Hello everyone! My name is Yinny Roma! 30 | she/they
I’m new to posting my works but have been a long-time lurker!! For real life work, I teach middle school voice lessons and work two other part time jobs, so I stay busy! As hobbies, I also love to paint, craft, sing, and write 😋
No AI is ever used in my fics - I'm just ancient, as my students say.
This could change, but as of right now, these are the only people/characters that I write (x reader) for:
Bad Bunny's Masterlist
Clark Kent/Superman's Masterlist
Join my Taglist here
Requests are currently Open!
I DO NOT write non-consensual, under-aged, sexual assault, or otherwise. It is something I will absolutely not touch. If there's anything that you send that I do not like, or I find would be offensive, I will politely let you know I will not write it.
Your daughter was celebrating her 7-month millstones today, which made it the perfect time to get her ears pierced. At least according to you, because Benito was probably way more terrified than she was. Ever since this morning, he couldn't stop trying to talk you out of it.
"Baby, are you sure she needs this?" Benito muttered for the hundredth time, his eyes darting anxiously between the road and the rearview mirror where your daughter was sound asleep in her car seat. "She doesn’t even need this... Her ears are perfectly fine as they are. Son pequeños! ¿Y si la pinchan demasiado fuerte, mami?"
Before you could answer, your phone started ringing over the car's Bluetooth system. The dashboard screen displayed his mom’s contact. You hit accept and her cheerful voice immediately filled the car.
"Mija, ¿todo está bien?"
"Siii, thank you for caring mama," you answered with a soft laugh, glancing at Benito who was gripping the steering wheel like it was a lifeline. "It's just Benito freaking out, way more than[baby's name]."
On the other end of the line his mom chuckled softly and let out a dramatic gasp. "Ay Dios mío, pero qué dramático es! Benito, por favor!"
"But what if she gets hurt?" Benito protested, turning slightly toward the phone speaker with a helpless pout. "She's so small! Creo que voy a llorar con ella!"
"Stop saying nonsense, Benito! Ahhh, ¡Ella ni siquiera lo sentirá!" his mother scolded him lovingly with a tone full of excitement. "They do this all the time, es una chica dura! Y se verá tan hermosa! Ohhh I can’t wait to see my niña... When are you guys coming home?"
"Right after this mama," you promised her. "We'll send you pictures as soon as it's done."
"Good! No dejes que Benito se escape con ella," she joked before wishing you luck and hanging up.
A few minutes later you were all standing inside the brightly lit sterile room at the piercing studio. The professional was super calm and gentle, sterilizing the tiny gold studs Benito and you had chosen in advance and preparing the equipment but Benito was watching every single move with intense eyes.
"Can I sit on the chair with her?" Benito asked suddenly, looking at the piercer with hopeful eyes.
"Oh my-, baby stop," you whispered, shaking your head with a fond smile.
"Oh of course! Dads are usually the most scared ones anyway, so I see no problem at all!" the piercer smiled warmly.
Benito immediately took a seat on the big reclining chair, pulling your 7-month-old daughter onto his lap and holding her securely against his chest while keeping her little arms still. You stood right beside them and rubbed her tiny back to keep her calm.
The quiet sound of the tool echoed in the room. For a split second your daughter just blinked in surprise, but then her face scrunched up and she let out a sudden sharp little cry. Benito's heart completely shattered right then and there.
"Ay mi vida!" He gently cupped her tiny face with his large hand, pressing a soft lingering kiss against her warm forehead while stroking her cheek with his thumb. His voice was trembling as he comforted her with the gentlest words in the world.
"Ya pasó, mamita, ya pasó... lo siento mi amor..."
"Just one more dad, almost done," the piercer said, gently moving quickly to the other side.
Another soft click and another tiny squeak from your daughter, but Benito was already whispering sweet nonsense in Spanish and showering her face with soft kisses until her cries turned into tiny heavy snuffles against his thumb.
While sniffling her little hand reached up and instinctively wrapped her tiny fingers around Benito's Benito's white headband that rested amid his dark curls, clinging to it like a security blanket as she calmed down in his arms.
When the piercer handed you a small handheld mirror to show off the result, two golden studs were sitting perfectly on her tiny lobes. She looked absolutely adorable, blinking up at the ceiling like nothing had ever happened.
"Look at her, amor ..." he whispered, his eyes shining as he gently wiped away one single teardrop from her cheek. "She's so brave. ¡Dios mío! She looks like a little princess."
He insisted on carrying her back out to the car himself, holding her against his chest like fragile glass the entire way, je was already pulling out his phone to take a hundred photos to send to his mom.
Pairing: Clark Kent x fem! reader
About: Clark Kent has pined over you since the moment you walked into the Daily Planet. There's a glaring problem once everything finally goes right—you're dating someone else.
Warnings: misunderstanding, a few cuss words, possibly ooc or inconsistent writing because this was written over the span of a year
Word Count: 10.4k
A/N: super special thank you to @yinny-roma for beta reading this fic and being so kind when i was struggling through the last little bit. I am soo excited about sharing this one with you guys and I hope you enjoy it!! reblogs, comments, and asks are always welcome!
Clark Kent loves being your friend.
He likes the smile you shoot him each time you come into the office, the way you look for him and find his eyes already pliant and waiting, nice lips upturned since the moment he heard you greet Manny the doorman twelve floors down.
Clark Kent loves being your friend but wants so badly to be your more. To be Yours with a capital Y and a squeeze of your hand.
Lois had seen it the moment you'd walked in the very first time. You’d breezed through the elevator and past Clark's desk in a burgundy dress with alabaster buttons, cardboard box in your arms, and dropped a pen next to his chair.
When he'd caught your gaze, your fancy gold pen in his fingers and his lips already curved, his eyes had shone like he was looking at the sun.
You'd said hello and he'd stumbled through something similar, and at some point, nervous surface small talk had morphed into you sitting at his desk to bother him because he thoroughly enjoyed it and you liked seeing him smile.
Yes, Lois had known for months, and, more pertinently, had been inexplicably (well. Not so inexplicably to most people) frustrated for the same amount of time.
"Clark Kent," you start ominously, brows set and fists on your hips. "What the hell is this?"
Clark glances up at the sound of your voice, features softening despite your stern tone. He says your name back and it sounds so lovely in his voice, you think briefly that he must do something special to it. He takes the paper you show him and hums.
"It seems to be one of my old articles."
You mock him in a squeaky voice and cross your arms. "That is your very first article, Clark. Can you share with the class what those little numbers are there at the bottom?" You point at them with your index and use that same hand to gesture flippantly the at coworkers around you. Only Jimmy is paying half attention.
"Page numbers," he announces.
"It's today!" you exclaim, turning to Jimmy with wide eyes. He shares your look, obviously less distressed but enthusiastic about it. You turn back to Clark with brows raised cartoonishly high. "Three years ago exactly. Can you explain this, please?"
"Yes," he says sorrowfully, sounding genuinely sorry. "You see, Earth takes these trips around the sun—"
You reach over his desk to tug at his ear. He yelps, too pink for you to think it hurt or even startled him. He laughs, half avoiding your gaze and half drawn to it.
"Clark," you say, softer. Your voice rises and falls fondly. "It's your debutaversary! This is a cause for celebration. Why didn't you tell me?"
"I never got my anniversary celebrated," Jimmy says.
"It's not a big deal," Clark shrugs.
"You got me a cake for my first article, Clark! I wasn't here for yours, but I am here exactly three years later, and I will take full advantage of this."
"What does that mean?"
You grin. "It means," you reach behind you to pull out two tickets and set them under his pen, "that we are going to the planetarium tomorrow. And maybe we'll even get pie from that place you like."
"I never got pie," Jimmy says. Lois looks up to send him a look.
"That's so sweet," Cat pipes in, hopping up to sit on Lois' desk, chin cocked. "You guys are finally going on that date."
You and Clark immediately warm, but where Clark stutters and quails because he's pathetic, you laugh, only a tinge awkward because you're slightly less. "Not a date, but a commemoration," you say diplomatically. "But you're right, it is very overdue."
"How is it overdue? It's day of?" Clark asks, leaning back in his chair.
"Because it's the first time I've done it in the three years you've been here."
"Because you have been here less than one of those years. Sad, by the way. We're all very upset about it."
"That's true," Lois chimes, nodding very earnestly with a piece of red licorice between her teeth. "Though I think some of us are especially upset." She glances at Clark, who clears his throat jerkily.
"He best be," you say plainly, looking over your nails.
Clark laughs, unease gone. He both appreciates and finds it wildly perplexing how you manage to take your coworkers' comments on the chin. He half wishes you'd feel as nervous as he does.
"Not gonna deny it," he says. No lilting tone or funny edge, raw honey truth that slows the mechanisms of your mind, makes your thoughts stutter.
Lois squints at him and Jimmy pauses.
"I'm going to take this as a yes." You tap the tickets, face still warm and fighting for normalcy as you push one over the paper he's working on, a hopeful smile on your face that you try to curve into sure. "Please?"
"Oh god," Lois groans.
You roll your eyes good-naturedly. Clark had silently—and unprompted, you feel you should add—committed to saying yes to anything and everything you'd asked since you stepped foot into the building. Your please was just for show. Just to pull that pink hue you enjoyed so much up to his nose, the soft, pliant blue shift of his eyes. You knew that, but did Lois have to?
"Okay," Clark says, dimples deep and pretty as he plucks the ticket up and looks at it. "F'course."
"Of course," Lois mutters. She glances up at Jimmy and says, quietly, "Of course!" Cat sighs dreamily.
"Will you guys go back to work?" you say. "I already have your presents picked out, but they could always mysteriously disappear. It's an odd world we live in."
They fall into begrudging silence, and you turn back to Clark, lips parting to say more when you stop yourself, hopping off his desk to pull him up and into the break room.
"That room is not safe to speak in. Nosy little ears everywhere," you tell him, stepping through the door he opens without a single stuttered step. He laughs, following after you toward the cupboards.
"I got Jimmy a new camera. Well. New to him, it's one of those old ones. I found out Manny's a huge camera buff and he likes going to that big market on Sundays, so I convinced him to take me last month and we struck gold last week." You shake your head in satisfaction. "Man, I almost wish I was right when I told you Jimmy hated me, because this would've won him over."
"Yeah, it's too bad everyone loves you the second they meet you."
"You're such a suck up. You're just riding the free museum trip high." You move toward the little box near the coffeemaker, going to make your tea when you realize he's still holding your hand.
His fingers are warm, nails clean and cut short; very, very kind as they graze the seams of your fingers. Your hands aren't small, but his sure make them look it.
He notices your attention and moves his hand away to to rub the back of his neck. You blink, your fingers going cold.
"Um." You force out a laugh, tingling arm dropping to your side. You make a fist and then stretch your fingers as far as they'll go. "Uh, I was thinking I'd pick you up at five." Another fist, another stretch. "Is that okay?"
Clark nods quickly. "Yup. Sounds great." He pauses. "Wait, no, I'll pick you up."
You shake your head like the notion is ridiculous, putting your mug under the coffee machine and pressing the button for hot water. "I invited you out."
"Exactly."
You stop as you reach for a bag of tea, rolling off your tiptoes to look at him. "What? What are you—what are you doing?"
He reaches past you to grab your tea, grabbing a little chick-shaped jar full of sugar and setting it next to your mug. "Getting your tea."
"No. No, you're doing that thing again. Manipulation with your small town charm."
"I'm not manipulating you!" He sounds horrified.
"You do this thing," you start, watching the coffee machine sputter out swirls of smoke and empty bubbles of hot water. "I don't know, it's like something between a lie and being confused. And then, suddenly you've paid for my meal when I was the one that invited you out."
"Because you invited me out."
"Like I did you a kindness," you scoff. His brows furrow. "Either way, you pay when you invite me out. It’s a catch twenty-two."
He purses his lips.
"I want to do nice things for you too. Let me do nice things for you, Clark. It's my constitutional right."
"You do plenty of nice things for me." He takes your mug and gets to making your tea, measuring out three domed spoonfuls of sugar. You're furious.
"Look at yourself!"
He does, pausing only briefly to stare down at his hands. "Well, this can burn you. It won't burn me."
"You're too nice to me, Clark." And evidently too trusting, but you are prudent enough not to point this out in the same room as Loose-lips Lewis, who's somehow walked in and slumped into a chair two feet away. Ixnay on the Superman…ay. You've (kind of) said this too many times to count.
"There's no such thing." He says things like this so simply, like it's a fact but you're not silly for not knowing it. You think it must hurt to be as good as he is.
You sigh big and defeated, none of the sting plucking at your chest. Sometimes, when Clark looks at you like you hung the stars and laughs at your stupid jokes and does vexing things like this; making your tea, smoothing down your collar, you feel your heart thrum in your chest, fight to escape your ribcage and fall into his palms like it knows he'll keep it safer than you ever could—and you think, really, truly consider forcing your fingers into the spaces between your ribs to let it.
Like he can read your mind and thinks you just need a little push, he spoons honey into your mug to top it all off and looks up at you, teeth digging into his bottom lip. His eyes are hesitant but earnest, sincere as they always are. "Please?" Using your own words against you. As if he needs to.
He hands you your mug and smiles, dimples like someone's reached up to press their thumbs into his cheeks. You try to ignore the image, your fingers twitching. You're frowning when you take it, and his smile goes wider. You're only glad Lois can't see you relent, though you're quite sure she doesn't have to bear witness to know very well that you are at Clark's mercy just as much as he is at yours.
"Pick me up at five. Okay?" You're irate when you taste your tea. It's perfect. You tell him a solemn thank you and leave the kitchen.
"I'll be there at four-fifty." He says, and then pauses. "But I won't knock until five!"
-
Jimmy hops off his chair the moment you come back into the bullpen, scurrying off to the kitchen where Clark is beginning to step out, pushing him back in with an expectant look on his face.
Similarly but much less kindly, Lois is watching you like a hawk, following you over to your desk.
"What was that?" she asks.
"What was what?"
"Don't," she says, steel eyes a warning. "You're better than that. Kent isn't, but you definitely are."
You blink up at her. "I'm afraid I have no idea—"
Her face changes, sharp features softening and eyes going doe. She flutters her lashes at you and smiles keenly. "Please?"
You warm immediately.
She drops the face, her voice going normal and suspicious again. "And the date-not-date?"
"It's not a date. No asides."
"Yes," she groans your name, "Because it is a date and you both want it to be, and you both know it should be—”
“Oh, we do? If it were a date we both wanted, we’d have been on one by now.”
She squints at you. “Yeah. Yeah, you’d think, wouldn’t you? But no, Clark is just soooo nice, it doesn’t mean anything, right?”
You stare at her, unamused at her impression of you.
“He’s a nice guy, he is. But he pampers you. And he has been! I mean, you thought Olsen despised you because you’d been spoiled by Clark since the moment you came in.” She rubs her temple and moans your name. “It’s a date. But you won't call it that because you are both so—"
"Remember to be kind," you say. She sends you a tired glare.
"I don't even know what word to use. Hardheaded, oblivious—you've left me speechless. I have no speech."
"And yet," you mumble.
Jimmy corners Clark inside the break room, sending an awkward smile to Lewis before pushing at Clark excitedly. "Dude! Are you guys finally going out?"
Clark winces. "No. It's not like that, we're just going as friends. But it'll be great! She got me tickets and we're gonna get pie."
"Okay.” Jimmy sucks his teeth. ”Well, I'm not going to lie, man, that kind of sounds like a date. That kind of sounds like your ideal date."
Clark rubs at his eyes, voice high. "Please don't say that. I really don't need that right now."
"Okay, Clark, I need you to take a pause and think about what that woman just told you. Look at the tickets in your hands. Look at them, seriously."
Clark raises them to his eyeline. Your name is printed in pixelated block letters, but you've handwritten his name right above. FOR CLARK! :) There are little stars and planets in white gel pen. He recalls the image of you this morning, with a small, quixotic curl to your lips as you said Good morning, Clark, breezing past him to the copy room and then to your desk, where you'd plucked a pen from your mess of papers and scribbled madly.
He's reminded of a late night where he'd told you how much he liked physical tokens of memories, the box under his childhood bed where he'd tucked every carnival ticket and movie stub he'd ever used back in Smallville.
"Did you look at them?"
"Yes."
"Okay. Can you tell me with any honesty at all that you think there is a possibility she would say no if you asked her out?"
"Yes."
Jimmy winces as if Clark's one-word answer left a physical impact. Lewis frowns at his salad. "Clark."
"I don't want to be pretentious and assume."
"You—you aren't. Just be honest. Honesty is key. You say that all the time."
Clark tries to recall a single one of those times as Jimmy grasps his shoulders tightly, forcing him to pay attention.
"Look, man, tomorrow’s the night. For real this time. It's perfect, it's what you've been saying you wanted and she just handed it to you on a silver platter. You can go to the planetarium, buy her a souvenir, get some churros at Centennial and eat them under a tree or something. It’s Saturday, so that guy with the cart will be there for sure. Then, you tell her she has some sugar on her cheek and once you've brushed it away, you move in."
"I move in," Clark echoes. "I ask her out."
"Yes! You ask if she wants to go to that super fancy restaurant that's impossible to get into—"
"Velvet Vine," they say simultaneously.
"And when she asks how you'll ever get a reservation, you tell her you'll take care of it because you've got a guy that knows a guy."
"You," Clark says.
"And my guy is good. She'll get you a good table. I told her about you two and she's been set for months. You have her number, right? Stevie M."
Clark waves his phone. "Yes, on speed dial right below my parents."
"Of course. Tell me what you’ll say.”
"Do you want to have dinner with me at Velvet Vine and maybe take a walk downtown after?" Clark practices. Jimmy gives him an enthusiastic thumbs up.
"And she says yes."
Clark nods, trying to convince himself. "And she says yes. Okay. Okay, yeah. Under the stars." He scratches the back of his neck. "Maybe I can get some roses from that vendor near the playground. Or I could get some sunflowers from the florist on the corner… somehow."
"Yeah, yeah! That sounds perfect, Clark. You just have to go for it. Tomorrow. I believe in you, man."
Thoroughly revved up, Clark grins, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Jimmy joins him excitedly. "You're gonna get the girl, dude!"
"She's gonna say yes, Clark," Lewis cheers from his table.
Clark and Jimmy give him tight smiles and send him a thumbs up before moving to leave. Cat's at the door when they pull it open, eyeing them suspiciously with a practiced smile, but she lets them through without questions.
"Expecting good news on Monday," Jimmy says quietly as they head back to their desks, fist bumping discreetly as they part.
Clark sinks into his chair with a shaky sigh, granting himself a glance at you across the bullpen.
You're leaning on Lois' desk, nose scrunched and brows furrowed in response to something she's said, foot smacking her ankle. You take advantage of her concentration when she starts on another tangent to meet his eyes, lips quirking up when you notice his attention. You turn toward Lois discreetly, angling your brows and pinching the edges of your eyes, as if you're saying 'Can you believe her?"
Clark shakes his head solemnly. 'No. Unbelievable.'
You grin at him, the moment short and just for him before you turn back to Lois, tamping down your smile.
The warmth he feels in his chest is something Clark thinks would be evidence of Jimmy's certainty. It's not the first time he's thought he could do it, but it is the first time he grabs onto it and holds on to it tight.
Jimmy's expecting good news. Clark's starting to think he'll be able to give him that.
-
Clark arrives at your door fifteen minutes early with big, soft-petaled lilies in his hands and regrets every move he’s made up until then. He stands in front of your doormat, gaze tracing over an image of Snoopy saying hello, and tries to force the little voice from his mind. It’s a little much, Clark, save it for the actual date. This is technically just a thing between friends. You know, what you are.
Snoopy stares back unhelpfully, and Clark glances feebly at the lilies. They’re your favorite. He brings you flowers every time he comes over, but lilies are for special occasions, they always have been. Birthdays and congratulations and I haven’t seen you in a whiles. But this is special, right? He’s never felt they were needed more, but you aren’t exactly aware.
He ponders over this for a few minutes, finding a crease on his collar and a button in the wrong hole, and he’s nearly panting, flowers in the crease of his elbow, neck angled awkwardly to avoid crumpling the petals as he wonders what the hell is wrong with him.
You open your door ten minutes before six and find him downright sorrowful, dark brows pinched and bright eyes stressed at their edges as they look down at a beautiful bouquet, his other hand smoothing down his button-down.
You frown. “What’s wrong?”
“I have a stain on my shirt,” he says, an odd tilt to his voice.
You wrap a gentle hand around his wrist and pull him into the warmth of your apartment, all nice, complementing colors and soft things. You push him into his usual stool and take the flowers with one hand, dipping your nose within the petals and humming happily.
“These are beautiful, Clark,” you say, a gentle finger thumbing at a petal before you carefully put them into a vase. “Where’s this stain? I really doubt the stars will notice, but I can assure you we can fix this.”
“I… it’s…” Clark looks down at himself and finds his shirt pristine. You look over him and shift on your feet, looking at him in concern. He groans, rubbing at his temple. “Did I forget to tell you? I’m seeing things now.”
You offer him the reprieve of a laugh, fingers dancing up his arm in comfort. “What’s wrong? You looked freaked when I opened the door. Are you okay?”
He nods. “Sorry. I’m excited. This was really nice of you and I wanted to look nice.”
You pout. “Clark, you always look nice. Really, sometimes I sit at my desk and think about exactly that.”
He laughs, scratching at his warm jaw like it’ll chase the heat away. “Thank you.”
“And you look so great today! C’mon, stand up.” You step back and make a twirling motion with your finger. He follows your directions because of course he does, his blush crawling faster up his neck when you ooh and ahh. This excuse was a mistake. “Incredible. The stars themselves will be jealous, Kent. You’ll see.”
Clark groans into his hand, fondly embarrassed. Satisfied with your work, you pat at his shoulder and move deeper into the kitchen.
“I got you something,” you say.
“Something else? You didn’t have to do that—” Clark says.
“Oh, stop it. When has that ever deterred me? Or you, for that matter?”
Clark shakes his head and looks at you, looking thoroughly pleased and hiding something behind your back.
“What’cha got there?” Clark asks, catching a peek of yellow.
“Sunflowers,” you say, pulling them out from behind you to present them to him. “I was thinking about how Superman gets flowers all the time, but I didn’t know if Clark Kent did. And Clark Kent deserves flowers.”
Clark stares at the bouquet, flowers within kraft paper with scalloped edges. The sunflowers are big and bright, smiling up at him between little pops of pinks and blues and perfect green leaves. His heart drops into his stomach. He wishes he’d gotten two bouquets. Maybe even three.
You take his silence as something else, smile faltering as you pull the flowers in a little closer. “It’s a little silly. You don’t have to take them, I just—”
“I’ve never gotten flowers before,” he says, grinning down at you. He takes them from you gingerly, bringing them to his face. The petals brush lightly at his chin and tickle his nose and he’s never felt warmer in his life. “Thank you.”
You, to his credit, look flustered. You stammer through a smile, tight but wanting desperately to be bigger. “It’s no biggie. You can, you can leave them here and take them home at the end of the night? If you want to. I’m—just in case you don’t want to carry them around.”
“I’d love to carry them around everywhere, but I think you’re right.” He steps to a familiar cabinet and crouches down to pull out another vase, angling the flowers away from his chest so they don’t get crushed. “Here,” he says, filling it up with water. “I’ll put them right next to yours.” He does as he says, adjusting so the tips of his yellow petals graze the lilies’. You feel your heart in your throat and briefly, truly, believe he wants you dead right now.
“Yeah,” you croak, because you’re really not sure you could get anything else out right now. You clear your throat and nod madly. “Yep. Right. I’m gonna get my purse.”
You disappear into your room and take three deep breaths. Clark does the same outside.
-
Clark is a very sneaky half-boy, half-nerve in the planetarium, always enjoying his time with you and your little jests and vexing flattery. He can’t stop looking at you as you glide along starry floors, asking him questions you probably already know the answers to because he tells you every new fact he knows. His mouth is not a fortress, not to you.
“Now this can’t be true,” you say a few feet away, the exhibit you’re looking at like a halo. “Apparently all the planets in our solar system can fit in between the earth and the moon.”
Clark steps up next to you. “Technically, yes, depending on the moon’s orbit.”
You pitch up one of your brows, smile smug. “My own little Clark Kent is smarter than the museum.” You bring your palm up to your chin, fingers brushing the soft of your cheek as you lean against the wall. You flutter your lashes. “Tell me more.”
He laughs. “The moon's orbit is elliptical, so we’re further away at the apogee and closer at the the perigee. They’re probably talking about the apogee. And they’re using the averages, of course.”
You pause, voice hushed when you speak again. “So, technically, you could go up there and confirm or deny? Without that pesky margin of error?”
The edges of Clark’s eyes crease in thought. “I’d need a really big ruler.”
You nod seriously. “I’ll get to work on it.” He squeezes the slope of your shoulder in thanks.
It’s a few seconds before Clark speaks up again. “Look at that, humans are made of stardust.”
You read through the exhibit, chin cocked. “I’m just a bag,” you murmur.
“A bag of stardust? Actually, I’d say the bag itself would also be stardust in this scenario.”
“It’s not a scenario, Clark,” you tell him, guiding him into a hallway. “It’s reality. But I guess if I have to be a bag, I’d like to carry stardust.”
“I don’t like this metaphor, why can’t you be…” he blinks, following you into another room. “Stardust.”
“Original,” you snort, pausing when you see what he’s looking at.
You’re met with him when you turn, his real nose and chin in flat cardboard. A life-sized cutout of Superman stands up next to a new exhibit, hands at his hips in typical superhero fashion. His smile, as you’ve always thought, is identical to Clark's, dimple just as sweet and the curve of his lips just as genuine. There’s another cutout across from you, only this Superman has his arm outstretched like he’s flying.
KRYPTON is splayed in inquisitive letters across the new exhibit banner.
“Oh,” you say.
There isn’t a lot of information. The gist is, basically, Superman is from here. Here’s what Superman can do. There’s a little section on kryptonite, on the history Clark has explained countless times, but it’s just about what you know from his mouth, barring the obvious personal details.
Clark looks over it, his expression unreadable. “They… they asked last year, but—I didn’t think they…”
He brings a hand up to an illustration of modern-looking skyscrapers and a blueprint of the pod he was sent in. “Did you give them this?” you ask, looking through sketches.
He swallows, shifting a little closer. “They asked me if I could get in touch with Superman, if he’d be willing to share anything… I told them yes. It wasn’t much, I didn’t think they’d have enough for anything.”
You look over some schematics, the vague details, a picture of Superman’s first sighting, and think of the baby pictures you’ve seen of him. “You were just a baby,” you say quietly. “The extent of what you know was what you brought with you.”
Clark nods, the movement half pained. “It’s…” he sighs. “Krypton has a… complicated history. Kara doesn’t talk about it much anymore, but when we were younger, she’d tell me stories. We, they were peaceful. Not perfect at all, but—” He purses his lips, turning to you. “She’d tell me about the sunsets. Krypton’s star had only been red for her, but it hadn’t always been. Elders would say beautiful sunsets were the only kindness the death of a planet brought.”
He huffs softly, looking down.
“The death was slow at first, but they sped it up. They—most didn’t even realize until it was too late.” His jaw clenches, glancing at the brief summary of his parents. It’s short and honest, refusing to expand or theorize. He’s thankful for that. “She said that last sunset was the most magical one she’d ever seen.”
“I’m sorry, Clark,” you say, eyes so earnest it sends a pang through his chest. You wrap your fingers around his and squeeze twice, like you’re trying to force your remorse through touch. He smiles at you in a silent thank you.
“Krypto was just as big of a mess back there,” he says lightly. “The red sun really just made him safer against his will.”
You laugh, your olive branch to his trying to bring up the mood again. “So, he didn’t arrive here and discover he could be a menace, he’s just always been, huh?”
“Kara’s said once or twice that it’s a skill."
“I can see that. I don’t think I could be that destructive even if I really, really tried. Like set my mind on it.”
“I think you could,” Clark says dutifully.
“You’ve always been my number one supporter, Clark. I think if I told you I didn’t think I could fly, you’d tell me, but maybe…” You pitch your voice and make a face Clark thinks is a poor imitation (but you think he doesn’t have much ground to stand on if when he can recognize which one you’re simulating).
“Forgive me for believing in you,” he huffs.
“I will do no such thing,” you say, pulling out your phone. You brighten, pulling at his arm. “Clark, I have another surprise for you. But this one is really the museum’s, I’m just kind of hijacking it.”
He looks at you suspiciously. “If you got me something else, I’m going to buy you a house.”
You roll your eyes. “I did not get you anything else. You’re such a drama queen, come on.”
You lead him down the hallway and in front of a set of closed doors, red velvet ropes hung up in front of them. You push him behind you almost in an attempt to hide him, surreptitiously looking both ways.
“What are we doing?” Clark whispers.
“You’d be a great partner in crime, Clark, you’re so perceptive. I’m glad you’re using your talents for good,” you tell him in the same hushed tone. You look back at him and smile wide, moving away the ropes. “To answer your question, we’re committing a crime.”
Clark’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t stop you as you pull a key from your purse to open the door. “What?”
“It’s not really a crime, I mean, I don’t think they’d really throw us in jail for this.” You snort, opening the door and gesturing him inside. “Can you imagine us in jail? Oh my god.”
Clark rushes into pitch darkness, worse when you close the door. You shine a thin little light and move somewhere else, clanking following you.
“Maybe museum jail. Like mall jail? I can picture us there. I can really picture you there. But sorry, it’s not a crime. You know how I like my one liners. It’s just something we technically shouldn’t really be doing.”
“Then why are we—”
You make a little aha and suddenly the entire room lights up in a rolling galaxy. Clark’s breath stops, watching intricate swirls and undulating stars pass him by like he’s in the midst. “Holy cow,” he says.
You laugh softly behind him, coming up next to him. He can feel your eyes on him for a few seconds before you turn your attention to the manmade sky around you.
“This room isn’t technically open yet. But I called in a favor and one of the attendants passed me a key. It’s ours for now.” You smile dreamily as bright, scintillating colors slowly flash past. “Isn’t it pretty? I know you’ve probably seen the real thing up close, but—”
“It’s beautiful,” he says. “It’s… wow.”
You bump his shoulder. “I try.”
The both of you stay silent for a few minutes, watching the stars brighten and dim. His fingers stretch out in search, slipping his hand into yours when he finds it.
“Thank you for trusting me with that. With Krypton,” you say quietly. “I know you probably did your big grand trust gesture when you told me who you were—which was, is still insane, by the way.” He feels your hair shift against his arm when you shake your head in disbelief. “You’d known me for a month, Clark. Who does that?”
You laugh, looking up at him in the midst of it. Your eyes shine with stars but are the softest thing he’s ever seen.
“But thank you,” you continue, squeezing his hand. “I don’t think that could have been very easy.”
Clark thinks briefly—certainly—that everything seems easy with you. He’s caught off guard by how honest the notion is, how even this daunting prospect that’s been tying his stomach in knots seems easy right now. How could it not be with you looking up at him like that?
“I hope you know that—”
“Do you want to go out with me? Please?" he blurts.
Clark had wanted roses and chocolates and perhaps a big green willow as a backdrop, but he thinks twinkling simulated stars and a low voice droning on about Saturn will do if you say yes.
You blink at him, eyes glittery. He's terrified for a second, your lips caught on a word.
"I'm really sorry for cutting you off—"
"Yes." You look intense, eyes teeming desperate before your face breaks out into a smile, chin bobbing giddily. "Yes! Of course! Are you joking? Please don't be joking."
"I'm not joking," he says. "I really want to take you out. On a date."
"Thank you for clarifying," you say softly, a nervous slip on pure delight. Your eyes are expectant and shiny now, fingers shaking. "I really want you to take me out. On that date."
“Tomorrow?” Clark asks.
“Yeah, okay,” you say, trying and failing to tamp down your smile. “Where and when? I’ll be there.”
“I’ll pick you up at six.”
- In hindsight, you should have insisted on rescheduling when your phone rings five minutes before Clark said he’d pick you up.
He says “I’m sorry,” immediately after you pick up, halfway through like he’s been muttering it for a while.
“Clark?” you say.
“I’m so sorry,” he says again, out of breath. “I’m gonna be late.”
“Oh.”
“I just—I told the Justice Gang I needed the evening off, and they agreed but Guy was all ‘well, evening starts at 6.’ And then—“ There’s a distant grunt and then dead air for a few seconds before he says “Whoops. That’s my bad—“
You blink at your counter and dive for your remote control. “Clark, what are you doing right now?”
“Just finishing some things up,” he says, a little strained. “I’ll be at your apartment to walk you to the restaurant in ten minutes, okay? We might be a minute or twenty late, but—“
Your TV flickers on to Metropolis News, where Superman—Your Superman—is flying dizzying circles around what appears to be a neon dragon. He makes a small, startled noise through the phone just as it shoots a sharp line of fire at him.
“Clark! What the hell? You’re fighting a fairy tale villain and you’re—for the love of—“
“I’m going to be there. I can do this, I just didn’t want to be late and not call. Jimmy’s contact said she could hold a reservation for twenty minutes, so we’ll be—“
“Clark, we can go to another restaurant. We can go another day, I really think a fire-breathing dragon is up there with good excuses.”
“I’ll be there. You already got ready, our perfect table is all set up—this is really not as bad as it looks.”
You take a deep breath and watch Superman do a complicated series of maneuvers on the television screen so fast your eyes can barely keep up.
“Okay,” you say. “How about this? I’ll head over to make sure we keep our reservation and maybe I can start ordering the appetizers, so they’ll be out and warm when you come by?”
You can hear Clark hesitate.
“It’s a nice night out for a walk,” you say.
Clark sounds pained when he says, “I know.”
“I think the walk back home from a date is way better, anyway. And it’ll be real easy to get past the awkward small talk stage.”
Clark hums. “You’re right. You’re always right.”
“I am,” you say solemnly, attention catching on the bouquet he’d brought you the day before, rearranged in a square little table in your living room. There’s an older bouquet of tulips in the kitchen. “You should quit arguing with me so much.”
“I do not argue with—”
“What’s this combative tone I hear?” you ask accusingly.
“Not combative,” he says, careful. There’s a quick whoosh and a startled, otherworldly sound. “Inquisitive.”
“Inquisitive my ass, Clark,” you snort, reaching across the kitchen stools to grab your bag. It goes with your outfit, a good-sized bag with refined little pockets in a miraculously matching color.
“That is so rude,” he mutters.
“I’ll leave you to your dragon. I imagine it’s the sort of thing that requires your full attention,” you say, locking your door. A smiling metal frog swings from your keyring, smacking straight into a clay duck in a flower hat that Clark had bought you at a market.
“Not at all,” he says, a little strained. “I had all these talking points picked out. Besides, he’s actually pretty nice once you get to know him.”
You hum. “You don’t hear that very much about dragons.”
“I guess I’m just lucky like that.” There’s a distant roar.
“It’s the least you could be,” you muse, reaching the elevator and pressing the down button. It glows lightly in the empty hall as you lean against the wall next to it. “You know, being Superman and all.”
Clark makes a noise like he disagrees, but then he says, “Uh oh.” A series of noises follow.
You straighten. “Clark?”
There’s a distant “I’m okay!” And then a lot of static. You step inside the elevator when it opens, slipping the phone from the crook of your neck to quickly type in 'superman news’ and frantically clicking the LEVEL button.
“Clark?” you call, scrolling through the articles for a warning word. “Superman?”
There’s a quiet second where you watch the numbers slowly blink smaller, your bag slipping down your shoulder. There’s a second of tense silence where you look at your reflection and imagine what it would be like to have him next to you instead of on the phone. He’d take your bag and smile at you in that funny way he does.
“Superman?” you say again, edging desperate this time.
“The dragon is down,” He says. “On the ground. Asleep.”
Your laugh comes out half chuckle and half relieved sigh. The doors parts and you step out, gulping in a big breath of air like you were underwater.
“I’m sorry,” he says, so painfully sincere it makes your heart hurt. You shake your head, sending a small smile to the doorman as you step outside.
“You don’t have to be sorry,” you tell him.
“I have to stay here for a few minutes to make sure he stays down. The Justice Gang’s supposed to take him…”
“That’s okay. I’ll be at the restaurant soon! Ish. Our reservation will remain intact.”
There’s a second of silence. “What are you going to order?”
You laugh. “What?”
He says your name. “Come on, I know you studied up. You can still agonize over the menu for a few minutes and sigh like you’re not quite sure yet. I’ll play along.”
“Summer mushroom truffle risotto. It really gets better with every word.”
“Yeah? Do you have any appetizer in mind?”
“The calamari. Annie Camargo said it was ‘exquisite’ on her visit here three months ago.” You pause. “Sorry, the ‘calamari fritti,’” you say in a careful accent. “But I have backups. I will not embarrass us.”
Clark wants to tell you that you won’t, that you probably can’t embarrass him at all because you’re you and he’s he. But he’s caught on your us. It sounds different, feels nicer.
“The restaurant owners are named Victoria and Martha Sangiovese. Like the grape.” You continue, pushing open the main door. You’re greeted with a gentle wind and the smell of summer. “They sell this ridiculous wine that Stan Martin, twenty-eighteen, loved. We are not getting that wine.”
“Yes, ma’am. Do you have any recommendations for me?”
You press your lips together as you nod even though he can’t see it. “Yes, actually. Spezzatino di Manzo,” you tell him slowly, lips pulled like you’re embarrassed. “It’s like the Italian version of beef bourguignon.”
“My favorite,” he says.
"I know. It’s supposed to be good, but don’t be too hard on it if it’s not like your mom’s.“
Clark grows warm at your memory. “It would be unfair to compare. Someone brought it to a school Thanksgiving and they wouldn’t tell her how to make it, so she worked at the recipe until she got it just right. I think I had it every day for two weeks and I never got sick of it once.”
“She sounds wonderful. I love hearing about how much they love you.” You walk in silence for a moment, pulling your jacket tighter around you. It was supposed to be a strategic move, just warm enough for the walk there but not quite for the walk back. “I want to meet her so badly, but I think I’d get starstruck with how much I know of her secondhand.”
Clark laughs. “Ma’s never been called a celebrity. She’ll like you even more when I tell her that.”
You hum, keen. “You’re gonna tell your mom about me?”
Clark blushes on the other side of the line and knows somehow you can tell. “C’mon. You know I already do.”
“I might have had an inkling.”
“Was it the apple pie she sent you with the note? Or the loaf of bread she made just for you?”
“I like to think I have a touch of telepathy, actually.”
Clark laughs. “That adds up.”
“Oh, come on. As if that would be the weirdest thing to happen. Aren’t you dressed in spandex right now? Flying?”
There’s noises of him shifting. “What am I thinking now?”
There’s a soft mechanical woosh in the background, and you make a big show of humming in thought. “You’re thinking Hawkgirl and them are nearly there for handoff and you’ll be here in five. I think I’ll just about beat you.”
There’s the crunch of dirt. “Oh man. Geez, I really don’t know how you did that, but I swear I won’t say a word about your telepathy again.”
“Maybe one word. The Justice Gang may need me.”
“You’re very funny,” he says. As if he’d let Hal within a mile of you. “I’ll be there sooner than you think.”
You hang up in time to see the restaurant two blocks away. It’s nice and just the appropriate amount of pretentious, balanced out by drooling plants wrapped around the patio deck. There are bright little red flowers like stars against the green. Groups of people lean against the decks, mostly couples whispering between themselves.
“Hello,” you say when you get to the hostess, giving her your best smile. “Um. I believe a reservation for Clark Kent?”
Her eyebrows shoot up and she steps back. “No way. He actually did it this time? Jimmy didn’t say anything.”
You blink at her. “I… I’m sorry?”
“Jimmy has me set aside a table, like, every week. You guys never show up.” She grabs a pair of menus and tsks as she looks behind you. “Well, I guess you guys didn’t this time, either. But you’re here, and I hear that’s the important part.” She waves you inside.
“So, how many times exactly have you held a table for us?”
She makes a scoffing noise. “Oh my god, I couldn’t even tell you. Jimmy’s always like, ‘He said this is the night. I swear this is the night, Stevie, just one more time,‘ and then it never is.” She presents a little table booth in the corner, secluded by an arrangement of plants.
“Oh wow,” you say, stroking a petal as she sets down the menus and utensils.
She turns to you thoughtfully before letting you sit down. “You know, I’ve heard a lot about you guys. Jimmy’s had to convince me to hold a table for a really long time, so I kind of feel like I’m in there with you.”
You chuckle.
“I guess I’m trying to say, both for the sake of my job and, well, you guys, is that I’m glad he finally got the guts to ask you out.”
“And that I said yes?” you ask.
She gives you a look and moves aside to let you in. “As if you’d say no.”
You sit down with a stilted smile and thank her, looking around at the plants. Just when you reach for the menu, you notice Clark being led in by another waitress. He’s dressed in a suit, his tie a little haphazard and his curls windswept in the way you like. He’s also holding a new bouquet of flowers, even nicer than the ones he’d gotten you the day before.
You think briefly that they would look lovely at your entrance.
(Clark’s own bouquet is positioned very deliberately in a gentle beam of sun that hits his counter for the majority of the day. He bought flower nutrients on his last visit with Tracy, who’d looked at him with an expression that reminded him of Lois.)
You move to rise when he meets your eye, but he starts walking a little quicker, nudging his thick frames up his nose while he reaches you.
“Clark,” you say, at the same time he says, “You look beautiful.”
You laugh, feeling yourself flush as he pulls you into a hug. “You look beautiful, too,” you tell him, a little muffled against his shoulder. He smells like smoke and his fancy-schmancy cologne his mom sent him for special occasions. For a second, you’re at the Metropolis gala, just a month into knowing him in a glittery gown and just as nervous.
“Gosh, you’re just saying that,” he says, giving you one last squeeze before he steps back. You grin up at him, eyes bright and crinkled. You always look nice, and he means it when he says it, but you’re beaming today, so happy he can see it. It makes him warm all over, wondering briefly if you can see it on him, too. "You look very nice. Beautiful."
You smile. "You already said that," you say, quiet like it's a secret.
Clark reddens, shaking his head. "Been a minute. Still beautiful."
You roll your eyes abashedly, practically melting into the chair he pulls out for you with a tricky little motion. You want to scream, he looks so handsome.
You thank him and hold the bouquet to your chest as the both of you sit, eyeing the lettuce-hemmed scabiosas and wide-petaled lilies. “I think you are single-handedly keeping a florist afloat,” you tell him, the delight in your eyes when you sink your nose into the flowers ensuring Tracy another month open. “But we can meet without a gift. I swear.”
He laughs, watching you carefully place the bouquet in your purse so the flowers won’t be crushed. “My mom says you should always have flowers.”
“Oh, me specifically,” you tease, adjusting the flowers. “Gosh, well, you’re fair game, but I can’t argue with her.”
Clark cocks his chin. “I thought you’d be nicer on a date.”
“As if you’d want me to be nice,” you challenge. You lean forward a little. “C’mon, Clark. You like me a little mean.”
Clark goes pink immediately.
You snort. “You have to learn how to take it if you’re gonna dish it out, Kent.”
He runs a hand over his face and sighs. “I know,” he groans. “It’s hot in here. Isn’t it hot in here?”
“Do you want me to flirt or would that make it worse?”
Clark exhales. “What do you think?”
“My gosh, Clark. Our first date and I can’t tease, I can’t flirt, what are we supposed to do for fun?”
“Give me a second to catch up. I swear I’ll knock your socks off on our third date."
You gasp playfully. “How very presumptuous. Third date.”
“Don’t.”
“That’s my bad, force of habit.”
Clark bites back a grin as he shakes his head, reaching for the menu when his phone buzzes once, twice, three times in increasingly quick succession.
You quirk a brow. “Jimmy?”
“My folks,” Clark says sheepishly, pulling it out of his pocket. “They’re not good at texting, so I taught her and Pa about gifs last time I went over, and. Well.” He shows you the screen, a wall of good luck gifs varying in absurdity playing simultaneously. He rubs at the back of his neck when you laugh. “They know I’m a little nervous.”
You look at a little dancing cartoon his mom sends in next and look up at Clark. “I didn’t tell Lois, either,” you admit, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I kind of wanted it to be just our night. No outside influences.” You trace a finger down the side of his phone and smile cheekily at him. “With some obvious necessary exceptions. What did they tell you?”
Clark flushes a deep, tantalizing pink. “The basics.” He glances up at your ceiling and tries to make it look normal. “There’s pie waiting for you back at my apartment.”
Your brows jump. “Forward, Kent. I’m impressed, we haven’t even ordered appetizers.”
Clark’s eyes go wide. “Aw, man, I didn’t mean—”
“I’m teasing,” you say lightly, patting his arm. “Not like you’d need the pie to lure me in, but it certainly helps.”
Clark flusters so deeply, you see it written in his face, blinking fast at you. “We should order,” he blurts.
You lean back and shake your head. "No, I want to look over the menu for a little bit and do my whole," you breathe out the biggest sigh he's ever heard and pitch up your voice, "'My god, I just can't decide!' thing." You meet his eye and purse your lips. “You promised, Clark.”
He laughs, putting his hands up in surrender. “Yes ma’am.”
There’s sudden chatter throughout the restaurant, and your attention is pulled over to the little television one of the waitresses has turned on. BREAKING NEWS flashes in a red banner at the bottom of the screen, where a reporter looks distraught. There’s a little picture of Lex Luthor at the top right and a video of citizens running away from a massive fire right below it. The Justice Gang is already there, fighting a slim metallic thing that seems to disappear and reappear.
The restaurant goes silent and tense as the reporter speaks. “—don’t quite know what it is, but the damage caused is—” There’s an explosion that cuts off his words and makes him flinch. “The situation seems to be contained to the warehouse in Suicide Slum, but there are only neighborhoods nearby when it expands.”
You finally peel your attention away to look at Clark, who’s eyes are already contrite and on you.
“Go,” you say quietly, hoping your nod will mask your disappointment. “Save the world.”
He clenches his jaw as he moves to stand, but stops when he notices you grabbing your purse.
"Wait," he says, knees knocking against the table. His Adam's apple bobs as he cants toward you. "Please wait. I'll come back as soon as I can and we can finish our date."
"We can do this another time, Clark. I get it—I'm not upset."
"I don't want to do this another time," he says, wide eyes searching your face. "I've been waiting—been waiting so long, and now you're finally—we're finally—" He sighs. "Wait? Please? I'll be be back soon. So soon. I swear." His hands are strained white on top of the tablecloth, an upset wrinkle between dark brows.
"Okay," you say gently, reaching out to hold his hand. "I'll wait. I'll wait here for you."
Clark's sigh takes his whole body with it, shoulders slowly dropping back down to their normal height. He squeezes your hand, nodding resolutely. "I'll come back soon."
You smile at him as he stands, quickly folding up his cloth napkin and setting it near his fork. "Be safe," you tell him, as surreptitiously as you can afford in the middle of the restaurant. He catches it even as he leaves, shooting you one more glance before he pushes a side door open and leaves.
-
You order a lot of bread.
The waitress won't even give you dirty looks each time she refills your water; a tight, pitiful smile on her face when she offers you an appetizer on the house once you've gotten your third bread basket. She's added two little cups of butter and not bothered with thin slices this time.
She brings you a plate of calamari with a shake of her head ten minutes later. "Asshole. You look gorgeous, honey."
You're not quite sure what to say to her. It's not like that, he's out saving Metropolitans from imminent danger? So you tell her thank you and leave her a sizeable tip an hour later.
You quietly slip out the restaurant door and hook your purse on your shoulder, a little sad and more than a little disappointed that you're under the night sky alone. You step off to the side next to a bucket of magnolias and check your phone, just in case Clark has texted in the minute you’ve taken to leave the restaurant, but he’s still radio silent.
You gently pull your flowers out of your bag and start your way back home, searching for any news mentioning Superman with your other hand. There are the usual pet rescues and sightings earlier in the day and at the very top, a solemn update to the attack. You shudder and slip your phone back into your purse, shoulders up to your ears and keys in hand.
It's supposed to be a fifteen-minute walk back to your apartment, but it feels longer under the stars. You’d made your way to the restaurant illusioned with the promise of going back arm in arm with Clark.
You’re careful and attentive walking back, even if you’re sulking. You can practically hear Clark reminding you to periodically check for shadows as you walk under a streetlight. Pulling your purse a little closer to your side, you contemplate sending Clark a message but think against it. You'll let him know if he asks, once you're certain he's safe and you’re splayed out at home.
You pass into a darker part of the street and start to grow uneasy. Just when you start feeling ready to admit you’re feeling watched, a gust of wind pushes you a foot back. You squeeze your eyes shut and start to scramble for the Superman Panic Button (trademarked by Mister Terrific) hooked on your keychain, but promptly stop when you manage to force your eyes open.
Clark's walking toward you. Well, Superman, but you can't really tell the difference when he looks at you like this—so sorry he looks small.
It's moments like these when you truly can't believe that you ever missed the fact that Superman was your same coworker one desk over. It's a different face, but he's got that same smile, the same guilty crease between his brows. Your lips start to make out the first shapes of his name when you catch yourself.
"Superman," you say, eyes twinkling.
The name lifts his shoulders only a little, lips setting in a reticent line. You smile. You haven't gotten to see him in his getup so close in a while and you'd missed his face—his real face, lovely and upset as it is right now. It doesn't fit him.
"Miss," he says guiltily, taking a tentative step toward you.. You remember the first time you grimaced at Ma'am. "Er—I noticed you walking home alone."
"I'm not anymore," you chime, crossing the distance between you in two quick steps to grab onto his arm. "You're gonna walk with me, yeah?"
He looks at you and can't help the shame. You look beautiful. You'd looked beautiful for your date and now it's gone by without him. "I'm sorry," he tells you quietly, watching your brows contort in confusion. "I'm so sorry."
"What?" Your smile begins to melt into confusion.
"I didn't come back. I told you I would, but when I got to the restaurant, the waitress just gave me a dirty look and told me I was a dog. And I am! I'm so sorry—"
"Clark," you say, quiet. You lift your hands up to his face, gently holding his jaw. "I don't understand."
"I stood you up," he says, wincing like it physically hurts. You feel a little muscle in his jaw stretch and contract. "I was really looking forward to our date," he confesses. "And you got all dressed up and I just left you there."
"You didn't just leave me there," you tell him incredulously. "Metropolis was in danger. People were in danger. You saw that somebody needed help and you went to help them. That's not the same thing."
He still looks so sad. It breaks your heart.
"And you asked me to stay becayse you thought you'd make it. You wanted to make it." You squeeze him lightly for emphasis, wanting it to seep into his skin how much you mean it. Your voice falls into something steadier. "But it's okay that you couldn't. You're here now and in one whole piece. I'm happy."
His eyebrows "I'm still sorry I messed up our first date."
"You didn't mess anything up," you promise. "But I forgive you anyway, okay? Really." At his first indulgent nod, you squeeze lightly at his shoulder, hooking your arm through his again. "Besides. Metropolis is nearly devastated like, twice a week. I was prepared for this possibility. We'll try again. What's one more week?"
Clark pauses. "One more week," you hear him mumble from behind you, and then he pulls you, careful, to turn you around. He has the nerve to look a little sheepish. "I don't really want to wait one more hour."
You’re gearing up to say something about patience being a virtue when he takes your face in his hands and kisses you. He’s kind about it, which you expected, craned over you so you don’t have to tiptoe and loose in his hold so you can back away, like you’d ever. He gasps a little when you get over your surprise to kiss him back, eagerly running your hands up his arms to rub at his jaw. After a few seconds, a light flickers like a reminder that you need to come up for air.
You can’t help your laugh when you pull away, fully dazed and a little unsteady on your feet. Luckily, Clark’s hands have drifted down to your waist, where he holds you firmly and keeps you from tilting over. He’s looking at you, eyes sparkling as he nudges your nose with his.
“Well, then,” you say weakly. And then, because for once, you’re lost for words. “I can see why you wouldn’t want to wait.”
-
You can already feel a shift in the air when you step through the entrance of the Daily Planet and find Clark in front of the elevators.
“Hello, Clark Kent,” you say with a smile. His entire face lights up when he sees you, adjusting his glasses as he murmurs your name. He takes your bag from you and hooks it on his shoulder. “How very sweet of you.”
“You look nice,” he tells you, thumb ghosting at the hem of your blouse when the elevator doors open. You feel his hand graze the small of your back as he helps you inside, the warmth of his palm staying even after he’s moved it back to his side. You watch the numbers slowly blink higher and look down at his hand, fingers stretching out and curling back in.
“You can’t just tell me stuff like that anymore, you know. I’m involved,” you say. “And he’d mess you up.”
He turns toward you, amused. “I think I’ll take the risk.” You let him step closer and stoop down to press a kiss to your lips.
“Jimmy’s gonna freak,” he says quietly when you pull away. You step away from him and adjust his collar.
“Maybe let’s not talk about Jimmy right now?”
Clark cringes. “I’m sorry. I was being so cool about it, too.”
You bite your cheek to stop from laughing, leaning against the elevator railing. “The coolest.”
“Don’t make fun of me! You’re telling me you haven’t thought about Lois’ reaction?”
You giggle, stepping out of the elevator at the chime. “I don’t know! I haven’t really thought about it. I figure I’ll just—”
The moment you walk onto your floor, it goes silent. Every eye in the office is on you. Your words trail off as you fall into step with Clark.
“Okay,” you whisper. “Did I come in naked?”
“No?” he whispers back, brows furrowing when he hears the whispers.
“I heard he was going to ask her out, like, the day they got found out. It's so sad. He didn't even know." To his utter bewilderment, Shauna from Cooking gives him a pitying look.
Lois and Jimmy stomp over to you when you get to the bullpen, eyes wide. “You’re dating Superman?”
“What?”
They shove a phone into your hands, where an article reads MISSUS SUPERMAN? And right underneath, a photo of you and Superman locking lips from the night before. HERO PHOTOGRAPHED GETTING COZY WITH JOURNALIST AFTER FIRE CRISIS LEAVES TWO INJURED. A picture of you when you started at the Daily Planet points to the half of your face seen.
Hi!! Love your fics so i was really excited when i saw requests are open! I was wondering if you could do A benito x reader where where he notices your upset/sad because your missing him a lot (hes been gone a lot lately) and maybe you guys are on face time when he notices so the next day he surprises you by coming home early and the day just ensues with love cuddles maybe playfighting etc?
HEY!!! I've posted this fic here!!
I know we've talked a little about this beforehand, but thanks b for letting me take a little creative freedom :) I hope you enjoy it, lovely!!
notes. howwwwdy~ hope y'all aren't tired of me yet! haha this one is for @sp0ck136 who requested this here! I asked beforehand if it was okay to do more of a baby storyline, and we agreed upon that :) so hope you guys like this one!!
tags. bad bunny x afab!reader, blurb, mentions of birth and pregnancy, the slightest angst, but also a lot of fluff and Benito being a good dad :)
As Benito got back to his hotel late at night, he was still energized from the performance he’d just put on. Every show seemed to be more energetic than the last, and this one in Brazil was quite crazy. Although he’d been able to have fun that night, he was anxious to get back to the room.
He had an important phone call to make, after all.
He’d been itching to call you since he got off the stage like he normally did, but that night, he’d gotten swept into talking with his managers and some of his crew about the next place they were scheduled to go to. It was almost an hour after the concert that he was finally alone in his room. He worried it would be too late for you to answer, but he immediately pulled out his phone when he could and dialed you on FaceTime.
To his luck, you picked up after the third ring, giving your lover a wide smile.
“Hola, mi amor,” Benito breathed when he saw your face pop up on screen, “¿Cómo estás esta noche?”
You breathed back, “Todo bien, mi amor. Y tu?”
“Bien. Me preocupaba llamar demasiado tarde.”
“No,” you let out a soft, almost breathless laugh, “Ya sabes que ella es noctámbula, como tú. Ella no duerme hasta tener noticias tuyas.”
Benito began to beam at the phone as the camera panned down to his newborn daughter, nestled in the crook of your arm. Her eyes were just barely open as she was already swaddled for the evening.
It made the curly haired man’s heart skip a beat.
“Mi Corazoncito,” Benito whispered, “Estoy aquí.”
Neither of you had expected to get pregnant, and it just so happened to be when his tour was just starting to kick off.
From the beginning, Benito had wanted to cancel it all - the tour, the album, everything - just to be with you during the time you were pregnant. But, you didn’t let him.
He was at the height of his career, and you knew that cancelling everything wasn’t a good move. So, it was your decision that both could happen; the tour, as well as the baby.
For years, you’d been able to travel alongside Benito and his tours, and during the pregnancy, you still got to tag along some too. But around the third trimester, you’d had to stay behind at home for the first time in his career for the baby.
His entire schedule and tour was then planned around your pregnancy and the birth of his daughter. Never in a million years would he have missed her being born, and at the very least, was right by your side when she was delivered, even if that had meant pushing back a month's worth of tour dates.
That was only five mere months ago that you welcomed you and Benito’s baby into the world, and since then, Benito had only been able to come home a whopping four times to help.
“My baby,” he cooed into the phone, “Has she been good?”
“An angel,” You sighed happily behind the screen.
Benito sat down on the side of the hotel bed trying to relax some, but he could never quite get comfortable without you.
He thought you were a superhero, having to take care of everything at home while he was away, and you looked like you did it with such ease.
“¿Puedo verlos a los dos?” He asked as he attempted to lay down.
He could hear you scoffing, but the camera started to move as you propped your phone against a side table so he could see you and the baby together.
You were smirking at him in amusement, “Happy?”
“Very.”
The two of you talked for a long while as you did most nights, but this time, Benito could tell something was off. You didn’t seem upset, but he could tell after years of knowing you weren’t completely yourself. At some point, the baby started to stir in her sleep, and that was around the time that you knew you needed to call it and make sure she was fully put to bed.
As you started to say your goodnights to each other, your voice started to waver slightly.
“¿Cariño?” He asked delicately, “Dime ocurre, querida.”
A soft cry left your lips, careful to not wake the baby.
“I miss you.”
Immediately, he frowned. The way you said it made his heart drop to his stomach. He missed you too, so much. He missed his baby. Benito knew it was so hard to be a first time parent, and he couldn’t imagine what it was like for you to be doing it alone, despite how strong and easy you made it look.
Watching you cry over the phone, he felt completely helpless. He could see how exhausted you looked then, and knew that even though you’re being helped as much as you could with his family and yours, you were still a young parent without their partner at the end of the day.
The tour was going to be done in two months, but that was just too long. By then, his daughter would be more than half a year old, and he will have only seen her a handful of times. It wouldn’t have been enough to justify why he was gone.
Benito calms you down as best as he can with his words, promising to you; “Voy a arreglar las cosas. Prometo. No pasará mucho tiempo.”
The moment the FaceTime call ended, Benito packed a bag. Having a plan set in motion, he knew what he had to do.
Throughout the night and into most of the next day, Benito made countless calls to his many teams, telling them his plan. He had several arguments with several different people, but at the end of the day, nothing was going to get between him getting home to his partner and kid. By midday, he was on a plane on a twelve-hour flight towards home. He’d even called you at one point, giving you a small lie and telling you he was already on his way to the next tour stop.
It was nearly 2am when he’d touched down in San Juan, and closer to 4am when he got to the house. When he walked through the door, he tried to be as quiet as possible, knowing you and the baby were already asleep.
First thing, he walked into your shared room and dropped his bag on the ground by the door, smiling at your sleeping figure. He walked over to your side of the bed and left a soft kiss on your exposed shoulder, letting out a sigh of relief to see you.
Knowing it was getting close to one of the baby’s feeding times, he unlocked your phone and turned off your alarms for you before heading into his daughter’s room.
Carefully, he approached the crib and couldn’t help but just stare down at her in amazement. She’d grown a bit since he’d last seen her and that brought a small tear to his eye to think about.
“Mi Corazoncito,” Benito whispered to her, gently petting her soft cheek, “Hi, baby.”
She made the smallest fuss as Benito picked her out of the crib, but he was quick to shush her gently, holding her close to his chest.
“Papi está aquí, nena, no hace falta llorar.”
As quietly as he could, he fed and changed her; doing all of the early morning duties you’d been explaining to him over the past few months, all the while talking and softly cooing to his baby. She even managed a gummy smile at him, making his heart melt all over.
Benito put her back to bed within an hour before making his way back to your shared room. You’d barely moved an inch since he’d left which is exactly what you’d needed; more sleep. Gently, he got in the bed with you and slipped his arms around your waist, pulling you in closer to his chest. For just a moment, you snuggled in closer to him, letting him hold you tightly.
But the moment was short lived as you shot up.
“Benito?” You asked, eyes wide and bewildered to see your partner in bed with you.
He chuckled, placing his hand across your waist as he tried to pull you back down, “Sí, mi corazón.”
Without another second to lose, you leaned forward and captured him in a kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly. Benito smiled wide into the kiss, holding you to him even tighter.
But again, you pull away too fast, leaving him in a daze. He could see even in the dark room that your face was starting to become panicked. You turned away from him too quickly before he could even register, mumbling something about it being an hour after you were supposed to wake up and feed the baby.
Benito caught you by the arm before you could get out of bed. You fell back into his chest as he started to leave a trail of kisses along the back of your neck.
“Ya me encargué de ella,” He murmured to you in a desperate growl, “Come back to bed with me.”
“Ya te ocupaste de ella…” You trailed off as sleep began to overtake your features again.
A small hum of a laugh escaped Benito’s lips, “Sí, mi amor.”
He carefully moved some of your hair out of your face as he delved back into you for one more kiss. Once he pulled away, he grabbed hold of you tightly to bring you back under the covers with him.
“The tour…” You said in confusion as you yawned.
“Can wait,” He finished for you, “Estoy aquí por una semana. Contigo. Con ella… No podría pasar un día más sin ti, mi amor. Todo puede esperar mientras ustedes dos me necesiten aquí.”
You snuggled into him tighter, letting out a sound of contentment as he buried his face into your warmth.
“Te amo, baby.” He whispered, “Estoy aquí.”
Benito would worry what would happen later, but while he was in bed with you, none of that mattered in the slightest. For the whole week, he would get to spend it holding you and his baby, and that’s all that really mattered until then.
end a.n. thanks for reading this one guys! the concept of Benito being a girl dad makes me writhe like an animal out of their cage, so a home coming back to his baby... suffice to say I would keel over.
(taglist) @percysley, @zoomingspark888, @forwardsreckonreboundddd, @oceantides-and-daffodils, @whiteghostlyclouds, @kenstellation ,@videogamedriver
Could I ask for one where reader and Benito are fwb? And something happens and later they end up together? Like angst with happy ending please 🙏
Thank you
Hi!! I'm doing well and definitely better :)) Hope you're well too! Here's your request!!
I did combine it with two other requests that were similarly asking for angst, so I hope that's okay! But I hope I hit all of the points you asked for anyway!
Thank YOU love! I appreciate each and every one of y'all <3
Can you write for Benito x reader with pinning x childhood friends to lovers + angst to fluff. This is the pinning of two people who know it would be wrong to be together when its already been established that the two of them are only friends.
So Benio decided to get his feelings out through one of his songs and reader is listening to it when he is performing on stage she is like "Wait........". Because she knows damn well the person he's talking about sounds just a little to familiar to her.
Hi there!! I've posted this here for you!
I did combine it with two other requests that were similar to each other and all asking for angst, so I hope that's okay! I can always redo it :)
I appreciate y'alls patience for these as I work through requests, but feel free to keep sending them my way! I'll get to them eventually! <3
hiii, how are youu? i just wanted to know if you could write a fanfic where benito has a fight with his girlfriend, and maybe they end up having sex to reconcile :)
Hello anon! I'm doing well and hope you are too!
I've posted this here for you, and my apologies for it taking so long to get out! I've sort of combined this prompt with two others that were similar, so I hope that's okay. There's definitely some angst and a fight in it, and def maybe a lil smut :))) Thanks for your request!
notes. hey y'all! so this is from three separate anons that all came in really close to each other! I really liked the concept of all of them being linked to the same story since they were all asking for angst, and came up with this! let me know what y'all think!
tags. bad bunny x gn!reader, blurb, mentions of sex, the slightest smut imaginable, hurt/comfort, angst, but also fluff :)
This was all wrong.
This was never supposed to happen.
You and Benito had been friends longer than you knew anyone else in your life. Your neighbor from next door. Your classmate. Your roommate.
Friends. That's it.
The two of you were like family; he had been there for everything in your life. You both had grown up together from such a young age. He knew your parents and siblings, and you knew his all too well too.
You weren’t supposed to be hooking up with him.
Things had been really blurry and confusing lately between the both of you, but it wasn’t all his fault. You had just as much blame as Benito for things going this far.
You’d quite literally known him forever. His parents had lived next to yours for years and were already great friends before kids were even in the picture. Your older siblings had already been pretty good friends before either of you were born too. He’d been such a constant in your life that you don’t even have a clear memory of when you met, as you two were probably still too young to even support your necks.
Benito had always been there for you, and you’d always been there for him. You’d grown up next to each other in every perceivable way. Every major thing to happen in either of your lives, the other would be right there to celebrate or mourn with the other.
It had been no surprise when Benito’s music took off in his early 20s. You’d always known him as this creative music genius that when the world caught on, you couldn’t help but think that everyone else was just catching up to what you already knew. You couldn’t have been happier for him, thinking that no one deserved it more.
In the early days of his career, you were with him all the time still. You went to just about every studio session, music video set, photo shoots; you name it. Even through the pandemic, the two of you stuck it out together and built something that he would be proud of, even from nothing. You didn’t have to ask, and Benito was practically pulling you along with him up his career ladder.
This whole thing between the two of you started one night after an album drop party. One or a few too many drinks later, both of you ended up in a bedroom, entangled in sheets as the two of you let out what you would call “pent up stress” in the morning.
Hungover in bed, you both held hands and had a long discussion about what the sex had meant to you, and you both agreed that it was nothing. It was nothing more than stress and years of friendship that just made you curious, and now it was done. It was a one-time drunken accident that would never happen again. You’d never had feelings for Benito before and neither had he; he’d always been attractive, sure, but everyone could see that. Even after, you were almost certain that hadn’t changed. And you thought that was the end of it.
Until he asked you to move in with him.
It was a logical thought; you were still best of friends and loved each other’s company. He was moving to LA for a little while and he didn’t want to be too far away from what he knew. He wanted someone to come with him - someone he knew - and you didn’t want to be far from him either. You were his obvious choice, so you took the offer.
Things started out just fine as roommates. You both fit together pretty nicely in each other’s day to day, having already been close for so long.
However, it didn’t take long before certain feelings started to arise again.
You started to notice certain things, like when either of you would come home, food would be waiting, cooked to each other’s liking. Or on tough days when one of your favorite movies would just pop on, no words having to be said.
You’d sometimes kiss his cheek a little too close to his lips, but he wouldn’t bat an eye. Strong arms would wrap around your waist sometimes in the middle of the night when you could’ve sworn the two of you had gone off to separate rooms. But you wouldn’t push him away.
This was more than friendship.
The next time you had sex, you’d been living together for about 6 months with no incidents. You honestly couldn’t say it was for any reason other than a day off and boredom. The two of you had been sitting around the house all day with nothing better to do when Benito turned to you.
“¿Recuerdas cuando tuvimos sexo?”
And really, that’s all it took.
From there, hooking up became more of a regular occurrence. The next few times were completely conscious decisions you made together, but only when the two of you were really bored.
And if you were honest, it was really fun at first. It was yet another new experience you got to have with your best friend that only the two of you shared, and it didn’t have to be more than that.
Except, it was.
It took almost an entire year to realize that you were in love with him. You were getting too close. The small gestures were becoming too relationship-like. The sex started to feel too intimate. It made you realise just how domesticated you were in Benito’s life. And that wasn’t something you could risk losing.
Realizing this, you started to push away little by little, thinking it was the best decision for the both of you. But in doing so, you hadn’t realized just how much animosity had grown in doing so.
The two of you had a huge fight the night you decided it had to end. One that you weren’t proud of at all.
He’d confronted you one night, asking you why you were acting so strange with him.
“¿Es por el sexo?” Benito asked blatantly.
He’d been right, in a sense, but you didn’t have the capacity to speak it out with him. Not knowing what to do or say, you got defensive,
“No. Eres tú.”
And although you didn’t mean that, you couldn’t take it back, and it set off the both of you into the worst fight you’d ever had.
Somewhere in the fight, it had become somewhat of a screaming match between the two of you; either one of you posted on either side of the living room in the middle of the night, pointing and yelling at each other for god knows what. Neither of you were making much sense that you couldn’t even remember what you’d said through most of it. You were just throwing things out there because you were upset.
You remember muttering one thing, however, crumbling yours and Benito’s feelings like a paper bag.
“Creo que tengo que irme.”
Voice hoarse and feeling like you were barely able to breathe, you went to your room and packed a bag in frustration, deciding you needed to leave LA before one of you got hurt.
Seeing you leave, desperation hit Benito like a semi-truck. The yelling turned to cries, pleading for you to stay. He tried to grasp your wrist, your hand, your arm to stop you from walking out of the door.
He even got on his knees, begging you with tears in his eyes, “Por favor, quédate.”
And still, you decided that it was too much. Benito meant too much to you for things to be ruined more than they already were.
Benito followed you out to your uber and begged some more before finally giving in once the seatbelt was tight on your waist. He leaned into the car, placing his hand over yours, making one last plea for you to stay.
“¿Estaremos bien?” He asked in a whisper.
A sob escaped you, but you nodded,
“Siempre. Te amo Benito. Pero no debería. Por eso tengo que irme.”
And to make it worse, he leaned in before you left, leaving a kiss on your cheek, just a little too close to your lips.
“Tome su tiempo. Esperaré.”
With a heavy heart, you traveled back to San Juan and stayed there for another year. While back at your parents house, you decided it was best that you and Benito didn’t talk for a while.
You’d never gone so long without him in your life, and it was making you second guess your decision. Although the relationship you had with him was complicated, he was and always had been a comfort - a part of home - and without him, life felt just a little more empty.
As that year passed, you still supported him, but now from a distance. You couldn’t bear to keep up with his music, finding his voice to be too sad for you, but you still kept up with his accomplishments. Major life events were happening almost every day for him it seemed, and although you were still so incredibly happy for him, you were destroyed that you weren’t there with him anymore.
Still, you didn’t dare reach out, and neither did he, and that felt like it was for the best at the time. It shouldn’t have been so devastating is what you told yourself; you thought you should’ve been able to bounce back from this with no problem. But the longer you went without him, the more miserable you felt.
It was more than a year and a half later when you received a package on your parents’ doorstep from Bad Bunny’s marketing team, addressed to you.
Opening it, there were tons of your favorite candies, a t-shirt from his most recent tour, and even a perfume bottle of your favorite scent. At the bottom of the box were multiple tickets and VIP passes to a residency he was holding in Puerto Rico, as well as a handwritten note.
“Sería un honor para mí que usted y su familia vinieran a apoyarme.” Was written in Benito’s neat handwriting, “Mi familia también estará allí. No hay ninguna obligación de venir, pero me encantaría verte.”
It took a little time, but you decided to go to the concert. You figured it wouldn’t have to be anything but casual. It was just going to be a friendly meetup with him and both of your families that you wouldn’t even have to announce yourself for; a small hug and a wave, maybe even talk a little, and you’d rip that bandaid clean off.
So, you went and tried to enjoy yourself with everyone around you.
Even just arriving at the arena, you noticed how Benito had only grown in fame since you’d last seen him, and it was awe-inspiring to see the amount of fans he had coming to his concerts, filling up an entire stadium night after night at this residency. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride that only made you feel just a little more sad.
Still, you tried to distract yourself with your family around. You even got to talk to his parents and brothers for a little while, whom you hadn’t had the chance to speak to much within that year, knowing it would be too hard for you. Everything was fine through the opener and the first act; You were laughing and dancing with your siblings and his, letting yourself get lost in the fun of it all.
The moment he appeared on stage, however, you stopped and teared up almost immediately, feeling a flood of emotions hit you harder than you’d ever suspected them to. Still, you tried to ignore it for the sake of the people around you.
As the concert went on, you heard several new songs he’d written in that year and a half timespan, and some of them were starting to really get to you.
It wasn’t until one particular moment where the lights came down and Benito sat in a white plastic lawn chair, leaning forward toward the audience. His voice came through the microphone, low and more delicate than you’d ever heard in any of his songs before.
“Solo quiero que sepas lo mucho que lo siento. Te tuve, pero solo por un momento.” He sang in his sweet baritone voice, “Me dijiste "siempre" y dije que esperaré… Me dijiste que me amabas, pero nunca llegué a decírtelo yo a ti también.”
And your breath hitched.
As this particular song went on, you listened to the lyrics, realizing immediately that this was about you. The tears you had tried to stop from before came out in a waterfall now as Benito gave his heart out in the song he wrote. Having noticed, your sibling even put their hand on your shoulder, giving you a moment to cry and listen. In fact, most of the songs he’d sang that night started to sound incredibly familiar to things that only you would know. It made you start to wonder just how many songs he’d written about you while you were gone. Being so far in the back, you knew he wasn’t one hundred percent sure you were even there, but you knew he was singing directly to you anyway.
After the concert, you went backstage with everyone else, feeling nervous to see Benito for the first time in such a long time. You weren’t sure how either one of you would react, but you knew now that you had to see him for sure.
He came backstage after a while, sweaty and tired, but buzzy and smiley from the energy of the concert. You couldn’t help but feel your breath hitch again from how handsome he was, like he’d somehow gotten more attractive since you’d last seen him.
You let him greet everyone else first, staying in the back until he finally got to you. When his eyes finally landed on you, they widened, making him stop in his tracks. He started to look at you like you weren’t real; like you were a figment of his imagination.
But before you could even get a word out, he rushed to you, engulfing you in a tight embrace that spoke more words than the lyrics he’d just sung on stage. His one hand tangled in your hair, while the other wrapped tightly around your shoulders. The beard he’d let grow out more scratched at your cheek lightly, leaving a familiar feeling.
“Estás aquí.” He whispered, “Te he extrañado muchísimo.”
“Yo también te he extrañado, Benito. Muchísimo.”
He leaned back for only a second to leave a kiss on your forehead before pulling you right back into an embrace that it seemed like neither of you could get enough of. With the message clear that you both needed more time with each other, your families left early to give you both some room.
You left with Benito back to the hotel he was staying at and the two of you started talking on the bed in soft murmurs. There were a lot of apologies being said on either side, and explanations needed to be given. But there were also moments where it was like no time had passed, where the two of you would share an inside joke or two and things would feel normal again.
As it got later into the evening, the two of you laid beside each other, hands intertwined as you continued to talk and discuss what any of this confusion meant, just as you had before.
You weren’t sure who kissed who first, but somewhere in a slew of apologies and talking, the two of you locked lips, slowly and delicately undressing each other. Benito’s hands started to wander along your body, expertly caressing every spot he knew you loved as if he were starting back where you left off. He drank in every whimper and sound you made as if he couldn’t get enough.
As he took you that night, he whispered directly in your ear, over and over again until he sounded like a broken record.
“Quédate conmigo. Sé mío. Te amo.”
And you would whisper back, “Me quedaré. Soy tuyo. Te amo.”
Delving into your neck, he left trails of wet kisses as you finished beneath him, finally feeling satisfied after so long.
The two of you smiled at each other with wide toothy grins, knowing that you were both where you needed to be. You planned to stay in his arms for a very long time.
And this time, it felt right.
end a.n. we're so mostly back! haha thanks for all of your guys' patience once again! You guys are the sweetest, most supportive group and I'm glad to see some more Benito fics starting to sprout from the weeds again too!
(taglist) @percysley, @zoomingspark888, @forwardsreckonreboundddd, @oceantides-and-daffodils, @whiteghostlyclouds, @kenstellation ,@videogamedriver
hey hey ! love ur stuff <3 would u ever consider writing for female characters/people ? still with female readers tho. for example young miko or karol g ? of course no pressure if ur not inspired, ill always support anyway ! :) <3
Hi Anon!! Thank you love :)
I have no issue with w|w writing and would definitely consider it if that's something you guys would like to see!!
I guess I should update my "About Me", but this brings up a good point that if there's a person/character that anyone wants me to write about, feel free to send requests for them!
lmk who you guys would want to see more of, if not both young miko or Karol g, or even other celebs like sabrina carpenter or anyone!
notes. hey guys! this was requested from this lovely anon!! I know it's a little on the shorter side, but I hope this is accepted after being away for so long. I'm slowly getting back into it!
tags. bad bunny x gn!reader, leans fem if you consider makeup and nails fem, goth!reader, dark themes, gothic themes, slasher films mentioned, head cannons, fluff :)
When you and Benito met, it should’ve been obvious that you had a gothic aesthetic, but it honestly hadn’t crossed the singer's mind at first.
You met at his concert after all, so he wasn’t really expecting the lifestyle.
What caught his attention, however, were the tattoos littering your legs, arms, neck, and all over.
You had some spider webs and snakes, and even some tarot card tattoos, all in black and grey ink that marked you like stickers.
Being the flirt he was, he approached you and complimented you as soon as he saw you.
And upon meeting you, he knew he was instantly bewitched.
When the two of you started to hang out and dating, it became much more obvious that you loved the gothic lifestyle.
Being a fashion man himself, Benito was a huge fan of the clothes you wore. Most of your wardrobe was black, or dark colors, but the boricuan loved the way you styled everything.
Nothing ever looked the same, as you had your own personal flare you put into it every time.
He also loved if you ever wore makeup. He was so fascinated by how careful you were to make everything pristine and sharp.
He enjoyed that he kept your nails pointy too… for reasons.
Every piece of furniture you owned had been carefully bought and curated to match the aesthetic you loved.
And not only that, but you had tons of curiosities scattered throughout the home: you had an old creaking rocking chair from the 1800s, candelabras in the bathroom, taxidermied animal friends, and black paint everywhere.
There were even some small dolls in your room that were allegedly haunted. Benito made a point to start saying hello to them when he came over… just in case.
Your favorite place in the world was an antique store, and Benito loved to take you.
Any time the two of you would travel, you would stop at an antique store nearby for you to look at the cute knicknacks and items people left behind from all over the world.
Of course, on most trips, you would come back home with some sort of trinket, just to add it to your ever growing collection in your house.
It was no surprise that your favorite holiday was Halloween.
You loved every bit of the holiday, but especially how it was one of the only times of the year where you could fully goth out and no one would bat an eye.
When the two of you started dating, you of course had to conjure up some couples costumes.
Your favorites ended up being Morticia and Gomez Adams, Sweeney Todd and Mrs. Lovett, and two plague doctors in love.
You also really loved Horror Films.
There wasn’t one you hadn’t seen, and you’d seen your favorites enough times to quote them from beginning to end.
Most nights, if you didn’t know what to put on, you would just casually put on a slasher movie you’d seen thousands of times before.
Benito, who was still learning to love horror, would be the one to put his head into your shoulder during the scariest parts.
When the roles were reversed and Benito put on one of his favorite films, he would hold his tongue as you became a blubbering mess.
He thought it was cute that children’s films were often the ones to make you come undone.
And not just films, but you also loved reading. Not just dark tragedies, but just about anything literature had to offer... Even fanfictions. You had quite an extensive library along with everything in your house.
It took a lot of getting used to, but the more Benito fell for you as a person, he learned to really love certain parts of the gothic style as he started to associate it more with you.
And eventually, when the two of you get married, it’s not a surprise to your husband that the wedding colors are dark.
end a.n. sorry for being away! I'm hoping to get some more request writing in soon! hope you guys liked this cute little head cannon! I thought Benito being scared of horror films was just the silliest thing in the world haha
(taglist) @percysley, @zoomingspark888, @forwardsreckonreboundddd, @oceantides-and-daffodils, @whiteghostlyclouds, @kenstellation ,@videogamedriver
I did not expect my summer to go this way. I was really hoping to blast some writing out, but I obviously burned myself out for a sec. I’ll get back to it soon!
You and Clark are more than ready to welcome your baby into the world, but as people mysteriously start to go missing, your husband has no choice but to help them. That is, until he goes missing too. Or, the one time that you save Superman.
wc. 12k | My Masterlist | Part 3
notes. heeeey! we're here with the final part a little later than I intended, but it's here now!! idk if people have been liking this story past part 2 lol, so I at least hope you like this not so little finale :) it's corny, dramatic, got some action, and of course.... clark being a cutie <3 love y'all, see ya at the end!
tags. clark kent (superman) x fem!reader, pregnant!reader, hurt/comfort, angst, close to the movie AU, definite deviations from the movie tho! mentions of a deceased father, some violence, talk of sickness and birth, clark being a cutie.
“Are you sure you’re going to be alright?” Clark asked you for the millionth time as he straightened his tie in the mirror.
“You know my husband is Superman, right?”
You smiled at him from behind, placing your hand on your baby bump as you watched him get ready.
Six months had passed since the wedding and you were very heavily pregnant with Clark’s baby. There were only about three weeks left before the baby arrived, and the two of you were ready to welcome a new life into your world.
You had gotten very big. By the time the last few weeks were rolling around, it was getting hard to do simple tasks. Little things, like putting on your socks and shoes, were almost impossible without a little struggle or Clark to help you out. Although he was more than happy to do everything for you, you didn’t like him fussing over you too much. At the hands of your pregnancy, he became putty. He’d always been attentive, but now it was like his life depended on it.
That night, he had a work dinner to attend that you simply weren’t up for. You were ready to have a quiet night to relax and not to have to worry about your ankles swelling from wearing unflattering shoes.
“I don’t have to go.”
“You do.” You said, rolling your eyes at him playfully, “This is partially for you. They want to do something nice for you before you’re on family leave, Clark. Let them.”
The two of you had told your family and friends about the baby very shortly after the wedding, letting them in on the big secret the two of you couldn’t hold in anymore. Everyone had suspected from the moment you announced the wedding was happening much sooner, but were very congratulatory anyway for you.
Ma and Pa were the most ecstatic, of course.
They were the first people you told nearly days after the wedding while they were still in Metropolis. Ma quite literally jumped for joy, throwing herself onto you and her boy. Pa, with tears in his eyes that seemingly matched Clark’s, came to give you a bear hug, reminding you that your own father would be just as proud. They promised to help with anything you needed, whatsoever, and meant it with their whole beings.
Lois and Jimmy also offered their assistance too, and although they didn’t exactly thrive with kids, they wanted to help out with you when they could. Even that night, they’d begged for you to come out and have some fun, but understood when you gave them your reasonings why it didn’t feel like something you’d be up for.
Your husband, however, figured he had most everything handled. And you also thought he was doing wonderfully as a soon-to-be-father.
Neither of you were sure what to expect with a half-kryptonian child. With Clark’s limited knowledge of his own heritage and where he came from, there wasn’t much to know once the little one was out in the world. He hadn’t even been sure any of this was possible to begin with. So, you both tried to treat the pregnancy as normally as possible until supernatural signs - if any - began to show. And as far as you’d gotten, everything had been normal.
Even though he could hear and see the baby at any moment, Clark wanted you to have every normal experience too. He would often wait patiently for you to see things for yourself before he could insert his own powers on anything. Clark made sure you went to every doctor’s appointment, always by your side. And with misty eyes, he’d still watch and listen to the ultrasounds and sonograms like it was the first time he ever saw it.
Although he tried to make things as normal for you as possible, Clark couldn’t help his worrisome nature sometimes. When he wasn’t out patrolling and protecting the city, he constantly had his eyes and ears on you and the small life growing inside too. He read a lot of parenting books and articles and started to get very opinionated about things that he didn’t deem safe for you or the baby. He was very adamant on making sure that when the delivery happened, his attention was on your safety. Everything was about your safety. Especially the closer you got to popping.
When you finally found out it was going to be a girl - a beautiful daughter - just like you said, he nearly burst from relief in having kept that from you for so long. Despite the obvious worries of new parents, ready was an understatement, as you and Clark were more than prepared to welcome your newborn daughter into the world.
The only thing that wasn’t ready, however, was the name of your baby.
Neither of you could decide on a name; no matter what one of you threw out, one of you would disagree with it. It had been an ongoing thing for months, cycling through what felt like hundreds of names - Evelyn, Marsha, Lana, Keri, Jenna, and just about any girl name imaginable - that you just couldn’t agree on. You went through every baby name book, but it wasn’t coming to you. In fact, it was becoming more of a game than anything.
Clark’s bright eyes never left yours in the mirror as he continued to “check” his outfit for the evening. You had a light smile on your face as you watched him, always a little amused to see him fret over the little things. If anything happened, you knew he would be able to hear yours and the baby’s heartbeat from miles away.
“You’re glowing.” He murmured.
That was also something he’d said to you probably thousands of times over the past several months. He’d said it on your wedding day, the day you found out the gender, the day your bump started to show…
You groaned, “Clark–”
“I’m serious. You’re beautiful and as radiant as the day we met, if not more.”
Finally, he turned to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. A small smile graced his lips as one of his hands rubbed the side where the baby started to kick lightly. It was starting to become a frequent thing any time she heard Clark’s voice.
You pursed your lips, “This doesn’t have anything to do with a baby name, does it?”
“I overheard a name I thought was cute yesterday.” He said excitedly, “Josey?”
“It’s cute…” You mused, “But no.”
“Aw, come on! That one’s almost perfect. Josey Kent.”
He tutted at you, shaking his head. Although he argued, you knew Clark wasn’t the most serious. If you truly didn’t like a name, he wouldn’t keep on with what made you uncomfortable. But he sure did bicker anyway.
“It’s not my favorite,” you shrugged.
“Then what about Corey?” He asked, “Or even Brodie? We haven’t explored too many gender neutral names.”
“Now you’re stalling.”
“Am not…”
With tired eyes, you ran your hand through his raven hair and took in the feeling as his thumb circled along your lower back with a comforting pressure. It had been a constant lately that you were beyond exhausted and your back ached, but you knew it was all going to be worth it, especially with him.
His eyebrows pinched together as he watched your eyes flutter shut, “You could go into labor at any second, you know.”
“And you’ll know when that happens.” You mused back, “Don’t be silly. I’ll be fine. I haven’t left the apartment in a while, and I don’t plan to go anywhere tonight. Not even to the hospital.”
With Metrecordlis being destroyed from the robot attack, you were out of work, which mostly fared well while you were baring a kid. Most days you got to relax as the store was being rebuilt. You at least got a little bit of compensation too while the city paid for the repairs. And once you were ready and able, you would have somewhere to go back to if you wanted.
As far as stress went, everything was pretty low. You didn’t have to worry much about anything other than getting ready for a baby, which was much luckier than most mothers. You were right on schedule for a healthy delivery in a few weeks time, and that’s all you were looking forward to. In fact, sometimes, you wished for it to come sooner.
You hummed lightly, “Just don’t be gone for too long.”
“I won’t,” He smiled, his dimples popping along his cheek, “I have to get home to my girls.”
“To me and Shiloh?”
“Nice try,” Clark smiled, “But no.”
After a deep kiss to your lips, Clark bent forward to also place a quick peck to the peak of your belly. Soon, he was out the door with a small “love you both”. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, placing your hand back over where your baby was now doing summersaults.
You became used to the erratic schedule of Superman, and there were plenty of nights like that one where nights with work friends, having an intimate moment, or saving the world fought for Clark’s attention. But in the end, you always knew you would win out with just a single call to him. Before anything he did, he always made sure to remind you somehow that you and the baby were his world now too.
With Clark gone for his dinner, you waddled your way into the baby’s nursery which had once been your father’s room. He had been gone for almost three years at that point, and you needed the space for the newborn. So, although it had been hard to change the past, you were more excited for the future to come, and decided to set up the baby’s room in his old one.
Just to keep a piece of your father, you had begun a small project for the baby; a t-shirt quilt with all of your dad’s favorite shirts he’d left behind. Every night, you’d sit down in the new nursery to stitch the shirts together, making a non-strenuous ritual for yourself.
Not only that, but you’d kept your father’s TV in the nursery as well. It wasn’t on as much anymore, knowing that it would bother the newborn eventually, but when you needed to have a moment alone, you would turn it on in the background and play the record player, knowing your father’s spirit was alive somewhere in the house.
Clark had also made a small ritual of speaking to the baby in Kryptonian, linking his own parents to her too. He would speak the words over and over, almost in a loop before translating them for you to hear nearly every time as well.
“They’re the only words I know,” He’d said to you once, “But I want her to hear them too.”
You knew that once he got back from his dinner - even though he would try not to - he would wake you up to him curled up beside you with his ear pressed against your belly, whispering those same words to her on the bed.
As you sat quietly in the nursery rocking chair, you continued to stitch as you played gentle music out of the record player in the front room. Since you had been home most days, you tended to keep it on as you cleaned or worked around the apartment. That night, It was playing a record that had been one of your Dad’s all-time favorites by the band Bread. The album, Guitar Man, played at the lowest level as you kept the TV on for light.
Your heart felt more full than ever as you began to murmur to your unborn baby, “I sure hope you come out with the ability to calm your Dad down.”
The baby swiftly kicked your right rib as if to answer, making a small breathless laugh escape your lips.
“I know. You’re a Daddy’s girl too. I’ll quit talking about him.”
And again, as if your answer appeased her, the baby seemed to settle more, only wiggling a light amount as it got closer to bed time.
For an hour or two more, you continued to sew and stitch the quilt together until your fingers couldn’t take it anymore. The record in the living room had long stopped, leaving you in a comfortable silence and the hum of the television throughout the nursery for a while. After putting away your quilt, you knew it was time to head off to bed.
With some difficulty, you clambered out of the rocking chair and made your way into the living room to take the Bread record from its place in the player. You gently put everything back where it belonged before realizing you’d left the TV on in the nursery. With a low sigh to yourself you walked back.
Only, when your eyes settled on the screen as you grabbed for the remote, you noticed Lex Luthor was in the middle of an Emergency Broadcast. He was speaking with some news pundit, sitting very still and professionally on the air. The words Superman has secrets - Mysteries of the disappearing women scrolled at the bottom of the screen.
Immediately, you felt a sinking feeling in your stomach, turning the volume up. You could feel your heartbeat starting to rise as the billionaire’s face appeared as if he were some elected official. Lex’s face was still stoic as he spoke.
“--I believe it to be damning evidence that he is taking these poor, innocent women and children for himself.”
The pundit nodded, “And you have the footage?”
“Yes, please, take a look.”
The picture changed to an ethereal looking couple with blue eyes that were just as bright and mesmerizing as Clark’s. You recognized them as his biological parents, as the resemblance was striking. The sound of the broadcast felt as though it was suddenly louder, and echoing, as if every TV in Metropolis was on and tuned to this. The couple began to speak as a translation sounded over it.
“We love you more than heaven, our son. We love you more than land. Our beloved home will be gone forever.”
The woman began to speak, “But hope finalizes our hearts, and that hope is you, Kal-El. We have searched the universe for a new home where you can live out Krypton’s truth.”
“That home is Earth.” The man spoke again.
It took you time to register, but you soon recognized that you had heard those exact words before. These were the words Clark said to your baby in Kryptonian nearly every night, and the same words that he translated to you too. They sounded old and fuzzy, as if it were coming from a record player.
That’s all you’d ever heard from Clark, and you figured that was the end of the transmission. But to your surprise, there was a sort of hitch, like a record skip, before the man - Clark’s father - continued.
“The people of earth are simple and confused… Lord over the planet as our son - the last son - of Krypton.”
These weren’t words you’d ever heard from Clark.
The woman spoke, “Dispatch of those unable or unwilling to serve you. Have as many wives and children so your genes and Krypton’s might and legacy can live on in this new frontier.”
“We love you our son,” The man said again, “Do us proud Kal-El, rule without mercy.”
There was a sudden warm presence beside you in the nursery. You turned to see Clark had rushed home, and was now silently standing beside you with his blue eyes blown wide at the screen in front of him.
“These are… your parents?” you kept your voice quiet.
The superhero’s eyes were furrowed as he kept his focus on the screen, leaving your question unanswered.
“Clark?” you asked, starting to feel uneasy.
Finally, he turned to meet your eyes. The look of sadness he wore made your heart sink.
“Yes,” His voice was strained, as if he weren’t even sure what he was saying was true, “My birth parents…But I don’t understand. This is the transmission I was given when I was brought to earth. The first half is what I know, but I’ve never heard the-the stuff… I’d never heard the second half. That’s not true. It has to be fake.”
The screen cut back to Lex Luthor, smirking, “There you have it, Ladies and Gentlemen. Proof that the alien - Kal-El, or otherwise known as Superman from Krypton - is taking these innocent victims for his secret harem.”
The feeling you had looking at Clark then was one you never wanted to feel. Lex’s words about meta-humans in the background flooded your ears; unnatural. Human-roaming. Clark took a step toward you, and automatically, you took a large step back. Your brain was swimming with all kinds of questions and quick conclusions and you suddenly felt queasy.
His normal ocean blue eyes were full of sadness as he placed his hands up in surrender to you.
“You’ve said those words to our baby…” Tears started to sting at the back of your eyes, “Tell me the truth, Clark.”
“I only said what I knew,” The larger man spoke as calmly to you as he could, but you could see the panic in his features, much like the day he’d almost been too late to stop the robots. His glasses were still on, though slightly askew from what you assumed was the wind from how fast he flew to you.
Cautiously, you spoke again, “But the message… is real?”
“No.” Defeated, he sighed, “The-the first half is true. This whole time I thought the message was damaged. I thought they wanted Earth as my home. The second part has to be doctored.”
The room suddenly felt too small, like if anything were to go wrong, you were trapped in there. Clark had never taken up space despite how large he was, but now it was like he was threatening to swallow you whole. Your body felt as though it was going to collapse.
“Sweetheart?”
Your husband's voice bit through the sudden chaos in your head. Warm hands wrapped around your waist before your knees gave out - anger forgotten for a moment - as Clark helped lower you onto the rocking chair behind you once again. Your brain, however, hadn’t yet fully caught up, merely working on autopilot to keep you safe. You stared straight ahead as you dissociated from reality.
“Hey, listen to me,” Clark murmured to get you back, kneeling beside you, “There’s no harem. There’s only you and our baby.”
You shrank back, “You’ve kept things from me before.”
Clark frowned and looked as if you had physically stabbed him.
“That’s not fair.”
Feeling a wave of emotions hit you, you shook your head, pointing at him, “I forgave you once before. I thought I understood, but now… How do I know you don’t have other families you tell the same thing to?”
You could feel the sting of guilt as the words left your mouth, but you kept your gaze tight on him.
The taller man closed his eyes. For a moment, his hands hovered over your stomach as if he were going to place them on the peak like he normally had. Slowly though, like he’d decided against it, he placed them at his side.
He stood quietly, opening his eyes to lock with yours.
“I made a promise to you. A vow that you and the baby are my top priority, and that hasn’t… and won’t change.” His voice strained again, “I’ll prove it to you when we get this mess sorted.”
You nodded, though you weren't really sure what to say or do at the moment; your insides and your mind weren’t cooperating with each other as you watched your husband back away. And on top of that, you could feel the baby softly kicking and swimming, none the wiser, and just happy to hear her father’s voice.
Without another word, the superhero was gone from the nursery just as soon as he’d entered it. Now, just you and the baby, the room felt massive - almost too big without Clark in it. A stark contrast from what you felt moments before.
For a long few minutes as your heartrate slowed, you ran your fingers over the smooth wood of the rocking chair. It brought up the memory of a few months ago when you’d found said furniture from one of Lois’ friends. It was an old one that reminded Clark of his home in Kansas, so you’d figured it was perfect for the baby too. Sitting in it then, however, felt strange.
So many questions were stirring around in your head, but it all came back down to the same thought: How much of this was all a lie?
The baby gave your abdomen a hard, swift kick as if it were answering your thoughts.
“Ouch,” You placed your hand on the peak, rubbing the bump delicately, “I’m sorry I’m having doubts about your father…”
As if she could understand, the baby wiggled. You let out a soft giggle as tears began to sting at the back of your eyes. You didn’t care to reach up and wipe them away once they started falling. You took in a shaky breath as you continued, letting out a bitter laugh as you rubbed your bump again.
“There’s so much that points to him telling the truth, and you’re one of them.” You sighed, adjusting in the chair to get more comfortable. As the baby got more restless, you placed your hands underneath your belly, as if you could hold her steady, “He’s the most trustworthy person I’ve ever known, and I know now he only wants me to keep us safe. But… What if he is fostering different families and he’s using me as–”
The baby squirmed, kicking against your left rib. You didn’t finish your thought, hissing at the sudden pain in your side. Another laugh bubbled in your chest as you nodded in thought again.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be thinking about my husband that way. I’ve just been so scared that this is all too good to be true… and now, there’s something that suggests my very life is a lie again.”
As if she were twisting to answer, the baby did another summersault, and you nodded. With another long sigh, you got out of the chair carefully, walking into the bedroom. Finally wiping away the tears, you looked around at the shared space the both of you occupied.
You knew in your soul that you trusted Clark over anyone else, though. No matter what anyone said, you knew that if he wanted to lie to you, he would’ve done it, and easily. He had the power to, but he never held that over you, or anyone unless it was for their safety.
He was good, and honest, and you knew that.
“I wouldn’t have married him otherwise.” You whispered aloud.
As you got into bed that night, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander along several different paths for a long time. You came to one conclusion: you trusted Clark.
He was your family, after all. The only family you had.
As you drifted off to sleep, you decided that when you woke up in the morning, you would apologize to Clark.
***
Except, he didn’t come home that night. Or the night after.
The worry only grew as three days passed with no updates from Clark. No messages, no notes, no words. Nothing. It was like he vanished out of thin air.
You kept the news on nearly every day since he’d left to fix things, switching it between every news channel to look for any sign of Superman.
Yet, the public was starting to feel very conflicted after watching the transmission of his parents. More and more people were starting to disappear, just like he had. Even people, who had vouched for Superman before, weren’t as sure now that there were no updates; no questions were being answered and no villains had been defeated yet.
Even though you felt worried, there wasn’t much you were able to do.
You did what you could; you called Lois and Jimmy, as well as Martha and Jonathan, who all hadn’t heard from Clark either but were just as confused and worried as you were.
Next, you attempted to contact his other hero friends, which wasn’t as hard as you’d once thought. Simply, you just had to call. Getting a hold of the Green Lantern made you feel slightly more at ease, as he and the rest of the Justice Gang had seen Clark more recently than anyone. But, still, you found out quickly that they’d lost track of him sometime that same night of the broadcast.
“We were there at your wedding, you know.” Guy Gardner had said over the phone, “If he has any other wives, we surely weren’t invited to those weddings.”
“Guess that’s good to know,” You groaned, “And you’re absolutely sure no one has seen him? Not even, like, a check in?”
“Last we saw, he was heading towards LuthorCorp. Headquarters. But no, we haven’t seen him since.”
“Okay, thank you.”
“You know your husband’s Superman, right? He’ll be fine.”
He couldn’t see, but tears had sprung to your eyes as you nodded, “Yeah. I do.”
So, once you hung up with him, you tried not to focus on your missing husband. He was rarely in danger, after all, and just like Guy said, he was going to be fine. If the situation hadn’t needed the utmost attention, Clark would’ve been home by now, and so that’s what you told yourself.
As the third day slowly came to an end, you stood in the kitchen as you cooked for two out of habit. Even though your body ached, it was a pretty easy and stress-free activity for you to keep your mind off of everything. But you still chewed at your lip, trying to think of ways to try and get a hold of Clark, or to at least know where he was.
Vaguely, you knew he had a cousin he rarely talked about - one from the same planet as him - but had always said she wasn’t always the most reliable. Kara could help in a pinch though, and you figured you would do what you could to contact her if it meant finding Clark too.
However, your thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a low whoosh sounding from the balcony; a familiar sound that made your heart soar. For a moment, you thought you would rush out and greet your husband now that he was home.
The relief was short lived as a crashing noise started in the living room, making you jolt. For a moment, you wondered if it was your husband still, only maybe he was hurt. But you only had to listen a little harder to know it wasn’t graceful enough to be Clark. Your breath hitched, realizing that a stranger was in your apartment.
As quietly as you could, you turned off the stove and stepped into the small pantry off to the side. It had no door, but it was better than nothing. As pregnant as you were, you could barely move, so you tried to make yourself as small and as quiet as possible. As the clattering of the stranger got closer, you tried to take deep breaths to steady you and the baby, who was jittering all over the place.
Quietly, you whispered, “Please, Clark–”
You flinched as a loud bang sounded close to you, and at the kitchen entrance, you watched as a piece of your record player flew beside you, knocking against the counter. Even as you felt your heart drop, you tried to keep your breathing even.
Despite your efforts, a woman with long braided hair and a sharp, black body suit rounded the corner of the kitchen. She smiled at you like you were an escaped prisoner being caught by the guard. In the same instant, she motioned for you to come to her, but you shook your head no.
The stranger held up a framed picture of you and Clark on your wedding day that had rested on your mantle. She smiled in a faux fondness, her accent very thick, “You two make a sweet family.”
Your jaw set, trying to be firm, “Who are you?”
“A friend of Superman’s.” She shrugged, nonchalantly, “But I’m simply here to collect you for him. He needs you.”
You’d never seen this “friend” of his once. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, careful of the words you chose next. Thinking quickly, you played along with what she said.
“He… Needs me? What does he want with me?”
“For the harem, to raise your baby as his own,” She rolled her eyes, motioned to your body and then to your stomach, “The clinic said your husband was an investigative journalist. Thought you’d have caught up a bit by now.”
Realization dawned on you quickly: She was lying. She didn’t know about you and Clark.
But before you could even begin to think or protest, her skin began to ripple in an unsettling way, turning black at the fingertips and spreading across to her elbows and the rest of her arms. Tiny nanos emerged from her fingers, quickly crawling toward you like a growing tentacle. You tried to back away from it across the floor, but it quickly caught up to you, faster than you could move. You felt the cool metals wrap around your ankle before you could register what it even was.
It felt as if ants were crawling up your leg as more and more of the nanos surrounded you, engulfing your limbs enough to where you couldn’t move. You wrapped your arms around my baby bump, protectively, just as the bots covered your torso.
The woman approached you in one big stride, the nanos moving and forming with her; her eyes were striking as she looked you up and down. As her eyes landed on the swell of your belly and your arms placed around it, she cocked her head and smirked.
“Aw, don’t worry Mama, don’t panic. We will keep you and the little one safe.”
The nanos swarmed around your neck, making it impossible for you to move and look around. She lifted her arm, feeling as the nanos moved along with her. Suddenly, you were in the air too, ultimately having the air knocked out of you.
For a brief moment, you got a look at your living room that was completely destroyed.
Jets sounded from her body as she flew with you in her grasp for a long while until you came upon what looked to be a military beach. People in Hawaiian shirts and khakis milled about. Some of them walked around, while others played together. It felt bizarre to you, but they didn’t bat an eye at the woman and the large group of nanos carrying a pregnant woman.
“Open the portal,” The stranger said loudly as soon as she landed in the sand.
There was a roar of something ethereal as the two of you passed through whirling lights and sparks before there was sudden stillness. The first thing you noticed was that there was barely any gravity. A gentle pull tugged at the bots until it felt as if you were floating. The next thing you could tell was how dead silent it was, except for the light sparking of several other portals near to each other on different planes. It was eerie; void of any sort of sign of life.
Just stillness in a drifting chamber.
Luckily, your baby lightly wiggled, despite the lack of gravity, showing you that there was still life even in your small little pod you held with your stuck arms. The nanos made it difficult to move, but you were able to lightly stroke the side of your belly where your hands were locked in place.
Time didn’t seem to make much sense, as it felt like moments later that you were met with all kinds of different noises; wailing coming from all over. It was as if the two of you had stepped into an animal shelter as they called for attention.
A click sounded and you floated down until your legs and knees hit some sort of surface below you. The nanos slowly peeled off of you, letting you catch yourself on the platform below. As soon as the nanos were gone, a loud snap was heard, and suddenly it was like you were in a glass box. You banged on one of the walls before looking over the edge, seeing what was a river of unnatural colors that bubbled over as if it were lava. You felt a lump in your throat as you backed as far away from the edge as you could.
The woman above you snickered, muffled by the glass, “It’s better to stay in there. Don’t think that down there is good for Mama… or the baby.”
Wordlessly, you nodded as the platform continued to float.
Soon, the two of you came up to what looked like the same glass cube you were in connected to other cubes, spanning for what seemed like eternity. Hundreds, if not thousands of people and creatures, were all trapped inside these transparent prisons just like you.
As you got closer to the cells and the platform moved to be right beside it, as if it were a docking station. The strange woman pulled on a lever until the box you were in started to slide into place.
“We’ll check on you later, Mama,” The woman in black said as the prison locked in place, “We will need you later.”
You noticed a spec of bright red and blue directly behind the woman. A sharp banging could be heard amongst the sea of prisoners and across the echoey nothingness. Stepping forward, you pressed your face as close to the glass as you could and squinted, trying to get a good look at what it was.
Upon inspection, it was Clark.
Relief flooded you; he was right there across the vast lava stream in another glass box. It was pure proof of what you’d expected; this wasn’t any of his doing.
You could see him, and by the looks of it, he had spotted you too. But immediately, you knew something was horribly wrong with him. Keeping quiet, you continued to look at him, unable to peel your eyes away.
“I see you’ve noticed Superman...” The woman in black hummed in thought, “... guess the cat’s out of the bag.”
She gave you a sinister smile and a short wave before floating away with the platform, but your attention was elsewhere.
Even from far away, you could tell Clark was weak. You could barely see the thing in the cell with him, but it looked like a sitting person with a glowing green gem. Clark couldn’t stand no matter how hard he tried, and his face looked like it was covered in something dark. He had his mouth open and his chest heaved as he gasped in some air.
It looked like he was dying.
His arm outstretched to you from behind the glass and you couldn’t help but feel tears start to fall. It dawned on you then that he’d been stuck there, and that’s why you hadn’t seen him for so long. You wondered how long he’d been there, and if he had much time left. As you thought, you looked around the glass cell helplessly.
On your left was a family of three; a mother and two sisters. On your right was a smaller family of two; a mother and her toddler son.
A stabbing kick from the baby hit your lower rib, causing you to hiss out in pain automatically. You finally tried to relax and lowered yourself carefully to a sitting position against the glass, facing Clark.
“I’m sorry.” You whispered to both the baby and to Clark, “I’m so sorry.”
Carefully, you saw as Clark shook his head to you from across the way, and you knew that he’d heard you.
Once again, you glanced around, looking for any sign of escape. But the only thing you saw were the faces of the families miles deep, giving you looks of pity back. You sighed and placed your head against the cool glass and your hands against the bump of your stomach, closing your eyes for a long moment.
“What a pickle we’re in, baby.” you groaned.
***
Time seemed to be non-existent in the dimension you remained in.
People came in and out of the portals; sometimes the woman in black, other times were random guards, but it didn’t help to measure the time that passed.
Eventually, after what felt like a day or two, the portal whirled to life and none other than Lex Luthor stepped out along with the woman in black. Beside them on the platform was some sort of creature with blue-ish-white fur and humanoid ears. Its eyes were black and cold, and it didn’t exactly have a mouth.
As the platform docked at your cube cell, you could see from the corner of your eyes that Clark, having been struggling to get up, had perked up slightly to watch from afar. The door slid open as the creature approached you slowly. Out of instinct, you started to back away and cover your stomach in protection.
The woman in black barked out a laugh, “It’s helping you check your baby,” Her eyes rolled again, “Relax.”
The creature came close and simply stood beside you. Its ears perked up and eyes widened, if that were possible. It grumbled for a moment before stepping back.
“It thinks your baby is fine,” Lex Luthor said with a small smile, “We brought water and a meal for you. Eat up so your baby can stay healthy.”
You nodded, stepping to the edge of the enclosure. Carefully, you reached out for whatever food the woman in black gave you with a short nod of thanks. You looked down at the meal in your hands: two pieces of bread with cheese and a side of broccoli. A fun-sized milky-way bar sat on the plate, practically mocking you. You sighed, because at least it was something.
Feeling brave, you stole a look at Lex Luthor, speaking directly to him.
“My husband writes about your shady work, Mr. Luthor,” You started, trying to sound brave, “Why am I here?”
Lex flashed you an almost picture perfect smile.
“Oh, I’m very aware of your husband’s articles, Mrs. Kent.” he started between his teeth, “But you, my dear, are here for Superman’s harem. The problem, however, is that we weren’t able to make the general public believe just the transmission. Every simple human-being thinks too highly of this creature, and we need them to see the truth. Thanks to my lovely Engineer here, we got the transmission from the alien’s lair and then we got Superman so he can live out what his parents wanted.
“That’s where everyone here comes in. All of these lovely ladies are now a part of his harem, or at least, when we hypnotize and sedate you, you’ll certainly believe that you are.” Lex pointed behind him to Clark, “Once he dies, we’ll be able to study his genetic coding and get rid of the vermin once and for all.”
“What?”
The food that had been in your hand clattered on the floor as you stared directly at the two evil beings in front of you. Lex Luthor let out a bellowing laugh before stepping forward, directly into your cell. He made a gesture behind him, only for more food to be flown in on a smaller platform seconds later.
“I didn’t know you had such a soft spot for Superman, Mrs. Kent. Seems like your husband has rubbed off on you a little too much. But there’s no need to be frightened. Rest assured, Clark Kent remains unharmed while we borrow you and his baby. I’m sure he won’t mind when we send you back to him. Here soon, you’re going to save the world. You’ll just need time to understand.”
Your heart started to flutter fast, and behind you the strange creature who had checked on you earlier began to whine. You glanced behind you to see the creature’s dark eyes looking directly at your stomach.
“Careful, Mrs. Kent, it can sense when the baby is stressed too.” The woman in black - The Engineer - mused aloud.
You placed your hands on your stomach instinctively, backing away from Lex and the new food he held out to you, “And I’m just supposed to… go along with all of this? Is everyone here just a ploy in this agenda of yours?”
“So you have caught up.” The evil man smiled as the creature stepped around you to get back into position on the platform with the Engineer, “We’ll be back. Enjoy your meal, Mrs. Kent.”
The two of them exited your cell as you looked down at the small amount of food. The other families had also been given a meal, and so you people watched as they slowly ate theirs as well. Once you saw that no one was being affected immediately by the food, you started to eat as well.
The toddler on your right side had some issue with his broccoli and his mother trying to feed it to him. You watched as she tried to feed him a piece, only for him to wail after it touched his lips.
The scene made you think of Clark and the baby that grew within; a scene that you could so easily see being replaced with your daughter and the tall man himself, trying his best to calm a toddler over the leafy vegetable. Just as this mom did to her toddler, he’d smile at your daughter, hiding the veggie from the child's sight until he charmed her. Once she gained trust, he’d show it until she finally conceded to try the scary broccoli from Clark.
Again, you looked out across the dimension to your husband, sitting just on the other side. You could see him talking at the person in his cell, but they never budged. Even from afar, you could see a tear fall down Clark’s cheek.
He was still hanging on, but he was deteriorating fast by the looks of it. Eventually, he could barely even get to his knees anymore.
If Clark died and they got his genetic codes, they would easily be able to figure out that he was the biological father of your baby. Certainly, they would try to kill you and your daughter too if they found out.
You were beginning to panic the more weak he looked, but felt completely useless. Even if you wanted to do something, your pregnancy was making it hard to move around, let alone think straight. It felt like the most you could do was sit there and watch.
So, you watched. And you watched everything. It was all you could do.
Mainly, you watched routines. You saw who came in and out of the portals and when, and found that the majority of people coming through were guards. More aptly, they were Lex Luthor’s henchmen that came through to do routine checks on everyone, including Superman. One of them even stayed in an enclosure with a lone green baby, holding the small being as it cried.
You tried your best to communicate with Clark when you could without drawing much attention. You would speak to him in whispers, knowing he could hear you. Quietly, you let him know you and the baby were okay.
You allowed your thoughts to swim with thoughts of yours and Clark’s baby, both good and bad. Desperately, you wanted him to be there with you, but you knew that the other possibilities were staring you directly in the eyes, and you didn’t want to look back.
“What about Meena?” You asked quietly, “That’s cute, right?”
From afar, you saw Clark’s shoulders move for a moment. He gave you a small smile, shaking his head.
“She needs a name,” You’d whispered to him, “I need you to hold on for her, okay?”
Barely, Clark nodded.
***
Waking up felt awful as your back and legs started to cramp. Your insides felt more scrambled than normal, and you felt like you were going to be sick. As the time passed by slowly, you had allowed yourself to rest some, but not very well. You slept against the cool glass, curled up in a protective ball, and as you woke up, you could feel just how that affected you.
However, this time, you came up with a plan. A really stupid one, but a plan none-the-less. You just had to wait a little bit longer for an opportune time. You knew the legitimate pain and stiffness were going to help you sell your idea. You looked around, and noticed the basic routine that everyone was in. When everything looked calm, you decided to put your plan into motion.
As had become a habit, you looked over to Clark to make sure he was still okay and alive. He still looked worse for wear, but he was at least still breathing albeit a bit labored. You whispered against the glass, waiting until he could turn his head towards you. For only a moment, the two of you locked eyes.
“I have a plan,” You said gently, “It’s stupid… But you have to trust me.”
There was no response from him, as he couldn’t muster up any strength to give you one. But you knew what he would’ve said to you: Don’t.
But you had to anyway.
Slowly, and as unsteadily as you could act, you lifted yourself onto your feet, making a show of pressing a hand to your stomach just to sell it further. Halfway up, you leaned against the glass and started to groan, taking in deep dramatic breaths as well.
Balling up your hands in a fist, you started to bang on the glass, making as loud of a noise as you could. Almost immediately, it caught the attention of Clark across the way who was now looking at you with pleading eyes, silently begging you to stop. But, the noise made the moms on either side of you notice as well. The mom to your right came up, tapping lightly on the glass behind you to grab your attention back.
“Are you okay?” She asked, “What’s wrong?”
“I think I’m in labor…” You squeaked out with a distressed groan, “... I don’t know, but something hurts.”
The other mom on the other side was already beginning to bang on the walls as well, trying to grab the attention of guards around the area. Soon, the three of you as well as the children were screaming and yelling for someone to come help you.
After what felt like an eternity, a guard finally came up to you on one of the floating platforms with the strange baby-checking creature. The guard gave you a brazen glare through his goggles as the platform docked and the front of the glass popped open. He approached you with the creature, obviously annoyed that he was having to come and deal with you.
“What is it?” He asked.
“She’s in labor, she’s got to get to a hospital,” One of the Mom’s said, muffled through the glass.
Even though he was masked, you could see the henchman look you up and down as you gave out big puffs of exasperated air. You practically doubled over, hoping he would buy your act for just enough time. You let out a desperate cry of what you hoped sounded like pure pain.
“Please, sir.” You begged.
Stunned by what he was looking at, the guard just stood there for a moment or two contemplating what he needed to do.
“You’ll need to get checked first.” He said, “Lex will need to know you’re really in labor before we just up and send you to the doctor.”
Stealing a glance, you looked across the cells to your husband, where you could see him hiked onto his elbow. With one arm, Clark tried to keep himself steady as he pounded weakly on the glass with his other. His steely eyes locked with yours for only a moment, and you knew he was pleading with you. He looked more desperate than before, like he was trying to get out and get to you too.
Still, you had to keep on with your plan.
The fuzzy and lanky creature approached you, just like it had with Lex. Its beady eyes landed on your stomach. It made a low humming sound before all of the hairs started to stand, glowing a small orange on the ends.
The guard glared at you again, “It’s not detecting anything’s wrong.”
As the guard was distracted looking at the creature, you surged forward as quickly as you could and grabbed for the man’s weapon in his holster. Behind you, you could hear Clark’s muffled screams, though you weren’t making them out.
Catching on, the man grabbed for your wrist just as you’d managed to free the weapon from his belt. Quickly, before he could move either one of you to the edge of the cell, you aimed down and pulled the trigger, watching as a red beam blasted out, piercing through the man’s leg.
The masked guard let out a cry of anguish as he fell to the floor. You stumbled backward, keeping the weapon aimed at him as much as you could muster. The blue-white creature, obviously stunned as well, backed away onto the platform, out of the way.
“Stay back.”
Your voice felt shaky as you spoke, but you kept your chin as high as possible and your other hand protectively over your bump. Still, the guard let out a sarcastic laugh at you, motioning to your stomach. You growled, shoving the weapon closer. Aiming towards his legs again, you pulled the trigger and watched as another red blast grazed against his other shin, nearly bouncing off the bottom of the cell.
You backed away onto the platform, along with the creature, pulling on the same lever to close the glass enclosure around the guard. You turned to the fuzzy thing beside you, holding up the weapon to it as well.
“I don’t know what you are, but don’t try anything.”
Its black eyes just watched as you messed around with the controls of the platform, trying to get it to move. You knew you had very little time, as there were people starting to mutter all over, and no doubt the guard was trying to alert someone that you were trying to escape.
As the platform approached, you knocked against Clark’s cell ungracefully, trying to get it to dock. You barely waited for it to stay still before pulling on the lever to snap the glass cell open.
Clark practically rolled onto the platform, sucking in a deep, stilted air. The grey looking man behind him, the one with the green gem, looked at you with wide eyes. You stepped over your husband, pointing the weapon you still had in your hands up to the grey man, beginning to growl.
“What are you doing to him?”
As you took a step towards him, it was like your baby started to… shrivel inside. You’d never felt anything like it, as it was like the baby tried to swim away the closer you got to that green gem.
You felt a soft pressure release just below your stomach. A trickle of warm, wet liquid traveling down the side of your inner thigh. Soon it was followed by an intense feeling that started in your lower back and wrapped around to your abdomen. It hit you hard, like an ocean wave, nearly knocking you down.
The fuzzy creature beside you made a loud whine, and you glanced over to see that it was staring very intensely at you now. Keeping your composure as best as you could, you took in a deep breath, trying to ignore the feeling.
“Don’t…” Clark wheezed below you, snapping you out of your anger, “Please. The baby.”
Slowly, the grey man in the cell contorted, just like the Engineer. Except, his hand morphed until it crackled, steadily taking away the glowing gem until it turned into a normal purple hand. As it went away, Clark was able to take in more stable air and the baby moved into a more normal position. Some of the dark spots in Clark’s face went away as well.
“It’s Kryptonite,” The man said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t…”
As the guy put his arms behind his back, you lowered your weapon as well. You kept an eye on him, but made no move as you turned your attention back to your husband. With difficulties, you got to your knees to be beside Clark. You carefully cradled his neck in your hands, examining the dark spots on his face. He reached up as well, placing his fingers along your chin.
“Why would you do that? Are you crazy?” He whispered, “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I couldn’t–”
Quickly, you cut him off with a groan as a huge wave of pain lapped around your abdomen again. Your fingers grasped tightly at the back of his neck unconsciously, even though you were trying to be gentle. The fuzzy creature you’d forgotten about made a noise again behind you. Clark, presumably aware of the changes happening in your body, sprung into action. Unsteadily, he got to his knees to be level with you.
And finally, his warm hand went to the top of your belly, running his thumb gingerly across it.
“We have to get you out,” Clark slurred, muttering through a tight jaw. He closed his eyes and shook his head, like he was trying to get himself back into shape, “We gotta get you t’a hospital. Kryptonite made you… You’re in labor.”
“I’m fine. She has some time,” You said, though the pain in your lower back was screaming at you otherwise, “We have to find a way to get you out.”
“Why does he still look gross?” The grey man asked from behind, “The Kryptonite is gone.”
“The sun,” your husband choked out, but didn’t take his eyes off of you, “I get my powers from the yellow sun.”
“I can… make something like that.”
“What?” You and Clark said at the same time.
As the grey man put his hands together, he started to mutter to himself. The murmuring from the cells was getting louder as the man put together what was practically a small, functional sun. You turned to look at the glass box you’d left the guard in, only to hear him yelling for someone as well.
Before you could worry more, Clark’s warm hand pressed against your cheek, making you look back at him. His other hand was still pressed lightly to your baby bump, stroking just above your bellybutton.
“You’re here.” He murmured as light began to grow behind him, “I thought I would never see you again.”
With a small laugh, you shook your head, whispering as you placed your hands to his cheeks as well.
“We still need to choose a name for our daughter, you know.”
His jaw tightened as a tear slipped from his eye. Big arms enveloped you, pulling you in for a tight embrace. Your face pressed against his chest as you felt him let out a short sob of relief. As the light over took you both, Clark pulled you closer to his chest, shielding you with his body from the intensity of the faux sun. It was like you could feel the strength growing in your husband, as well as your baby inside.
Once he had just enough strength, the broad arms of Superman then whisked you into the air. You took hold of his neck as his arms cradled you closer to his body. He shot high above the cells before looking down at the platform the two of you had just come from.
“Get your son, Rex, and help the prisoners.” His voice boomed.
Before anyone responded, he shot off again. Clark held you to him tight as you soared through the open vastness of this dark dimension. You tried not to look, keeping your face in Clark’s neck to hopefully avoid getting sick. That’s not what you needed with the baby on the way.
“When Luthor captured me, he told me he had multiple portals.” He said over the roar in your ears, “We just have to wait for one to open.”
As he spoke, you could feel your insides start to seize and cramp again. Involuntarily, you let out a small croak of discomfort. Your arms squeezed around his neck, and you were sure he could feel every push and sway of your muscles.
“Okay,” Clark breathed, “So, we won’t wait.”
Thinking quickly, he flew to a portal and floated in front of it. He held you securely, and looked around at the circular object before beginning to speak into the ether.
“Alright, Luthor,” He taunted, “Send your Raptors.”
Although you weren’t exactly sure what Clark was talking about, you got the gist of his plan pretty quickly and held on tighter. Just as Luthor took the bait, the portal began to whirl loudly, casting a bright purple glow.
Before it even fully came to life, Clark had positioned you against him and blasted through the glowing gateway. They were trying to shoot at you both, but using his heat vision, he cut through the troops that had tried to get to him. You’d honestly never seen such fury in Clark.
Once back in your own dimension, and through the Raptors, you finally peeked your head out of Clark’s neck to see you were back in the beach area you’d come through with the Engineer. And finally, he flew as quickly as he could in the direction of the nearest hospital.
He still didn’t say anything again until he touched down just outside of the South Metropolis labor and delivery unit; too focused and too afraid for anything to happen to you. He let you down as gently as possible, helping you maneuver as you felt comfortable getting into the building.
“I have to go,” He said once you were finally inside. There were some nurses that scrambled to you and your husband, but stopped cold once they saw him in the suit. Clark continued, “I have to help the others.”
He gave you a sort of sad, but determined look, and you knew what he was trying to tell you:
I’ll be back. Hang on.
And so, you nodded to him, “Good luck, Superman.”
Once again, he gave you a short nod and a small wave, before he was running out the door. Outside the building, you heard the roaring wind of him flying off and knew he was doing what he could to rush back.
The stunned nurses sprang back into action, helping you into a wheelchair and checking you in as quickly as possible before ushering you into one of the rooms.
“She’s a bit early, according to your charts,” One of them said as they pushed you down a hall, “Did something happen?”
As she was speaking, your baby felt as if it rolled again, nearly leaving you breathless. Taking in as much air as you could, you nodded. You were already exhausted enough that you didn’t want to keep up too many lies.
“Stress,” you said, “My husband’s been out of town for a few days, so I’ve just been extra stressed.”
The other nurses hummed as they led you into a room, but didn’t question you any further. They got you into a bed and hooked up to their machines. For a while, they let you relax, but you were starting to feel another contraction coming on. One of the sweet ladies approached you as a wave of pain hit you again.
“Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable, Mrs.--”
“Turn on the news,” You demanded to the nurse, breathlessly, “Please.”
She nodded, unphased, as she complied with your wishes.
It took a while for the news cycle to catch up with the return of Superman, and in that time, you and your daughter held off as much as you could. But soon, as you’d hoped, there was live coverage of your hero cleaning up the city on the Daily Planet.
As he’s said, Clark went back for the people in the prisons, and managed to get the Justice Gang involved to help set everyone free. The portals were immediately shut down too, as they violated many national, international, and intergalactic laws. You knew in the back of your mind that Jimmy and Lois were enjoying the coverage they were getting too.
Because of all of the torment he’d caused, Clark had gone to confront Luthor, who had tried to fight him back. The Engineer, a mutated man, and several of his henchmen all joined as your husband fought tooth and nail to get back to you.
In the meantime, you tried not to stress any more. Especially the closer you got to delivery, you tried to treat the news as just background noise. Now that Clark was back on earth, his home, you knew he had everything under control.
The books and movies hadn’t prepared you for how truly painful everything was as your body prepared for the miracle of life. You knew everything was pushing and stretching to their limit, so you simply tried to listen to your body and to the baby as she wiggled her way out. Ultimately, you were running out of time to wait, and the nurses were getting more and more anxious for you to start pushing. They turned off the news once the doctor came in, ready for you to get things done before it became unhealthy.
Just as your team helped you into the most comfortable position to help you push, another nurse ran into the room.
“Mr. Clark Kent is in the waiting room, do you want him in here?” She asked you.
You didn’t hesitate in nodding, letting out an exasperated, “Yes, please.”
The door opened again, revealing Clark in a hospital gown. His hair was disheveled in windblown curls, and his glasses were just barely past his nose, like he’d put them on at the last second. But a wide smile graced his features as he looked at you and rushed in.
He bent down to your side, leaving a swift kiss to the top of your head, speaking breathlessly, “I’m here.”
Small tears sprang to your eyes as you nodded, placing your hand in his, “You’re here.”
It felt like hours that you sat there pushing. And by all means, it probably took several hours. Eventually, all of the pressure seemed to release. You let go of Clark’s hand you’d been holding on tightly to, and it felt as if you were finally able to take in air.
And then, three tiny sobs erupted in the room, louder than all of the doctor’s chatters.
Clark’s eyes locked with yours as his warm hand came up to caress your cheek. Despite how exhausted you looked with sweat soaking through your gown, he was smiling the widest you’d ever seen; his dimples popping as he took in the sight of you.
“You are the bravest, and strongest person I know, Mrs. Kent.” With gentle fingers, he carded his hand through your hair, “Thank you, for never giving up on us.”
A sob erupted from you as well as you reached up to weave your fingers into his raven hair as well, “I would never.”
Before either of you could say anything else, the nurses approached you with a small being in their hands, smiling at the two of you. They set her down on your chest gently as the tiny thing started to let out softer bubbles of noise from before.
Your daughter, with bright blue eyes, stared up at the two of you for only a moment. In your arms, she seemed to settle just enough to cautiously look around her at the new world she was thrust into. Her tiny eyebrows were etched in permanent confusion before shutting her eyes tight, making you let out a wet laugh.
She looked like a perfect mix of the two of you; your hair and nose, even your skintone. Just behind the baby fat, you could see two dimples on either side of her cheeks. She looked just like Clark with strikingly beautiful features.
“Hi, little lady,” Clark murmured, taking all of her in. With a small hand, she reached up just as your husband gave her one of his fingers. She quieted her sniffles for just a few moments as her own fingers touched him, wrapping around tightly. He let out a small laugh, “What a strong grip.”
As you watched father and daughter interact for that moment, it made you think of your own Father and how he would’ve been so happy to meet the baby. In that same instant, one of his favorite songs of all time popped into your mind: one you’d actually heard fairly recently in the Guitar Man album.
Aubrey by Bread.
“What about the name Aubrey?”
The rumble of your chest caught the baby’s attention, and her blue eyes shot open again, taking a good look at you. You cooed to her gently, getting choked up at the pure sight of her being there.
“Aubrey.” Clark confirmed in a whisper as he looked at the bundle in your arms, “Welcome to earth, Aubrey.”
As he pressed his head to yours, you finally felt at ease.
***
After some bonding time with your baby, you had finally gotten a good amount of sleep in the hospital. It was important that you did, as the stress from being in the pocket dimension had elevated your heart rate into abnormal levels during birth. Even though everything ended up being okay, you were on a pretty strict rest schedule.
Clark took over most while you were asleep, of course. He tried not to jostle little Aubrey much as she was also getting some much needed newborn rest in. But, she didn’t seem to mind sleeping in her Dad’s strong arms, cuddling close to his chest. She was small enough to fit in only one of Clark’s hands, so seeing him use the utmost care around her as she slept made you fall in love all over again.
The more you looked at him, though, the more you could see that he still looked sick. He really wanted to be better now that he was in contact with the sun. Still, he felt cautious that he didn’t want to spread anything to his precious baby. So, in the time you were awake, he’d have Aubrey nurse with you to make sure she wasn’t going to get sick immediately until he had some time to heal. Just in case.
Clark called his parents a couple of hours after she was born, putting them on facetime for the both of you, letting them know that their beautiful granddaughter was in the world a little early. He had to cover the speaker as you could hear Ma’s excitement on the other line from miles away. Martha promised that she and Pa were on their way as soon as they possibly could.
“We’re proud of you both.” Pa mumbled before the line went dead.
At some point in the evening, Clark went to the apartment for you to grab the things you hadn’t been able to get yet, like a change of clothes and the t-shirt blanket you’d been making. In the time he was there, he also saw the damage that had been done and apologized for the mess, promising he would fix it. And by all means, he did. After dropping your items off for you in the hospital, your husband disappeared for a little while longer, only to appear again a couple of hours later.
The next morning, when you finally were released from the hospital and were able to go home, you found that your husband had done his best to quickly replace and clean everything so you could have a functional living room for the baby.
Clark gave you a pretty big breakfast once you arrived, making you and the baby relax on the couch. On the tray that he presented to you was a small vase of flowers and a folded Newspaper - Clark’s doing written all over it.
With the baby in your arms, Clark unfurled the paper for you, and on the front cover was a picture of Superman flying high in the sky. It was an article written by Lois Lane, and on the top in bold letters, were the words:
Superman Saved by Heroic Bystander
As you read the article, you read in Clark’s words how he’d gotten captured by Lex Luthor and his psychotic gang of henchmen. He described being imprisoned in another dimension along with all of those supposed missing people for his supposed “harem” that all ended up being Luthor’s ploy.
“Although the message my parents sent with me to Earth is real, there was never any Harem, and there never will be. All of those innocent people were already in families of their own. In fact, one of the brave ladies helped me in my time of weakness, despite her pregnancy.” Superman said, “I can’t thank her enough, and I hope she understands that if she helps her kids as much as she helped me, then they’ll always be in good hands.”
You stopped reading, only to pull Clark in closer to you. You pressed a soft kiss on his lips and carded your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.
“You saved me enough times, it was time for me to return the favor.”
Clark laughed, shaking his head at you, “Let’s promise not to do it for each other for a while… A long while.”
Gently, you handed Aubrey over to your husband as you started to eat the breakfast food in front of you. He smiled at her, cooing just above a whisper before turning to you again.
“I’m sorry about your record player, sweetheart,” Clark said, adjusting as the tiny being began to wiggle in his arms, just as she normally did when she heard his voice, “I know that meant a lot to you.”
You shook your head, watching as he left a kiss on Aubrey’s soft head. You smiled to yourself, watching the father-daughter exchange sweet looks to each other.
“It’s okay. It’s not your fault, anyway. Besides, it’s the music that means a lot to me.”
“Well, we can build up your collection again, just like we did for my Pa.” Clark said with a small shrug, “For now, we can listen to Spotify.”
As you ate, the superhero pulled out his phone, careful of the newborn he was shifting around. For a moment, he looked through his playlists and as he searched, you couldn’t help but feel like he looked like such a natural Dad. He smiled when he eventually came across what he was looking for.
Sitting back, you leaned against the love of your life as he held your baby securely in his arms. The guitar chords of the song Aubrey filled the living room through his phone speaker, and you couldn’t help but feel a lump form in your throat.
“I love you, Sweetheart.” He murmured, “You and Aubrey.”
You bent over to kiss him gently, “We love you too, Clark. So much.”
He nodded, pulling you both closer, "I know."
~And Aubrey was her name~
end a.n. thank you guys for reading!!! I honestly just love a cutesy story, and I hope you guys who read this love that sort of thing too. Especially with a sweetie like Clark Kent :))! As always, let me know what you think in the comments!! I don't have an epilogue planned for this one sadly, but if you'd like to see one, shoot me some ideas! or just ideas for Superman in general <3 also thanks @sp0ck136 for brainstorming with me on this!
(taglist) @videogamedriver, @iyskgd, @jakubd0bes, @dramallama9, @yogurts-things, @sara11reads, @oceantides-and-daffodils
Howdy y’all~ apologies for being MIA. Truth is is I’ve just had terrible writers block since I got back. Every time I sit down to write, I’ll write a little before getting distracted and haven’t finished anything yet.
I see your requests, and I’m working on them! It’s just been a slow process to work my way back up. Next time I post, it’ll be a story! Promise!
Here’s a pic of some ducklings I took in Central Park as a small offering 🙂
L. O. Fucking. L. What a 36 hours this has been for me, if only y’all knew the half of it!
Longest story short is that we got stuck in New York for another day than planned! Amazing and super fun? Yes! But also incredibly stressful. Now, I am finally home :))
