipped for that”, He pats his pecs and looks down at the hospital gown you have on, winking at you. You laugh and press your head against his chest.

“Horny bastard”

“You love me really.”

“Maybe a little.”

[sabrinawtch]

I only read fanfiction here

[vanilla-bean-18]

Hey everyone!

I know I don’t have a massive audience so maybe I’m being presumptuous that anyone has preferences for what I’m writing, so even if one of you reads this it would be great:

I have quite a few WIPs but I’m struggling to work on all that the same time, so I thought I’d ask you guys which one(s) you want me to prioritise.

My plan is to write a mini synopsis for each of the options and then you can vote in the poll on this post.

Also my requests are open so if you have something you like me to write specifically that would take priority!

Remember I will get to my other WIPs so if you vote and yours doesn’t get picked it will still get written, just a bit later.

I write as fem!reader but if you want a gn!reader please request. (i don’t know how well i would write masc!reader)

Dad!Hobie and Mum!reader

- You and Hobie have a newborn baby and adjust to life as parents.

- Not too much of a plan for this one but I think its just a one shot right now.

Hobie x Reader (and cats)

- This one is in my last WIP post.

- Hobie accuses you of cheating when you’ve actually been harbouring cats.

Clark Kent x teacher!Reader

- Clark Kent is doing an article on you for the Daily Planet.

- I think also in my last WIP post.

Hobie x Reader

- Hobie dies.

- I’d have to make this a series so if this gets voted there will be more than one part.

- Serious plot twisting from me.

- Angst, fluff, maybe smut

Another drunk reader or drunk Hobie (could do Clark but would have to be on a planet with a red sun)

Hobie x pregnant!Reader

- You meet Miles and Pavitr.

- Dad!Hobie

Hobie x sick!Reader (no vom because eww). I could do a Clark vers.

- Fluffy, reader is home alone

Hobie x mum!Reader. Neighbour fic.

- Hobie’s band is super loud and you are a single mum with a baby that is a couple weeks old.

- You go to Hobie’s flat to tell him to shut up and you guys meet fr and it’s super cute.

- Could also become a series if you like it!

Edit!!!! Thank you so much everyone for the feedback I honestly thought I wouldn’t get any votes so it’s so heartwarming that people have. ❤️❤️❤️❤️

What would you like ☺️

Dad!Hobie and newborn baby fic

Hobie: Cheating angst and cats

Reporter!Clark and editor!Reader

Hobie dies series 😬

Drunk reader or drunk Hobie/Clark (comment preference)

Hobie x pregnant!Reader

Hobie x sick!Reader

Neighbour!Hobie x new mum!Reader

Voting ended onMay 16

[vanilla-bean-18]

Work - Clark Kent x editor!reader Part 1!

wc: 3k

cw: lots of fluff, illness, fem!reader, smut, pinv, fingering f!receiving.

not well proofread so if you see anything glaringly obvious and super bad please tell me

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or inserted into ai

pt2 of this fic

masterlist

You sit at your desk, one leg over the other as your heel taps the floor with soft clicks in that familiar pattern. You’re slowly editing an article, chewing the end of your favourite red pen in between mildly scathing annotations and occasionally looking up words that you’re certain ‘don’t look right’.

A large hand sets down a large coffee on your desk, his other hand resting on the back of your spinning desk chair. You swivel slightly, head tilted up to look into the eyes of Clark Kent, the only other person on your desk clump after Perry insisted on ‘shaking up’ the bullpen layout.

“Thank you so much, I needed this so bad” You take your first sip of coffee, eyes closed and humming in appreciation as the warm earthy liquid warms down your chest.

“I can tell, and i could practically hear you huffing and puffing from my apartment.” Clark chuckles, looking down at you, noting the small release of tension in your jaw. Jimmy coughs loudly as he heard you and Clark talking, but he sees the ‘don’t say anything superman-related’ look in Clark’s usually soft eyes.

“Clark, are you sure people here haven’t got blind monkeys typing for them?”

“I haven’t seen any, why?”

“No-one is literate. Why are we in a professional newspaper and people don’t know the difference between effect and affect.” You lean forward, letting your head rest against his hard abdomen, his shirt untucking from his pants due to the change in tension as you do so. Your face is closer to his pants than you were aiming to be, and you look down at the bulge that’s still impressive soft. Clark hears your heart rate pick up slightly and rubs the back of your neck. You let out a sigh, but not the annoyed, ‘no one does their job properly’ sigh. Instead the much rarer, relaxed, ‘this hits the spot’ sigh.

“Thanks, Clarkie.”

“No worries.” He looks down again as you pull off of him, “I’m just trying to butter you up because i know my last article needs editing.”

You lift your eyebrows flirtatiously as he mentions ‘buttering you up,’ “I don’t mind being buttered up… as long as you haven’t used the wrong ‘there’ again. I’m thinking of having a meeting about that.”

“A meeting about ‘there’?” He raises an eyebrow, chuckling at you.

“It’s important! Whatever, I’m gonna go pee.” You stand up, wiggling your fingers to try and reduce the stiffness from typing for the last couple of hours - and I guess your whole career. You put your glasses on the desk and take another long sip of your coffee. You tap Clark on the chest and he steps back enough for you to get past him. He watches as you walk away, eyes darting to the way your hips sway as you walk. You turn to go down another corridor and shoot him a flirty wink after his eyes struggle to find your face. If you knew he was superman, you might be more concerned about his x-ray vision and whether he can see your thong… or worse.

Clark sits down at his desk to work on his new article, a piece on the Metropolis Jets’ recent win, and maybe to hide the minor tenting in his pants. Jimmy rolls his chair close to Clark as Lois and Cat lean in to listen to their conversation.

“What’s going on with you two?” Jimmy begins his interrogation.

“Nothing’s ’going on’, we’re just friends!”, Clark defends the two of you, his ears going red.

“Is that why you couldn’t drag your eyes away from her ass when she was leaving the room?” Cat chimes in, and Clark stutters a desperate defence.

“I- We’re- I wasn’t staring-“

“When are you gonna fuck, Smallville?” Lois asks and Clark actually chokes on his coffee, sputtering and hitting his own chest to try and help. You walk over, a lot more concerned than the others.

“You okay, Clarkie?” Your brows furrow and you pat his back. He nods.

“If I die, blame Lois.” He manages to get out and you laugh, looking over at Lois. She rolls her eyes at him.

“He’s dramatic, I didn’t make him choke, I was just talking to him.”

“He’s always dramatic, what did you say?”

“I just asked when you two were gonna hook up, since you’re so flirty.” You laugh again when she says this, and to Clark it sounded beautifully soft like the wind charms out of the front of the old Kent farm.

“How do you know we’re not?” You tease, “Maybe we’re just fucking allll the time.” Clark has finally stopped choking but he’s still just processing everything, his face turning red at the idea of a ‘friends with benefits’ situation.

“We aren’t hooking up,” you confirm, “We’re just friendly, flirting is just like teasing. Besides, I thought you knew I was dating around at the moment” They all nod in recognition and go back to their tasks, but Clark feels that familiar green eyed monster rearing its ugly head as you mention dating. He watches you sit down and put your glasses back on, and reach your hand over the divider between your desks to squeeze his.

————————————

A couple days of editing essentially four of the same articles you get fed up of writing and you decide you’re gonna talk to Perry about the quality of some of the articles you’ve been getting. You push yourself up with the arms of your chair, and stand up, starting in the direction of the stairs that take you up a floor to Perry’s office. But as you stand up, you feel like you’ve been shaken up like a snow globe. You reach out for your desk to stabilise yourself, but your hand falls short. You blink and your vision fills with weird flashing lights, and you can see the blurry outline of the desks and people around you.

“Clark-“ you manage to get out in a last ditch effort to get help before your legs give out and you start to fall.

Clark manages to get to you in what seems like a split second, crouching down as your body hits the floor. His hands wrap around you before your head has the chance to hit the floor. Everyone on the desks closest to you shoot up, but compared to how fast Clark is, it’s like they’re moving in slow motion.

“Hey! Can you see me, I’m here, its Clark, wake up okay?”. You open your eyes and everything looks like your watching it through a camera with oil on the lens.

“Clarkie?” you manage to say, the word feeling like they’re all twisted up as they leave your lips.

“Yeah honey, it’s Clark” He lifts up your head a bit more, making sure he doesn’t pull your hair as he moved to support your head. By now a small crowd has gathered around you.

“Does anyone know first aid?” Lois calls into the small crowd as Cat presses her ringing phone to her ear, ready to talk to the 911 operator. Someone steps over as Clark talks to you, fingering your wrist to feel for a pulse.

“Clark? what’s going on?” you reach up to touch his face, squirming a little.

“Its okay honey, you passed out so we’re just making sure you’re okay.”, he explains slowly, moving to hold down the wrist that they’re taking a pulse from. You giggle as he does that.

“What are you giggling about huh?” He asks, trying to keep things normal for you, instead of revealing how worried he is about you.

“You’re funny, holding my hand down is very… kinky.” A couple people around you snort with amusement, and Clark’s face goes red.

“No talking now, okay?” he says, pretending its for some important medical reason, but really its because he can’t trust you to filter yourself in this state. Perry comes in from his office and some paramedics from Metropolis General come in through the main doors. The crowd parts for the paramedics and Clark tells them about you as Lois explains the situation to Perry.

————————————

Metropolis General Hospital.

“Okay, so all your vitals look okay. You should be fine to leave, but i’ll have a doctor come in to sign you out.” The nurse tells you as you lie in the hospital bed, Clark on the uncomfortable-looking chair next to you.

“Why did she pass out?” He asks, leaning forward to show her his attention.

“It seems like a mix of low blood pressure, not eating a lot, a lot of caffeine, perhaps sleep deprivation as well. essentially it was just the perfect storm.” She explains as you nod along.

“That makes sense, i’ll have to keep a better eye on her.” He says, looking back at you.

————————————

“Clarkie, do we have to go back to work?” You ask as he helps you walk to a cab. Clark looks at you in surprise.

“No honey, we’re not going back to work, of course not.” He explains softly, treating you with kid gloves since you’re still a bit groggy.

“Where are we going then?” You look up at him, eyes wide like a baby deer as he helps you into the backseat. Clark gives the taxi driver your address.

“We’re going to your apartment honey, gotta make sure you’re okay.”

“Okay Clarkie”

————————————

Your apartment

You walk into your apartment. Clark has imagined your apartment many times but nothing compared to the real thing. Its warm and cosy and so uniquely you.

“Clarkie, lets go to bed.” You tug his hand. You walk towards your bedroom, stripping off as you go. Clark fixes his eyes on the ceiling and follows you. You pull on a tank top and some underwear.

“Did you bring your jammies, Clark?” You turn to him, laughing as you see him looking at the ceiling.

“No pajamas honey, I can go get some-“

“Its okay, you can just wear one of my big tops, and your boxers.” You reach into your drawer and pull out an oversized shirt, that seemed to fit Clark perfectly. You get into bed, beckoning over Clark.

“I’m cold Clarkie, get into bed!”. Clark is easily convinced, and gets into the other side of your bed. You settle on his chest, the exhaustion of the day catching up to him. You slowly drift off as he strokes your hair. While you’re dead to the world, he gets a call from Lois.

“Hey Lois, what’s up?”

“How’s she doing?”

“She’s good, we’re out of the hospital, she’s asleep, it’s been a long day for her.”

“That’s good”. Their conversation is interrupted as you stir for a moment. You stretch against him.

“Mmm Clarkie, you wiggle when you talk.” You whine.

“Sorry honey, go back to sleep, okay?” He tells you. You let out a grumpy murmur and settle back down.

“Clark, where are you?” Lois cuts in over the phone.

“At her apartment?” He replies, becoming slightly elusive.

“Where in her apartment?”

“Her room.”

“Her bed?”

“Yes Lois”

He hears her scream out ‘They’re in bed together!’ over the phone, presumably to Jimmy and Cat, or someone else who is just as interested in your relationship.

“Well i’ll let you two get back to it” she says, her voice filled with sexual innuendo and he can practically hear her eyebrows raise. She hangs up and he’s left looking down at your sleep-filled face.

————————————

You wake up around midnight, having slept past dinner time, your body almost fully on top of Clark’s, face pressed against his neck, his hands all over your body. His breath is warm on your ear and you can feel his heart beating under you. He stirs as if he has some sixth sense, looking up at your face.

“Hi Clarkie.” you lift your head as he moves to plant a kiss on your forehead, your change in position causing his lips to meet yours, and you look at each other in shock as you slowly pull away. He sits up slightly so you’re not straining yourself to look at him.

“Well that was…” You say, trying to play your feels off casually.

“Yeah, it was…” He nods, his eyes flicking from your eyes to your lips to your eyes again. one hand moving from your waist to your jaw and you lean in. This time the kiss was deliberate. Your mouths slowly work in a familiar rhythm together. You shift in his arms so your legs straddle his hips, slightly grinding on him. Clark groans into your mouth, already hardening.

“Do i get you that worked up, Clarkie?”, you tease, guiding the hand on your jaw to your boobs. Clark’s breath stutters, but he recovers soon enough and palms your boob. Clarks other hand moves from your hip to the top of your underwear, teasing his fingers into the seamless thong you’re wearing.

“Is- is this okay?” He asks nervously, and you look into his gentle eyes.

“Of course its okay, I want you to touch me, Clarkie.” You practically plead. Clark doesn’t wait, lips back on yours. His hand is under your underwear, his index finger feels the slick wetness between your legs, and he uses his now-wet finger to rub your clit. You moan into his mouth, fingers curling into his hair.

“Fuck, oh yeah Clark.” you whimper into his mouth, and he takes that as a sign to ease his index finger into you.

“You’re so wet, did you get this turned on just for me?” he teases you now, the roles reversed as his first finger slides in and out of you, making obscenely wet noises. You can only nod, letting out soft, quiet moans into his shoulder. He starts to ease in a second finger, both of them curling perfectly into that spot that makes your legs shake.

“Clark, i want your- cock” you manage to get out between moans, tugging at the waistband of his boxers.

“I know honey, but I need you to take another finger first, or you can’t fit me.” He groans as you clench around his fingers, his thumb starting to rub your clit.

“Pretty size confident, huh Clark?”

“It’s true honey, do you think you can take a third, cmon baby, one more.” You nod, your eyes half-lidded with pleasure, as he stretches out your tight cunt, adding a third finger that makes you tear up in mild pain. He keeps finger fucking you as you strip off your top. He groans as your breasts are freed, leaning down to plant kisses to them, watching how your eyes close as he licks your nipple.

“Clark- fuck… oh I’m gonna come Clarkie, you’re gonna make me come!” Your breath becomes erratic, your hips stuttering from their usual rhythm. Clark keeps rubbing your clit as that particular pressure coils in your stomach, your body moving as you reach the edge.

“Fuck honey, let go for me baby” he says, watching you come, your eyes closing, more wetness leaking onto his fingers, your walls clenching on his fingers as you come, letting out pornographic moans that have his achingly hard cock dripping with pre-cum.

He pulls his fingers off you, licking them as you slump against him.

“Do you think you’re ready for me now?” He asks as you nod tiredly, but start to enthusiastically strip him. As soon as his boxers are off his big, hard cock springs up against his stomach, and you can’t do much but stare at it. You let him lift you up, his tip teasing your soaking entrance and your hands moving to his shoulders.

“Ready?”

“Fuck me, Clarkie.”.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Easing you down onto his fat dick, watching your eyes widen as your cunt stretches to fit him. When he finally bottoms out in you, you lift up slightly and drop back down, watching the pleasure fill his face as you gain some energy back after your orgasm. You ride him energetically, skin slapping on skin, his cock making you tear up as his balls slap your ass. He watches the mesmerising movement of your boobs as they move in time with your riding. His hips thrust up to meet you as you settle into a comfortable rhythm. The noises you both make are enough for a noise complaint, but neither of you care. Your only care is making the other one come. Bodies press against bodies as the pressure rises, both of you getting messier with your movements. Clark seems determined to make you come first. He sucks on your breasts as rubs your clit, and you feel that familiar feeling rising in your stomach, like you’re going to come but slightly different. It feels good and you chase that feeling. The pressure builds in you both until it becomes obvious you’re about to come.

“Come for me, honey.” Clark begs, and as his cock slams into that perfect spot inside you. you obey. Warm squirt sprays his abdomen as your legs shake and you moan, pulling his hair hard as you come all over him. At the sight of you very clearly coming, he groans. His cock twitches inside you, spurting warm ropes of white come inside you.

“I’ve… never done- I’m sorry.” You ramble out, and he lifts your face to look in your eyes.

“Don’t apologise honey, that was the sexiest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

————————————

You shower off together and vow not to tell anyone at work. You order some food into the apartment and lie with your legs stretched over him. You watch a film and stuff your faces, before passing out curled into him. He leaves early the next morning to get ready for work, and at work you sneak flirty glances at each other, and even have a couple secret kisses in the copy room.

Thank you so much for reading!

[vanilla-bean-18]

WIP Wednesay!!

(posting this after midnight so its actually thursday 🤷‍♀️)

Im also open to requests and constructive criticism so please let me know

these are both taking ages and i accidentally deleted my best work yet so i have nothing to show for two weeks of writing. trying to rewrite slowly but surely.

the one that was deleted was hobie x sick!reader and i am trying to rewrite asap but its taking a while

i do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or inserted into ai

Hobie x Reader fic w some angst

“Hi handsome, how was your day?” You say trying to lighten the mood. Hobie grunts noncommittally, before his hand removes yours from his arm. “What’s going on?”

“I think we should talk.”

“Yeah? What’s up Hobes?”

“Who is he?”

“Who is who”

“The guy you’ve been cheating on me with.” Your heart stops and you sit up straight.

“Cheating?!”

“Yes-“

“Why would you think I was Cheating, of all things!”

“Its obvious! You’re coming home late, those mysterious charges on your credit card, sneaking around, lying to me about where you’ve been”

“You went through my CREDIT CARD STATEMENT!”

“I saw it on the table!”

“Still an invasion of privacy.”

“You’re the one cheating on me!”

Clark kent x teacher!reader fic

There’s a knock at the classroom door, and the door opens to your principal and a tall man in a suit.

“Hi Laura, can I help you?”, You ask politely, surveying the tall man next to her.

“Hi dear, this is Clark Kent, he’s a reporter with The Daily Planet, and he’s going to be doing an article on you.” She explains, putting a lot of emphasis on ‘The Daily Planet’, as if to make sure you know that it’s a big deal.

“On me?”

“Yes dear, he was supposed to be with Oliver but his wife has just given birth so we had to switch to you.”

“If it’s not okay for me to-“ Clark Kent blurts out, looking awkward.

“No, no it’s fine,” You assure him, “I was just surprised”

“Well dear, and Clark, I’ll leave you two be”

[youmiyoumo]

Ok, I got ahold of myself but let's talk about serious stuff here. We have two new images for Spider-Man: Beyond the Spiderverse and BOTH are from the past, meaning there's gotta be flashbacks on this movie.

And what does happy flashbacks mean most of the time? Yeah, yeah... let that sink in.