⟢ content: inspired by "drop dead" by olivia rodrigo OR your highly awaited first date with Kara comes with some rust that needs to be knocked off... lucky for you Kara knows just the trick ;)
lowk corny, word vomit I hope it makes sense… lots of fluff, a lot of self-indulgent (my choice of therapy after my personal doomed yuri experience lols)
this is my first work in a while so I hope you guys like it :)
Two months. It had been two months since you had last seen Kara.
You were so happy that Kara was finally back after 63 painful days off being heroic some-planet-else, yet there was still an awkward air–a rust that you just needed to shake off. Even though you've only known Kara for six months, including the two she was gone, you always felt so comfortable around her.
Ever since Clark had introduced you to his elusive cousin, who you did not believe was real, it had been truly surreal. The two of you had clicked right then and there at the Daily Planet Christmas party when you were drunk out of your mind from all of Cat's eggnog.
"So, you're Clark's cousin. Are you sure the two of you are cousins, because there is no way that Kent is related to someone as cool as you."
She chuckled at your slurred speech, "Well we sure didn't grow up together, so that definitely would explains it."
"Is your hair dyed?"
You moved in closer, personally inspecting the way her dark, mousy brown at the roots of her hair eventually faded into the more recognizable honeyed shade of her shaggy waves. Fingers combed through her locks, suspiciously examining to try and guess yourself, face just millimeters away from the crown of her head. Her hair is very pretty and soft. Exhaling and inhaling dramatically, you came to the conclusion that you didn't know–oh and that her hair smelt like oranges and cashmere woods.
"Are you done inspecting my hair now?" Kara chuckled as you stayed there on her shoulder with your cheeks flushed and fingers playing with the tips of her strands. Typically, Kara would have pushed you off by now, an invader of her personal space… but she didn't mind the way you were quietly giggling to yourself on her shoulder. From that moment when she let her cousin's drunk friend lay on her shoulder until the moment when you were dragged away by Cat, Kara felt almost drawn to you--a new type of carelessness she hasn't had to let herself feel in the longest time, towards someone else like you.
Kara had been waiting for this.
She finally had the chance, after two whole months of being off planet, for the two of you to go out–romantically. Before, you and Kara had basically hung out every other day the first four months of the year… as friends, of course. Only, Kara kept holding her tongue, waiting for the right time to speak up and say that she wanted to be something, even maybe something more than just friends.
Naturally, she didn't have to suppress her feelings longer because on the other side of it all, there you were–impatient, desperate, tired from this waiting game and you could not hold back any longer.
Ice cream dripped down your knuckles and Kara's eyes were on yours as you were struggling to finish your cone, painfully regretting ordering that extra scoop on top. "You really don't have to finish that."
"I got this, don't worry," you proclaimed with the most determined face the Kryptonian had ever seen you make. She only giggled, laying on her head on your shoulder as she watched the sunset. The perfect scene. It wasn't fair, how intimate the whole thing was. Her perfectly tousled hair, the cute little smirk she made whenever you did something she found was funny, and oh stars her eyes. There was no way her eyes were always blown out just right at the sight of you and you weren’t merely her friend. It was almost like her eyes were tuned to the sweetest spot where they make you think it's because she could also be imagining something more behind them just like you or that her mind and mouth were synced when she said “we’re just friends.” Would she say she feels the same or would she let you down gently and you'd have to move on from your silly little feelings?
Full from the ice cream cone, you collapse onto Kara's lap and she automatically starts running her hands through your head like it's the most natural thing in the world. Which does not help or make sense–at all. Feeling the flush rush to your cheeks, you cover your face with your hands.
"What's wrong babe?"
You squish your eyes closed as Kara pries your hands off your definitely blushing face and you force yourself to take the deepest breath you can. Shaking your head no, still laying on her lap, Kara hovers over your head with her hair falling down framing her face just right in the sunset lighting. "Don't do that Kara."
Her eyebrows crinkle, smile dimming as she takes in your words. Eyes searching yours, looking for some resolve and yet your mouth feels dry. "I just…"
You sit up now smoothing your hair down–half of it from nerves, the other from the fear you look like a madwoman with tangled hair and shifty eyes. Kara, now quiet, holds space for you to say something, anything, but just looking at her for one second hurts you in turn. Maybe it would be better if you just ripped the band-aid off… This was getting stupid, how long were you supposed to take this torture? That pained look she was giving made you spill your guts right then and there.
"Stars, how do you not know Kara, truly. Your hair, your heart, your stupid scent I now know by heart all drive me crazy. I'm bewitched in the beauty that is you and I don't know how to escape this trance you've set me in. There is no person on Earth, or this whole universe that has shown the capability to love me as easily as you do. And I know I might seem extremely out of my mind right now, but don't tell me there isn't any probable cause for me not to feel this way–the lady from the ice cream truck literally told us we were a cute couple. Did that not resonate with you in any shape or form, because she's right–i'm in love with you. All your soft touches and the fact we are always all over each other have sent me spiraling these past four months. Not even that, the way you are so gentle towards me–just the effort and care I can feel pouring out of you makes me feel special and that scares me. But obviously if you don't feel the same don't let my silly feelings get in the way of us being friends."
You huff, throat sore from your long pour of emotions and don't even register the tears running down your face until Kara wipes them away, holding your face tenderly with a soft smile on hers. "Stars, say something please."
She pulls you in close, noses touching, "Of course I like you, I thought I was making my feelings painstakingly obvious towards you–but you're so fucking oblivious. Out of all the planets and out of all the galaxies I have visited, you are and have been my brightest star."
Kara leans in and closes the space between the two of you. Rough lips meet your soft ones as her hands travel up to your hair then down to your neck. She pulls you in closer and you simply melt into her. Kara explores all she can–pushing, pulling, and a little teeth action sprinkled into it. Your body heats up from your head to your toes as she slides you onto her lap, doing the best to meld the both of you into one.
Now you're here, stiffly nursing your vodka cranberry as Kara sips on her beer like she even has the ability to get drunk right now. You flit between eyeing the way she slowly downs her glass, wishing it wouldn't empty, yet you look back and the clock reads 10:45… painfully close to closing time at 11. Why did you even choose this bar? It's stupid–the way it closes at 11 and that especially because hasn't helped the two of you thaw your previously paused moves. Why did the two of you even come here–maybe it's not the bar, maybe in the time she's been gone the two of you have fizzled out all of your feelings for each other.
Almost like she can smell your nerves, Kara purses her lips and asks,"Do you think we can get out of here? I don't know if it's just me but the vibe here is such a drag."
"Oh my stars, I thought you'd never ask–let me go to the bathroom real quick."
You sigh, making it into the woman's restroom. The fact you and Kara were back together almost felt unreal. She's been all over this galaxy and the next, yet she still wants to make it work with you. You unclasp your purse to retouch your lipgloss just to realize you left it on the bar table. Gosh, seriously you need to get your shit together.
Groaning at your own incompetence, you turn to leave, only to bump into that familiar mop of honey hair you've grown to love,and stumble backwards towards the sink. "Kara, is uh, something wrong?"
She smoothes your arms down, chuckling at your tight expression. "You left your lipgloss at the bar table."
Kara lifts her hand, revealing your lip gloss. She promptly unscrews it and coats your lips with the applicator. Your face floods with heat as you take in the scene before you while she presses your bodies flush together to the dimly lit bathroom sink, as she unfairly looking like a mischievous angel in all her glory. Kara closely in front of you, her eyes focused on your lips and you can't help but flit your attention down to hers. "Perfect."
The room is suddenly closing in on the two of you and now you only wish you could pause this moment right here. You fear that this will be the most alive you'll ever feel, yet the feeling that the two of you will only prosper from here hangs above your head alongside the possibility of it all going downhill.
"Hey," Kara touches your face gingerly, slotting her leg between yours. "You're stuck in your head again. I'm right here."
You come down now, present in the moment. Her eyes search yours to see if you're responsive, causing you to nod. Before you could regret it, you crash your lips into hers, ceasing the feeling of a punch to your gut, calming the possibility that you've made all this up–that it's just a wet fever dream you need to awaken from.
Kara's hands greedily pulling you in for more reminds you how the two of you fit together well. Every kiss, every touch makes you feel like your soul is melding into hers.
The two of you eventually walk home from the bar, hands intertwined. You know the two of you can take it slow and despite the warning bells in your head telling you it's all a dream–you would rather drop dead than miss another moment with the girl you see forever with.
BOSS IF YOU MAKE HER CRY ONE MORE TIME OUR STOCK PLUMMETS
❪ a part of ❫ ━━ the j in jujutsu corp stands for jeez why are we still working here...
the three times your workmates try to sabotage you for the lolz, and the three times you made your boss grovel for it.
content: language, crude humor, crack fic, modern office au, female reader, reader is a bit clueless for the plot and humor, reverse harem, the company stuff in this fic is not peer-reviewed
GOSH I ACTUALLY LOVE SCARLET’S STORY SO MUCH LIKE I SEE MORE OF ME IN HER THAN CINDER
BUT OMG FOR CONTEXT I READ THE LUNAR CHRONICLES WHEN I WAS YOUNGER SO NOW I AM JS REREADING THEM
IM ON SCARLET’S BOOK AND THE PLOT TWIST IN PT 3 IS DIABOLICALLLLL—WOLF WAS JS SO MYSTERIOUS AND GUARDED ABOUT LSOP THAT I DID NOT SEE THAT PART COMING????
I MEAN I KNEW HE WOULD BETRAY HER IN SOME WAY BC HER KNOWLEDGE OF IT ALL WAS OVERSHADOWED IN A WAY AND ALSO BC THATS JS THE STORY OF LITTLE RED
LIKE I ACTUALLY LOVE WOLF N SCARLET SO MUCH—EVEN THOUGH THEY HAVE ONLY KNOWN EACH OTHER FOR A DAY AND HE WAS HALF LYING TO HER THE WHOLE TIME—BUT LIKE IM A SUCKER FOR STUBBORN X UNBOTHERED
BUT CINDER’S PLOT TWIST WAS NOT EVEN SURPRISING OMGGGG i’m actually dead god fuckin damn it
GAHHH THANK U SMMM !!!! I actual love blue for aesthetic but my fav color is actually red so idek where I was going w that… im planning on posting more bc im less busy so look out for those 🤩🤩🤩
“streamer! satoru x streamer! yn collab!! please !!" 𓆩♡𓆪
"chat, what the hell are you talking about? rottenyn?" satoru murmured, reading what his chat was sending him as he was streaming his screen, playing penguin heist on steam. he was asking his chat of around 20k viewers to potentially give him ideas on what to play next. rivals? valorant? even league maybe.
streamer! satoru a.k.a. sixeyesatoru was currently the top streamer on kick and twitch, and of course, he hung around his posse of streamer friends like nanaken and cursedsuguru to name a few. he wasn't aware of some "rando" like rottenyn? who the hell was that?
"chat said search her up." suguru snickered, leaning over to hit his vape to which he got smacked in the arm by streamer! satoru—the twitch partner. "chat also said she's been talking about you. ouuuu satoru. i've heard of her, she's chill."
streamer! satoru had his fair share of internet flings and crushes (obviously, it was a joke in his community regarding his type being h/c hair and e/c eyes), but he didn't know what to expect when he searched you up on twitter and instagram.
and no wonder why his chat was going insane with spamming your user... you were exactly his dream girl.
streamer! yn, who streamed herself doing popmart unboxings, occasional commentary on internet stuff and gameplay of the same games he did. she was a rising streamer who had gotten viral on tiktok and instagram. streamer! yn who was exactly his type and was on twitter, clipped saying that streamer! satoru was exactly her type.
"ijbol satoru just malfunctioned. chat shut up." he ended up following her on insta, tiktok, and twitter after the stream and got followed back minutes later—much to the amusement of his fans and yours too.
streamer! satoru, who's been secretly stalking your socials and talking about you to suguru and kento. how you're totally his type and is so talented in valorant and how you're so cool.
"didn't you think she was a rando when chat told you about her?"
"shut up suguru."
streamer! satoru, who got invited to one of streamer!sukuna's multi-streamer collabs and didn't expect for streamer! yn to be there, talking to suguru on one of the couches.
"hey satoru, we were just talking about you!" suguru smiled, standing up and leaving both of you alone. he turned to you, anxiously. you shot him a smile and you looked so cute and you smelled so nice and—was that the sweatshirt you were talking about in a stream of yours?
"i really like your streams! you actually inspired me to start streaming and i'm really happy i'm getting to talk to you!"
streamer! satoru basically internally combusted. he felt as if he would explode right now. "o-oh wow! i'm honored..."
"wanna collab sometime?" - "wanna go out sometime?"
you both blinked at each other, with your face burning and his twisting into a look of horror, all the while, the other streamers like ryokuna, nanaken, and tojilifts were just observing the unfortunately awkward situation you two were in.
"sure!"
"i am so sorry!"
the both of you could only hope that your blushing and awkward face didn't get clipped for the timeline later... but of course it did.
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i wanna write more streamer gojo like actually even tho i don't really watch streamers (except vanilla bc its vanilla and i have the fattest crush on her) but yayayaya.
pinterest tag game: lyrics, colour, character, place, outfit, aesthetic.
thank you for the tag @fluttervoid <3
no pressure tags: @targlocket @ghostlybfgf @smurfelle @vlarrtrgryn @fawnindawn @captainfern @rhaenyras-crown @anoddsightcomeoutatnight @snoopysupe @puppyboydominatrix + anyone else who would like to join !!!
summary: you’ve known kara since she crashed through your sorority house five years ago, spilling the truth about her superhuman dna; a secret you've guarded with ease. but then you meet clark kent- her sweet, shy, older cousin who knows your favourite cake from memory & folds your laundry- and suddenly, everything you believed about kryptonians shatters.
clark kent x kara's bff ! reader
themes: slight age gap, clark is such a subtle flirt in this, you and kara are platonic soulmates! fluff. clark again is a domestic king. suggestive. enjoy! xx
Five years ago, you were painting your nails a beautiful shade of burgundy; a glass of cheap wine balancing on the table next to the open bottle of polish, when you heard it.
A crash. A curse. A yelp. You, startled, because every sister had gone to the opposing fraternity to watch the most recent hazing, and you'd decided to hang back, hoping for some peace and quiet.
You were supposed to be the only one at home.
Or, so you thought.
"Motherfucker!" you'd heard. For a lack of better judgement, you'd sprinted out of your room and practically skidded down the polished oak steps; heart pounding, fingers still wound tight around Essie's limited edition 50 Bordeaux. You hadn't meant to, but there was simply no time to screw it back into the pot.
The sight before you would have been rare- if you hadn't lived where you did. Sorority girls partied hard and often suffered harder. You knew better than anybody that a smashed window was often the result of mixing spirits, and throwing up was usually just dehydration met with a further lack of water.
So, no; the heaving blonde before you didn't stun you because of the mess she was currently making on your carpet. No- what stunned you was the horrific get-up she was wearing; all bright red and bright blue with a terrifically comical yellow belt to match.
Except for her boots. You quite liked her boots.
You didn't let go of the polish. She threw up some more. Eventually, you stumbled into the kitchen to grab a glass of water and an advil.
"That won't work on me." was the first thing she said when you nudged both things forward. Your eyebrow raised.
"The water or the advil?"
"Both."
"Huh."
You'd waited for her to stop vomiting first, eyes scanning her body for any cuts and bruises. Surprisingly, you couldn't see any- no matter how much your eyes narrowed and you walked around her in cautious circles.
Eventually, she stopped heaving long enough to tell you she was fine- alongside a half-hearted apology and an even more lackluster promise to clean your carpet and fix your window.
"Don't worry about it," you'd shrugged, watching as she downed the glass in two gulps. "They probably won't even notice."
She'd asked you who they were. You said, your sisters. She asked how many you had, and you laughed, and you informed her that they weren't your actually sisters, not really; that's just what you called each other at Delta Nui.
"Delta what?" puzzled, she looked at you, "Are you in a cult?"
"Are you?" you quizzed back, pointing at the prominent 'S' badge on her chest.
She smirked then, holding out her clean hand for you to shake. You took it albeit reluctantly, your firm grip matching hers.
"I like you," she'd told you, lips curved in a way that looked both dangerous and comforting at the same time. "I'm Kara."
You told her your name, finalised the shake. And everything after that was history; leading up to now, five years later, both of you stumbling through the hallway of a penthouse apartment you've personally only ever been to a handful of times. Giggling, shushing the other, knocking into random things that teeter but never fall. Her arm is looped around your neck, yours on her waist, as you both try to navigate the darkness of the apartment.
"I think he keeps his food in that box over there," Kara slurs, mouth slack, head probably a lot hazier than yours due to the fact that while you stuck to vodka crans, she'd moved onto heavier mixes that only her outer-space biology could take. You dipped your tongue in it once. Kara had to take you to the interdimensional ER straight after.
You hold back a laugh, eyes finally landing on the direction of her finger, "You mean, the fridge?"
She shrugs, hoists herself up onto a stool.
It was only supposed to be a few celebratory drinks. You’d snagged your first "real" job in the heart of the city, reporting for a paper Metropolis actually paid attention to and Kara had insisted on celebrating, and naturally, the drinks were on her.
It wasn’t meant to spiral like this. But with your best friend, nothing ever stayed small for long.
Over the years, you've learnt a lot about the girl you call your best friend. She's not human- she's Kryptonian, Martian being politically incorrect and frankly quite rude. She likes metal music. She can annihilate an entire family-sized serving of chocolate pecan pie- and she did so once, sitting in a roof-top convertible on Mars before driving into a group of actual martians.
She likes animals. Loves them. So much so, that for Kara's birthday a couple years back, you got her a dog; an awfully behaved, no boundaries, and absolutely no recall whatsoever type mutt- yet she fell in love with him faster than you could call the space zoo authorities for a refund.
"What should we call him?"
"Uh... Kryptodog."
She'd narrowed her eyes, "Too long."
"But that's what he is!"
"Come on, journalist. You're supposed to be good at this creative stuff."
And thus, Krypto was born.
You also learnt that Kara- parentless, off the rails and completely, utterly insane Kara Danvers- had a cousin.
"He's a total geek," she'd said dismissively, holding a flayed hand out for you to paint as she blew distractedly at the other one, "he works at some magazine, book place, whatever, in the city. I think they still print newspapers, something like that. Ever heard of it?"
You'd nodded, though at the time, you hadn't really been paying too much attention, regardless of your own major being in Journalism and Reporting. It probably would have done you some good to tune in for a beat or two.
It had just been one of those nights; chick flicks on repeat and discarded popcorn kernels littering both your bedsheets and the floor. You always loved those nights in with Kara. It reminded you that no matter where she was in the world- no matter what threats she drank her way around and exploding disco-balls she threw at unsuspecting aliens- she'd always come back home. Safe.
"Anyway, I miss my dog. Do you think we could get him off Kal-el tomorrow at some point?"
"Who?"
"Sorry. Clark."
"From his place or that spiky ice castle in the middle of nowhere?"
She'd laughed, "The fortress, probably. I can fly us?"
Though you'd visibly cringed, you nodded anyway. "Sure."
"You're the best."
Of course, Kara had decided to make a quick stop on some red-sun planet on the way, despite her promises of being designated flyer. You just hung on, waiting for the moments to pass by and hoping the sky was clear of both birds and planes the rest of the way.
You had no idea what to expect.
Obviously, you'd been to the fortress before- briefly. Kara mentioned one time that Clark liked to keep loose change in random pockets of his penthouse in case he needed them, and she'd been banking on him doing the same at the Fortress (there was an unsettled score between her and a casino regular at Metropolis Bets). Unsurprisingly, you helped her. And unsurprisingly, you both came away with a good forty dollars between you.
"He'll never know." she'd winked. You didn't doubt her.
But what greeted you when you both came to pick up Krypto wasn't what you'd expected at all.
"He's nerdy. He wears these glasses that change his face, and he writes a lot, and I think he's dating someone called Louise. He has post-it notes that remind him to tie his shoes before he gets up. Oh, and he keeps a jar of peanut butter on his desk. For emergencies, he says. Freak."
What were you supposed to think?
Don't judge a book by it's cover- that rule, you'd always lived by. But when the book had been written so clearly by somebody else- little anecdotes and pieces of information right there for you to just piece together- what was a girl to do?
You expected a mess. A blabbering, head-down, sorry Kara, Krypto's here Kara, anything else Kara mess of a man that couldn't look anybody in the eye for too long. Tall, like she'd told you, but defeated in a way that made him look smaller.
But when you got to the fortress, there was nobody there of that description. Just Clark; tall, yes- but also broad, impossibly beautiful, chiselled jaw and square shouldered.
Kara said he wore glasses around people he didn't know, but you'd never actually seen him with them on. Somehow, you didn't think they'd make much of a difference. Only a complete fool would be able to look past those simple black frames and not see the god underneath.
"Dude!" Kara groaned, eyes icy as she glared at the man being tended to by about half a dozen robots. You trailed in after, one of Kara's puffer coats engulfing your frame, as you tried to make sense of the sight before you. "Why did you move the door?!"
"I didn't move the door," he had a deep voice, one that felt like a warm audible blanket amidst the bite of the cold around you.
"Where's my dog?"
All of a sudden, a blur of red, white and blue came barrelling towards you both. He knocked Kara down first; a fluffy force met with contagious giggling that had you clamping a hand over your mouth.
Then, Krypto turned on you.
"No, no, boy. Down!" Kara grabbed his collar before he could lunge, though you'd bent down anyway to give him some well-deserved scratches behind his ear. "You'll kill her, silly boy."
"Kill her? Bit dramatic." Clark noted.
You couldn't help but notice that his attention had shifted now; away from Kara and Krypto, from the robot checking his bicep.
Now, it was on you. Out of confusion or interest, you didn't know, but it made you feel a certain way regardless of which one.
"Not really," Kara folded her arms. "She's human. And Krypto's a menace."
"You said it." Clark shrugged. But his eyes hadn't left yours, and you took note of the sparkle behind them when he raised his hand in a small wave, parted his lips again and said, "Hi, I'm Clark,"
You smiled back, ignoring the red-hot feeling creeping up your cheeks. Your heart began to beat in a way so unlike itself, Kara's head snapped towards you as you said your name back, "Nice to meet you, Clark."
"Hope you're keeping her out of trouble," he quipped playfully. "She can be a bit of a handful."
"Okay, rude." Kara frowned.
"It's all I do." you replied then, shooting her a playful wink.
Thud, thud, thud.
"Okay," Kara then said slowly, turning her body to face yours. You knew immediately what was coming just by the tone of her voice alone.
You blinked back at the accusatory look on her face.
"Hello?"
"Hi. Why do you sound like that?"
"Sound like what?" you asked, bewildered.
She nodded towards your chest, skeptical.
"I can hear you, you know,"
"Hear what?" at this point, you thought that feigning dumb would probably produce the best outcome.
She lowered her voice then, knowing exactly what you were trying to do, "Either you're really cold, or you're totally crushing on my cousin right now." thankfully, her now narrowed brows stayed fully concealed from Clark's vision. "I really hope you're just one degree away from hypnothermala."
"Hypothermia." you corrected, but the whispers had already been exchanged and you had already willed the ground to open up and swallow you whole.
Not that it would have mattered much, anyway- you knew that being Kryptonian came with perks human beings were just too simple to understand. Superhearing- unfortunately- being one of them. It often meant non-consensual listening to the littlest sounds your body would make- a slight rumble, an irregular skip of the organ in your chest.
Kara would laugh and say she was just looking out for you, but you personally didn't find it as funny.
Your theory was further proven right by the way a small smirk played on Clark's lips, his gaze falling to the floor.
You gritted your teeth. You wanted to die. You'd chew Kara out about this in death, you figured. You'd haunt her until she couldn't take it anymore and flew around the Earth to reverse time, back to the moments before completely and utterly humiliating you in front of her hot, older cousin. Then, you'd make her bring you back to life for a much-deserved re-do.
Eventually, she just shrugged, shaking the thought out of her head as quickly as it came.
She gave Krypto another fuss, and you didn't dare look in Clark's direction again as she came back up.
"Ready?" she asked. You nodded. She smiled.
"Thanks for watching him, bitch." she then called behind her, looping her arm through yours before resuming her stumble out of the newly-made entrance.
Krypto trailed behind the pair of you, tongue wagging in sync.
"See you around, Clark," you said awkwardly, your wave accompanied by a wince that you hoped conveyed, I am so sorry for her.
You heard a small exhale come from the man, a sound of amusement that threatened to both collapse your lungs and jellify your legs.
"You know where to find me."
That, was two years ago.
And in those two years, you learnt two things; one, that not every Kryptonian was like Kara, and two; that there was a massive, undeniable possibility that Clark Joseph Kent would be the best boyfriend to ever grace this planet to whomever gets so be so lucky.
Not that you’d thought about it. Obviously not. It was just… a theory. A harmless little hypothesis built from a thousand tiny moments- each having solid, irrefutable evidence you tried very, very hard not to notice.
It was all in the little things. The notes he left whenever you ended up crashing at his place for the night- which was happening more and more, you realised- along with breakfast waiting on the counter for when you woke up. The perfect cup of coffee, and even differing pieces of dessert for both of you, their boxes marked with a sticky note in his neat handwriting and a smiley face with a nose.
For your trip to... wherever :-) - CK it would say.
You bite your lip now, the alcohol settling heavily in your head. You already know that when you open Clark’s fridge, you’ll find two little confections inside- each in its own neat box, each labeled, each perfectly suited to the two of you.
"I hope it's cake." Kara slurs. You laugh a little, opening the fridge and almost melting at the sight of two pastry boxes inside.
Neither of you had told him you were coming. How could you have known this is where you’d end up tonight, when barely two hours ago you were playing Hennessy hopscotch on Saturn’s rings?
Yet, Clark had been prepared; just as you expected, and just as you hoped. A dark, rich chocolate cake for Kara; red velvet for you. With extra cream cheese frosting and those little curls of white chocolate that you like.
"Oh, I do love that son of a bitch sometimes," Kara breathes, and as you slot her slice in front of her, the focus on her face is otherworldly. You watch as she holds up her fork, prongs slathered in chocolate frosting. "To new jobs and a shitload of money!"
You grin, holding your own pinkish fork up to meet hers, "To new jobs, and a shitload of money."
You eat your cakes in a comfortable silence, only letting your thoughts slip out in half-mumbled mutterings about tomorrow, frosting sticking faintly to your fingers.
"Are you nervous?"
"Yes. Very,"
"Don't be. Remember, they're all just human,"
"Kara." you deadpanned, "I'm human."
"Yeah, but you're one of the good ones."
Amidst your conversation, your let your eyes drift around Clark's penthouse-partly out of curiosity, but also because this is probably the first time you’ve been here sober.
It looks different at night. Now, you can see it through fresh eyes, no longer washed out by the brazen morning light. The space is minimalistic and sensible, the floor to ceiling window facing the city made entirely of shatterproof glass.
A table he built on a rainy afternoon sits pressed against the other wall connected to it, a fancy record player resting on top alongside a pair of light dumbbells you’re pretty sure are more decorative than practical. You snort lightly, tearing your eyes away to focus on your half-eaten dessert.
If Kara can hear how your heart is pounding in your eardrums, she doesn't let on. Instead, she finishes her food with a yawn and a stretch. Then, she tells you she's gonna go crash in the spare room and to join her when you're ready.
"But if my snoring's keeping you up, take Clark's bed," she yawns, and you have to swallow down the choke threatening to come out, "He won't mind, and you've got a full day tomorrow. He'll probably just take the couch."
Truthfully, you don't want to think about sweet Clark Kent waking up the next morning with both a sore neck and resentment, so you tell her you'll join her after washing up.
Kara disappears down the hall with a slight, sleepy stumble, leaving you alone with the quiet hum of the apartment.
"Wake me up before you leave!" is the last thing she says to you, before the bedroom door slams shut and you're left to your own thoughts.
The room feels bigger without her in it, more foreign, as if the silence can finally stretch its limbs.
You let out a breath and gather the dishes, trying not to think too hard about her casual Clark won’t mind comment. It's stupid, so stupid, but you can't help it; just thinking his name sends a traitorous flutter down your spine.
The warm spray from the sink hits your hands, and suddenly washing up feels like the safest thing in the world; something mindless, grounded. Something that definitely does not involve the sparkling fog of Clark Joseph Kent smiling at you, sending a wink your way, pressing you up against his penthouse window and making you moan in a way that he has to stifle with one big, burly hand-
You scrub gently at the dessert plate, trying not to replay the reel of little moments that flash behind your eyes.
He's done a lot for you; far more than necessary to the average person. But you knew from Kara that Clark had been raised with a certain, effervescent farmboy charm that he carried through with him to the city; always thoughtful, always sweet. Sometimes a little too much, but who were you to complain?
There was the morning you’d woken up in Clark’s spare room with the hangover from hell, head pounding so violently you thought the sun itself was inside your skull. And there, at the foot of the bed, were your clothes; freshly pressed, neatly folded, smoothed with the kind of care most people reserved for sacred things.
You blinked at them for a full minute before realising you were wearing an oversized The Mighty Crabjoys shirt, clean of Tequila spillage, soft and worn and unmistakably his. You had absolutely no memory of putting it on. And when you’d asked Kara, she’d shrugged and said, "Not me." leaving only one possible culprit.
The idea of Clark, big and gentle and absurdly shy, wordlessly draping the shirt over you while he looked away like you were something delicate- well, needless to say, it stayed with you far longer than the hangover did.
Then, there was the night you’d knocked out cold on his sofa, too tired to pretend you were 'just resting your eyes'. You’d woken up to a blanket tucked up to your shoulders and a pillow carefully propped beneath your head, angled just right like someone had studied the shape of your neck and moulded what was needed to fit it.
You never heard him do it. You never saw him. But you knew.
And the next morning, when you murmured a thank you, Clark had gone pink to the tips of his ears, a soft Don't mention it falling from his lips before he shot you a wink you couldn't read.
Little things. Harmless things. Things he probably didn’t even register doing.
But they lived in you anyway, taking up space in the corners of your mind that you swore you'd keep under lock and key. They tucked themselves between your ribs, soft as bruises and twice as dangerous.
You rinse another plate, face warming. You force yourself to focus harder on the bubbles, but your brain doesn't listen.
Instead, it brings up every memory of Clark leaning in close- too close. The way his curls fall into his eyes when he first wakes up, and how those baby-blue eyes look at you through the contrast of his dark lashes; both accompanied by that gorgeous, dimpled smile. The gentle bump of his shoulder against yours- playful, warm, effortless.
You shake your head, set another dish in the drying rack, and sigh. "Get a grip," you mumble to yourself over the running water.
You turn to grab the next plate, trying to focus on the warm water and the steady rhythm of washing. It should be grounding, but of course your brain has other plans.
It drifts back to him, and you're left replaying past memories in obsession.
You don't realise how much time actually passes, but you've cleared all the dishes in the sink and then some.
It's only when a soft rush of air brushes your cheek, and your pulse skips, that you finally move.
You spin around quickly, the shift in the room different, now- and it's immediate, the way your heart flips.
"Sorry," a voice says, genuinely apologetic despite not having anything to say sorry for, "It's me! It's just me,"
Clark.
He’s hovering just inside the floor-to-ceiling window, one hand resting lightly on the frame, cape settling behind him like it’s barely even there. The city lights catch the jagged edges of his face, haloing him in soft gold.
His eyes meet yours, and his mouth quirks into that crooked, slightly cheeky, masked by something bashful smile that always leaves you breathless.
"Hey," he says softly, voice warm and a little embarrassed. "Didn’t mean to sneak up on you."
"N-No, it's fine!" you manage, voice higher than needed, "Don't worry. I was just..."
You fumble with the last plate in your hands, cheeks instantly flaming, and he takes a small step closer, careful not to crowd you. There’s a little twinkle in his eye, the kind that says he knows exactly what he’s doing, but he’s still adorably shy about it.
"You’re washing up?" he asks, teasing but gentle, as if you being here doing ordinary dishes is somehow the most amusing thing he’s ever seen.
You shake your head, trying to keep your voice steady. "Yeah… sorry. Got distracted," you mumble, blinking at him. "Kara's here too, by the way. She's in the other room."
Clark chuckles, soft and light, and it wraps around you like a warm blanket. "I figured. Wherever you are, she goes," he says, "And you didn't have to do that, but thank you. I appreciate it."
"It's no problem, really." you tell him, when really, all you want to say is, It's the least I can do. At this point, we're your unofficial roommates that don't pay any rent and eat all your food, but you keep your mouth shut.
"Had a good night?" he asks you then, before flopping down on the armchair closest to the window and kicking his boots off. You walk around the partition, facing him fully now.
"It was... okay."
"Not the best, I take it," Clark all but smirks, elbows resting on his knees as he looks at you. "It's past midnight and you're still up."
"What? I've had a great night!" you fold your arms defensively.
"So great, that all of that liquor's already wearing off," he chuckles, shaking his head as you narrow your eyes. "Can feel your blood rushing steadier than usual."
"You know, you cousins really need to stop paying so much attention to my body. Is this what you do with all the human people you meet?"
"Only the ones that matter," Clark jokes, and you know he probably doesn't mean it the way it sounds, but still, another shiver attacks the base of your spine. "How's Kara?"
"Drunk."
"Did she like the cake?"
"Didn't even need to soap the plate. She licked it clean," you joke.
Clark chuckles lightly, and when he pauses, his look focuses shyly on you, "Did you?"
"Red velvet, white chocolate and vanilla cream cheese," you place a hand on your chest, clutching it playfully as you grin at him, "Perfect combination. I loved it, Clark. Thank you."
He looks pleased with himself, truly. Like a puppy being given his first treat after performing some elaborate trick. You can't help but notice how boyish he looks under this light now; regardless of the suit clinging perfectly to every curve of his muscular frame.
"It's alright. Thought you might need it for your big day tomorrow," he says softly, and there's something in his eye that you can't quite make out. "You start at 9, right? How are you feeling?"
"I'm okay, I guess," a slight shrug lifts your shoulders, "I'm nervous, more than anything. It's been a while since I've worked at a paper,"
"You're going to be just fine," Clark smiles at you, and your stomach's immediately in the danger zone for an exceptional number of flips done in under one minute. "You're a smart girl, Kara's shown me your work. They're gonna to love you."
You blush, gaze falling to the floor as you busy yourself with the sight of your socked feet. A comfortable silence settles between you, one lost in the buzz of the city outside.
Eventually, Clark stands up, stretches the stress of the night from his limbs. He gives you yet another small, award-winning smile as he makes his way to the hall.
"I'm heading off to bed, but..." he starts, "Are you and Kara coming back here tomorrow? After work?"
"Probably. If that's okay," you rush, "She'll probably still be asleep by the time I finish, so..."
"Yeah, of course. No problem," Clark tells you kindly, "You can tell me all about it then too, maybe. I'll make some cocoa. Or get more cake, depending on how it goes."
You laugh; a light, little sound that makes his smile stretch just that bit wider.
"Sure thing, Clark."
He chuckles, nods his head and bids you a soft goodnight. By the time you hear his bedroom door shut, your heart feels ready to burst out of your chest at any moment.
You scrub your hands one last time, desperately, the water running over your skin like it might somehow wash Clark Kent out of your mind entirely.
Unfortunately, it doesn't work.
No amount of tossing or turning can help the thoughts from running rampant in your head. He's the last thing on your mind when you fall asleep, and the first thing you think of at 7:30am in the morning when the vapid hammering of your phone's alarm clock finally goes off.
Kara groans, flayed hand shooting out and slamming against nothing but the bedside table.
You manage to grapple your phone off the side, pressing buttons every five minutes to ward off the incessant noise. Your mind fades in and out of reality, eyes fluttering shut, reopening before you can even claim it as rest.
Regardless, it rings. And rings. And rings.
It's relentless, unstoppable. It jolts you awake far too many times for you not to have memorised it by heart.
"Turn that off, oh my god." Kara groans, her entire head buried under a mountain of pillows. "I'm begging you."
So, you do.
With every ounce of strength you can possibly muster, you brave a single open eye toward the brightly-lit screen in your hand.
And a petrified gasps leaves your mouth.
8:48am.
"Shit!" you yell, practically jumping out of the covers. They land on the floor in a heap and for a second, you feel bad for the girl sleeping soundly beside you; but you can't dwell on it. Your legs propel you towards the door before your mind can even catch up.
The entire morning is a blur. You shower quickly; brushing your teeth and shaving your legs in record time. You've barely buttoned more than four buttons on your blouse before you're racing down Clark's apartment complex, a string of complex curses tumbling from your lips as you skip a couple steps and almost break a leg.
You hail a cab, terrified of the subway's delay. The taxi driver says something you fake-laugh to, and you hand him a note that's no doubt far too much, but it's all you have and you refuse to wait for change.
"Good luck, miss!" he calls after you, and you shoot him a thankful smile that's soon swallowed by a rush hour crowd.
Your chest is hurting, heart a permanent sped-up metronome in your chest. You have no time to gawk in awe at the building before you as you rush inside, shoulders slamming against the revolving doors in a way that forces the people in the other side to stumble.
"Sorry, sorry!" you mouthe, but you don't even stop then.
You take the elevator right to the very top, feet tapping impatiently on the floor. You fix your top, re-apply the mattified gloss on your lips. Your hair's probably a mess, and you've definitely forgotten something important back at the apartment, but you can't think too long or too hard about it.
Today, you decided, is going to be your day.
You glance at your phone. 9:13am. The elevator doors part just as your shoulders slump, and for the first time since you woke up, you take a slow, careful step inside.
It's busy. Incredibly so. Bodies pass each other in frenzied waves, and papers are flitted around more than words are even exchanged. There's a smell of coffee and ink in the air; the sound of printers and voices filling the otherwise daunting void that is, the bullpen.
You keep walking forward, mesmerised by it all.
Someone barks your name. Someone loud, and important, who introduces himself with a name you recognise and a hand shake that's firm. But you don't dwell on him, either; not even as you mumble apologies about being late and it never happening again.
He simply guides you to the middle of the floor, to a desk littered in post-it notes and rewrites and red-penned assignments and...
A jar of peanut butter?
"Take a seat, kid," the man huffs, shaking his head as he checks his watch. "I swear, the only journalist willing to take you on is going to be even later than you. That's not a nasty habit you pick up here, or we'll be having words. You hear me?"
You nod, obediently. Maybe, you think, if you sit still enough, he'll leave you alone.
So naturally, you sit and watch. A man and a woman bicker opposite you, lost in their own conversation about a deadline due last week and a byline missing a letter.
"Jimmy, you're annoying me,"
"You're annoying me! I told you, the prints won't be ready 'til tomorrow. Have some patience, Lois."
It's a lot. You expected it, actually maybe even looked forward to it; but now that you're here, right smack-dab in the middle of it all, you can't help but feel overwhelmed.
You're a smart girl.
You wonder what Clark would say now, if he could see you. Frozen in fear and unable to look away from the people who actually looked like they belonged.
They're gonna love you.
There's a clatter coming from the pair in front of you.
A woman with bouncy hair and thick-rimmed glasses walks past, high heels clicking against the shiny floor.
"Hello, sweetheart." she smiles at you. You can barely nod back.
Absentmindedly, your fingers fiddle with each other, darting this way and that, as well as with the different knick-knacks on the random table your new boss put you on.
"Ah, there he is! Finally."
"Sorry, Perry."
The words float somewhere behind you, swallowed by the rest of the noise. Phones ring. Keys clack. Someone is arguing about a draft that should have been finished yesterday, and you have a feeling it's those same two again.
It’s a hurricane of sound, and you’re stuck right in the centre, trying not to get swept under.
Your new boss- Perry- says something; sharp and quick, important to him but static to you, but you can’t make any of it out. Your heart is too loud in your ears.
You drop your gaze to the desk in front of you, clinging to it like an anchor. The clutter is almost comforting. Almost. A discarded post-it, half ripped, sits in the paper basket next to your foot, Send half of paycheck to Ma & Pa.
"She’s a little skittish," Perry comments. "Figure you can calm her down. God knows Lois can’t."
You exhale shakily. At least the person who sits here seems nice enough. Messy, but with a heart, hopefully soft around the edges.
Hopefully, they'll go easy on you.
A hand taps your shoulder, putting your thoughts on abrupt pause.
"Up, kid. Come say hello."
You jolt to your feet too fast, knee slamming against the desk.
Papers explode off the table, skidding across the floor in frantic little bursts. One even lands on your shoe. Something metal spins out, rattling loudly enough to make a few people glance over before losing interest in you entirely.
You drop into a crouch, mortified. Great. Perfect. First day and you’re already a human earthquake.
"I'll leave you both to it." Perry grumbles. "Try not to break anything."
Your fingers close around the fallen object- a nameplate, cool and weighty- and you rush to set it back where it belongs. No attention. No fuss. No one even has to know-
You flip it upright.
And the second you do, every noise in your head halts.
Your mouth is already at a part, forming some kind of polite greeting to whoever stands before you. But then, your eyes focus. They narrow in on the letters.
Two words. Just two.
Black, embossed, unmistakable; and the speed in which your heart drops is record-breaking.
CLARK KENT.
Your chest tightens. Something in your stomach twists.
"So..." the voice behind you mumbles then, and you can suddenly feel the warmth of Clark's body behind yours, the breath of his words brushing faint against your shoulder; familiar enough to detonate your entire nervous system. "...you're my new intern."
okay so i kinda hate this im afraid, but it was an idea i had and i just had to write something anything! so i hope you liked!!<3
superman? what a groundbreaking discovery - clark kent
⋆☀︎. summary: of course. of course, you develop a crush on superman. a crush on superman? you're really pushing boundaries...what are you gonna tell clark? (he is never going to let you live this down)
⋆☀︎. wc: 2,205 | m.list
⋆☀︎. tags: gn!reader, dramatic!reader, smug!clark, reader has a lot of word vomit, crack, fluff, established relationship, identity shenanigans, swearing, mentions of infidelity (doesn't happen), jokes about walking off a roof, reader implied to be on the aro spectrum (demi) so they're really confused, just a tiny, tiny dig on avatar (2009)
⋆☀︎. inspo taken from this post!!!!!
a/n: happy one year anniversary to the movie that literally changed my life!!!!!!! so much has happened because of this movie, i made so many friends and become apart of such an amazing community and i just wanted to celebrate that with a fic about me being mad that im attracted to david corenswet!!! its insane how ive been insane about him for my entire legal adult life (exactly a year), cannot wait to be this insane for the rest of my life!
The feeling of queasiness and overall sense of dread seemed to be course through you no matter how much you try to clamp it down.
Your lips now raw from the constant picking at the dry barrier formed around them as you continue to pace atop the Daily Planet, the city under you still alive as ever. The sun had only begun to set over Metropolis, the only signal that the busy news room had cleared out already and evidence that you've been up there way too long. It's been hours since you talked to Kal and right now?
Oh, you were pissed off.
Absolutely livid.
"Hey."
You can already envision the dopey smile spread across his face, his eyes twinkling in a way that always seems to send your knees wobbling every time he catches your eye.
Even though the sudden appearance of your lovely boyfriend was a comfort you needed right now, the idea of Clark only spread more guilt throughout your body. Your pace only seemed speed up at the sound of his voice, you can only imagine the look on his face right now as you try to control your breathing with shaky inhales.
All this was supposed to be an amicable relationship, a comfort to when you couldn't seem to stay asleep at ungodly hours of the night —unwilling to wake up Clark from his slumber for something so little— and companionship to the hero of Metropolis when the night was slow and lonely. That's all it was supposed to be. Especially, when the sweet, dorky, and absolutely perfect farm boy was already yours.
God, how did this happen.
How could you do this to Clark?
Something pulls your hand away from your mouth, just before you could rip another piece off. Your brain seems to clear as you feel a hand side onto your waist, stopping you from wearing down a path on the roof even more.
The haze of anger, confusion, and guilt that seemed to surround you almost completely disappears as you feel a warm, stable beat of the heart you've devoted so much time learning and memorizing the song of under the pads of your fingers. Your heart begins to match its rhythm as Clark wraps around you, shielding the rest of the world.
The low timbre of his voice fills the space as he hums a small tune, if only to center your brain on him and not whatever is on your mind.
"What's going on in that beautiful brain of yours?" Clark softly asks as a smile grows across his face with a tilt of his head, "I know it's not nothing."
Anger flares up again, fanning the flames at a particular man of steel as warm, gentle hands move to cradle your head. Blue eyes seem to soften the burn as they crinkle with concern.
"C'mon, you know you can tell me ."
Nevermind, guilt is also back on the table.
"It's genuinely nothing," you muffle as you tuck yourself deeper into his chest. Hands creating wrinkles as you take fistfuls of his crisp shirt, just to avoid those same eyes.
Your jaw starts to clench as more thoughts seems to zoom across your mind. Of fucking course, it's fucking Superman. His name is literally fucking Super. Man. How cliche of you. Is bread the best thing you've ever tasted? Oh, you're attracted to a man with big muscles, a kind smile, and the symbol of all that is good in the world? Call the press because you've got a groundbreaking story right here.
And the cherry on top of all of that, your boyfriend seems to be the only reporter in the city that has a rapport with him, someone that he trusts.
"You really think I believe that?"
"Can you just believe it for now?"
"Nope."
You pull away with a drawn out groan, his laugh lingering in the background as you restart your route around the area.
Ok, it's not like you have to see him everyday, well in person that is. This is what you were training for, you can just avoid Kal. All this will go away if you just stay in your bedroom and not venture out when you can't sleep, simple, succinct. You'll never need to address the familiar feelings that usually only sprout with Clark that are now starting to grow when you're with him as well. Nor will you need to address the confusing feeling that started to grow into another thing when he decided to absentmindedly and softly kiss you when he had to leave last night. Which obviously made you like this now, so now you never need to address it! Great! Then you can just live your wonderful life with your wonderful boyfriend who you love and adore and the two of you'll go off and-
"Honey, I can hear your thoughts from over here," Clark chuckled, now settled next to the bags you carelessly tossed to the floor in a haste to try and stop your racing heart, "I promise you it can't be that-"
You fold under absolutely no pressure.
"I have a stupid crush on Superman, ok?!"
You huff, pretty much throwing yourself to the ground next to Clark, "It's ruining my life."
The silence from the man next to you sends nausea rolling throughout your stomach as you breath through your hands, trying not to freak out.
A silence that lasted way too long for someone like Clark.
You peak through your hands, only to see Clark looking away with puffed cheeks, very obviously trying not to laugh. It's only till he turns back to look at you does a snort escape from him.
"Clark," you whine, "I'm being serious."
"I am too!"
You start to get back on your feet, "That's it, I'm walking off the roof."
"No, come back here," he very easily pulls you back down with a laugh, only for you tuck yourself into his arm, trying to hide your embarrassment.
You can practically hear the smug look on his face, "Now. Superman, you say."
"You're enjoying this way too much."
"Ok. So, let's talk this through, what about him do you like so much," Clark smiles down at you, "From personal experience, I know your head isn't turned so easily."
Your face could burn a hole into Clark's shirt with how hot you feel as Clark just keeps on pestering you about your life changing discovery.
"I'm not telling my boyfriend about a crush I have on another man," you grumble.
"Humor me."
You peak back up to Clark. No anger, disgust, or even jealousy is evident in his face, only the same face you fell in love with greets you, eyes still bright as it was before. Sure, an annoying smirk is splashed across his face —you have no idea why that's there—, but the same old Clark is staring back at you.
"You like his muscles, don't you?"
"I'm actually going to jump off this building," you pull away from him with fake annoyance, sitting up straight yet still pressed into his side.
Clark snickers besides you, "Oh, so that Superman can hold you in his big, muscular arms."
"No," you snort.
Metropolis starts to fade as you zero into Clark, only Clark. What does Superman have over the kind, bumbling dork you call yours. Powers? A Cape? Nothing can truly compare to what you have right now.
You soften, "Not when you're right here next to me."
A breeze starts to pick up as you lean up and press a small kiss into the corner of his smile. A secret kind of quietness fills the space as the two of you look over the city. Pressed into each others side, you're happy that you chose the man beside you.
"Speaking of Superman…"
You groan, "I thought we dropped it."
"I know, I know, it's just," Clark inhales, "I've been thinking about this for a while, now that you bring him up that is."
"What, you have a crush on the man of steel too? I mean, you might spend more time with him the most besides me, interviews and all."
"Honey, are you having an affair with Superman?"
Oh fuck, "NO, NO, I am NOT. Sometimes I just can't fall asleep and he gets lonely and we just end up talking. Oh my god, Clark, Ipromisenothingisgoingon-"
Clark interrupts, "I know, Honey. Don't worry, I would know if you were having an affair with Superman."
"I mean, yeah, he doesn't seem like someone who would do something like that, I mean I saw him save a squirrel before. You talk to him and there's no way that he would hit on a colleague's partner especia- NOT THAT I WOULD CHEAT ON YOU."
"I know you wouldn't," his voice stopping you from spiraling even further.
"Im just telling that I would know," Clark smiles and with a final exhale, "because I'm Superman."
Pulling off his glasses, the rug is pulled under you as you just blink at him. The haze seemed to be lifted as your brain starts to fill in the blanks and finally connects the final pieces needed for you to catch up.
You fell for Clark. Superman.
Twice.
What the fuck.
Silence seemed to build and you can feel the nervous energy rolling off of Clark. Suddenly springing up from your seat, you return to the route burned into the top of the Daily planet and Clark springs up right behind you almost immediately.
"If you need more evidence, I am more than willing to-"
"You have got to be kidding me."
Clark starts to shrink into himself, "I know you're mad I kept this from you, but you've got to understand, I have a lot of people who want to hurt me and I couldn't drag you int-"
"So you're telling…I fell in love with the poster boy for attractiveness? Not once but twice???"
Clark stops, "What."
"Oh my god, is vanilla my favorite flavor of ice cream? Is Avatar my favorite movie? I fell in love with the symbol for all that is good in the world, twice. Oh my god, call Perry because this is a news worthy story-"
"I don't know whether to be flattered or…"
"The definition of easy on the eyes. I'm over here falling in love with Mr. six-foot-four, chiseled-abs, biceps the size of my head-"
"Good to know that I was right about the muscles thing."
"Has everyone in the world drooling over him, twice. God, I can't believe I fell for the fucking trap, multiple times-"
You pause.
Slowly you turn, marching right up to Clark's stupid, dumb, unbelievably charming face.
"This is un-fucking-believable. You hear me, Smallville? You can't just go and kiss someone when they're sleep deprived and don't know that their boyfriend is Superman."
Flashes of realizations rush across his face that soon settle into understanding. A red flush covers his face as he pulls a hand to rub the back of his neck, "Oh, right that."
"You…"
A small shift in his step makes his nervousness more evident to you, "Are you still mad at me?"
A large sigh escapes you, your hands already reaching up to cup his face. With the sun fully set, only the lights of the buildings around you illuminate the roof. Almost automatically, Clark leans lower, chasing your hold as the two of you perfectly fit against each other, his hands already resting on your waist.
Your eyes flicker over his features, now fully revealed to you. Your hand starts trace through the small differences, the ones that set apart the two lives he was living. His nose a bit sharper, his eyes a little brighter. While your brain was catching up, trying to piece together the two pieces to fit, of course your heart recognized him, how could it not.
Superman may forever belong to the world, but Clark Kent, your Clark, belonged to you.
Your hands settle at the nape of his neck, "No, I'm not. Not really."
A soft hum comes out of his lips as he leans down to rest his forehead on yours. You can't help but laugh as he makes it a point to lock his eyes onto yours.
"You know, I didn't know you had a type."
You can't help but groan.
"Am I really that irresistible to you?" God, you're never going to hear the end of this, "what was it about having biceps the size of your head?"
"I don't want to talk to you right now."
Heat started to run across your body as he continued, "Poster boy for attractiveness, was it you said? Or, or was it the definition of easy on the eyes…"
His voice started to fade as he leaned closer, just to close the gap between the two of you. Right as the gap was about to close, your hand pushes against his chest, just enough to stop him in his tracks.
"Wait a second, I told Superman about your birthday present."
"What's that? Oh no! I can hear a cat stuck in a tree, I guess that's my cue!"
⋆✴︎˚｡ summary: you're stuck on trying to finish a clark kent fic, no not the clark kent across from you, and your clark is really annoying you rn. the least he could do is help you try and figure out where to go from what you got written down.
⋆✴︎˚｡ wc: 2,843 | m.list
⋆✴︎˚｡ tags: fanfic writer!reader, best friend!prime, redemption arc!prime, sort of suggestive, kissing, fourth wall breaks, reader is from reality (idk how to explain it), mentions of fanfic writers on tumblr, primehood implications (clark reads jason x reader), just kinda silly over all
a/n: im being serious here, this is kinda a crack fic ngl. i started reading primes new run and i came up with this stupid idea. its been sitting in my drafts for like a month, but im pretty happy with what ive got now. also pls be nice, this is only my second kissing scene ive ever written, im doing my best here. thank you for asia, starr, and luvie for allowing me to put them on blast in the middle of the fic and kinda just outta nowhere tbh. please do check out their jason fics, theyre actually my go to people to read jason!!!!!!
"This is never seeing the light of day."
You can already feel your hands twitch, just waiting for its cue to chuck your computer out of the window. The sound of a crisp page turn echoes periodically through your brain as Clark completely ignores whatever you have going on behind him.
Every so often, mumbles come out of your mouth at an attempt of a story that is almost immediately killed by the smashing of the backspace. The flow of words finally run dry after just over an hour of writing. You would think that the writing bug would at least stay for another hour, but of course not.
Another turn of the page and your head is now smushed in your duvet.
"Maybe if you try writing for Jason Todd, the words will come outta you." Clark's voice interrupts the headache you brought to yourself while not even peering up from the comic in his hands.
Your head snaps up from its place on the bed as Clark turns to the next page like a dad in the 1950s reading the paper. Face scrunching with annoyance towards him, the bed creaks under you as you shuffle around trying to find a big enough plush to wack him with.
"Was the 12k not enough for you?" your voice dropping in disbelief. You try to find the fourth wall, the invisible camera just to give them the look of how fed-up you are.
"I told you, it was not believable that Jason Todd of all people would eve-"
A soft thump of the plush against his face shuts him right up, thank god. You love Clark, but would it be so hard for him to shut up about characterization for a second. The amount of times that he's read the fics you wrote and complained about it and that he had forced requested you to write was astonishing.
"You know what, Clark? I'm pulling the plug, no more living the y/n life through me. I'm cutting you off," You punctuate your words with a few more clicks of your keyboard.
And then even more backspaces when you reread what you just wrote.
Of course with a flair of dramatics, Clark whips himself around to face you with a slam of his comic on your desk.
"What."
"If you know Jason Todd so well, you can be the one writing about him frenching you instead of me."
"You're kidding me, right?" Clark whines at you as his grip tightens around your shoulders, "How am I supposed to get my fill then? Hmm?"
You blink, "I can literally name so many amazing Jason writers from the top of my head, Clark. I am on first na—err internet first name basis with several of them, I've told you about them."
His hands fall from your shoulders as he starts lamenting to whoever is out there. Which you ignore as you start listing off blog recommendations and in turn, he completely ignores you as well.
"I can't believe after years of helping them build a career, a successful one might I add-"
"First of all, I don't even know how many times I've literally told you about @scissorhvnds —"
"A long-winding fanfic writing career that I had —on numerous occasions— bestowed my-"
"Actually, I think that she wrote a couple about you," you mind wanders further away from your point. And yes, you do read fanfic about the man who just body-slammed into the bed next to you, and what about it? Even if he is an ass about your writing, you're not ashamed. Hello, look at you right now.
"Very good, very exclusive, very successful ideas for them to write-"
"Which you probably would enjoy becau— anyways, back to the point."
"Wow, fun, never used the bold lettering for one of these before. Anyways-"
You start counting on your hands, "I've literally seen you scouring @luviery's Jason tag on multiple occasions, Mr. 'where-am-I-supposed-to-get-my fill'. Come on man-"
"Fat chance you're actually gonna cut me off."
"Wait a minute, aren't you literally mutuals with @starr-jazz???" Your body shoots up, just to peer down at him for emphasis, "I literally saw you messaging her the other day, I mean-"
"Wait, where is this even going?" Clark interrupts.
"Even if I really were to cut you of-"
"We're getting further from what this was originally supposed to be," his arms make a vague circular gesture to everything, "Of course, I have to be the one to get this back on track."
Effectively cutting off whatever was happening before, Clark snatches your computer right infront of you. You hear him mutter a small curse at the writer under his breath as his eyes start darting across the screen, reading your half-written draft.
"Hello- the fuck? Don't read that!"
"Too late," Clark's voice tutting at the t in the word and completely ignoring your order.
"What the hell Clark, I'm not fucking done with that, like all," you stammered while trying to get your computer back, "You know I don't like anyone read before it's done."
You lunge at him, aiming for the computer.
Only for you to flop right back onto the bed as his body zooms from under you and rises higher and higher.
Clark floats above you, slowly spinning around airspace as he continues to scroll. You can't help but huff as all you can do now is scoot back onto the pillows and watch the reactions on his face while he reads. Legs tucking under you, you pull the previously thrown plush into your lap, slowly inspecting it to distract yourself. Embarrassment and doubts starts to creep in the more Clark stays silent and reads your writing right infront of you.
Sure, many people have read your writing and for sure, Clark has definitely done so as well, but actually seeing someone read it infront of you feels uncomfortably vulnerable. Seeing their reactions to something you put your heart and soul into sends uncomfortable chills up and down your spine. It took you about a year into writing to even tell him about this particular hobby.
And he fucking knows that.
"So," you can hear smug grin starts to grow on his face," is this about me or…"
You deadpanned, "You're joking."
"I mean, it says Clark Kent," Clark says with an amused tone, "Didn't specify which Clark Kent."
You pretend to think for a moment and prop your head onto your fist. For some reason, Clark's eyes seems to shine at the notion.
"It is about my favorite Clark, now that I'm thinking about it."
Clark floats back down the the bed and hovers right infront of you, the computer gripped loosely in his hands. Your fingers twitch in your lap as he floats closer to you.
Clark exhales, leaning closer and closer into your personal space, "Really?"
"Yeah," you whisper to him, drawing him in anticipation.
You can see his mouth start to twitch, probably loading up a smug comment.
"I actually wanted to tal-"
"Yeah, the one who doesn't complain to me about my depiction of Red hood," you say while snatching your computer back from him.
Clark pulls back with a whine, "Corenswet, really? Again? God, you don't know how to have fun."
He starts to float back up to the ceiling in a pout. You aren't really sure why he's so disappointed.
Before he's too far from your reach, you're able to gently wrap your hand around his ankle, anchoring him back to the bed.
"You know I'm joking," you gently tease. With a small tug, you're able to guide down back onto the bed with minimal resistance. A large crease between his brows is still present as he lands right next to you.
While your focus is now locked onto the words on the computer screen, you hand off the small bear in your lap to Clark's. There's an uneasy feeling stuck in your chest, left over from before, as you rake through the story again. The words no longer feel right after seeing his reactions leading to more retypes and frustration.
For a while, the only thing you can hear is the clicks of the keys as you start editing and revising with Clark's shoulder pressed into yours as he watched the cursor move back and forth. After a good ten minutes on revising the parts you already have, you start to feel better on your work and the words start to flow again.
Clark, on the other hand, was having a bit of a dilemma. Well, he knows that you loved writing for the other Clark Kent. Like, he was pretty sure you wouldn't be writing for Jason if it weren't for him. He has read everything that you had written and while he did have qualms with some of your writing, Clark genuinely thinks that you're an amazing writer.
The problem to him though was the fact that when he read your Clark fics, it was like you were writing about him. Something he prides himself on his that he knows these characters like the back of his hand and when reading your fics, its obvious that the Clark written by you isn't the same ones he's dedicated his life to studying or the ones you spent hours upon hours watching.
Maybe it's the fact that the two of you hangout too much, who knows.
Clark interjects, but not before giving you a quick glance just in case, "Hopefully, I know the exact reason, but we haven't got to that part yet."
If he were to be totally honest, something inside him is pissed off that it isn't him you're writing about.
"You've got that right."
Your head peaks up, "You talking to them again?"
"That's none of your business."
You only shrug before trying to turn your attention back to the screen.
Suddenly, your brain starts to stall.
You start watching his hands run smooth over and over again over the blanket underneath the both of you.
"Clark, can I ask you a, uh, favor?"
His focus is still somewhere else but a small hum comes back as a reply.
Your eyes flicker to the blinking cursor, waiting for your brain to come up with the next scene. Ok, you admit, intimate scenes like cuddling or kissing or affection adjacent was never your strong suit. Writing them felt clunky and whenever you read them back, you always felt like your inexperience shown through the screen like a spotlight.
"Are you gonna ask me or no," Clark waves a hand infront of your face shooting you back into your surroundings. Your heart jumps as he settles back to his place next to you, one of his hands setting on your knee.
"Well, you read it," you start, "I need help trying to explain a couple of things."
"Like…"
"Mostly the positioning of how they would be in bed because I don't know if people would actually be able to move in that way," the words come rushing out before you chickened out.
Your head turns to face him, his head tilting, his full attention on you as Clark starts to nod slowly, knowing you're gonna ask him another thing.
The silence stifles you, pressuring you to just let out what you want to ask of him.
"Okay," panic starts to flare up inside of you, "I also need help trying to explain how it is to try and just almost-"
His deep laugh cuts you off, a lopsided smirk that always seems to send warmth rushing thru you appears alongside it.
"If you wanted me to kiss you, you really should've asked a long time ago."
"What?" your body freezes yet overheats at the implications, "A long… time ago…"
Clark slowly shuts the computer, placing it to the side. As you still try to wrap around the thought, his frame starts to slowly envelop around you.
"Wait, wait, wait," the warmth from him starts to reach out, finding you as he inches closer "So, you're telling me-"
A similar hum escapes him as he takes your face in his hands. Clark dips his head lower making sure to catch your eyes with his, making his intentions crystal clear. The distance starts decrease as your breath starts to quicken.
Your body seems to move opposite of your mouth, inching closer and closer like you have been waiting for this exact moment. Unfortunately, you can't help but tease him just as your lips are about to meet his.
"All this time I could've been getting your help writing these scenes if I just like, what. Asked???"
A long groan of frustration rips from his chest. Almost inaudible curses spew from his mouth as you can't help but giggle at him. Your foreheads collide softly as you continue, his head still tilted low in disbelief.
"God, Clark, you know how hard it is for me to write these scenes, I mean-"
The feeling of his mouth against yours shuts you up quick.
Your hands find it's way up his hair, raking through the dark strands as a smile erupts across your face, still pressed against his. Your eyes droop as you pull away from him, if only for a moment so your brain can catch up to your body. Clark chases your lips as soon, capturing you back into his, not even a second after you pull away.
His arms snake around you as you feel weightless pressed against him. A hand presses you closer as it finds a place right at the nape of your neck with the other securely around your waist.
Your hands pull at his hair, almost forcing a delicious groan to be pull out of him. His hold tightens around you, pulling you deeper into him until all you could sense, feel was him.
A whole new world is revealed to you as Clark starts to nudge his mouth open, giving more of himself to you. Waves of warmth seem to rush over you as you drown in everything that is Clark. Small whimpers of pleasure slip from him, only spurring you on to never let go.
Not that you even want to.
God, this was so much better than just reading about it.
All that seems to be running through Clark's brain is just you. God, the feeling of you simply pressed into him was enough to kill him. Sounds that he only could imagine till now started to fall out of you that will forever be ingrained in his brain, replaying over and over again. The feeling of your mouth against his, shyly and slowly licking up into him as if you were trying to memorize everything about this very moment sends chills up and down him.
It's almost clinical the way you push and pull at him. Not that Clark minds, he is more than content to hold you and keep you on him for the… rest of…
Clark reluctantly pulls away, "Is there anything else you need help with?"
Now, you are the one to chase his lips, your brain mush and dizzy at the feeling.
"Hmm.." you move forward, trying to catch his lips again, " W'are we talking about?"
A whine escapes your throat as Clark dodges the slow attempt and your hands slowly fall from his now messed up hair to his chest.
"Aw, do you not remember?" Clark teases as he places slow kisses over you, of course making a point not to give one to the place you really want one , "Of course, you don't remember, do you."
"Clark, please," you whine up to him, eyes almost glassy at the loss of him.
"What? I'm just trying to be thorough about all of this," Clark can't help but play with you, "You did ask for my help, just wanna be helpful."
"God, screw that, I do not care anymore. Can't believe we could've done this so much sooner," you murmur into his skin, attempting to bring his focus back onto you.
It feels like torture the way he starts to give attention to the rest of you. Kisses start to trail lower, almost immediately finding every weak point. Pleasure starts course through you as the feeling starts to radiate around you.
A feeling of pride starts to fill him just looking at the state of you from just kissing you and Clark can't help the small laughs that escape him as he watches you try to capture is lips again.
"If you get so whiny over this, imagine how you would act if-"
A small tug at his hair distracts him long enough for you to take his mouth back onto yours.
You can't help the small sigh that escapes you can as you feel his body start to mold back into you, melting into your touch. You really should've asked him for help a long time ago.
"I mean if you need any more help with positioning, I am more than happy to help."
general taglist: @wichu127 @kryptidfiles @scissorhvnds @starr-jazz
if you enjoyed, remember reblogs and comments are an authors best friend!!!!!
add three photos of ur female & male celebrity crushes!!!!
tagged by @underoospeterparker, this was really fun and totally didnt take a couple of hours because of how much i was giggling over the photos.........the way you can see my type
paget brewster ✿ rachel zegler ✿ rachel brosnahan
caleb mclaughin ✿ david corenswet ✿ andrew garfield
no pressure tags: @wichu127 @scissorhvnds @starr-jazz @novatheory @luvieriesse @deerfawnn @kryptidfiles + anyone who wants to join!!!!!
