ifyouweremine

[ifyouweremine]

Dancing in my Living Room | Clark Kent

PAIRING: Clark Kent x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Just you and Clark, dancing in your living room while the city sleeps.

WARNINGS:

W/C: 0.9k

The clock on the wall said it was nearing 2am, but you didn't have it in you to bring the night to an end just yet.

Beyond your windows, Metropolis was quiet. The sky was dark save for the splatter of stars across their canvas, a waning moon tucked between them. You couldn't help but think that this was the most beautiful the city had ever looked, peaceful when the rest of the world was sleeping.

And you? You were dancing in your living room, barefoot on the carpet as you swayed in the arms of a man who simultaneously grounded you and made you feel weightless. Clark Kent held you so carefully, your body cradled in his embrace with his chin resting atop your head. Your own was resting against his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart behind his ribs.

The song was playing softly from the record player, the vinyl spinning closer to the end of this moment. The music would stop, the world would cease holding its breath as it waited for you and Clark to live through this moment, then reality would sink back into your veins.

You had never been loved like this before. Effortless. Easy. Never questioning whether the other person's feelings were true. Everything with Clark came so naturally it was as though you were two halves of a whole.

What had started that night as dinner, sharing stories of your days across the table while the pasta and wine went forgotten, had ended in Clark's craving for cookies.

The two of you had been midway through a movie when the desire for them struck and there was no deterring Clark Kent when he set his mind to something. Aliens were stubborn like that.

Now you were here, the warm aroma of freshly-baked cookies filling your apartment as you danced together. Clark had put the record on and danced with you through every song that played, spinning you beneath his arm before drawing you close again. He kissed your forehead, your cheek, your nose, your lips; everywhere he could reach, he would make sure you knew how loved you were.

This was unfamiliar to you. Nobody had ever wanted to dance with you at 2am simply because the moment felt right. There had never been a man that was unafraid to show how much he loved you the way Clark did. He loved you so fiercely, so gently, so wholly that there was no doubt in your mind that he was the one.

As the final song closed out, the crackle of the record player filled the silence and you drew back from Clark's hold to look up at him. "I love you."

"I love you," he replied, leaning down to kiss you softly. You smiled against his lips and Clark let loose a little chuckle that rumbled through his chest. He murmured, "We should check the cookies."

"Right," you said, pulling away from him entirely.

As your bodies separated, the world released its breath and the sounds of the city's nightlife reached your ears. The distant hum of cars, the occasional shout from the sidewalk below, the bass of your neighbour's stereo thumping through the walls. The city never slept, not really, but for those few minutes that you were dancing with Clark it was as though Metropolis had given you a grace period.

In the kitchen, you pulled out the baking tray and placed it on the counter. Clark was hovering, rarely straying more than a few feet from you, watching and observing. Your smile as you looked at your perfectly baked cookies was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen and when you turned to him, he couldn't help but smile back.

"They're done?" he asked.

"They're done," you confirmed.

Clark moved closer to you, one arm sliding around your waist so naturally that it was second-nature to your body to melt into his embrace. He reached for the baking tray and you said, "Don't! They're still hot."

"I'll be fine," he assured you, reaching for one of the cookies.

He picked it up and you giggled when he dropped it almost immediately, shaking out his hand where he'd burned himself. Raising your eyebrows, you said, "Nice one, Superman."

"They might be a little hot," Clark said.

"Patience is a virtue," you reminded him, reaching for his hand. You kissed the tips of his fingers and smiled. "I've got ice cream in the freezer."

"Perfect," Clark said, leaning down to kiss you again. "Just like you."

"You flirt," you replied.

"Just recognising true beauty," Clark said, heading for your freezer.

You rolled your eyes, finding two bowls and putting a couple of cookies into each one. Clark had a spoon, making light work of scooping out the ice cream in generous helpings. Handing him a spoon when he was done, you took both of your bowls back through to the living room and Clark joined you once he'd put the ice cream away.

These were the moments you lived for, doing nothing but experiencing everything with Clark like it was the first time. Your soul felt at peace beside him because Clark was the human version of sunshine, brightening even your worst days. Watching him brave the cookies again despite them being fresh out of the oven had you laughing uncontrollably, your heart filled with so much love it burst from you in your laughter.

There was nobody in the world you would rather dance 'til the dawn with than Clark Kent and from the way he kept looking at you, his own heart echoed the feelings of your own.

[ifyouweremine]

Four Blue Eyes | Clark Kent

PAIRING: Clark Kent x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: After so many years of loving Clark Kent's blue eyes, you find another pair that you could get lost in.

WARNINGS: Childbirth, reader gives birth, screaming, yelling, all the rough bits of pregnancy (not explicit but heavily alluded to)

W/C: 1.4k

You loved the Fortress of Solitude. Clark had shown it to you a few years after your wedding, introducing you to the robots that resided there and the last trace of his home world left in existence. He had let you into the most private part of his life and you had never once breathed a word of its existence to anybody. This was Clark's place and if he showed it to you, it was because he trusted you with looking after it. The quiet was something you always loved about the Fortress.

Until today.

"Ahhhhh!"

Your scream bounced back to you a dozen times over and Clark gave your hand another gentle squeeze. The echoes in this place were enough to set his nerves on edge, especially when it was the sound of your pain being repeated over and over. His eyes were wide and he looked absolutely terrified despite his best efforts to hide it.

"Oh my God!" you cried, teeth gritted as you forced yourself to take a couple of deep breaths.

"That's it," Clark said. "Deep breaths, like we practiced."

"You practiced!" you growled. "I called you an idiot."

"Oh, yeah? Now who's the idiot?" Clark asked.

"Don't try and be funny with me right now!"

As much as his heart ached for you, Clark knew that it would all be worth the hardships. Your feet were braced on a set of stirrups while you laid back against the bed in the middle of the Fortress. Not that you could see your feet; your belly blocked the view.

Your waters had broken that morning. Your baby was coming.

It had been a few hours now and you were still no closer to having your child in your arms, though. All you knew was pain and rage, interchangeable depending on the timing of your contractions.

"I want this to be over," you cried.

"I know, I know, sweetheart," Clark soothed. "It'll be over soon."

"I want him here," you sobbed. "I can't do this, Clark. I can't- I can't do this. I can't- Oh my God-"

"Breathe," Clark said, his tone firm. "Breathe for me, sweetheart. Nice and slow, big deep breaths."

"I can't!"

"Yes you can," Clark insisted. "Come on, sweetheart. You got this."

Did you?

Nine months ago, you had been feeling queasy for a few days and then missed your period. A pregnancy test (seven tests, to be specific) confirmed what you had been fearing, those two little lines glaring at you like some cosmic joke.

In any other circumstances, you would have been over the moon at the thought of starting a family with Clark, but there was an uncertainty in your mind that overshadowed your joy. Clark was a Kryptonian. His genes were far superior to your own. Come on, the man could fly and shoot lasers from his eyes and you were growing a half-Kryptonian foetus in your womb.

That was terrifying.

Clark had immediately gone into panic-mode when you told him you were pregnant. He had disappeared for hours and come back a lot calmer. Turns out, he'd flown straight to the Fortress and asked his robot friends what the likelihood of this pregnancy coming to term were, not only for fear of losing the child, but from the fear of losing you. He had no idea what sort of havoc his genetics would wreak on your body or the child's, so he had gone to the only source he knew that might have some answers.

Sadly, they didn’t know.

Throughout your pregnancy, you spent every other weekend at the Fortress. Clark had made a strong argument for every week, but you drove a hard bargain and he was a sucker when your bottom lip pulled that adorable little pout. He settled for a fortnightly checkup, where the technology was far superior.

Normal doctors never found anything abnormal in your scans, but Clark was still terrified. Mr Terrific was crucial in easing some of Clark’s worries, running tests that normal doctors wouldn’t have thought of. Your baby was normal; a healthy little boy who was growing nice and sound in his mother’s womb, waiting for the day he would come roaring into the world.

If only you knew how much noise you’d be making, you might’ve asked for a set of headphones.

“Okay, Mrs Kent,” Four said to you. “It looks like he’s ready to come out now.”

“Thank God,” you groaned.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” Clark said.

“Are you patronising me?”

“I would never.” That was true. Clark liked his head not bitten off.

“Because- AHHHH!”

You screamed again and clutched Clark’s hand so tight that it was a relief knowing that he was superhuman. His body was built to withstand pretty much anything, so a few broken fingers from the death-grip you had on his hand were very unlikely.

“You did this to me!” you cried, pointing an accusing finger at Clark. “You and your goddamn charming smile did this to me!”

“It took both of us-“

“I am never letting you near me again!”

Clark almost laughed but judging from the look in your eyes, that would almost guarantee him sleeping on the couch for the rest of forever. Instead, he brushed his hand over your cheek, kissing your forehead. “You’ve got this, sweetheart. Only a little longer.”

“It hurts,” you whimpered.

“A few more pushes and we’ll have him,” Clark said. “Come on, sweetheart. You can do this.”

You closed your eyes, braced yourself and let loose a scream that rattled the very walls of the Fortress.

You loved Clark's eyes. They were the most beautiful shade of blue and seemed to contain an infinite depth that you could spend forever getting lost in. Sometimes you would lay there, a silence blanketed over the both of you, tucked away in your little corner of the world where nothing else mattered besides the two of you. In those moments, you took the time to truly look at him.

Clark was a beautiful man. His heart of gold and endless desire to do the right thing had blessed him with the physical form to match the good he held in his heart. You always said his eyes were your favourite part of who he was and that nothing would ever compare.

Until you held your son in your arms and he opened his eyes.

Now, instead of two blue eyes to get lost in, there were four. Eyes like the brightest ice crystals stared back at you from the swaddle in your arms, taking in the world for the first time and committing your face to his tiny memory. Everything this little boy was seeing was new, so despite the lingering pain from giving birth, you faced him with a smile.

It was the easiest smile you'd ever given somebody.

Clark's eyes kept flitting between the two of you. When the boy was born, Four lifted him onto your chest, letting him wail against your skin as your trembling arms reached up to cradle him. Clark hadn't looked away from you even in that moment, ensuring that you were okay before giving anything else a thought.

Then your son's wails finally reached him through the fog of concern and he realised that he was here. Your son - the living, breathing proof that yours and Clark's love transcended every hurdle you'd faced, was here in your arms.

And Clark loved him from the moment he laid eyes on him.

"He has your eyes," you told Clark.

"But he's got your nose," Clark said.

You smiled up at him. "Poor thing."

"Hey, I love your nose," Clark assured you, kissing the tip of it just to prove his point. You giggled. "And I love his, too."

"We made this, Clark," you breathed, thumb brushing back and forth over your son's tiny fist as he looked up at you with wide, curious eyes. "We made this."

"Heck yeah we did," Clark said. "And he's perfect."

"Ten fingers, ten toes," you said. "I'm so glad he's got your eyes."

The fact that the universe recognised how much you loved Clark's eyes and transferred them to your son was a blessing, because now you not only got to love Clark's, but you could spend the rest of your life getting lost in your son's. You would get to watch those tiny blue eyes see the world for the first time and guide him through his life.

At last, you knew what the agony had been for; to bring this life into the world and fall in love in a new way. This boy was half of you and half of Clark, the perfect way to entwine your souls forever.

"I love you," Clark said softly. "I love you more than anything in the world."

"I love you," you replied. "And I love this family we've made."

Clark smiled at you. "Me too. It's perfect."

[ifyouweremine]

Stay Stay Stay | Clark Kent

PAIRING: Clark Kent x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: All your life, you've been conditioned into thinking that people will leave at the first sign of trouble. Lucky for you, Clark Kent isn't like all the others; he's prepared to stay and fight for you.

WARNINGS: Reader has trust issues, allusions to previous bad relationships, emotional neglect/abuse (not from Clark, past relationships)

W/C: 1.2k

It was such a stupid fight. Clark had missed your anniversary dinner and you'd ended up tossing most of the meal you'd spent half the day preparing. As you were washing the dishes and letting the hurt wash over you, it was as though your mind was reeling you back, forcing you to relive the past and anticipate what happened now.

All your life, you'd only ever wanted to be loved. To have someone give you the same devotion you gave to them. Your parents used to say you were destined for a great love because you had so much of your own to give. It seemed like the only logical reason why you continued to give love a chance and always ended up hurt. The right person hadn’t found you yet.

You thought you were too much. You got upset over the little things and it was hard to let go of the past. Arguments had never been resolved, either left to fester and rot the relationship from the inside out or culminating in the slamming of doors and blocked numbers. 

It was why you tried so hard not to be mad when Clark finally showed up, dishevelled and windswept from saving the city (again). You knew about him being Superman, but that didn't mean that you weren't upset that he was late for the dinner you prepared.

He apologised profusely, but your cold shoulder didn't quite melt as you met his soft apologies with hard edges and clipped responses. You had conditioned yourself to brace your hurt against an impenetrable wall and refuse to let people in when you were in pain. Perhaps it was from the years of screaming to be heard, to rationalise with someone that was beyond reasoning with. Or maybe you had just learned that it was better to let these things go. 

Sit with it, feel it, let your anger be known to the offending party, then let it go and move on.

But Clark didn't like letting things go.

He was devastated when he saw the remains of the dinner in the trash and the neatly set table that had been left untouched. Empty wine glasses echoed the empty promises he made to you that he would be there. He had known that the Justice Gang had it handled, but he hadn't been able to leave until the threat was neutralised. Then people had been clamouring for a picture, a scoop, to praise him for his heroics.

All while he wanted to just come home to you.

His persistence triggered a fight that had you both raising your voices. You couldn't remember what was said in the heat of the moment, but you went to sleep on the couch and Clark was left reeling from what happened. 

By the time the morning came, you woke up in your bed. Clark was sleeping soundly on the couch and your heart twisted with guilt. He stayed. He hadn't given up at the first hurdle; he'd carried you to bed and it was a reminder that he cared for you beyond measurable doubt.

"Hey," you said quietly.

He woke immediately, bleary-eyed. "Hey."

"We should talk."

Your mom always said to never leave a fight unresolved, so you went into the kitchen and started on the coffee. Two mugs, Clark's just the way he liked it (with a bit too much sugar), a peace offering before you had the inevitable talk.

This film had played a thousand times and no matter how often you rewound it and begged for something different, the ending never changed. You'd fight, then you'd talk, then it would be over. Clark would leave and it would be the same as it was before; you'd be alone with your heavy heart yearning for a love that lasted.

Then Clark walked in.

And every ounce of tension in your body crumbled as a laugh bubbled from your chest.

"What are you wearing?" you asked.

"You wanted to talk?" he said. "Okay, let's talk."

He was wearing a football helmet.

Your 6'4, Kryptonian, super-powered boyfriend that could shoulder the weight of an entire collapsing building was standing in your kitchen wearing a football helmet as a defence.

And it didn’t even fit him properly.

"Clark," you said, trying not to laugh. "Why are you wearing that?"

"Well, you said you wanted to talk," he said. "And in case you got the urge to throw anything, I thought I'd come prepared."

"I'm not going to throw anything," you assured him, holding out the coffee mug. "Here."

"Oh, thank you," Clark said, taking it from you. "So, do you want to start or should I?"

You took a deep breath, rehearsing your words one more time. "I'm sorry. I was upset because you were late and even though I know that you were out doing Superman business, I was still hurt."

"I know, sweetheart," Clark said. "I can't explain how sorry I am that I missed dinner. I wanted to be here, but I wasn't and you have every reason to be mad at me for that."

"I'm not mad at you, Clark," you said. "I'm hurt and I didn't react the right way."

"You reacted the only way you knew," Clark said. "And that's okay. You have every right to feel hurt."

Well, this was new.

Having your feelings validated?

This was unfamiliar territory.

"I get it if you want to leave," you said, deflecting to what you knew came next. "It's okay. Um-"

"Leave?" Clark echoed. "Why would I leave?"

"Because we had a fight?" you replied.

"We had a- This wasn't a fight," Clark said. "This was you expressing the fact that you were hurt by something I did."

"But we argued?"

"Emotions were high," Clark said, placing down his mug and taking yours from you. He stepped into your space and placed his hands on your shoulders. "These things happen. I'm not leaving because of this, sweetheart. I don't want to leave you."

"But- But I overreacted-"

"No, you didn't," Clark said. "You had a perfectly valid reaction. Anybody who has ever made you feel like your feelings aren't valid are terrible people."

"You're not leaving?" you asked.

"Of course not," Clark said. "I love you, sweetheart. I've been loving you for quite some time now and I don't have any plans of stopping."

"Then you'll stay?" you said.

"I'll stay," he promised.

"You'll stay," you confirmed.

Clark nodded, sliding his hands up to cup your jaw gently. "I love you. I'm sorry for hurting you last night. If you'll let me, I'd like to make it up to you. Perhaps dinner? Tonight? I'll cook. We can hang out."

"I'd like that," you replied quietly. "Clark, I love you too and I'd like to hang out with you for my whole life if you'll let me."

"I'm sure that can be arranged," he replied. "Now, can I kiss you?"

"Of course," you said. "But you better take off that helmet."

Perhaps this was the great love your parents were talking about. Somebody that was going to love you even when you were mad, even when you were hurt by something they'd done. You had found somebody that didn't just acknowledge your feelings, but validated them. He wasn't running from you because you weren't ever going to be too much for the right person. 

As he kissed you, your head emptied of everything other than the irrepressible love you felt for this man. The football helmet sat on your kitchen counter, forgotten like the night before as Clark kissed you like he never wanted to come up for air. 

Perhaps Clark was that person your parents said you'd meet one day.

You sure hoped so.

[ifyouweremine]

Johnny's Girl | Johnny Storm

PAIRING: Johnny Storm x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: She's Johnny's girl and he wants to make sure that everybody knows it.

WARNINGS: None, just pure fluff

W/C: 1.8k

Johnny Storm was popular.

Johnny Storm was a superhero.

But most importantly, Johnny Storm was yours.

Throughout his life, he'd embraced the fact that women swooned from merely being in his presence, going home with different girls and enjoying that no-strings-attached lifestyle that perfectly suited his desire to be an eternal bachelor.

He was quite content with the trajectory of his life.

Then came you.

And you tilted his entire world on its axis.

Nothing made sense the moment you walked into his life, a nervous wreck of a human being faced with working alongside the brightest minds in the world. You'd been clutching the strap of your bag with one hand like a lifeline, a binder held to your chest with the other like a shield against the nerves. You moved through the room as though at any moment gravity would shift and you'd be toppled back into the real world where this wasn't happening.

Nothing made sense to Johnny the moment he laid eyes on you, but it seemed like everything was aligning somehow. 

He didn't know what it was about you that changed something in him, but he felt it. A desire, a stirring deep within his soul to explore whatever connection he could feel in his chest. The moment you locked eyes with him from across the room, he was well and truly within your orbit, trapped in the pull of your presence with no hope of escape.

He'd never uttered a word to you at that point, so he knew that he was well and truly off the deep end.

You were warned by Ben and Reed of Johnny's proclivity for being a ladies' man. You'd met the two of them at college, where they'd found you crying in the men's restroom after your first class ended disastrously. Ben had teased you for the mix-up but climbed over the stall to keep you company until you felt better and Reed had sat in the next cubicle offering words of comfort. Despite being a few years younger than them, they became your best friends and looked out for you throughout the rest of college.

Despite their warnings and your best efforts to avoid him, Johnny seemed to be everywhere that you were. He would bug you in Reed's lab, asking about your experiments and whether he could watch you test them out. He flirted shamelessly, laying on the charm whenever you were within earshot. He didn't seem to care that you were seemingly resistant to his charm; it strengthened the appeal.

It got to the point where he had abandoned his usual nightly activities in favour of hanging out with you. Reed and Sue had put you up in a room in the Baxter Building while you saw out this project with Reed that you were working on, so Johnny would be knocking on your door most nights.

"Want to watch a movie?"

"I'm busy, Johnny. Sorry."

He'd show up two nights later.

"Johnny, I have to finish this report. Maybe another night?"

You sent him away, but he was nothing if not resilient. For at least two weeks, he showed up at your door and offered different options, but while you were elbows-deep in research, you kept turning him away.

"Johnny, are you ever going to give up?"

"Not until you inevitably say yes."

He showed up the next night, knocking on your door with a triumphant set to his shoulders. He'd found Reed earlier that day sans you in the lab and asked where you were. The answer was one Johnny was a big fan of. 

Blanket draped over his shoulders like a cape, Johnny stood at your door with a bag of microwave popcorn in one hand and a bottle of your favourite wine in the other. He was ready for the day you finally said yes to hanging out with him. When you opened the door, your eyebrows scrunched in an adorable way that made him grin. 

"Before you say you're busy, I know Reed gave you the day off so you don't have any excuses."

"Oh, fine. One movie."

One movie turned into two, then a few nights later you were fast asleep in your bed with Johnny sitting up against the headboard while yet another film played on your TV. He knew he should've left, but you looked so pretty dozing next to him, one hand outstretched across the mattress like you were trying to reach him in your sleep. He couldn't leave.

Then he asked you if you wanted to go to dinner with him. You assumed that dinner meant a nice restaurant, fancy clothes, extravagance that you could only associate with Johnny. What you hadn't expected was a picnic blanket on the roof of the Baxter Building beneath the stars. Just the two of you, the bottle of wine on ice and an endless sprawl of space and cosmic beauty to keep you company.

He'd shrugged when you asked what made him pick this spot and he had said, "I know you don't like crowds. Figured this was more your speed."

He talked about space with you and you realised you might have misjudged him. Johnny was incredibly smart and watching the way his eyes lit up while talking about the galaxy made you smile. You wondered how often a woman sat with him and let him waffle about planets and black holes and dying stars without interrupting him. From the way he kept checking that you were still interested, you doubted that many gave him the time to truly talk about his passions.

After that, you agreed to another date and then were forevermore known as Johnny's Girl, affectionately. Reed and Sue couldn't believe it when they walked in one evening and found the two of you sprawled on the couch, fast asleep despite the daylight streaming through the windows. Johnny had you wrapped in his arms like he was terrified to let go even when he was sleeping, while you were perfectly content in his embrace.

Ben liked it. You mellowed out Johnny's madness and quelled his capacity for chaos. He was even less teasing towards Ben whenever you were in the room. 

The two of you were a dichotomy that nobody could figure out. Somehow, Johnny had worked his way into a space in your heart and fit so perfectly that it was like it was reserved just for him. It was with a natural ease that you fit into the lives of the Fantastic Four, like you were a missing piece they hadn't realised they were without. All his life, Johnny had felt that something was missing.

He hadn't realised it was you until he had you.

And now he wasn't letting you go. Not for anything that the galaxy could offer him.

"Johnny! Johnny, put me down!"

Your laughter echoed through the living room of the Baxter Building and Ben, who was in the kitchen helping HERBIE prepare dinner, looked up at the sound of your approach. Johnny came blazing into the room, all grins and cheerfulness, with you tossed over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. His arm was hooked around the back of your knees and your hands were fisting his shirt to steady yourself as he bounced into the room like a man who was never coming down from cloud nine.

"Uh-oh," Ben said. "What's got Johnny grinning like a lunatic?"

"I'm not grinning like a lunatic," Johnny protested, shifting you on his shoulder slightly. "I'm just happy."

"Okay, why?"

Johnny finally put you down and you turned to Ben with a sparkle in your eyes and a smile that rivalled Johnny’s. "We have news."

"Big news!" Johnny exclaimed. "But- oh! Wait for Reed and Sue."

They showed up not long after and your heart melted at the sight of them both. Franklin was cradled in Sue's arms like a bundle of light incarnate and Reed kept glancing over at them like they were his proudest achievement in life. 

"What's going on?" Sue asked, immediately noticing the charged air in the room. "Did Johnny set fire to something again?"

"Okay, no, I have to be careful now that Helicopter Dad installed all those smoke alarms," Johnny said, draping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. "We have news."

Ben pointed his spoon at the two of you. "They were waiting for you guys."

"Well, we're here," Sue said. "What's the big news?"

You grinned at the people you had come to call family, stuck out your left hand and said, "Johnny proposed!"

Sue's eyes widened and a smile bloomed on her face. She passed off Franklin to a slightly stunned Reed before beelining for you. Johnny was helpless to defend against her as Sue pulled you from his arms and into hers, squeezing you in a hug that you melted into with an excited laugh.

“Hey! I’m here too, remember?” he said, frowning at the obvious favouritism.

"Oh my God, this is incredible!" she said, holding you at arm's length. "You're going to make the most beautiful bride." She turned to her brother. "And you are going to make a lovely groom. Just kidding, you're definitely gonna mess up somehow."

She winked at her baby brother, teasing him back for the time he made a joke about Reed being out of his depth when it came to fatherhood. Ben gave you a hug next while Reed clapped Johnny on the shoulder affectionately.

"I never thought I'd see the day," Ben said. "Little Johnny Storm is all growed up."

"Yeah, I'm gonna be a married man before you," Johnny tossed back. “How does that feel?”

“Have you been brainwashed?” Ben asked you. “Is that it? Are you in trouble?”

You giggled. “No, Ben, I haven’t.”

“She just couldn’t resist my charm,” Johnny said.

“Charm?” you asked. “More like your annoying ability to not give up.”

“Ouch.”

"Congratulations, you two," Reed said. 

"So come on, we'll have dinner and you can tell us how Johnny proposed," Sue said. 

"Oh, absolutely," you said. "You'll never believe it, but he cried when he was asking!"

"No!?"

"You weren't supposed to tell them that!"

Johnny's protest was lost amidst the laughter of your family and he resigned himself to being teased mercilessly through the dinner. He did cry when he was asking you to be his wife, but only because he was so overcome with the thought of spending forever with you. Getting to call you his wife was going to be the greatest privilege of his life and as he watched you helping Ben and Sue bring the dinner to the table, he couldn't help but think that he was endlessly lucky that you gave him the time of day.

While you ate, his hand was clutching yours beneath the table, thumb brushing the ring that was sitting pretty on your finger. You weren't one for the spotlight, but Johnny would shout it from the rooftops to let the whole world know that you were his girl.

[ifyouweremine]

After the Storm | Scott Miller

PAIRING: Scott Miller x Fem!Owens!Reader

SUMMARY: There are few things more dangerous than storms, but your feelings for Scott Miller might be one of them.

WARNINGS: Canon typical violence, tornadoes

W/C: 2.4k

"I swear, one day I'm going to knock that smug smirk right off his pretty face," you grumbled, following your brother through the parking lot.

Tyler followed the direction of your scowl to where Scott Miller was standing by one of the Storm Par trucks with Javi and Kate. He could have predicted who your frustration was directed at without looking, but the confirming smirk on Scott’s face was all the proof he needed. 

"All I'm hearing is that you think he's pretty." Tyler grinned at you in a way that made you want to punch him in the mouth.

"Shame he ruins it every time he opens his mouth," you muttered.

You had a somewhat turbulent history with the Storm Par group. Ever since they came onto the storm-chasing scene, there had been a noticeable feud between your team and theirs. Scott rubbed you the wrong way with his arrogance, but once you found out exactly why they were tracking storm patterns, your disapproval grew to fully-fledged hatred. 

Tyler bumped your jaw playfully with his knuckles, the same way he'd done when you were kids and threw a tantrum over something he’d done. "He seems mighty fascinated by you, though."

"Good for him," you said. "I am pretty, so I don’t blame him.”

"And humble, too," Tyler said sarcastically.

"Exactly!" you said, feigning cheerfulness as you reached Tyler's truck. "Wanna let me drive this time?"

"Yeah, that's a hard no."

It wasn't that you hated Scott. You liked to pride yourself on being nice to everybody, because your mama had raised you to be polite and treat others how you would like to be treated. Being nice to Scott and expecting him to be nice in return was about as likely as getting blood from a stone, so after a while you turned to bickering with him because it was easier than exhausting yourself with niceties.

The fact that your stomach performed backflips whenever he talked to you was probably a giveaway for why you kept tormenting yourself by attempting to get him to smile. Despite his outward personality bordering somewhere in the region of troll-like behaviour, he was still pretty and you’d have to be blind not to appreciate that about him. It was just a bummer that his personality didn’t match his face.

You'd had a long day chasing tornadoes and were looking forward to crashing at the motel your team were staying at. After saying your goodnights to everyone and promising Boone that you'd hang out with him the following night, you made your escape. Walking across the parking lot, you noticed Scott watching you as you passed by. 

Raising your eyebrows, you said, "Can I help you?"

"Not particularly," he replied with a shrug.

You nodded once, slowly. "Right, okay, well, is there a reason you're staring at me?"

Scott flashed you that unbearable smirk of his. "Sell many t-shirts today?"

"Con many people out of their land today?" you snapped back, folding your arms.

Scott had the nerve to chuckle, his shoulders shaking with laughter. "You know, what we do and what your little band of hillbillies do aren't that different."

"They’re not hillbillies,” you snapped. “And we are not the same.”

"You film those little videos and sell your t-shirts to make money from natural disasters," Scott said.

“And you monopolise on people’s tragedies,” you argued, frustration coursing through you. It had been a long day already, so this sort of interaction was the last thing you wanted. “I’m not explaining why we sell those t-shirts to you because someone like you just wouldn’t get it.”

“Someone like me?” he echoed.

“Yeah,” you said. “Someone who thinks his job is doing good when in reality you’re using people’s misfortune to help your boss make money.”

“And I suppose you think you’re such a saint,” Scott said. “Running ‘round with that preppy smile, giving people sandwiches and bandaids like it’ll do any good.”

“It does more good than you.”

“You keep deluding yourself,” Scott said. “You’re just an adrenaline junkie like your brother.”

You opened your mouth to retort but decided against it. Taking a step back, you said, “You know, all I’ve ever tried to do is be friendly to you, so I don’t get why you have to be such an asshole.”

“Maybe I just don’t want you to be nice to me,” Scott replied.

You swallowed. “Fine. I won’t.”

As you walked away from him, Scott couldn’t help the regret that crawled up his throat, wrapping around his airways and suffocating him. He watched you walk away and raise a hand to your cheek. If he felt bad before, knowing that you made him cry was like a weight had just been dropped into his stomach.

You were ignoring him.

Scott knew he deserved it. He'd made you cry, after all. Granted, he hadn't meant to be so mean, but it had come across in a way that was inexcusable. If you never talked to him again, he would probably deserve it.

So he watched you from afar, the way you laughed with Boone and Lily, messing around while you waited for Tyler to decide which storm to chase. You looked pretty, wearing a flannel over a white tank top and a pair of cutoff shorts. 

You never once looked his way.

It might be better this way. Scott knew he wasn't the most approachable person and God knows you'd done your best to get to know him. There was just something about you that he couldn't shake. You always looked like you were on cloud nine, even after the most harrowing day dealing with the after-effects of a tornado. Wherever you went, it was like the clouds parted to douse you in sunlight because you were an angel walking amongst men and heaven was letting everybody know it.

And Scott had gone right for your heart, which you wore on your sleeve. He'd hurt you and now he was beginning to realise that maybe he did enjoy your company. He liked the fact that you didn't give up on him, but one person could only take so much hostility before they got the message and backed off.

Across the parking lot, he watched you high-five Tyler and head for the passenger seat of his truck. You glanced his way for less than a second, but it was enough for him to see the hurt you wore on your face as clear as day. 

Hurt that he’d caused. 

Now he had to figure out how to apologise.

Javi appeared at his side, arms folded as he watched the Wranglers tear out of the parking lot. "You know, if you hadn't been such a dick, she might not be ignoring you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Scott said.

Javi rolled his eyes. "Whatever, man. When you're ready to be honest with yourself, maybe she'll forgive you."

Scott couldn't help but think that it would be a miracle if that happened.

It was supposed to be fun.

The rodeo was meant to be a chance for you to let off some steam, maybe eat a shitty hot dog and drink lukewarm beer from a plastic cup. It wasn't supposed to end with you curled around the pipes in an empty motel swimming pool, your brother at your back and Kate huddled close to you.

The wind was roaring in your ears, ripping at your clothes with fingers that bruised where they touched. It felt like it lasted for a lifetime, so much so that when the quiet came in the aftermath, you couldn't quite believe it over the ringing in your ears.

"Ty-Tyler?" you whispered, your eyes still shut tight.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and the gentle squeeze of reassurance from your brother. Cracking open your eyes, you looked around and let your eyes adjust to what they were seeing. The trailer that had landed in the pool was blocking the light and with stiff limbs you detached yourself from the pipes you'd been clinging to. Your muscles ached from the strain and your heart was beating far too fast against your ribs, but you forced yourself to stand because you were alive. You’d survived.

Shakily, you made your way out from your hiding spot to assess the damage. Tyler and Kate were standing on either side of you, staring in horror at the carnage left in the wake of the tornado. The darkness made it all seem worse, great looming shadows of debris piled up around you. Buildings had been ripped from their foundations, the wreckage of the rodeo arena now scattered amongst the mess.

Your entire body was still trembling as you climbed up the ladder out of the pool. You'd faced tornadoes before but always from the safety of Tyler's truck. Experiencing it like this, coming face-to-face with the very real possibility that you might not survive it, was an entirely different ballgame. Your nerves were fried, shot to pieces from the fear that had leeched into your nervous system.

Turning in a circle, you surveyed the damage and that's when you spotted them. Tyler and Kate, standing so close to one another that you wondered if this was the moment they might close the rest of that distance between them.

And then you felt a pang in your chest, because you wanted that. You wanted somebody to look at you with such soul-crushing longing in their eyes that it was impossible to deny that you were the centre of their universe. You wanted someone to check on you the way Tyler was checking on Kate. You just wanted to be wanted by somebody.

You distracted yourself from the lingering traces of terror that were clinging to your bones and the ache of loneliness in your heart by helping the people around you. Whether it was reuniting families, finding people fresh water or offering some sort of medical aid, you kept yourself busy.

When the Storm Par trucks pulled up, you were crouched beside a little girl who had been separated from her family. You’d held her hand until you had managed to find them, saying your goodbyes and telling her that she was incredibly brave despite the tear tracks on her cheeks. Her parents could not stop thanking you, but you didn’t feel you deserved it. 

You didn't pay any mind to the Storm Par trucks until you heard somebody call your name.

Straightening, you turned and saw Scott rushing through the debris towards you. There was a look on his face that you'd never seen before, somewhere between panic and relief that had furrowed his eyebrows and caused worry lines to appear on his forehead beneath the brim of his baseball cap. You took a step towards him as he reached you and were utterly floored when he hugged you.

Your whole body stiffened as Scott wrapped his arms around you, slamming into your body like he wasn't entirely in control of his limbs. You froze, unsure what the next move should be considering this had never happened before. He had never even touched you, let alone hugged you. Your body took a second to process before you awkwardly hugged him back, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Uh... hi?" you said quietly.

"Are you okay?" Scott asked. "Javi said you were with Carter and Owens and-"

"I'm fine," you said, pulling away from Scott to look at him. "I'm okay."

His hands were cupping your jaw, thumbs brushing over the dirt and grime covering your skin. There was a cut above your eyebrow that had stopped bleeding a while ago, but other than that you were unharmed. The softness of Scott's touch sent a warmth through your body that made you want to melt back into his arms, but you pulled away.

"I'm fine," you said, firmer this time. "I'm alive."

"Javi said you were at the rodeo and I saw the path of the tornado and- Are you sure you're okay?" Scott asked.

"I'm fine," you insisted, pushing his hands from your face gently, resisting the urge to back away. "Don't you have numbers to crunch or something?"

"I don't care about the numbers right now," Scott snapped. "I care about you." 

“That’s funny, Scott,” you said, shaking your head.

“I’m being serious,” he replied sharply. “I was worried about you.”

“Scott, stop-“

“No, you stop,” he interjected. “Stop and listen to me for one damn second. I don’t know what’s going on here, but the thought of something happening to you- Jesus, I’ve never been so scared in my life. Especially considering I never got the chance to apologise for making you cry. I would never have forgiven myself if I didn't at least try and ask you to forgive me."

You took a step back.

This was unfamiliar territory for you. Scott wasn't the sort of person for a grand confession and you couldn't help but wonder if you hit your head during the tornado and had entered an alternate reality of sorts.

"Scott-"

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to upset you. You're not too much at all. I just- I can't ever express myself the way I want to around you."

You swallowed hard, desperately fighting the tears that had been steadily building in your chest, your throat, the backs of your eyes. "I don't-"

"I'm an asshole," he said. "Everybody knows it, but you're the one person I want to try and be better for. Making you cry made me feel worse than I've ever felt in my life and I should've gone after you right there to make it right, but I didn't. I'm a coward for that, but I'm here now."

Whether it was relief at having survived the tornado or the sheer shock of Scott's honest confession, you didn't know, but you melted into his arms without a care for the consequences. Much to your surprise, his arms came up to hug you back while you let out a quiet sniffle against his chest.

"Hey, I got you," he said. "You're okay. You're safe."

"I really thought we were going to die," you admitted quietly.

"But you didn't," Scott said. "You're alive. You're okay."

And you decided there and then that if this was all some dream you'd wake up from, then you'd enjoy it while it lasted.

If not, and it was real? Well, Scott was an asshole, but if he was serious about wanting to be better, then you were going to give him the benefit of the doubt. 

As it turned out, he was taking this second chance seriously.

[ifyouweremine]

If You Were Mine | Clark Kent

PAIRING: Clark Kent x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: You're drunk and Clark's pining, but he doesn't know how to tell you. Turns out, drunk you reveals that sober you wants the same thing.

WARNINGS: Drunk reader, intoxication

W/C: 1.8k

The neon lights in the bar shone like rays of moonlight throughout the room, bathing everybody in a fluorescent glow. It was getting late and Clark was wondering what had possessed him to stay out this long, given that there weren’t any extraterrestrial threats keeping him up for once. He was sitting at a four-top with Jimmy, nursing a drink that had no effect on him, looking around and trying to ignore the fact that his skull was pounding from the music. The curse of super-hearing.

It wasn’t hard to determine what was keeping him in that bar when his attention snagged on you. His eyes had rarely strayed from you the entire night and there you were across the room with Lois, dancing without a care in the world. The two of you were celebrating the fact that you got your first front-page article and Lois had picked this bar for the music and atmosphere. So far, you seemed to be having a good time, laughing and spinning with Lois like nothing else in the world mattered besides this moment, right here.

And Clark couldn't look away. 

You were hypnotising in your pretty blue dress and heels. Your eyes were bright, skin lit up by the lights surrounding you. They seemed to shine a little brighter on you, like beacons drawing his focus to you. You entered a room and commanded attention without you even realising. Or maybe that was just Clark, who couldn't seem to tear his gaze away from you.

Eventually, you and Lois staggered back to the table, giddy with happiness and carrying plastic cups full of water. The both of you had drank too much, movements unsteady from the influence of the alcohol in your systems, but you didn't seem to care. You were on cloud nine and Clark would happily watch you for the entire night if he could.

He held out a hand to steady you and you grinned at him. "Are you sure you don't wanna dance, Clarkie?"

He shook his head. "I wouldn't want to step on your toes."

You chugged your water and placed the empty cup down on the table. "I wouldn't mind."

Lois checked her phone and her eyes widened. "When did it get so late?"

"About the same time you were asking to do body shots off each other," Jimmy replied. 

You snorted and glanced at your phone. "It is kinda late."

"We should call it," Lois conceded. "I need to sleep off this hangover and get the jump on it."

"I think it's too late for that," Jimmy said.

Clark glanced at you. "How are you getting home?"

"Taxi," you replied with a shrug. "I guess."

"Lois?" Clark asked.

"Jimmy said he'd walk with me," Lois replied. "I only live a block away."

Clark turned to you. "I'll go with you.”

You looked at him, gratitude shining in your eyes. "You sure? You don't even live on my side of town."

Clark didn't mind. He also didn't need to tell you that his journey home from your place would be a matter of seconds. Not that the distance mattered; he’d walk as many miles as he could manage if it meant he got to spend even a second with you.

The four of you made your way out of the bar with you clinging to Clark's arm for balance. On the sidewalk, you hugged Lois and Jimmy goodbye while Clark flagged down a passing cab. Watching the two of them head off down the street, you waited until they were out of sight before turning to find Clark holding open the door of the cab for you.

"Such a gentleman," you giggled, sliding into the backseat and shuffling over so that Clark could join you.

He chuckled nervously and closed the door behind him, reaching over to fasten your seatbelt for you when he saw you struggling. "C'mere, let me-"

The click drew your eyes up to his and a tiny gasp left your lips at the closeness between you. "Clark-"

His heart shouldn't leap in his chest when you say his name. You were his friend and he would even go as far as to say you were his best friend. He brought you coffee in the morning and you made sure his tie was straight when he came into work late and flustered. There wasn't supposed to be this heat between you, where you looked at him like that and he was expected to remain calm and collected.

You were so tempting, though. His feelings had blossomed over time and now he was left looking for the right time to ask if you felt the same way he did. If you got that same rush whenever he looked at you, if you looked for him in crowded rooms, if you cared about him beyond the parameters of friendship.

He would never act on his feelings while you were like this. If he was going to tell you how he felt, then he would do it when you were sober. It wouldn’t be while you were drunk, because his mama raised him better than that. There were so many things he wanted to say to you but was scared to voice aloud.

If he ever got the chance, he would lay you down and take his time with you, worshipping at your altar like a man praying to a goddess. He would treat you like your body was sacred and he would spend his life making sure you knew how loved you were.

Friends didn't think these things about each other. There wasn't a part of your body that Clark didn't want to explore with his hands. He would be gentle, of course, but he wanted to make sure he knew every curve of your body.

You were still staring at him when the driver of the cab cleared his throat. "Where to?"

Clark leaned back in his seat and gave the driver your address. As the cab pulled away from the bar, you reached over and placed a hand on Clark's leg. It wasn't inviting, nor did it feel remotely charged with anything other than kindness. The gesture was sweet, a comfort stretched across the divide he had drawn between you by moving away in the moment; a reminder that you were still there. 

You were leaning across the middle seat. "Clark, you know you're, like, my favourite person, right?"

He smiled. "You're mine, too."

Your grin was infectious as you said, "Thank you for coming home with me."

"It's not a problem," Clark said. "I wouldn't let you go home alone."

You patted his thigh and withdrew your hand. "I've had a really good night."

"Good," Clark said. "I'm glad. You deserve it."

By the time you got back to your apartment, you were dozing off in the backseat. Clark paid the driver and made his way around to your side of the cab, opening the door and finding your sleepy eyes on him. He helped you out of the cab and you stifled a yawn behind your hand, raising your arms above your head.

"Carry me?" you asked, pouting slightly.

"Elevator still broken?" Clark asked.

You nodded, eyes half-closed. "So many stairs, Clarkie."

"I got you," he assured you.

He reached for you, one hand sliding behind your back as he crouched and lifted you into his arms, the other arm securely hooked beneath your knees. You wrapped an arm around his shoulders and let your head fall against his chest. Clark walked towards your building, opening the door with his foot and heading for the stairwell.

"Thank you, Clarkie," you whispered.

By the time he got to your apartment door, you were almost asleep in his arms. He had to put you down while you fished your key from your bag and when you struggled with the lock, Clark reached out and took it from you. He kept one arm around your waist and unlocked the door with the other.

You stumbled into your apartment, drunk and unsteady on your feet. Beelining for your bedroom, you flopped face-first down on your bed and Clark lingered awkwardly in the doorway, unsure what to do.

"Uh, are you gonna be okay?" he asked.

You grumbled something into the mattress.

Clark said, "You need some help?"

You rolled onto your back and forced yourself to sit up. "Need to take my shoes off."

"Here, let me do that," Clark offered, coming into your room and kneeling before you. 

He undid the straps on your heels and slipped them off your feet as you watched him, a drunken grin on your face. "You know you're, like, the best person I've ever met, right?"

First you tell him that he's your best friend and now he's your favourite person? Clark wasn't entirely sure why it felt like his heart was being trampled on over the compliments, but it was hard to hear them from you when he knew you were drunk. If sober you were saying the same things, he might react differently, but instead he just chuckled and tucked you into bed.

"Wait," you said, catching his wrist as he made to leave. "Don't leave, Clarkie."

"I have to get home," he said.

You pouted at him. "Stay, c'mon. Breakfast in the morning?"

Clark knew that if anyone were going to be making breakfast in the morning, it wouldn't be you, but he had always been unable to say no to you.

"I'll sleep on the couch," he said.

"But you won't fit," you grumbled. "C'mon, Clark, just stay. I like having you near."

If you were an empress, ruling over the land, then Clark was but a humble servant to your every wish. You looked so pretty, staring up at him with wide eyes, like you were afraid of letting go for fear that he would disappear.

"Fine," he conceded. "I'll stay. But I want breakfast."

"I'll make the best breakfast," you promised. "With pancakes and everything."

Clark climbed into bed with you, shifting beneath the covers so that there was space between your bodies. He could hear your heart beating in your chest. He could feel the warmth radiating from your skin, see the flush in your cheeks as you rolled over and looked at him.

"Hey, Clark?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think I'm pretty?"

He turned his head to look at you. "What?"

"You heard me."

"Of course I think you're pretty," he said. 

"Well, I think you're pretty," you said. "And if you think I'm pretty, we should go on a date."

Clark's breath stuttered from his lungs. "What?"

"I wanna go on a date with you," you said. "Hold your hand and have dinner and do all that with you."

Clark wanted that with you, too, but not like this. So he reached over and placed a gentle hand on your cheek. "We'll have this conversation in the morning, okay? Then we'll see."

"Deal," you breathed.

By the time Clark withdrew his hand, you were already fast asleep.

Now he just had to lay there until the morning and find the courage to actually ask you on that date you wanted him to take you on.

[ifyouweremine]

All’s Fair | Scott Miller

PAIRING: Scott Miller x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Scott liked you. You liked Scott. The only problem was that you were both idiots who couldn’t admit it. The solution? You make Scott jealous and he finally does something about the tension between you.

WARNINGS: Jealous Scott?

W/C: 2.5k

A/N: I watched Twisters again and this was the result. I love this rude man.

“You look like shit.”

“Well, it’s a good thing my self-worth isn’t determined by your vision,” you retorted, folding your arms and levelling Scott with a glare.

You’d been on your way to your motel room to shower and change into some clean clothes, but crossing paths with Scott seemed to be an event you couldn't escape. No matter where you went, he seemed to be there, like some annoying bug that wouldn’t leave you alone.

He was the enemy, or so Tyler liked to say. You didn't agree with what Storm Par stood for, but there was something about Scott that had you wanting more. 

It might’ve been the thrill of the chase, of trying to get a smile from him despite arguing like children all the time. Your pulse quickened when you caught sight of him and you found yourself gravitating towards him if only to hear his voice for a few seconds. Honestly, it was ridiculous and if anyone on your team caught wind of how you felt, there would be uproar.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” Scott said, rolling his eyes. “I just meant that you look like-“

“Shit?” you guessed. “It’s okay, Miller. I know I’m never in the running for your compliments, but who knows? Maybe if you keep talking you’ll accidentally say something nice.”

Scott scowled at you. “Are you okay?”

There was an edge to his voice, concern laced behind the frustration. It was as if every fibre of his being was fighting the desire to check on you. Scott hated to admit that you had that effect on him, drawing out a softer side he tried his best to keep subdued. He shouldn’t care. He shouldn't worry about why your jeans were ripped or why you were covered in dirt, yet here he was wondering what had happened to you.

“Is that- Did you just- Are you genuinely asking me that?” you asked, eyebrows raising. “Since when do you care?”

“Since you look like you just lost a fight to a tornado,” Scott said.

“Not a tornado,” you said dismissively. “The aftermath of one.”

A nearby town had been devastated by a recent tornado and your team had been on the scene to help with the relief efforts. A family had been digging through the rubble of what had once been their home, searching for their dog. With Boone’s help, you shifted debris and whistled until you heard barking from somewhere under the mess. Fortunately, the dog was unharmed, but you hadn’t been able to get to him without crawling into the wreckage. You’d gone despite Boone’s protests, crawling on your hands and knees until you finally managed to free the dog, miraculously without bringing down the rest of the rubble on your head. You got some scrapes and bruises but you'd saved the dog and that was all that mattered.

“But you’re okay?” Scott asked.

“Why are you pretending to care?” you replied. “We don’t do that, you and me. We’re enemies, remember?”

“Like you could let me forget,” Scott muttered. 

“But I’m fine,” you said. “Not physically, obviously, ‘cause you said I look like shit. Next time I see you, I’ll try and look a bit more presentable.” You swung around the railing to the stairs leading up to your motel room, offering Scott a grin as you leaned forwards to look down at him. “How’s that sound, Storm Par? I’ll get all dressed up and pretty for you.”

Scott didn’t answer, rolling his eyes instead. So much for trying to be nice.

Later that night, you were hanging out with Lilly and trying not to think about Scott. There was a restlessness in your soul, like your blood was ready for an adrenaline rush you hadn’t provided. It had nothing to do with the fact that you were sprawled on a motel bed and everything to do with the rude, annoying Storm Par employee you couldn’t shake from your mind.

Scott was an asshole. He thought himself above you because his job had a fancier title than yours. You went to college, same as Tyler. It was actually how you both met and started chasing tornadoes together, but neither of you wanted some fancy corporate job. You’d rather have boots on the ground, helping people where it mattered. Unlike Scott, whose boss profited off of people’s tragedy.

So why couldn’t you stop thinking about him?

"You're twitching," Lilly eventually said, drawing you from your Scott-related thoughts. "What's up?"

"I feel like... I need a drink," you said.

Lilly furrowed her eyebrows. "Girl, you're literally in your pyjamas."

"So? I can get changed."

Half an hour later, you were dressed in more appropriate clothes for a public appearance than one of Tyler's old t-shirts and a pair of cotton shorts. When you pitched the idea to Boone about going out, he jumped at the opportunity. You rarely initiated going out and after previously declining his offer to head to the local bar, your change of heart had him practically sprinting for his truck.

As you were getting into the passenger seat of Tyler’s truck, you saw Javi and Scott across the parking lot, an open laptop resting on the hood of their truck holding their attention. Sliding into the passenger seat, you glanced over at Tyler.

“What changed your mind?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Nothing,” you shrugged. “Felt like I wanted to go out.”

“Wouldn’t have anything to do with Storm Par over there, would it?” Tyler asked, jerking his thumb in Scott’s direction.

You shook your head. “Absolutely not.”

Perhaps you could finally work on forgetting about Scott by interacting with someone new.

On your way out of the parking lot, Tyler rolled down the window of his truck and shouted, "Hey, Storm Par!" You straightened up in your seat as Javi and Scott looked up. "We're heading to the bar. If you feel like unbuttoning those shirts and letting loose, come join us!" He winked at them. "We're fun, I promise you that."

The look on Scott’s face brought a smile to yours. If there was one thing you knew for certain that he would never do, it was getting caught dead in a bar fraternising with Tyler Owens.

If your words had a physical form, you'd be eating them.

Sitting at a four-top with Dani, Kate and Lilly, your eyes were trained on the door. A tiny, miniscule part of you was hoping that Scott would walk through the door with the rest of his crew, but then you checked yourself and wondered why you were thinking that.

You didn't care.

"So, what's the deal with you and Scott?" Kate asked, leaning her elbows on the tabletop. 

"What?" you asked. "Nothing."

"Oh, come on, we can all see it," Dani said. "You guys are, like, totally flirting with one another."

"If him saying I look like shit is considered flirting, then he's terrible at it," you replied.

"Okay, so you're telling me you're not watching the door hoping he walks in?" Kate asked, raising her eyebrows.

You finished your drink without answering, placing the glass back down before saying, "I need a refill. And nope. Couldn't care less if he shows up."

Tyler and Boone were playing a round of pool across the room as you headed for the bar. Finding a spot, you wedged yourself between two people and waited for a bartender to appear. The man to your left glanced your way, his eyes softening when they landed on you.

"Hi," he greeted.

You took a moment to realise he was addressing you. "Oh, hi."

"You don't look familiar," he said. "You from around here?"

"Oh, no, just passing through," you replied, angling your body so that you could keep one eye on the door. "Just here for a day or two."

"Well, can I buy you a drink?" he asked. "Make it worth your while?"

"Sure," you replied.

"Adam," he said, holding out his hand.

You shook it and gave him your name, eyeing the cowboy hat he was wearing. "I take it you're from here?"

He was pretty, in that rugged, outdoorsy kind of way. Rough hands from manual labour, sandy-blond hair tucked beneath a well-loved hat, eyes as bright as a clear summer sky. He seemed harmless enough. There were no warning bells sounding in your head, no raising of your hackles as you anticipated an argument.

"Born and raised," he replied. "What are you drinking?"

"Whatever beer's cheapest," you answered.

Then you saw them. Filing through the door and looking completely out of place, the Storm Par crew walked into the bar. Scott was amongst them and if your jaw could drop any lower from shock, it would be on the ground. His eyes scanned the room, baseball cap creating shadows across his face as his gaze finally locked on you.

Immediately, you turned away, fighting the flush that was creeping up your cheeks. Adam was waiting to pay for your drinks, handing over his card before handing you yours. You thanked him quietly, offering a smile as you tried to keep yourself from looking for Scott.

"You here alone?" Adam asked.

"No, I'm with my friends," you said, finally looking over to where the girls were. "They're over there."

Adam followed your finger as you watched Kate embrace Javi with a friendly smile. The other Storm Par guys were flocked awkwardly around him, clearly out of their element in a place like this, but Scott was staring right at you. If looks could kill, you didn't doubt that you'd probably have spontaneously combusted from the way he was looking at you.

An irrational part of you jumped to the conclusion that Scott was jealous. He'd seen you talking to Adam, made the connection that there was a possibility you were interested in him and he wasn't impressed. Then you told yourself that you were delusional to think that.

But still...

"How are you at dancing, cowboy?" you asked.

"Two left feet, I'm afraid," Adam replied.

You grinned. "Perfect, me too."

The two of you headed for the makeshift dance floor, the slow country song playing on the jukebox filling the room with music. You turned to Adam, one hand holding your drink while the other rested on his shoulder. He placed his free hand on your waist, looking a little uncertain.

You danced with him, swaying softly to the music until your drink was empty. The conversation flowed naturally and if you weren't hung up on Scott, you might've gone home with Adam if he offered. But here you were, trying to see if Scott acted on his emotions instead of glaring daggers at you from across the room. You almost felt guilty about dancing with Adam, who seemed so sweet.

When the next song finished, Adam excused himself to use the restroom and you headed back to the bar for a refill.

As you were waiting, a voice behind you said, "You look nice."

Turning, you found Scott standing less than a foot away from you. Raising your eyebrows, you said, "Well, I did promise you that the next time you saw me, I'd be all dressed up."

"Yeah, dressed up," Scott replied. "Not dancing with a stranger."

"He's not a stranger," you said. "His name's Adam."

"I don't care," Scott said, his voice low.

"Careful, Storm Par," you said with a playful smirk. "One might mistake your usual grumpiness for jealousy."

"I'm not jealous," Scott said, folding his arms. "That's ridiculous."

"Okay, well, I'm going to get another drink and then go find Adam," you said, turning your back to Scott.

"No, don't."

Your back stiffened at his words. Could you have been right all along? Were all those arguments and jabs at one another just a cover-up for how he felt? That stirring in your stomach when you thought about him, could he feel it too?

"Why not?" you asked, turning your head to look at him over your shoulder. 

"Because-"

"Because what, Scott?" you asked, voice a little sharp. "Because he's been really sweet all night and I haven't had him tell me I look like shit and there's been no arguments and hey, maybe I'll go home with him and have some fun."

Scott winced. Physically winced, like the thought of you going home with Adam pained him. "Don't do that."

"Then give me something, Scott," you said. "Because I am tired of whatever this is. We argue all the time and this will-they-won't-they is getting tiring. It's obvious you don't like me-"

"I do like you," Scott said.

"Okay, well, you have a funny way of showing it," you replied.

"I just- I'm not good with words," he said. "Or feelings. Or any of it, but the way I feel when I'm around you, even when we're arguing, it's... I like your company."

"So you're just emotionally constipated?" you asked.

Scott shrugged. "Something like that. Look, just don't go home with him tonight."

You took a step closer to him, standing so close that you could kiss him if you moved just another couple of inches. "Give me one good reason not to. C'mon, Storm Par. Is this something you want?"

"You?" he asked quietly, receiving a nod in response. "Yes."

"Okay, then you have me," you replied. "What are you going to do about that?"

You were done with this game. If Scott was going to get jealous over you talking to another man, then clearly you hadn't been far off-base with your assumptions. Seeing him now, riled up and breathless as he stared down at you like he didn't know how to handle the situation, had your own heart racing.

Then he reached for your hand and the moment broke apart like glass, shattering as he tugged you towards the door of the bar. Your drink was abandoned, your friends were gawking from their table like they couldn't believe what they were seeing and Adam walked out of the restroom just in time to see your figure disappear through the door.

"Hey, what's the big-"

You were cut off when Scott turned abruptly and kissed you. It wasn't like the movies; flowers didn't bloom and rain didn't fall from the sky. Fireworks didn't erupt around you, but there was a stirring in your chest. Deep in your belly, like something primal had awoken in you the moment Scott's hands grasped your cheeks and he pressed his lips to yours.

He pulled away first, cheeks flushed and breathless, but he kept his hands on you. They cupped your jaw, cradling your face as you looked at him with wide eyes.

"Come home with me," he said. "You made your point, okay? The thought of you with someone else, even someone sweet, makes me feel sick, okay? Just... I like you."

"I like you too," you replied. "Even if you are a fucking asshole sometimes." A rare smile appeared on Scott's face and he looked down sheepishly. "But just so we're clear, I still hate your job."

This time, he laughed. A genuine, deep laugh that came from the depths of his chest. "Yeah, you tell me at least three times a day."

"You sure you still wanna take me home knowing I'll tell you even more?" you asked teasingly.

Scott rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I do."

With his hand clasped firmly in yours, Scott led you to where his truck was parked and you didn't look back.

[ifyouweremine]

Look After You | Clark Kent

PAIRING: Clark Kent x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: When the whole world feels like it's coming down on his shoulders, you're there to remind Clark that he does not have to bear that weight on his own.

WARNINGS: Sad Clark (he just needs a hug)

W/C: 1.2k

He returned to his apartment through the open window while the world came crumbling down around him. The window had been closed when he left, but as he touched down soundlessly in his living room, the sight that greeted him twisted his heart. There you were, sprawled on his couch, fast asleep. One arm was tucked beneath the pillow your head was resting on while the other was draped over the side of the couch. Clark felt a lump rise in his throat.

You'd stayed awake as long as you could, leaving the window open because you had been waiting for him to come back. He didn't know if you'd seen the news or heard the speculation, but in this moment while you slept, he could pretend that everything was normal.

When you woke up, everything would change.

He crossed the room, cape billowing behind him as he knelt beside your sleeping form and gently brushed his hand across your cheek. You stirred at his touch, soft mumbles leaving your lips as your eyes fluttered open.

"Clark?" you whispered.

He offered you a sad smile. "Hey, sweetheart."

You stretched out on the couch as you readjusted to being awake. "Are you okay?"

He didn't have an answer for that. How was he supposed to be okay when he knew that his parents had sent him to Earth to conquer rather than protect? How could he look you in the eye and tell you that he was alright when all he could think about was how different things might have been? The world was turning against him beyond the safety of this apartment and he didn't think he could bear it if he saw a shift in the way you looked at him too.

"Did you-?"

"I saw," you whispered, sitting up as Clark remained kneeling before you, his hands coming to brace on your knees. "I saw, baby."

"I don't- I never heard the last half of the message," Clark said, anguish breaking his voice as he spoke. "You have to believe-"

"Hey, hey," you soothed, running a hand through his hair. "You don't need to explain yourself to me. I believe you, Clark. I know you. Whatever that message said, whatever your parents sent you here to do- it doesn't matter."

"But they sent me here to rule-"

"But you haven't done that," you reminded him. "That's not who you are, Clark." You slid down from your spot on the couch to join him on the floor, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to comfort him.

He wrapped his own around your waist, drawing your body as close as he could. He clung to you like a lifeline, head buried in the crook of your neck as his entire body seemed to tremble. This man could lift buildings and save lives, but right now he was struggling to save himself from the crushing realisation that everything he thought he knew about his parents was built on false foundations. The weight of what the world had seen was crushing him and he wasn't prepared to carry it.

You held him like you could keep him from falling apart, like having him in your arms would protect him from the world that was spinning a little too fast, dizzying shifts on an unstable axis that didn't give him a chance to catch his breath. Being in your arms might help slow it all down.

From where his face was hidden against your shoulder, Clark mumbled, "Are you going to leave?"

"Leave?" you echoed softly, realising what he meant by that. "Leave you?" Clark nodded but didn't lift his head. "No, Clark. I'm not going to leave. My love, this doesn't change anything."

"It changes everything."

"But not us," you replied firmly, assuredly. "I know you, Clark. I've always known who you are." At this, he finally lifted his head, tears clouding his eyes that made your heart ache for him. You held his face in your hands, cradling him with a gentleness you knew he didn't feel he deserved. "You never have to doubt this, Clark. You never have to doubt my feelings for you. Whatever the world thinks, I don't care. They don't see the real you. This is what counts." You placed a hand over his heart and he hung his head. "It's not about where you come from. It's about who you are."

"I don't know what to do," Clark admitted. "I don't know how to fix this."

"Just take a breath," you replied. "Take a breath, baby."

Clark did, inhaling what felt like his first full breath since that video surfaced on every screen in the city. You held him through it, grounding him in a way that made the rest of the world melt away. His hands rested on your hips, eyes boring into yours as you refused to look away.

"That's it," you said. "Nice and slow, take a breath. Slow it down. I've got you."

It didn't matter what the world thought of him. You knew Clark better than anybody. He had let you into his life, both sides of who he was and you had adapted well. You kept his secrets like an oath, swearing to take it to the grave and being there to slow it down when life got a little too fast. Holding you now, in his arms in his apartment where everything was quiet, felt like the rest of the world had taken a pause to catch its breath alongside him.

He realised then that it didn't matter if the world hated him. He had come home to you and your support was unwavering and steadfast. For a moment, he could forget about everything else because you were here on your knees before him, kneeling to be at his level. He was falling apart, but your hands were catching the pieces and mending them before they could break, putting him back together as fast as he crumbled.

What came next would be hard, but for the moment, with you holding him like this, Clark realised that he could give himself a chance to feel everything and let himself be human. He didn't have to pretend in front of you. You could see him break and still love him.

"I've got you, baby," you whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I'll look after you for a while, okay? Just for a little while. Catch your breath. The world can wait."

Clark nodded. "I'd like that."

And you would. Whether the world was coming down around him or erupting into flames, you'd be there. Even when you saw the news, you never once doubted what you knew. This was Clark, the same man that spent twenty minutes trying to catch a spider even though you kept telling him to kill it. He cared so deeply that even if he had known what the rest of that message had said, you believed that he still would have become the man he was today. He was not his parents.

He was yours and you knew him.

Whatever came next, you would hold him through it because he may have been strong for others, but he did not have to bear that emotional burden on his own.

[ifyouweremine]

Worth a Thousand Words | Clark Kent

PAIRING: Clark Kent x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: When Superman shows up to save the day, he makes headlines. Only this time the headlines aren’t exactly what you expect when you see yourself on the front page, labelled Superman’s new mystery woman.

WARNINGS: None

W/C: 1.3k

"Oh my God! Lois!"

You crossed the bullpen towards Lois, a copy of a rival newspaper clutched in your hand, disbelief written all across your features. The stupid thing had cost you eight dollars, but the moment you'd glimpsed the picture on the front page, you'd pulled out a ten and told the vendor to keep the change. Lois, amused, watched you approach and smack the newspaper down in front of her like it had personally offended you.

"I made the front page!" you exclaimed.

Lois laughed, immensely enjoying your frazzled state. Usually, you were put together and eloquent, but right now you looked a little insane. "I noticed."

"Jesus Christ," you groaned, head in your hands. "This is so embarrassing!"

"What's embarrassing?" Jimmy asked, rolling his chair over to you and Lois.

"She's freaking out because there's a picture of her on the front page," Lois said, sliding the paper towards Jimmy.

He took it and hummed. "Wow. 'Is this the new Mrs Superman?'. That's so lame." He pushed the paper away. "It might not be you."

"It is me!" you said, shaking your head. "That's my favourite sweater." You jabbed your finger on the picture. "You see me wear that sweater at least once a week. I mean, look, it's even got the hole in the right elbow!"

"Okay, but why are we freaking out?" Jimmy asked. "Unless you're actually dating Superman, in which case, awesome. Is he cool? What does he do when he's not saving the world? Does he use his powers in the bed-"

"Jimmy!" Your voice cut across his barrage of questions before they could get any more personal. "I am not dating Superman. This is such a disaster."

Lois had turned away, typing on her computer for a moment before she let out an impressed huh. "You're all over the internet."

"Oh my God," you groaned, leaning against Lois's desk and letting your shoulders slump.

Jimmy gave you a perplexed look. "Why are you so worried?"

"Because I don't want to be on the front page unless it's my name in, like, a really tiny font!" you replied. "And what's Clark gonna say?"

"What's Clark going to say about what?"

You whirled around, pushing off of Lois's desk to come face-to-face with your boyfriend. Or, well, face-to-chest, because Clark stood a good few inches taller than you on your best day. He was looking between the three of you, from Lois scrolling through tweets on the internet to Jimmy perusing the article attached to the photograph and then to you. His eyes softened when they landed on you and a smile graced his features.

"Your girlfriend made the front page," Jimmy said, holding out the paper and shaking it for Clark to take. "Because according to the internet, Superman's in love with her."

Clark's eyes met yours as he took the paper from Jimmy, taking a long moment to look at the picture in front of him.

It was true.

There was Superman, standing with barely two inches of space between his body and yours. You had one of his hands held in both of yours, fingers wrapped gently around his wrist as you held his hand to your chest, right above your heart. If you closed your eyes, you could still feel the way he went still for a moment to focus on your heartbeat.

"Are you okay?" The whispered words were meant just for you, a flash of Clark shining through the superhero suit he wore as the two of you kept to the shadows.

You nodded, breathless. "I'm okay. I'm not hurt."

"Are you sure? I heard your heartbeat-"

"I promise you, I'm fine," you replied.

"Are you-"

You reached for his hand, lifting it to rest above your heart, watching his eyes follow your movement and settle on your chest. For a moment, there was silence as he listened to the steady beat beneath his fingers and told himself that everything was okay. You were alive, you were here, you were breathing and whole before him. You were safe.

You'd had no idea that somebody had caught that moment on camera. It had only been a matter of seconds; Clark had tugged you to the side to check on you before you had sent him off to finish saving the day. You'd been sitting in on a court case for a report you were putting together when someone had triggered an explosion that blew out one of the walls. In the commotion, you had totally forgotten that Clark liked to listen to your heartbeat whenever you weren't together because it reassured him to know you were okay.

He'd heard the skip of a beat and come running, arriving in record time as Superman to prevent the offender from escaping with the team he had formed to help him. They all ended up being arrested and there were fortunately no casualties as a result of the bombing besides a few scrapes and bruises.

Superman, of course, made the front page. Only this time it wasn't for his heroics. It was because of the way he looked at you. Or rather, the way Clark looked at you.

Clark, in the present, glanced at you. There was a shine in his eyes, knowing and a little smug but marred by the frown on his lips. "You been stepping out on me?"

You shoved his shoulder playfully and rolled your eyes. "You know that's not the case."

"You can't even see your face," Lois assured you. "Nobody got any other angles. It's all speculation."

"Well, I don't want to be speculated about!" you said. "A guy blew up a building and the internet wants to talk about Superman's love life?"

"Maybe it was a slow day at the office?" Jimmy suggested. "I, for one, would love to know if he has much of a dating life."

You groaned, moving closer to Clark and dropping your forehead against his chest. His laughter filled your ears as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

"It's not that bad," he said softly. "I think it's quite a nice picture."

"You would say that," you said, lifting your head to look at him. He was probably thinking of ways to frame it for your apartment, the same way he'd written your name in the sky and had that framed for your anniversary. He was cute like that.

"You should see some of the comments," Lois said. "The internet is having a field day."

Leaning in along with Clark and Jimmy, you looked over Lois's shoulder and read through some of the things that people were saying about you.

user somebody find this girl and let her know she's got superman looking at her like he's in love

user how does it feel to not be the girl in this photo? pretty terrible, can't lie

user she's a stronger woman than me because if superman looked at me like that I would be yelling from the rooftops

You glanced at Clark, finding his eyes already on you. The look you shared between you was yet another private moment, but this time there were no cameras around. Clark didn't feel guilty about the headline, nor did he feel ashamed that he'd been caught looking at you like that. He loved you more than life and if the whole world thought that Superman was in love with you, then he was okay with that. He was Superman, after all.

He reached for your hand and squeezed gently, drawing a smile from you that melted any lingering worry about being on the front page.

Lois leaned back in her chair. "Hey, I have a question."

"Shoot," you said.

"Would you leave Clark for Superman?"

[ifyouweremine]

In a World of Boys | Clark Kent

PAIRING: Clark Kent x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: You're tired of bad dates, but it's easier to deal with the fact that not every man is like Clark Kent when you come home to him cooking you dinner after your SOS text gets sent to the wrong person.

WARNINGS: None? Reader has a bad date with an entitled man but Clark makes it better

W/C: 1.5k

You walked through the front door of your apartment and the smell of breakfast cooking wafted down the hallway to greet you. Which was odd, considering it was almost nine p.m and you lived alone. Kicking off your shoes and leaving them alongside the familiar sneakers you’d grown used to seeing by your door, you headed for the kitchen, completely at ease because there was only one person you knew that would be cooking breakfast for dinner.

Clark Kent, in his sweats and an old t-shirt, was standing with his back to you while he fried off bacon in the pan he was watching. Dropping your bag in the doorway, you leaned against the frame and said, "Who let the riff-raff in here?"

He turned to you and smiled that infectious, winning grin that made everything else melt away. "Hi, you're back."

"Yeah," you said, glancing around your kitchen. "What are you doing here?"

Clark shrugged. "I got your text about your date, so I figured I'd come over and cook for you just in case you hadn’t eaten."

Your eyes widened as you pushed off the doorframe and pulled your phone from your pocket. "I swear I sent that to Lois. I thought she was ignoring me."

It was hardly your fault that you didn't check who you were texting. Lois and Clark were the two people you contacted most frequently and in your panic back at the restaurant, you clearly hadn't been paying much attention to your contacts. You’d also been four glasses of wine deep, so you couldn’t be entirely accountable for your actions. Sure enough, instead of your SOS text going to Lois, you'd sent it to Clark.

To: Spaceboy I'm about to jump out of this bathroom window and we haven't even ordered yet. I'm so serious.

Then, not five minutes later.

To: Spaceboy Best believe I jumped out of that window.

You grimaced, dropping your phone onto the counter. "That was meant for Lois."

Clark shrugged. "I assumed as much." He offered you a sympathetic smile. "Wanna talk about it?"

You didn't, but Clark had this natural way of coaxing you into conversation even when you didn't feel like talking. He was a good listener, so as he continued cooking and your stomach started rumbling at the prospect of food, you regaled him with the details of your date that ended before it truly began.

Your date had shown up forty-five minutes late, during which time you had not one, but three waiters approach you and remind you that if you weren't going to order, you would have to give up your table. A small part of you felt humiliated by the fact that they kept giving you sympathetic looks because it was obvious that you’d been stood up, but your anger waylaid the embarrassment and consumed you instead. You'd polished off at least four glasses of wine before your date finally arrived and had asked the waiter to just leave the bottle after the second glass.

He had sat down without so much as an apology for being late, snapping his fingers at the nearest waiter to get him a drink. In the ten minutes that you spent pretending to be interested in the menu while secretly plotting how to escape, all he had talked about was himself.

"And then!" you said, on a roll with your story. Poor Clark was just along for the ride but seemed quite content to hang on and see it through. "I went to order my food and he interrupted me and was like, 'She'll have the salad'." You put on a deep voice to impersonate him. "Then he looked me up and down like there was something wrong with me. It was so embarrassing!”

You hadn't realised how much that had hurt you in the moment, having been too busy considering ways to get out of there, but now there were tears in your eyes as you recounted the story for Clark. He noticed the way your expression crumpled immediately and turned off the heat for the stove he was using, leaving the vegetables simmering in the pan. He crossed the room in two long strides to wrap you in his arms. You accepted his hug gratefully, your body sagging against his chest as you sniffled into his shoulder.

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with you," Clark soothed, one hand rubbing your back gently. "You're beautiful and he sounds like a real jerk. Any man that doesn’t see that isn’t worth your time.”

You nodded, speaking into Clark's t-shirt. "That was when I went to the bathroom and texted who I thought was Lois."

"You seriously jumped out of a window?" Clark asked, pulling back from the hug.

You smiled, watery and a little pitiful. "I did! In heels!"

"I'm impressed," Clark commended, gently wiping your cheek with his thumb to catch the stray tears.

"You should be," you replied. "Those things were killing my feet but I stuck the landing like an absolute pro.”

"I'm sorry your date was bad," Clark said.

You shrugged. "Sometimes I forget that not all men are like you."

"What?" Clark asked.

Your eyes widened, worried that all the wine might’ve gone to your head and convinced you that speaking your feelings was a good idea. "I just mean- You're always so sweet and considerate. I watched you apologise to a parked car the other day because you bumped into it. I mean, you came over because you assumed I haven't eaten - which I haven't - and you're cooking me dinner even though you didn’t have to."

"Well, it’s breakfast,” Clark said.

"Well, whatever it is, it counts," you said. "In a world of boys, Clark Kent, you are a true gentleman." You reached up and placed a hand on his cheek. "I really appreciate you and I don’t tell you that enough.”

Clark's cheeks were flushed, clearly not expecting a compliment like that. It really wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for him to come over and cook for you. He'd been sitting in his apartment doing nothing, moping over the fact that you were out with another man. He was half-hoping for an extraterrestrial attack to occupy him for a while and distract him. When that text had come through, it was like the universe was sending him a sign and he had listened.

"I'm grateful for you too," he replied.

Your smile was enough to convince him that maybe he'd made the right choice in coming here. Even though there were still tears in your eyes that another man had caused, at least Clark knew that he’d done the right thing by coming here. As he went back to fixing up your dinner, you continued to watch him move around your kitchen with practiced ease. The conversation between you flowed so naturally and you found yourself laughing by the time Clark had finished cooking.

He plated up the food when it was all ready, carrying both plates through to your living room. You disappeared into your room for a minute to change out of the dress you'd worn for the date, emerging in a pair of cotton shorts and a t-shirt you were pretty sure once belonged to Clark. He gawked at you from the couch for a second before realising that he was staring and awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Feel better?" he asked, holding out your plate as you sat down beside him.

"Much better," you replied. "Thank you for cooking. You really didn't have to."

"I know, but you had a bad day," Clark said. "I wanted to make it better."

"One of these days you're going to make a lucky woman very happy," you said, stabbing at your scrambled eggs.

Clark looked at you again. You were sitting cross-legged on the couch, body angled towards him as you used a cushion in your lap as a rest for your plate. He had always thought you were beautiful, but there was something so charming about the way you looked in this moment that made his heart swoop in his chest. You looked so natural and at ease, sitting here with him like it was the only place you wanted to be. If he could freeze this moment and keep it forever, he would.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked.

You looked up at him, sensing the shift in his tone and putting your fork down. "Anything."

"Would you like to go out with me?" His heart was pounding in his chest, a tattoo of anticipation against his ribs as he waited for your answer. "I just- If I don't ask this now, I won't ever and- and I know you've just come back from a date but-"

"Clark, are you asking me on a date?" you asked, gently cutting across his ramble.

He nodded. "I am. Only if you want to, of course."

"Only if I want to?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, yeah," Clark said. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable-"

"I'd love to, Clark," you said.

"Really?"

You nodded. "Yeah, I'd really like that."

Clark blew out a long breath. "Okay, great. Uh... How does tomorrow night sound?"

"I’m free tomorrow night," you said. "Thank you, Clark."

"For what?" he asked.

"For making a bad night better," you replied. "Seriously, you just saved my Friday night."

He blushed again and looked down at his plate. "It was nothing. You deserve to be treated right."

"So do you, Clark," you said.

"So, Saturday?" he said. "It's a date?"

"It's a date, Spaceboy."

[ifyouweremine]

Navigation

Last Updated: 20th August 2025

Clark Kent

The One With the Ring - Clark knew he was going to put a ring on your finger the day he met you, but when he slips up and lets the entire world know that Superman is off the market, things get a little more... interesting.

You Should Probably Leave - He should probably leave, right? He should do the right thing and walk away before he does something that might ruin your friendship. So why is it that he's moving closer to you, risking everything when he doesn't know if you feel the same way?

In a World of Boys - You're tired of bad dates, but it's easier to deal with the fact that not every man is like Clark Kent when you come home to him cooking you dinner after your SOS text gets sent to the wrong person.

Worth a Thousand Words - When Superman shows up to save the day, he makes headlines. Only this time the headlines aren’t exactly what you expect when you see yourself on the front page, labelled Superman’s new mystery woman.

Look After You - When the whole world feels like it's coming down on his shoulders, you're there to remind Clark that he does not have to bear that weight on his own.

If You Were Mine - You're drunk and Clark's pining, but he doesn't know how to tell you. Turns out, drunk you reveals that sober you wants the same thing.

Stay Stay Stay - All your life, you've been conditioned into thinking that people will leave at the first sign of trouble. Lucky for you, Clark Kent isn't like all the others; he's prepared to stay and fight for you.

Four Blue Eyes - After so many years of loving Clark Kent's blue eyes, you find another pair that you could get lost in.

Dancing in my Living Room - Just you and Clark, dancing in your living room while the city sleeps.

Scott Miller

All's Fair - Scott liked you. You liked Scott. The only problem was that you were both idiots who couldn’t admit it. The solution? You make Scott jealous and he finally does something about the tension between you.

After the Storm - There are few things more dangerous than storms, but your feelings for Scott Miller might be one of them.

Johnny Storm

Johnny's Girl - She's Johnny's girl and he wants to make sure that everybody knows it.

[ifyouweremine]

The One With the Ring | Clark Kent

PAIRING: Clark Kent x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Clark knew he was going to put a ring on your finger the day he met you, but when he slips up and lets the entire world know that Superman is off the market, things get a little more... interesting.

WARNINGS: None

W/C: 1.4k

There are some things in life that you just know, which rang true the moment Clark Kent met you. Watching you walk into the Daily Planet bullpen with Lois, arms moving animatedly as you spoke with a smile on your face, he knew in that moment that he was going to marry you someday.

Of course, he took his time getting there, but he was prepared to wait for you. He was nothing if not a gentleman, politely introducing himself before finding any excuse to talk to you. He would bring you coffee in the mornings, figuring out how you liked it and doing his best to make sure it was right. If you stayed late at the office to finish up an article, Clark would be staying behind too. He would walk you to your door when you finally headed home, making sure you were safely inside and pretending that he couldn't hear the way your heart skipped a beat when he kissed your cheek goodnight.

He was awkward, though. Superman was approachable, talkative, open to conversation with strangers he had just met, but Clark was a bumbling, stuttering, nervous mess when it came to you. It took Lois spelling it out for him, saying in no uncertain terms that you liked him, for Clark to finally ask you out on a date.

And the rest, as they say, was history.

Clark married you a few years after that first date, in a small ceremony held on his family's farm. You walked down the aisle, radiant in your wedding dress, all smiles as you practically floated towards him. Clark knew how it felt to fly, but in that moment he felt utterly weightless watching you approach. His eyes had clouded with tears and Lois elbowed Jimmy rather harshly in the ribs when he couldn't contain his laughter.

You and Clark didn't care, though.

All that mattered was those soft-spoken vows, the way his hand held yours so delicately, keeping you close until he could finally kiss you as his wife.

There was no doubt in anybody's mind that Clark was in the running for Husband of the Year. Any excuse he could find to bring you up, he would be proudly calling you my wife. If you got the front page with an article, he would boast about it as if it was his own achievement. Something as mundane as cooking a dinner for the two of you? He'd be showing Jimmy and Lois a picture and declaring that his wife could be a world-renowned chef. You'd be somewhere to the side, blushing with your face hidden in your hands because you could tie your shoelaces and Clark would find some way to sing your praises.

He wore his wedding ring like it was the greatest prize he'd ever won. Every day, he looked at you and thanked the stars that they'd sent you his way that day. Somewhere, the fates had aligned and created you both from the same stardust, bonding you together in ways that were cosmic and inevitable.

Clark Kent was happily married and would shout it from the rooftops for anybody to hear, but Superman? As far as the world knew, he was a lone wolf.

Whenever Clark had Superman business to tend to, he would leave his wedding ring with you. He knew that you sometimes got anxious watching him head off to face whatever danger threatened the city that day, so he left his ring as a promise to you.

He would be back.

Whatever it took, he would come back for that ring, because there was nothing in this universe that would stand between Clark Kent and coming home to you every night.

So you would wait, watching the newsfeed of Superman fighting the most recent invader, rolling Clark's ring between your thumb and forefinger absentmindedly.

But even heroes slip up sometimes and the day Clark forgot to leave his wedding ring behind, you can bet the entire world had something to say about it.

It started with a blurry picture, taken by someone after Superman landed in the crowd and greeted people like they were his longtime friends. Although it was unfocused, it was obvious that he was wearing a wedding ring and the moment you saw it flash up on your newsfeed, your eyes had widened.

He was trending almost immediately, different angles of his left hand and an internet ablaze with speculation over who Superman's mystery man or woman could be.

"Y/N," Lois said, snapping you out of your deep-dive through the articles already spawning online. "Weigh in on this. You think Superman's married?"

"Oh, come on," Jimmy said, leaning back in his chair dramatically. "He was wearing a ring. Clear as day. He's obviously married."

You turned in your chair, shrugging. "I don't know. I guess it's a possibility. I mean, what do we even know about the guy?"

"That's such a boring, objective answer," Jimmy said, rolling his eyes. "The reporter in you is showing."

You flipped him off and went back to your computer, eyeing Clark's desk opposite yours. Ever since you started at the Planet, your desks had faced one another and you always questioned whether Chief Perry had made it that way on purpose. Not that you minded, because it gave you an excuse to stare at Clark's pretty face all day, but right now he was missing.

Unsurprising, considering he was just seen not twenty minutes ago in a park downtown.

You didn't have it in you to be mad at him for his mistake, but you couldn't help but wonder what the ramifications of this would be. Superman would be under more scrutiny than ever, with people prying into his personal business like they had a right to know everything about him. How long would it be before somebody figured it out? How would that affect Clark?

Speaking of the devil, he returned to the bullpen with flushed cheeks, windswept hair and his tie loosened around his neck. You shook your head at him as he approached you, an iced coffee in one hand and his briefcase in the other. Placing the latter down first, he bypassed his desk and approached yours, leaning down to greet you with a kiss while he slid the coffee onto your desk.

"Hi," he mumbled against your lips.

"You're trending." You reached for his tie and adjusted it, keeping him hunched over your desk as you watched his eyebrows furrow in confusion. With a sly grin, you turned your gaze to your computer screen, feeling Clark's eyes follow you to the blurry picture of him and his very obvious wedding ring.

"Oh," he said softly, a look of panic flashing across his face as he looked down at his left hand, where his wedding ring was still on his finger.

You couldn't help your smile. "There's worse things to trend for."

Clark straightened up when you released his tie, his cheeks reddening further as he leaned against your desk. "I'm sorry-"

"You don't have to apologise," you told him, resting a hand on his knee. "Just promise me you'll say good things about me when people ask."

Clark leaned down to kiss you again, ignoring the mocking gags from Jimmy across the room. When he pulled away, he looked at you with blown pupils that reflected just how much he loved you. It was the same way he looked at you the day you got married, every day before that and every day since.

"I have nothing but good things to say about you."

Superman went on the record the next time he did an interview with Clark Kent to say that he was happily married to a woman that brightened up his entire world. He asked for privacy in his personal life and although the internet unanimously agreed to give him that, it did not stop the onslaught of comments about how his eyes lit up when he talked about his wife during a recent public appearance.

You had laid in bed with Clark, scrolling through the endless flood of support for Superman and his wife, smiling despite yourself. When you got married, Clark promised you that he would do his best not to let his life as Superman interfere with the life the two of you were building. That was a whispered promise for only you when you were wrapped in one another's arms after the guests had all gone home.

Watching the world learn what you'd known all along, that the man currently wrapped around your body without a care in the world was the biggest loverboy in the universe, was enough to warm your heart.

"I don't mind them knowing that you're married," you mused, lifting your head from where it had been resting on Clark's chest. "But if you name-drop me it's going to cause an absolute scene at work for poor Clark Kent."

[ifyouweremine]

You Should Probably Leave | Clark Kent

PAIRING: Clark Kent x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: He should probably leave, right? He should do the right thing and walk away before he does something that might ruin your friendship. So why is it that he's moving closer to you, risking everything when he doesn't know if you feel the same way?

WARNINGS: None, besides Clark being the most adorable idiot in love

W/C: 3.1k

You'd been dancing around your feelings for months now. Somewhere between meeting Clark Kent for the first time and now, the line between friends and something more became blurred. Of course, maybe you were overthinking it because it was in Clark's nature to be as kind as humanly possible. He bought you a coffee every morning and met you outside your apartment building (conveniently, you lived in the building across from him). He walked you home after work and insisted that he see you to your door just in case. Metropolis was dangerous, he always said, so you can never be too sure.

You let him do these things without mentioning the way butterflies erupted in your chest every time he did. Walking home became invitations to stay for dinner and even though it was your apartment, Clark would be at the helm in the kitchen, shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows while you sat on the counter and watched him prepare the food. He was an exceptional cook, so one dinner turned into a weekly thing under the guise of wanting to try more of his Ma’s recipes. Fridays became movie nights, listening to Clark excitedly tell you about his favourite films and introduce you to what he deemed the best movies of all time. He was like a golden retriever, enthusiasm and a heart of gold wrapped in a six-foot-something frame with glasses sitting crooked on his nose. Nobody could resist the charm that radiated from him and you were no exception.

It was dangerous, playing this game with Clark. One wrong move and the entire thing could crumble. This fragile ecosystem the two of you were building, your lives becoming entwined in ways that felt impossible to deny, could erupt in flames if you made one wrong move.

Did Clark feel anything for you? Did his heart stutter in his chest the way yours did when he held open a door for you or offered you his jacket on those cooler evenings? Did he wonder what you were thinking every time he caught you looking for a fraction too long? When he left you at your door every evening, did he feel that ache of longing stretching through his chest with every step he took away from you? You didn't dare ask those questions, so instead you kept quiet, torturing yourself with the possibility that there could be something else there if you let it happen but terrified to breach that unfamiliar territory lest he not be by your side when you did.

There was one day that you felt it, a seismic shift in the dynamic between the two of you. A new intern had started at the Daily Planet that morning and the Chief had asked you to show him the ropes. Without an assignment to keep you occupied, you toured the intern around the building and introduced him to the team, making sure that Clark was your last stop so you could chat to him for a while longer than the others. Across the room, Lois was giving you the eyes that told you she was catching on to whatever was going on between you and Clark. She was attuned to noticing the details and had been saying for weeks that she thought there was a spark between the two of you.

You'd rolled your eyes and subtly flipped her off by pretending to scratch your nose. She had dissolved into silent giggles and resumed her conversation with Jimmy, leaving you to introduce Clark to the new intern. You hadn't noticed the way the intern's eyes seemed fixated on you, hanging on to your every word with a dedication that went beyond merely wanting to learn about the business. While you were blissfully unaware, Clark... was not. 

He noticed the intern's gaze and the way he had been asking questions while you made your rounds through the office. The way his questions sometimes bordered on personal, asking you what your favourite section to cover was or where you preferred your coffee from so he could get you one to say thank you for showing him around, caused an unfamiliar feeling to creep up Clark's throat. When you'd answered the coffee one, telling him that I get my coffee from wherever Clark goes in the mornings, it hadn't quite been enough to tame that roar of jealousy through his chest.

He'd swallowed it down, making a point to ask if you were still on for dinner that evening and watching the intern's eyes bounce between the two of you with a hint of curiosity shining there. You'd responded with a smile and a definite yes before ushering the intern away to show him the file room.

Later that evening, you were sitting in your kitchen in your usual spot, perched on the counter in your comfiest t-shirt and sweats, a glass of wine half-finished beside you. Clark had his back to you, stirring the sauce he was making with a focussed intensity. There was something in the air you couldn't place, a tension you could almost see if you looked hard enough. His shoulders were squared and he didn’t look quite at ease, which was unusual because he spent so much time in your apartment that it had become something of a second home to him.

"Okay, I'll bite," you said finally, when the silence became a little too stifling. "What's up with you?"

Clark didn't turn to look at you but asked, "What do you mean?"

"You've been weird all day," you said, reaching for your wine and taking another long sip. "I don't know how to describe it. Broody, like there's something on your mind."

"I'm not broody," Clark said.

You rolled your eyes. "Clark, c'mon, you're stirring that sauce like it's personally offended you."

He put down his spoon and finally turned to you. "How'd you get on with the intern?"

You almost snorted, seeing right through his question. That was what this was about? The intern you'd shown around because the Chief had asked you to?

Years of schooling your features kept your expression unreadable as you said, "Okay, actually. He was eager to learn."

"He seemed pretty interested in you," Clark said.

This time, you couldn't help the smile that formed on your face. "Are you trying to say I'm not interesting?"

"No, I think you're interesting," Clark replied. "I'm just being observant."

"He was just being friendly, Clark," you said. "He was nervous, so I guess he just wanted to make a good impression."

"By asking you where you get your coffee from?" Clark asked.

There they were again, the butterflies erupting in your chest and beating their wings in a way that stole the breath from your lungs. Was Clark jealous? 

"He was just being nice. He told me he'd bring me coffee on Monday," you said.

"And I hope you told him that he needn't bother," Clark replied.

"Well, actually I said that would be great," you said. "So you don't need to worry on Monday."

Clark crossed the room towards you and a lesser woman might've backed down, but you were never one to shy away from him. His hands rested on the counter on either side of your thighs, trapping you there. "You didn't."

"It's no big deal, right?" you said, fighting the smirk that was threatening to appear. "He's just being friendly, the same way you always are."

"Just being- I bring you coffee in the mornings," Clark said, a hint of emotion betraying him. There was a vulnerability in his tone that you'd never heard before, a trace of something that might've been desperation. "That's our thing."

You giggled then, bubbling with a nervous energy at the proximity between the two of you. Clark was so close that you could close that gap and kiss him in less than a heartbeat. "I know it is, but there's always time for a change."

"Just say you hate me," Clark said, his tone dry.

"I don't hate you, Clarkie." You laughed at the expression on his face. "Why are you acting like I just told you we can't be friends anymore?"

"That's what this betrayal feels like," Clark said. 

"Betrayal? Over coffee?" you asked.

"It's not just about the coffee," Clark replied, his voice dangerously quiet. "It's about- It's about us."

"What about us?" you asked, goading him to take that leap and take you with him, wrap you in his arms as you fell into unknown terrain together. 

"I just- You have no idea what you do to me," he said, stumbling over his words in a way that made your heart ache with how cute it was. "You- You're everything and I can't- I don't know how to-"

He was struggling and you were never one to enjoy watching people suffer, so you put him out of his misery and said, "Clark, what do you want from me?"

"I- I want you," he said. "And not just as a friend." He was closer now, his eyes so blue and so vulnerable as they remained locked on yours. You didn't dare look away for fear that the moment would pass you by and you would never hear it from him. "I just- I didn't know if you felt the same."

"Clark-"

The way you said his name did it. He closed that space between you and pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that shattered every boundary the two of you had built between you. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as his hands gripped your waist and pulled you closer, chests pressed flush to one another as you lost yourself in the way it felt to kiss him.

He kissed you like oxygen didn't exist. He didn't need to breathe while he suffocated in your kiss, clinging to your body like he would never be whole without it. He knew he shouldn't do this, jeopardise the friendship he had formed with you for the sake of his being jealous of an intern, but it was hard to do the right thing when you looked so pretty sitting in your kitchen, watching him with wide eyes that gave away everything you felt.

He should have left. His emotions ran away with him and now here he was, breaking every promise he had made to himself when he became your friend. If he didn't have Superman to think about, he would have asked you out months ago, but there was a voice in the back of his mind reminding him that he wasn't just Clark Kent. He was somebody who shouldered the weight of the world and took on the responsibility of protecting like a badge of honour. He should have walked away and left everything as it was.

But just one kiss? One achingly beautiful kiss that made his heart leap against its cage of bones like it wanted to break free of his chest and show you that it beat to the rhythm of your name? One kiss couldn't hurt.

You pulled away first, breathless and flushed. Wide eyes stared at him as though you couldn't believe what you were seeing. Clark Kent, hair dishevelled from your fingers running through it, a redness in his cheeks as his chest heaved to catch his breath, was standing in your kitchen after kissing you like his life depended on it.

"Wow," you breathed. "That was-"

"I should have told you a long time ago," Clark whispered. "How I felt, I mean. I just didn't know if you felt the same way."

"I do," you said, nodding earnestly. "I didn't want to say anything because you're my best friend, Clark."

"And you're mine," he replied, tilting his head to rest his forehead against yours, eyes closing as he tried to immortalise this moment in his mind. "I want to do the right thing here-"

Behind him, something hissed on the stove and Clark was gone, wrenching his body from where it had crowded your space to switch off the hob and try to salvage the sauce that had bubbled up and spilled over the side of the pan. You laughed as he moved the pan to the heatproof mat next to him, grimacing at the mess left behind and looking over his shoulder at you with a sheepish look on his face.

"Dinner's ready," you teased, sliding down from the counter and moving to wrap your arms around Clark from behind. He stood so tall that even at your fullest height, he still towered above you. "What do you say we order something?"

Clark turned in your arms and smiled down at you. "We might have to." He kissed the top of your head, one arm wrapping around your body. "I'll clean up the mess."

"Forget the mess," you said, shaking your head. "We'll clean it later. I want you to kiss me again."

He knew he shouldn't. He shouldn't give in to the way you whispered in his ear like a devil on his shoulder. He should do the right thing; take you out for dinner and walk you home before he kissed you goodnight. His Ma had raised him to be a gentleman, but the way you were looking at him right now made him want to forget everything she had taught him. The look in your eyes was downright sinful.

"Kiss me, Clarkie," you whispered, rising onto your toes to catch his lips in another searing kiss that melted every resolve he had been hopelessly holding on to.

His hands gripped your thighs and hoisted you into his arms, your legs wrapping around him to steady yourself as you clung to him, lost in the feeling of his lips on yours. He moved through your apartment, leaving behind a dinner that neither of you cared about in that moment, heading for your bedroom.

Then it was tangled limbs, clothes scattered on the floor, whispers in the dark of feelings you'd both tried to hide. He laid you down and he took his time, savouring every curve of your body and the way you felt beneath his touch. He had wanted this for so long. Waking up to realise this was all a dream would crush him, so he committed every second to memory because if he only got this one night with you, he wanted to make sure it counted.

The darkness gave way to the early-morning sunlight, which streamed through the curtains and cast golden light across your room. You were tangled around Clark, sound asleep in his arms as he lay awake, watching you sleep. The alarm clock on your bedside table read 5:57. It was nearly 6am and Clark had barely slept. He'd drifted in and out of consciousness, but kept waking to be sure that this wasn't a dream. That you were still there, looking like a goddess bathed in sunlight as you slept against him like you’d always been there.

He was afraid you'd wake up and say that this had been a mistake, a heat-of-the-moment decision that you didn't expect to happen again. But the way you said his name last night like a prayer falling from your lips was enough to scare away those doubts.

You shifted in his arms, eyes opening slowly as you let out an adorable little groan and buried your face further into Clark's chest. "Can you turn off the sun?"

He would do anything for you if he could, but some things were beyond his control.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," Clark teased.

You lifted your head just enough to look at him and there was a sleepy sort of softness in your expression. Eyes half-closed with a lazy smile he'd never seen before tugging at your lips. "Good morning, Prince Charming."

"You sleep okay?" Clark asked softly.

"Better than ever," you replied, keeping your body wrapped around him. "Can you just stay with me forever?"

"Do you want me to?" Clark asked, his heart stuttering at your words.

"Yeah." You nodded, cheek pressed to his chest. "Want you to stay forever."

"I'll stay for as long as you want me to," Clark replied.

"Good," you said. 

There was no room for regrets in that morning sunlight. No space for doubting what you had done the night before. You had woken up in the arms of a man you'd fallen in love with slowly, growing familiar with his presence in your life. This had been a tumble you'd taken willingly into something new, but the moment Clark had pulled your body closer when he kissed you for the first time had been him embracing the fall with you.

You'd landed softly in the arms of a man who would always be there to catch you. There was no better feeling than this.

"You want breakfast?" Clark asked, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"Are you going to burn it again?" you asked.

"I seem to recall being distracted last night," Clark said. 

"Can't think why," you replied.

Clark's laugh rumbled through his chest and a grin split your face as he said, "No, I can't imagine what came over me."

You giggled, sitting up just enough to rest your arm across his chest and look at him. "Breakfast sounds good."

And so you found yourself back in the kitchen, wearing Clark's t-shirt like a trophy. He was shirtless, wearing just his sweatpants as he made you breakfast. This time, though, he stopped for kisses in between and you obliged, laughing whenever he caught your eye. He didn’t have to worry about savouring each kiss, because you sat there patiently waiting for each one he gave you. Breakfast was safe from Clark being distracted.

When you sat down at your dining table to eat, Clark reached over and tugged your chair towards him like it was the most natural thing in the world. With his fork in one hand and his other resting on your thigh, the two of you settled into a comfortable silence as you ate, only broken when Clark looked at you for so long that you knew he was thinking about something.

"What?" you asked.

He pointed his fork at you. "I'm still bringing you coffee on Monday."

You laughed, covering your mouth with your hand as you realised he was still thinking about that intern. It had just been a joke to rile him up, but you knew that you would let this man bring you coffee every day for the rest of your life if only to see the way his face lit up every time you thanked him like it was the first time. 

"Sure, Clark. That's our thing."