kirietown

[kirietown]

Okay for the soulmate au how does the touch work. Is it like equal exchange? Like if reader is getting penetrated does Clark also feel like he is being penetrated despite not having the same sexual organs as reader. I'm assuming if reader is like wet or something his dick starts leaking precum like a fauset, equal exchange. You know what I'm saying same sexual fellings in the same spots their happening in.

in reference to the first blurb of this mini series.

despite lex’s hopes and dreams, clark does not feel like he is being penetrated :c (sorry lex). i think ill elaborate more in part two, but essentially during extreme moments of stress, or pleasure (basically anything that gets your heart racing)— your soulmate gets sort of a light fluttering sensation in their lower stomach, similar to butterflies in ur tummy.

most soulmate AUs emphasize very rigid structures surrounding love and pleasure, i think in this context it depends on the couple. If you’re having sexual relations with a random third party (ex. Lex), your soul mark sharer will be able to sense that butterfly sensation more sharply, even a bit painfully, since you’re breaking the mold by exploring outside ur “fated” connection. It can be very pleasurable to some, but for clark? It was quite unpleasant due to his own feelings as a #certified yearner and lover boy. Dude could basically feel that he was being phantom cucked on live tv. had the reader been masturbating it would have felt more pleasant mentally for him— and potentially could have led him to getting physically aroused if he focused on the sensation enough. again, it’s a very dull sensation, and tends to only last a few seconds, but for a kryptonian and empath like clark, he feels everything 100x more than the average person. Lex was counting on that, and let’s be real, a hater like him? He would have done the same even if it was the most minor of inconveniences in Superman’s day lmao.

thank you for the question! I’m to happy to see the interest, feel free to ask more :D. I hope that explained things well, tbh the whole idea came to me randomly so I didn’t really do a whole lot of heavy thinking so I apologize for any plot holes lol!

[kirietown]

Gurllll, I am OBSESED with star buster, it's soooo amazing addicting, you are killing it with this series, each chapter blows me away even more than the last, keep it up you're doing amazing honey! 🫶🫶🫶

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!!! I’m so excited to show yall what’s next :’)

[kirietown]

Star Burster | Part XI

Pairing: clark kent x f!reader

Summary: after heavy rain, comes the sun… but maybe another storm is brewing.

Content: 18+, period typical misogyny, and clark low key having a breeding kink but what’s new!

[chapter one] … [chapter ten]

Word count: 2.2K

Nearly an hour had gone by with you staring at the sight of menstrual blood staining the delicate fabric of your underwear. You hardly noticed your mother walk in until she snatched the material out of your hands. You had jumped, startled, shielding your bare breasts half heartedly as you watched her inspect the material. Your mother was never the type to care about privacy, call it a southern thing, but you suspected she just never had no respect for you. You felt like you were a specimen inside one of those oddity museums you went to as a kid. You thought about those naked animals all on display in cheap jars for folks to gawk at.

”I see,” your mother had said, after having eyed your underwear for a good few seconds. You couldn’t detect her tone. Was it disappointment? “One less problem to worry about.” Those were her last words to you for the night before she discarded the material in your laundry hamper, and left to go get you a clean rag.

Once you were redressed, she left you alone with your thoughts. Part of you expected Clark to come in through the window at any moment and take you into his arms. But you knew better than that, you guessed he would prefer to give you space so you could think more about what tomorrow would bring.

After all, wasn’t it your decision?

…

You weren’t sure when it happened, but overtime the dinner table became a place of fear for you. In your youth, you had fond memories of being seated on your father’s lap and stuffing your mouth with flavourful food. But overtime it became an area of anxiety for you to the point where your breath would hitch the moment you realized dinner time was approaching.

You sat now, numb, knowing that the man across from you didn’t know his baby wasn’t brewing in your belly after many days of fear. Clark caught your eye, and offered you a small smile amidst the awkward silence at the table.

“Well,” your mother said. “I’m glad y’all could join us after all the chaos and emotions yesterday.”

“I still stand by what I said,” your father interrupted. “I admit I was disrespectful and I apologize to you Clark for the manner I approached the sichu’ation, but ya havta understand I’m a father to a girl.” You could see Jonathan Kent’s lips tighten from the corner of your eye, but he remained silent and turned his gaze onto his boy.

“I accept your apology,” Clark replied. “However, without your blessing, can we truly proceed earnestly?” You never really bothered to think about it before, but Clark never talked like the other folks in Smallville. He always spoke all fancy like, faintly you recalled Martha saying he picked it up from Perry. Clark still had a point, regardless of whether you said yes or no, if your father was against the marriage it would be considered a taboo to continue.

”Clark’s right pa,” you interjected. “No use in moving forward if you don’t care to.”

“Hon, I can’t change my opinion in a day. Your granddaddy used to say trust is earned in droplets, but lost in buckets. ‘Sides, does it matter? Do you want this marriage?—“

”Darlin’, if they don’t sign the papers, people will talk—“

”Folks is already talking,” Martha Kent interrupted your mother. It was a rare occurrence to see her interject as she was often the calm and collected member at all the dinner parties. “This is Smallville, they be talking regardless. They’re already sayin’ your girl caught the Superman’s eye.” She sent a knowing look your way for a moment before returning to your parents’ shocked reactions.

“Good gosh, this town,” your mother murmured. “I just… Everything’s already set up, the little house… For goodness sake, we had a ceremony yesterday!” Your mother tossed her head in her hands, frustrated by the conversation.

“And it will be yesterday’s news,” Clark said softly. “This town moves on fast from gossip, no use in trying to save face.” He said your name, and you looked up from your lap to face him. His gaze was quizzical, and somewhat tired. Even behind his glasses you could see how this entire situation left him drained.

”I think it’s best that Clark and I have a private discussion about this,” you offered. The room grew tense at your words. You could sense your mother flex her fingers around the skirt of her dress from the left of you. It was a sign she was about to speak her mind; which lately was never a good thing.

”I could not agree more,” Clark spoke and immediately sat up in his seat. “What’s the use in all this chatting? Yes, a wedding involves both sides of the family. But frankly, a marriage should only be the business of the two involved. I think we’ll take a walk while y’all figure out how you plan cope with our decision.”

You stiffened your back at his words, and took a moment to consider just how different Clark was to the man you knew before. He didn’t bother waiting for a response before he gestured his head to the door and walked off. You scrambled to follow and ignored the calls of your mother who attempted to pull you back to the table. You could hear Martha Kent telling her to let you go, that you and Clark needed time to yourselves.

You traced your fingers down the walls of the hallway, and by the time you reached the door, the ends of your fingers were lined with faint dust. You brushed them off on your dress and slipped your old boots on. You opened the door and found yourself greeted by Clark’s half smile as he stood on the patio. He stared at you for a moment before he offered his hand. You took it silently, and allowed him to lead you down the familiar path you’d taken with him countless times. In fact, it was the same path you took when you first had your argument about his lack of passion.

“I can’t help but feel this is where it all started,” you said quietly after a few minutes, knowing he could hear even if you whispered it from a mile away. Absentmindedly, you brushed your fingers over the nearby fence posts and felt the chipped paint crackle underneath your skin. Touching things kept you balanced, not physically but emotionally. Your actual thoughts were on the baby, or the lack of. It was the fear of it that kept you grounded, and now all of a sudden you sound yourself weightless.

Clark stepped in front of you all of a sudden, and took you by the wrist that had been touching the fence. “I don’t want you getting splinters,” he said quietly. You looked up at him shyly and aware of how he now had both of your hands in his.

“I’m not so delicate Clark,” you replied.

“I know,” he said, placing one of your hands against his chest, his hand pressing it firmly to his button down white shirt. You could feel his heart beating against your skin, the sensation overwhelming but you had no desire to move your hand away. “It’s me who’s the delicate one.”

You scoffed, but before you could hit him with a witty reply he continued. “Honest,” he said. “You have always been the source of e—everything to me. Ever since we were children, you kept me grounded and all I wanted to do was to keep you happy. Knowing that these past few weeks… I— I hurt y-you so many times well… Golly, sometimes I feel like all I can do is just fall to my knees and cry. But I don’t know if I’m allowed to do that, having to be a man and all.”

“Clark you can do anything,” you replied honestly. You pressed your hand closer to his chest and took a step towards his tall figure. “If you of all people, out of all men, feel you can’t be honest with yourself, can’t show emotion or feeling, well what does that mean for the world?”

“I don’t know,” he told you.

“It’s okay not to know,” you said. “If you wanna be with me then you have to learn it’s okay not to know and that it’s okay to be honest, and it’s okay— Why are you smiling all goofy?” You knitted your brows at the sight of Clark’s dopey grin, confused at the sudden shift in his emotions.

“Y—you said that as though I got a chance… As if I still have a chance at being yours.” His smile only blossomed more, and for a brief moment you wondered if he took too many giant turtle punches to the brain.

“Well,” you said. “I would like to continue with our courting… But we can tell our folks to delay the wedding again. I know we technically had the ceremony but we can just tell all the extended family that the whole experience left us shaken up enough to want to do it again, but more fancy like. Hopefully they buy that, but if not, I don’t care no more.” He nodded his head in agreement, before his smile disappeared a little bit.

“But what about—?”

”I found out I ain’t pregnant,” you said quickly. “So you don’t need to worry about that.” You glanced down, suddenly more interested in your muddy boots than his intense baby blues. It wasn’t long before you felt his fingers curl under your chin and force you to look into his eyes. You held back the urge to take off his glasses, and instead tried to ignore them as they represented his initial dishonesties. You would soon learn to put that fully behind you both.

“I— I was never worried,” he said earnestly. “And if I was, I was only worried about you, and everything you would have to go through if that was the case.” His other hand moved to wrap itself behind your back and bring you closer. “I want nothing more than to see you carrying our baby; but I want that by your terms.”

”We both—“

”I know,” he said. “But I should’ve been more responsible. It wasn’t gonna be me who would have to physically live with our decision. Also, don’t take this to mean that I regret what we did. I think my only regret is that I didn’t get to take my time with you, with your body, I only wish I got the chance to worship you properly.”

Oh. You found yourself speechless in his presence for once. “Don’t you go saying things like that Clark…” Despite his grip on your chin you managed to avoid his eyes, hoping somehow he couldn’t sense the sudden warmth in your cheeks.

“But I mean it,” he murmured. There was no stutter in his speech anymore, as if it faded away with his every word. This wasn’t fumbling Clark, this was somebody else; perhaps the same Clark who would carry you into his arms every time he saw you as a boy, but all grown up now. This Clark with his sultry voice, heated eyes, and honest words could be the Superman.

“You keep talkin’ like that we’re gonna get another baby scare…”

“You don’t think I can be careful?” There was a trace of laughter in his voice, and you scoffed at him. Fiercely, you looked up to meet his eyes and felt your jaw drop a bit at the sight of red little sparks in his baby blues. It was magnificent, but also a bit frightening to know that at any moment he could shoot flames outta them. How could eyes that pretty be so dangerous? Your ma always said menfolk were scary, but she likely never imagined this.

”I think I wouldn’t want ya to be careful,” you replied honestly. His breath hitched and before you knew it, his lips were pressed against yours. His lips were cold, but soft as they kissed you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your body steady against his own. You felt his tongue prod at your top lip and quickly welcomed it into your mouth and let your own dance with it. You hardly noticed that you were both several feet above the ground at this point, his arms so sturdy against you that you didn’t even realize your feet left the earth.

You continued to kiss him, unaware of the world, and especially unaware of Lex Luthor halfway across Smallville signing off on his section of the local mines. Initially, he was set to leave by tomorrow afternoon, but decided to stay after hearing town gossip. Several local women, many of whom had never even spoken a word to you or to your family were going on about how the Superman jealously stopped the wedding of a young girl in the hopes of taking her for himself.

After that, Lex decided that another week or two in the boonies would be fine.

[kirietown]

18+

imagine… a soulmate AU [soulmates have a loose bond where they can sometimes feel traces of what the other does when apart] where your soulmate superman never gave you the time of day out of fear of getting you hurt. it results in you unknowingly moving on with the source of his pain…

Lex Luthor was a talented lover, you can admit that. What made him so special were his fingers. They were long and slender, which you normally would have referred to as pianist fingers, but you knew Lex was more of a typist than anything.

The back of his limo was quiet aside from your heavy panting, and the wet pecks he gave you across your neck. You shifted on his lap, feeling the hardness of his cock against your backside.

“A bit fast for a first date,” you said with a giggle. You were a bit tipsy after your night out together,— you had never been on such a luxurious date before. In fact, you hadn’t dated much, as you previously believed wholeheartedly in your soulmark and the man it symbolized. The same mark you kept hidden from everyone, including Lex, underneath piles of bracelets that dangled loosely from your wrist. If you angled your arm weird, the familiar Kryptonian symbol would be on full display— but you knew better than to show that off.

“What’s so wrong with fast?” He asked with a smug tone. You turned to face him, shaking your head softly. You furrowed your brows however as you noted him fumbling with the seat controller. A sudden click of a button and the small tv behind you flashed onto the live news. Superman was doing some sort of press conference. You felt uncomfortable immediately.

“I didn’t realize the evening news turned you on,” you said. You shifted away slightly, aware of the burning sensation on your wrist. Did he know? Surely there wasn’t any way that was possible. Regardless, you met Lex by pure coincidence.

“Shh,” he hushed you gently, his hand moving to cup your cheek. His other one snaked beneath your evening gown. Your breath hitched at the feeling of his fingers dancing up the delicate skin of your thighs. “I just thought a bit of noise would give us some privacy from the driver. We wouldn’t want the poor man to overhear our passions, now would we?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but gasped at the sudden intrusive of his long fingers pinching your clit. You bit your lip as you adjusted, gripping his shoulders as he cooed and entered a finger inside you, followed quickly by another. Your slickness collected over them, making the intrusion easier for him to curl his digits and pound them into you.

Your eyes were shut as you felt a build up in your lower stomach, signalling your approaching orgasm. Lex however, kept his eyes on the screen, and watched as Superman faltered in his speech. A smirk built up on his face as he continuously fucked his fingers deeper into your cunt and watched as the light in Superman’s eyes die in 4K definition. His cock painstakingly hard against your ass, rubbing shamelessly against you. In his past, he never bothered with all the stupid lovey dovey soulmark bullshit. He often ignored the idea of it entirely as it didn’t suit his purposes, but suddenly wished he’d paid more attention to the science of it.

He was determined to find out if he fucked you, would Superman feel it too?

___

part two? with clark?

[kirietown]

Star Burster | Part X

Pairing: clark kent x f!reader

Summary: welcome to smallville, we got old man yaoi, boys who turn into giant turtles, and a couple who can seemingly never get it right!

Content: period typical misogyny disguised as parental concern.

18+

[chapter nine]

Word count: 1.9K

a/n: big shoutout to all my followers, thanks you for 1.2K follows !! :’) will try to celebrate with as many updates as I can this week

The day the sky opened up, and a man who claimed to be a champion of the people, of all people, announced himself to the world, Lex Luthor knew life as he knew it was ending.

Lex was a real man, and a real American. He didn’t like change, and didn’t like anything he couldn’t wave away with a stack of bills and an imported cigar. So, it was safe to say he didn’t like the Superman the same way he didn’t like anything else that felt un-American.

As far as Lex was concerned, there was only meant to be one man up in the sky— and that was him, especially now that LexCorp was the tallest building in all of the Americas and likely the world.

The Superman had no right to interfere with that.

“Is there a reason why we are on our way to the boonies?” Lana Lang, Lex’s assistant asked from her spot next to him in his private vehicle. It was a large structure unlike anything else out there, built almost like a train carriage but looked sleek and clean from the outside. He didn’t bother facing her, as he could tell from his peripheral that she had her face pressed against the cool glass window on her side. They’d been driving for only an hour, and would reach their destination shortly, so long as the driver kept to the map.

“I’m buying land,” Lex said. That was true, as Smallville’s mining industry proved important monetarily. The unspoken reason was the fact that the Superman seemed to appear most frequently in the little town, and he needed to know why.

“Oh,” Lana breathed. “So it’s got nothing to do with the stack of newspaper clippings I found in your office. The one’s pinning Superman sightings?”

She was lucky she was a good fuck.

“A small part of it,” he said.

”Why are you so fixated on him? He hasn’t come after your business, has he?” He hadn’t, it seemed the Superman only came after the corrupt, the greedy and the vicious. Various business owners who reported violence at the hands of the Superman had been found guilty of stealing land from natives, or sourcing labour through human trafficking or other means.

Lex was no thug; he didn’t need to take advantage of minorities or the disadvantaged to keep his businesses going. It was beneath him. His workers were paid fair, he negotiated for land, perhaps not in the most kindest of manners, but he didn’t see that as stealing. He certainly wasn’t a saint, but no true businessman was.

“Why do you hate the Superman?” Lana finally asked after a few beats of silence. Despite her good qualities as an assistant, she had the bad habit of assuming Lex’s silence meant she could fill the space with more questions he didn’t want to answer. Lex didn’t think his hatred of the Superman seemed outside the realm of reason.

Lex hated the Superman the same way the artist hated the photographer, the same way the runner hated the train and the way an ant hated the sight of the bottom of a descending shoe.

He would never say that though.

“I’d hardly call Smallville the boonies, didn’t you grow up there?” He asked. Lana was used to his dodging and only sighed in return.

“Trust me,” she said. “Smallville is a town where the peak of entertainment is watching two old men fight over nothing.”

…

“Now what’s all this about?” Jonathan Kent interrupted. The majority of the wedding guests were milling about young Jimmy, trying to get answers out of the dark skin boy regarding how on earth he’d managed to turn into a giant turtle. If you turned your ear you could hear Jimmy’s mother scold him for getting himself into such a predicament. It wasn’t the first time the boy had managed to turn himself into some type of creature— he had some odd hobbies, though he had a good heart.

Your family and the Kents however, stood to the side, away from the crowd. Despite the embarrassment of being spotted in an intimate embrace with Clark, you pressed your body closer to his and watched as your fathers argued.

“Your pussyfooting son thought he could sneak away, and leave my daughter to fend for herself! What kind of man leaves his wife alone—“

“Pa he was running to get help,” you intercepted. You felt Clark’s arms wrap tighter around you.

“Don’t you go defending him!” He turned to you now, before sending a glare toward Clark. “Pathetic! Now you got her speaking on your behalf too. Are you a man or a possum, Clark?”

“That ain’t no way to speak ‘bout my son,” Jonathan snapped. Miraculously, he managed to keep his cool. “Yer acting as though Clark could have done anything anyway. A damn lizard the size of a house showed up! What was he s’pposed to do? Fight it? I was scared too! And like the girl said, he went to holler for help— I heard him yell for the Superman.”

You tensed at his words. Hollering for the Superman? You never knew Jonathan Kent to be a liar, and it was worrisome to see just how good he was at it. It seemed to be something he shared with his son, as well as you. It unnerved you to think about what else the Kents could be hiding.

You couldn’t vilify him for protecting his son, however. It was similar to how your mother tried to protect you— in her own sick and manipulative way.

”You’re right sir,” Clark spoke up as he pulled away from you and faced your father straight on. You felt a sudden chill in the air as you separated. “I can’t rewrite the past, but it’s still no excuse to have left her in the panic. It was cowardly despite my intentions, and for that I apologize to the both of you.”

“You ain’t got nothing to apologize for, Clark,” you said earnestly. “Pa, can’t you just let this go? This wedding is already disaster enough even without all the fighting.”

”Maybe it’s a sign then.”

What?

”Hon’ what are ya saying?” Your mother finally cut in. Her own perplexed expression likely matched yours as you stared in wait for your father to elaborate. You could feel Clark tense, despite the few centimetres of distance now between you.

“I saw greatness first hand today,” your father spoke softly. “I saw a man, a superman, fly out and save all of us strangers from some lizard—“

”Now, that’s not—“

“I know Jonathan,” your father snapped. “It ain’t fair to compare Clark to the Superman. But that don’t change the fact that this was clearly a sign that there’s better men out there. I had my doubts, I kept quiet ‘til now. But I should have spoken up long ago. Ain’t no plot of land worth giving up my little girl’s safety.”

If you were heated before you were surely boiling now. Every decision, every aspect related to this marriage had been decided by your parents. Now your father was claiming he had his doubts all along? That your life, your future could be changed just because a giant turtle gave him an epiphany?

“Sir,—“

“I mean no insult Clark,” he said. “Once you’re older and got kids of your own, you’ll understand me.”

“Well I sure don’t understand you,” Jonathan scowled. “And frankly, I find your words quite insulting. My son ain’t no coward, and above everything he loves your girl. That don’t matter to you?” Jonathan’s eyes were practically pleading with your father, and you realized that not only was your marriage at stake but their lifelong friendship.

Clark was solemn next to you, his fingers twitching as though he was fighting the urge to speak but didn’t know how to even begin. It was as though a shadow encompassed him, the shadow of the Superman— his own damn shadow. It distressed you to see him look so beat down, and you wondered what he was thinking.

Before your father could reply, you decided to cut in. “Can we just stop! How about we cool off, and clean this all up?” You yelled, drawing the attention of the crowd that had surrounded Jimmy. As if motivated by the fact that others were beginning to take notice of your little circle, your father scowled and kept his mouth shut.

“I agree,” your mother clapped her hands together. You were shocked she had managed to keep her mouth shut for as long as she did. “We can discuss this tomorrow once everyone’s collected their thoughts more… And it might be best to hear what the kids have to say.” You had expected her to jump to Clark’s defence, especially with what she knew but it seemed your father’s anger had caught her off guard as well.

Kids. It was ironic that just the other day she called you grown, but now you were both just kids apparently.

You shook your head, and turned to go lift some of the fallen chairs until your mother called your name. You turned to face her, curious.

“I think it’s best you head inside for now,” she said. “There might be a lot of attention on you, attention you don’t need right now.” You nearly argued but thought better of it at the sight of the crowd of folks pacing around and whispering to one another. Some were louder than others.

“Ain’t the Superman save her at the fair too?”

You tried not to gasp at the words, unsure of who said it or where it came from. You nodded at your mother and turned to leave before you felt a warm rough hand grasp your elbow. You shifted to face your father’s weary face.

He leaned close to your ear, that kind of lean anyone who had a parent was familiar with. It was sheltering, warm, but steady and stern as a bull. “Remember,” he whispered so quietly that you nearly didn’t hear. “You ain’t signed no papers yet. Keep that in mind for me, for you.” He left and went to assist your mother as if he hadn’t even said anything.

It wasn’t until you reached your bedroom upstairs that you let out the breath you had been holding. The light headedness gave you something to focus on aside from the drama, the control your parents seemed to hold over you.

Why couldn’t you say more? Why couldn’t you do more? Clark was no coward, and you were sure if he could have been at two places at once he would’ve had his arms around you and been up in the sky fighting that beast.

If only.

You sighed loudly, trying your best not to focus on all the chattering you could hear outside your window. You decided to peel your dress off, welcoming the cool air against your drenched skin. Despite the fact that it wasn’t very hot outside you found yourself sweating buckets. You wrinkled your nose, feeling sticky all of a sudden and decided to peel your underwear off as well.

Your breath hitched as you noticed a dark stain discolouring the white material.

You had gotten your period.

[kirietown]

Star Burster | Part IX

Pairing: clark kent x f!reader

Summary: an uneventful backyard wedding!

Content: mommy issues and absolute disaster

18+

[chapter eight] … [chapter ten]

Word Count: 2.2K

White wedding dresses only became common in Kansas some years ago. You were told that ever since some Queen in England decided on it, all the ladies wanted in on it. Eventually the craze reached Kansas and it became the new normal for women to wear white.

But frankly you didn’t care, and your nanny’s yellow sun dress was what she wore to her wedding. Why not wear it to yours? Admittedly, despite your granny’s care for it over the years, it had started to look quite worn down. Your mother had given you a look when you pulled it out of the closet instead of the nice white one she had picked out for you long ago.

“I don’t see why ya wanna wear that ratty old thing,” your mother scoffed from her spot across the room. The two of you were in your bedroom, getting you all fixed up to go outside. If you turned your ear to the window you could hear the sounds of wedding guests hooting and hollering— likely trying to encourage Clark to down another beer.

“Ain’t nothing wrong with it,” you replied cooly. You took a twirl, and watched the ends flutter around you. You paused to admire your backside in your vanity mirror. “If I’m gonna get married, I wanna do it by my own terms at least.”

Your mother only scoffed in return.

“Always so stubborn,” she said. You furrowed your brows and noted her solemn tone. You turned to face her and saw that she sat with her head down as she fiddled with the bouquet of flowers you were meant to be holding.

“No way you think you can have a sour face on my wedding day,” you scoffed. “Ain’t this what you wanted anyway? It’s finally happening! You can be rid of me now just like ya wanted.” Your words were bitter and quite hostile, but you didn’t care. Your mother was the most confusing person you’d ever met— which was saying a lot considering the man standing outside waiting to marry you was an alien.

“Oh hush,” she said softly. “Get rid of ya? Is that wha’ you think this was? I was protecting ya.” She turned her gaze up and looked you in the eye now. Your mother didn’t flinch despite the visible anger on your face. “Careful, ya don’t wanna make a face like that, it’ll freeze.”

“Don’t give me that,” you replied. “Protect me? Y’all were just tryna save the farm, and so were the Kents and that’s why you came up with this whole idea anyway.” It had practically been drilled into your brain since you were old enough to reason. The whole point of the marriage was to merge the properties eventually. Heck, the new house they’d built you and Clark was dead in between both family’s houses.

“Clark’s a good boy,” your mother replied earnestly. “I’ve been able to see that just his whole life. Why can’t you?” She stood up and walked toward you, only for you to flinch at the contact her hands made with your bare shoulders. If she noticed the tension, she didn’t acknowledge it whatsoever. That was like her; she could ignore anything, discomfort, awkwardness, hurt feelings, so long as it didn’t impact her personally she could ignore it all.

“Can we just go outside now?” You said it as less of a question and more so of a demand. You were sick of the arguments and the stress of it all, and just wanted to get the day over with.

Your mother seemingly had more to say, but held her tongue. She turned to your bedroom door, and escorted you out. You followed her down the stairs, carefully, as you were wearing uncomfortable heels that you were convinced weren’t designed for walking.

“Martha!” Your mother called her from the middle of the staircase. “Let the folks outside know we’re coming out.”

“Got it,” Martha replied from the kitchen. You paused and listened. You heard her steps quiet after having had reached the door. The sound of laughter and cheers grew before they suddenly stilled as though disturbed.

“This is it,” your mother said from the bottom of the staircase. You’d hardly noticed she’d moved to the bottom until she spoke. You shook your head, hoping to disperse some of your anxieties before you walked down and joined her.

“This is it,” you replied bitterly. You followed her through the kitchen, and tried your best not to note all the various decor that signified your growth over the years. The items in the house would stay, but most of your possessions in your room had already been tucked and boxed away.

When you reached the door leading to the backyard, you paused and shut your eyes before you hesitantly walked through. The brightness outside caused you to squint, but you quickly adjusted especially as you felt your father’s arm loop around your own.

You turned to face him, and noted his clean flannel shirt— it was a rarity for him not to be covered in grass and dirt stains. You wondered where your mother had disappeared to until you realized she had quickly moved to sit amongst the other guests.

The backyard, which was more like a large open field that led to the various vegetables your family kept, was decorated with some banners and streamers. Chairs were stacked on either side of a large white tarp that acted as a carpet for you to walk on. You could feel the material scrunch under your heels. You kept your eyes on your feet before you dared to look up and made eye contact with Clark.

Unlike all the other men at the wedding, he was dressed fancy. It reminded you a bit of a penguin with how stiff the black suit and white dress shirt fit against his tall figure. You were glad that you weren’t the only one who had to be semi uncomfortable today at least.

Next to him stood his father, and an officiator who worked for the Smallville local government to make sure you said the vows and wrote all the paperwork out after.

Weddings were a hassle; too many legalities. Smallville didn’t care for it, and frankly neither did you. You bit your lip, feeling the creamy texture of your mother’s favourite rouge lipstick on your tongue. You needed to focus on Clark, that would help cool your nerves. You tried to imagine what he was thinking as you walked forward slowly. The sound of the breeze being the only thing to reach your ears as your mother wanted the musicians to hush during this part.

You reached Clark and shifted your posture to face him directly. Your bouquet was tucked close to your chest as though to shield you somehow. The insecurity was ridiculous, but somehow you felt more naked in front of him than you had when the two of you made love all those weeks ago.

You decided to meet his eyes, and felt your own widen. There was a deep intensity hidden in his dark blues even with his glasses on, and it overwhelmed you. If you had asked yourself months ago how you’d describe Clark, you would have never used that term: intense. But it seemed that things changed,— people changed, or perhaps you hadn’t truly seen the real Clark until recently.

A stranger; a boy you loved, a man you felt you knew, and a hero to everyone. Which was he to you? Which title took over? You stared back into his eyes firmly, and without fear. That was all you could do, really.

The officiator cleared his throat, and you turned to face him. He was an older gentlemen with dark skin, and a sagging face. You had never met the man before but heard that he’d been at your parents’ wedding, and even at the Kents’ too. They were glad the old man was still strong enough to do this one as well, and his ailing health might have been a small factor as to why they wanted to rush this whole thing.

“We are gathered here today…“ he began. You lost focus unfortunately as he drowned on, instead you looked at Clark. Your eyes never left his, even when you felt his fingers brush against your cheek softly. However, you had flinched at his touch, and you noticed him freeze for a second. You furrowed your brows as you watched him contemplate for a moment before he opened his mouth to speak.

His words did not come out unfortunately due to the chaos that came next.

Frankly, you didn’t know what happened, it was as though the world outside of you and Clark was still whilst the officiator recited his words. Then suddenly, you had fallen into Clark’s arms, screams had erupted from the crowd of friends and family. You felt yourself shift,— or perhaps Clark had moved you out of the way because you felt his warmth then it disappeared, leaving you alone to stand next to the officiator.

Your brain scrambled to put the pieces together, as you stumbled toward your parents who had also been making their way toward you. You collapsed into your father’s arms, a tremor going through your entire body as you held onto him and finally assessed your surroundings.

The party had long dispersed and people fled in various directions as some sort of giant reptile sparred against Superman— Clark! You scrambled out of your father’s arms and gasped at the sight of a flying Clark, somehow already in costume, pounding his fists against the rubbery stomach of the beast. It shrieked in pain, its jaw unhinging to reveal large fangs. You stumbled at the horrid sight, and watched in terror as Clark reeled another fist and smashed it into the head of the beast. Its steps wavered for a moment before the reptile creature fell to the ground face first. The Superman lingered in the sky for a few moments, watching along with the small left over crowd as what you now identified as a giant turtle man shrank down into a regular sized man.

Cautiously, you stepped forward and ignored your mother’s scolding as you walked toward the naked man who laid on the field. You furrowed your brows at the familiar dark coily hair, before you shouted in surprise.

“It’s Jimmy Olsen!”

“What?” Your mother replied in shock. “Little Jimmy from the publishing house?” You heard muttering across the crowd before you turned around once you felt a sudden presence behind you. It was Jimmy’s mother, who looked at the sight of her boy in shock before she rushed forward and took him into her arms.

“Someone please get him some spare clothes or something,” she cried. You faced the crowd, but looked away once you realized some of the men had started to remove their own shirts to assist Jimmy.

What the hell was going on?

You flinched at the feeling of a firm hand pressed against your lower back, only to relax at the sight of Clark. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and feigned as though you were frightened.

“What’s going on? Why did Jimmy… Turn into that?” You whispered your words against his ear, hoping anybody who was paying the two of you any mind would just assume you were frightened love birds.

“No clue,” he replied. He took the opportunity to wrap his arms around you securely, and you felt your feet lift from the floor as he did. You sighed in reply, and turned to look into his eyes.

“You were about to say something, weren’t you?” You said softly. “Before he—“ you tilted your head toward the crater where Jimmy was knocked out. “— came in. What was it?”

He pursed his lips for a moment before he replied. “It wasn’t cold feet if that was what you were thinking. I��� I just saw the look in your eye, and felt like you were terrified. I don’t want you to feel f—forced to be with me, I’ve stayed silent so long, wrapped in my own head. I should’ve fought for what you wanted instead of just letting our parents push us around because I was okay with it.”

”A bit too late for that, don’t ya think?” You said with a bitter chuckle.

“Please,” he said. “I— It… It hurts me a lot to think about it, but if you decide right now y—you don’t want to carry on with this… I’ll… I’ll support you.” He squeezed your waist a bit tighter as he spoke. You felt you couldn’t breathe, but not because of his arms but because of something else entirely.

“Just what are ya tryna’ say?”

”You can say no, you can have a choice. Even… Even if it kills me, I’ll back you up.”

“Clark,” you said quietly. Your head was spinning, and you suddenly wished he would let your feet touch the ground. “We both know I don’t have a choice, don’t forget about what we did.” His eyes softened at your words, and he held your cheek in his hand.

“I know, but—“

”Boy,” you heard your father bark. You turned, still in Clark’s arms, and faced his angry expression. “Ya think you can sweep my daughter into yer arms after having abandoned her. Where were you?” He spoke with such venom, you nearly didn’t recognize him.

It looked like you had another parent to worry about for once.

[kirietown]

i’m so grateful to the algorithm for bringing me to star burster; it's too good ! the story, the way it's written, the gifs you use... just *chef's kiss 💋

ahhh!!!! thank you so much!!! now that the movie is out i hope more corensuperman fics start dropping because it’s a desert for us right now!!

I have some more fic ideas i wanna drop but i want to get back into a better update routine with star burster before i decide to start the next lol

[kirietown]

it’s been like 4 years and i’m still waiting for part 2 of he’s just not right

you and me both 😫 i did get back into the flow however and it’s about at the halfway written stage right now… i won’t say much but i will say get ready for oikawa to get put in his place…

[kirietown]

Star Burster | Part VIII

Pairing: clark kent x f!reader

Summary: your ma is a deeply unserious person (unfortunately for you).

Content: misogyny, angst

18+

[chapter seven] … [chapter nine]

Word Count: 1.5K

a/n: i watched Superman last night… and wow wow wow… PLEASE send me requests- horny, angst, light hearted IDGAF!!! SEND THEM MY WAY!!

Eventually you moved to lay on the hay, your head still in the crook of Clark's arm. You could feel his chest moving rapidly, his breathing shallow as though he were on the verge of losing himself. Regardless, you did not turn, instead you stared at the ceiling and focused on counting the gaps between the wooden panels.

"Was it all true?" You asked after a few more moments of silence. You felt him turn, as if confused. "I mean Krypton... Kal-El... I never knew you were adopted..." Although your mother was viewed as kind and well liked, for the most part at least, she was a gossip. You remembered her telling you when you were young how Martha struggled to conceive for years before suddenly she was pregnant with Clark. Apparently, she had been so worried from the stress of never having had a successful pregnancy she kept her whole pregnancy a secret.

Though now you supposed that wasn't true.

Clark was quick to turn on his side, and cup the side of your face. You recoiled, and you watched his hurt expression as he moved to sit up on his elbow next to you. You remained flat on your back, your eyes glued to his, an unnatural blue, yet so familiar now that they weren't obscured by his glasses.

"I... I just want to be clear that I never lied to you," he said. "I kept this secret, I know, b-but when I was him, it w-was the real m-m...me."

You sat up, his hand now brushing your side sending shocks up your spine much to your annoyance. The animals had calmed, and yet it felt as though you felt surrounded by noise, overwhelmed by his presence and his words. You bit your lip, and focused on the way your skin squished under your teeth. The slight pinch kept you grounded despite the fact you felt as though your heart could float out of you if he kept talking the way he was talking.

"If he's the real you, then who am I talking to?" You asked softly. The bitterness had long escaped your voice and replaced it with a crackle like you were holding back tears. Why did it feel like in unmasking the truth, you had killed him? Where was the Clark Kent that wasn't Superman? Where did that boy go?

"I'm still me," he replied. It was soft, almost hesitant. That was what caused your tears to fall, and he held you again nonetheless even though he didn't understand why you were sad again. Frankly, you didn't know either.

…

By the time you both made it back to your house, Clark's parents had already left, your pa had already headed off to bed and the only one left seated on the porch outside was your ma.

”I hope you two ain’t have too much fun out there in that barn,” she said softly. You knew from the tilt to her head that she was assessing you— or perhaps assessing Clark. Was she trying to see if he indeed was the man who made love to you all those weeks ago? Her words were subtle enough that if Clark wasn’t the man, he wouldn’t suspect a thing.

But his rosy cheeks said otherwise.

“I…” Clark breathed a deep sigh. You watched as he stood straight, his eyes looking down at your mother as she sat stiffly in her rocking chair. Her eyes were nonchalant but her body language appeared tense, as though she was preparing for a storm.

“I am not sorry,” he said firmly. You gasped silently, your eyes widening as you looked at his face, but you couldn’t find any indication that he felt he’d misspoken. “I am not sorry for what I did,— though perhaps, I can admit it was disrespectful of me t-to… In your home. But frankly, we are both grown, and made a decision. Heck, we’re getting married in two days; though… I admit that was your doing.” It seemed his momentum had died the longer he looked at your mother’s eyes. Nervous chatter kept tumbling out of his lips in hordes despite his initial boldness.

You watched as the man who could outrun a train, shoot heat out of his eyes, and carry ten elephants struggle to articulate his words to your mother. She in turn, only sat and listened with no indication that she cared, aside from the mild traces of amusement made apparent by the firm lines around her eyes.

“I suppose I’m rambling now, ain’t I? Well, my point is— I’m not sorry. I’m not sorry for loving your daughter, I’m not sorry for expressing that. I’ll love her—“

”Boy,” your mom scolded. “If you don’t shut the fuck up and get on home…” She scoffed, and followed with a chuckle.

“But—“

“You’re good, Clark,” she sighed. “Let’s sweep this under the rug. But if ya don’t get outta my face in the next ten seconds, I might have a change of heart.” Her words were light hearted enough that you could tell she was genuine but firm enough to send a visible shiver down Clark’s spine.

“Understood ma’am,” he said before he mouthed a silent goodbye to you and walked away. You watched him retreat for a few moments, and wondered faintly if regular walking speed came natural to him or if his urges told him to fly or speed off. Your mother didn’t speak until he was all the way up the road, though it didn’t matter— he could probably still hear you both.

”I always knew that boy was right for you,” she said softly.

”That’s all you gotta say?”

”Don’t sass me, girly,” she said sternly. You huffed in frustration, your temper practically consuming you. If it had been anyone else baiting you like this, they would have met the back of your hand in a sweet kiss. But this was your mother; your crazy, arrogant mother.

“What happened to all that talk about my purity and how I’m damned for eternity and all that,” you replied. Your brow was arched questioningly as you crossed your arms and tapped your shoe in exaggeration.

“Now when did I say all that? I really don’t give a damn what you do darlin’. I was just worried you’d be spoiled.” The words made you curl your lip in disgust. Spoiled? What were you? A piece of meat? Though she was right, she hadn’t said all that, but the implication was there. The violence that day, even if mainly verbal, had still indicated her anger over losing control over you— over your body.

“Spoiled…” you murmured.

“Don’t you be like that,” she sighed. She stood up now, and reached down to dust her skirt. “You was the one opening up yer’ legs for that boy Clark, even though you was goin’ ‘round actin’ like you ain’t wanna marry him. Ain’t that somethin’? I was just tryna stop you from going about it all backwards.”

“Backwards?”

”Ain’t they teach ya this in school? It ain’t difficult— it goes; father’s blessing, ring, wedding, baby. You seem to believe it goes the other way ‘round, and that sure as hell ain’t how we do it here.” She shook her head gently as though she were speaking to a toddler, it was frustrating and downright condescending.

“Backwards? What’s backwards is y’all arranging this without any say from me! You ever wonder if maybe I don’t wanna marry Clark?” The words tumbled out of your lips before you could even think to stop it. It took all your power not to slap a hand over your mouth. Instead you stood there stiffly, and waited a moment for your mother to reply.

She chuckled before it turned into hysterical laughs. It took a few moments for her to collect herself before she spoke again. There was mild hostility in her eyes, and a sneer on her face.

“So what? Ya just wanted ta’ open your legs for him every once in a while and pray a baby didn’t come screaming out?”

“I—“

”Listen here darlin’, and you listen good,” she said. “Clark Kent is your best option when it comes to a man. I don’t care if you don’t like him,— ‘cause frankly, I think you like him well enough judging by how long the twos of you was in that barn.” You bit your tongue, knowing better that once she had an idea about something, she was firm about it. “Ya ain’t gonna find another one like that, no no, not in Smallville.” Her words were accompanied by various hand gestures as though she needed to make it clear to you just how crazy you were being.

There’s probably not another man on this planet like him either.

“Ya need to start getting your act together; learn to make do like the rest of us. You are so lucky and you don’t even know it; you just wanna be rebellious. But I’m your ma and I know best. In two days time, Clark Kent will be your husband ‘til death do you part, and then after that you can learn to love him.”

“I feel like I’m only just starting to know him,” you whispered.

Your mother merely scoffed before she replied, “some women wish they never figured their husbands out. Ain’t that a funny thing?”

No, you thought sadly. It wasn’t funny, it wasn’t funny at all.

[kirietown]

Star Burster | Part VII

Pairing: clark kent x f!reader

Summary: what does it mean to be a man?

Content: toxic masculinity (sorry ily pa kent but im doing it for the plot),

18+

[chapter six] … [chapter eight]

Word Count: 2.8K

When Clark was four years old he single handedly lifted his father’s tractor to seek out a stray cat that was hiding underneath it. Martha Kent witnessed the entire ordeal and realized that perhaps motherhood wasn’t what she had expected. Regardless, she held only warmth in her heart after having witnessed the event. A miracle, her miracle boy, a gift she felt after years of troubles with infertility. Unfortunately, gossip around town centred around Martha's womb, and yet she never let herself succumb to the relentless harassment and she knew deep down she was one of many women at the centre of bodily speculation. It was easy for her to take Clark on, and claim him as her own, because he was her miracle, and every child despite their differences was a gift. When Jonathan Kent was told the news later on that evening, the farmer only sighed and rubbed his thumb over his eyes. Jonathan loved his boy, more than anything, but unfortunately his principles as a southern man did not often align with loving a son like Clark.

Clark’s childhood from when the Kents had found him in that spaceship had been a series of miracles and mistakes. It was hard to tell which was which at times. For example, a miracle was his ability to lift up various furniture to assist his mother in cleaning the house. A mistake was to use his powers at all in the presence of Jonathan Kent.

Now Jonathan Kent was a wary man; he considered his past unimportant and didn’t dwell on things that made him feel weak or bad. He’d seen a lot, unfortunately, and despite the fact he’d never met a boy quite like his own, he’d met his fair share of folks who were different. It never ended up pretty for them despite how bad he wanted to protect them. He remembered holding his breath the first time he held Clark, the feeling of baby soft skin and hair in his arms. He remembered shutting his eyes and picturing that the wreckage of the space craft would disappear; it never did. He avoided its presence whenever he thought back to the memory of first finding Clark, he avoided thinking about hauling the craft into his truck and locking it in an old unused shed. Sometimes, when Jonathan had bad thoughts, wicked thoughts, he'd go to that shed and stand before the space craft. He'd think real hard about those thoughts, maybe even cuss a little before turning around, locking the door and never dwelling on it again. A good man never cussed in front of his wife, a good man never dropped to his knees and sobbed over his fears for his son either, not in front of his family at least. But in that shed was a rocket that wasn't supposed to see the light of day, and buried with it were the worries of Jonathan Kent that weren't supposed to exist. Jonathan was a strong man, and strong men didn't feel.

Sure, Clark was strong, and sometimes he had a habit of walking without his feet touching the ground. But Jonathan had decided that the only miracle about Clark should be the fact that they’d found him after having prayed for a child for many years.

Clark was a kind kid, it was easy to knock some sense into him, Jonathan found. A stern talking to every once in a while was enough to get him to act straight. He shared his anxiety about lynch mobs, the government and other sources that would steal him away and hurt him if they knew he was from somewhere far far away. Clark listened eagerly, like a little sponge— a human sponge when it came to Jonathan’s words.

Clark was especially interested in Jonathan’s opinions on masculinity. The concept interested Clark; he wanted to know how to act, when to act and what to do, and who better than his father? Jonathan made his thoughts very clear on the matter because a man should always know when to back down.

“Don’t ever let anger take over, ya hear?”

”Learn to let things go,” he’d always say.

Jonathan was quite passive, and he made it his goal; or better yet, his duty to instil this ideology into Clark. Jonathan loved his son, he really did, but he’d be lying if he said the things he could do didn’t give him the heebie jeebies.

“Be kind or they’ll never accept you,” he’d say often. These words had echoed through Clark’s skull his entire elementary school years. It had really been sealed in when Clark had accidentally pushed a boy so hard he nearly flew; luckily the child was only a bit scrapped up and hardly had the attention span to care about the physics involved in the incident.

Jonathan had told Clark that evening that violent men were monsters. When Clark looked into the mirror that night he realized that if he focused real close he could start to see his own anatomy. Was he a monster? How could he be when he still had a beating heart? When he asked his father about it the next day, he only responded that people shouldn't be able to see their own organs.

It was after that incident that Clark began to avoid roughhousing with other boys. This unfortunately limited his friends as most boys in Smallville were quite taken by wrestling and boxing. The girls were at that young age where they wanted nothing to do with any boys, well, except one.

You were always nice to Clark, if not a bit bossy. You got along well with one another when it came to chatting about childish nonsense and playing games. Although Clark was a few years your senior, he still joined in your tea parties and spoke to your stuffed bears and referred to them by the names you’d given them. The two of you were close in those early years as your families often visited one another. They gossiped often, the two of you wouldn't understand until much later that they had made a bit of a deal when it came to your futures. Clark and yourself were wrapped up together whether you liked it or not, really. It was quite traditional, maybe even a little outdated for the time, but Jonathan Kent felt the idea of marriage was exactly what Clark needed to keep being human.

"All a man needs to do is provide, Clark," he'd say.

"What if I wanna help people?"

Your favourite thing had to be the fact that Clark had a habit of lifting you into the air whenever you came near. It was fun for the both of you as due to his height despite his young age it made you feel like you could fly. As for Clark, he just loved the way butterflies would flutter in his tummy whenever you laughed.

Your mother had remarked to his parents that “Clark sure is strong.” Martha chuckled awkwardly, but Jonathan stared at the two of you in fixed silence. His jaw tense as he was seemingly disturbed. He flinched subtilely every time Clark touched you after that, the same way a parent would flinch if a wild dog got too close to a baby. He shook his thoughts, Clark wasn’t a dog, Clark was a person.

Sometimes Jonathan Kent felt unsure, and it only made him feel guiltier.

In the coming days after, Clark had stopped lifting you and at first you were curious but you quickly moved on as children do. You had noted that Jonathan Kent seemed more involved when the two of you played though you were unsure why, nor did you mind, considering the man was nice. However, in his presence it felt as though Clark was suddenly guarded as though he wasn’t a reckless kid no more.

When had Clark grown into a man? You weren’t sure.

It was around when Clark turned thirteen and he burned a hole into the roof that Jonathan Kent sat him down and told him he wasn’t just from somewhere far away, but rather he wasn't from this planet. He told him also that because he wasn’t from this planet, that made him something else, and if he wanted to continue living on this planet happily he’d have to be somebody else. Clark started to wear baggier clothes that day, an attempt at hiding the muscles that were seemingly developing abnormally for a boy his age.

“A true man, a real man, is willing to make himself uncomfortable so that everyone can feel safe. Don’t you want others to feel safe, Clark?”

By the time Clark had matured into his body and was practically his own man, his father’s ideology had been drilled into him. A man had to be kind, a man had to know when to lose a fight, and that any good man had to suppress his strength. After all, everyone respected Jonathan Kent, so who was Clark to question him?

It all came to a head the night of a dance the local community centre had hosted for all the youngsters in town. It was a joyous occasion because despite the youth of the attendants, many of them had been working odd jobs since they could walk or talk. It was a good way to let loose, and an even more notorious way to find a match.

Clark lingered around the drink table which was a far enough distance from the band. His hearing had been especially sensitive these days, and any sudden noise left him cringing. He didn’t mind though, he didn’t mind being uncomfortable as long as he could keep his eye on you. You were dancing along to the music with a few of the other girls, a bright smile on your face as you spun around in circles with them. Despite his stature, Clark didn’t feel out of place as many of the other boys stuck to the sidelines during this particular song as it was more so for the ladies.

It wasn’t until the music played a more classier tune that you finally acknowledged him. A coy smile graced your lips as you beckoned him over. It took him everything in his power to act normal and not trip over himself. He was a bit clumsy now that he wore an old pair of glasses that were meant to obscure his vision a bit. His father had said his eyes were too unnaturally blue and the glasses would keep people from paying attention to them. The consequence was they blurred his surroundings and turned him into a bit of a klutz.

Luckily he made it over to you safely and managed to offer his hand in order to lead you into a dance. It felt natural to move in sync with you, and he’d never been this close to you in some years. You’d left behind the play fights in childhood and instead took up various crafts whilst Clark worked on his father’s farm. Despite the distance between the two of you, he felt as though no time had passed.

“I heard my ma and pa talking,” you said. “That they’re gonna pair us up.” A blush crept on Clark’s cheeks at the thought though thankfully you didn’t seem to acknowledge his eagerness at the thought. However, Clark never could get a good read on you. You always said things matter of factly, your own feelings were never given away. Were you eager too?

“H-how d-does that m-make you feel?” He asked, cursing himself for stuttering his way through the question. The stutter was a more recent development since puberty, and manifested often in your presence. It didn't help that his father had been training him to speak softer, citing that for a big man like Clark it was easy to seem aggressive. Clark didn't want to seem aggressive, that was the last thing he wanted to be. If softening himself made everyone-- especially you, more comfortable then that was fine. Men weren't supposed to feel comfortable, that was what he was taught.

Clark never learnt your answer that night, as you'd been cut off by another voice.

"Hope you don't mind if I cut in, buddy," spoke a familiar brutish man who made it his habit to trail around you. He wasn't a scary man per se, in fact both Clark and you knew him and his family fairly well. At that moment however, his hand was on Clark's shoulder, firm as if in warning. You looked at Clark as if waiting for a response, likely one similar to one of those romance books you had been starting to read. Clark kept track of those, he wasn't necessarily a fan of the genre but he liked to know what you liked.

Unfortunately, Clark wasn't like any of those book characters. He didn't tell the man to buzz off, nor did he deck him for thinking he could cut in and try to swoop you off your feet. Instead, Clark said:

"I- I don't see why not," his hands moved from you, leaving a sense of coldness behind. "Just have a dance with him," he whispered to you then, as though sensing your hesitation. You looked at him, really looked at him in that moment before you turned away and allowed the other man to lead you away in a dance.

Clark didn't know why his fingers felt so stiff, Clark didn't know why the look on your face made him want to tear his own heart out. But what Clark did know was that he was feeling discomfort, and that discomfort was what being a man was all about.

But did Clark really want to be a man?

He didn't stay that long after that. He found himself feeling the need to vomit as he watched you dance with that man, and by the time your dance with him ended, he barely had a chance to try to speak to you because another man had appeared and grasped your hand.

Within seconds Clark found himself in front of the shed he knew his father liked to yell and cry in when he thought no one could hear. Clark didn't have the guts to tell him he could hear everything. He opened the shed easily, apologising under his breath when he felt the lock break under the might of his hands. It was dim inside with barely any moonlight trickling in and yet Clark could see everything clearly as he removed the tarp from atop the space shuttle and watched it come to life.

He watched stunned as the ship reacted to his touch as though it had been waiting for this. It projected images that lit up the shed and casted stunning imagery of generations of people, seemingly of various genders, with some sort of foreign writing next to the images. They were as different as they were similar, all of them seemingly great warriors or scientists, conquerors or engineers. Clark noted their matching dark hair and bright blue eyes alongside a symbol, a mysterious crest dawned on all their chests in the shape of what he could only recognise as an S. Its true meaning was lost to him, and yet he seemed to understand that what was presented to him was a different form of pride entirely from the one he was raised with. These people stood tall, stood proud as though they had nothing to be ashamed of.

The following day he begged Martha to sew together fabrics from the ship to make a suit for him, and so she did. Jonathan did not say a word, at least not until he saw his son finally dressed in the material, standing in their living room, seemingly out of place with the traditional furnishing and decor.

"Clark," he said. His son turned to look at him, towering over the man who once was able to hold him in one hand. "I want you to promise me this," he continued.

"Anything, pa," Clark replied.

"I want you to promise me no matter what you won't tell no one 'bout this side of you," he said. "I've done what I can as your father, but please Clark. You have to promise me." He practically begged him, and Clark felt his breath hitch as he had never seen his father so intentionally vulnerable before.

"I promise," he said, and he meant it.

"Swear to me, Clark, swear or I just may die."

"I swear."

[kirietown]

Star Burster | Part VI

Pairing: clark kent x f!reader

Summary: you are your mother’s daughter, unfortunately for clark.

Content: angst, girl bossery!!!

18+

[chapter five] … [chapter seven]

Word Count: 2.1K

a/n: Clark is such a dumb dumb

You were sat at the dinner table, a spread of food prepared by your mother miraculously in the short time between her confrontation and the arrival of the Kents. Nothing was amiss, except for the fact your mother was sat across from you rather than next to you as she usually was. Instead now, Clark was sat next to you and you kept your eyes on your plate. Every time you looked up, you met your mother’s watchful eye, her expression was eerie because to everyone else she likely seemed in character. Yet to you, there was something terrifying about her nonchalance after the argument you had had.

You were grateful though that it had been your mother to have discovered it rather than your father. The more you thought about it, the more you came to realize that in a twisted way, her decision to force you into a larger lie was to protect you. A part of you, a smaller part of you, was unsure if was actually to save face. Did it matter? You couldn’t answer nor could you decide if you were nothing more than a social asset to her.

Your relationship with your mother would change entirely— in fact it already had changed, and you were given no time to mourn.

“Oh how lovely,” Martha Kent said. “This stew, I assume it’s your mother’s? I haven’t seen her in so long, I should pay her a visit.”

“It is,” your mother replied with a smile. “She’s been such a shut in these days, I would’ve thought she ran off somewhere if not for my girl’s visits.” She turned to you then, and spoke your name. “In fact, how was she doing today? I didn’t get the chance to ask you on your way back. She still think that neighbour of hers is taking her letters?” She laughed along with the rest of the table as they were familiar with your granny’s paranoia and antics. You only sat there and took in the sound of laughter with a pit of dread filling your stomach. You turned to look at Clark who was smiling through it all, and once the laughter died down, you spoke.

”She’s doing good,” you said honestly. You gripped your fork tightly as you braced yourself for the lie. “Actually,” you bit your lip before you continued. “She was asking ‘bout the wedding, if maybe we could speed things up. She said she ain’t got all the time in the world anymore… And I agree,” you said finally. The room was tense for a moment before a chorus of excited chatter began. It had been unexpected as previously the only reason the wedding kept getting delayed was because of you. You always came up with some type of excuse despite the fact that the Kents had already built you a home to settle in between your farms and you’d both completed your education. The wedding itself wasn’t gonna be anything grand either, it would be a backyard wedding at the Kents estate with friends and family. If anything it was quite surprising how much they’d let you delay the inevitable.

“Why,” Jonathan Kent stated. “That’s great news! How soon we talking?” His smile was bright and despite the fact that this was something for you and Clark to decide, his eyes were on your father’s.

”Two days,” replied your pa. “I think that’s enough time.”

“Two days?” You asked nervously. “You sure about that? What if that’s too short notice for the guests.” Your father only chuckled in response, assuming your nerves were just butterflies rather than fear.

”Oh trust me,” he said. “I only gave one day’s notice for my own wedding with your ma, and I doubt anyone’s got plans since it’ll be Sunday anyway.”

“This is so exciting,” your mother said, and it unsettled you even more. “It looks like we’re all about done dinner, Martha why don’t you and I start writing the invitations? I have had a pile of envelopes in the drawers just collecting dust! I bought special pens for this.”

Martha cheered in response and quickly followed your mother to the living room, though not before your mother turned around with a bright smile.

“Hon, why don’t you and Clark go take a little walk? Talk about the wedding, your future together,” she said and gave you no room to reply as she walked out.

…

You weren’t sure how to describe the silence between yourself and Clark as you headed in the direction of the barn. You had no idea what to say to him, nor did you know what you were doing. Thankfully, by the time you reached the barn doors, he spoke up.

“I— I almost feel relieved,” he said. “Part of me i-is a bit scared, b-but I just wanna call you mine.” You turned around to face him, you noted the way his glasses obscured his eyes and the faint blush on his cheeks.

It angered you.

“So much for a clean slate, huh,” you said. You turned around, ignoring the various equipment scattered around and dropped down onto a pile of hay. The sudden noise alerted some of the pigs nearby and they squealed in excitement assuming it was feeding time.

Clark gingerly took a few steps forward, his frame towering over you. The blush on his cheeks only growing brighter and you realized your skirt had rod up to reveal your ankles.

“Is- isn’t a wedding, the cl-cleanest slate of all?” He asked hesitantly.

“I suppose,” you said. “How about you come sit next to me?” Your tone was soft, inviting.

”Wh—?”

“Come lay down next to me on this hay, Clark,” you ordered. The man gingerly moved to sit, his posture stiff and his head hung low. You moved to caress his arm, his body somehow even growing more stiff at your actions. You weren’t surprised to note the feeling of well defined muscles under the layers of clothes. You sat up and ignored the way your knees scratched against the hay, and faced your groom to be.

”I’ve never been this close to a man,” you said. Carefully you watched his expression as you spoke, hoping to gauge any sort of reaction to your words. You trailed your hands over his chest, as if curious of the muscles you found. You noted the clench in Clark’s jaw, and the fact that he’d shut his eyes tightly. “Have you ever thought of me, Clark?”

“I- I think of you often,” he said with a shiver as your mouth moved to breathe against the shell of his ear.

“Do you?”

“Y-yes,” he said. “Recently I-ive been thinking of more date ide-“ you bit his neck softly, licking a trail up to his ear. “W-what a-are you doing?” He asked, he moved back and practically laid his back on the hay. You took the opportunity to straddle his lap and noted the feeling of hardness in his pants.

”How about we consummate our union?” His face turned impossibly more red, as he stuttered for a response before he shut his eyes as if to collect himself.

”T-the w-wedding is only two days away,” he said.

”So?” You replied.

“S-so we should wait,” he said. “It’s the r-right thing to do.” You laughed bitterly, a bitter angry laugh, and you imagined you looked just like your mother did earlier. You think you assumed correctly based on the look of shock on Clark’s face.

“Does it really matter all that much to you?” You said, holding back from a sneer. Your eyes were trained onto his face, memorizing every detail. Clark had always been handsome, how come you never really thought about it?

“Your h-honour and dignity,” he said. “I-it matters a lot to me.” You scoffed at his words. What honour? What honour was there in you? You were pressed against him tightly, your hand sprawled along his chest, feeling his heartbeat skip with every brush of your core against his clothed member.

“Does it?” You asked with faux care, his expression appeared all the more unsettled.

”Yes,” he said softly.

“What if I told you I already laid with another man?” You said softly. The barn was silent now if not for the cries of the various animals it housed, disturbed by your previous temperament.

“You wouldn’t,” he said, it sounded so sure. It was as though he had complete faith in you, and it disturbed you all the more that he could lie so blatantly.

”I have,” you said calmly. “What will you do? Ya still gonna marry me? What if I have his baby?”

He paused for a moment. His heart was still pounding in his chest as if begging to be let out and to make contact with your palm. “I’ll still marry you,” he said. “W-we s-said a clean slate, didn’t we?” He looked at you earnestly, and you considered for a moment your grandma’s words that no good man truly existed.

You smiled, a real smile, perhaps one that seemed a bit too manic. Clark’s face held a look of shock and you wondered if your grandfather ever looked at your granny that way, or your father to your mother. It was such a raw shock, there was a nakedness to it as well. Especially when you moved your hands up his chest, delicately over his face until you met his glasses and pulled them off. You tossed them to the side, satisfied by the sound of its fragile glass shattering against the wood and hay.

Instantly he covered his face with his hands to shield what you had long already figured out. He was heaving now, panicked and perhaps even startled by your sudden shift. Guilt, familiar and now an accepted part of you burrowed its way into your head at the sight of his fragility. Regardless, you spoke.

”I would say now we can call it a clean slate,” your words were hollow. “No masks, no lies; it’s just me and you now, the real you.”

“H-how—“

”Quit your stuttering,” you snapped.

”I- I do… don’t think I can,” he said. His hands still covered his face, and you didn’t know if it was out of shame or fear. To be frank, you were doubting if you were ever able to read him at all. “H-how did you f-find out? W-when?”

“I think I always knew,” you said. You weren’t sure how true that was, but as far as you knew it was the honest truth. Part of you always knew. It wasn’t that easy to start to love a man, not unless you’d already loved him. “But today it really started to all come together.”

”W-why t-the mind games?”

”That’s funny coming from you,” you scoffed. “I was tryna see just how far you’d go with this. Were you gonna let me think I was tricking you into thinking you were my baby’s daddy? Then I took it a step further to see if you’d pretend you could play step-daddy to your own child. What was the plan, you were gonna keep up the charade our whole lives knowing your wife thought she was deceiving you?” You words were rushed and despite the emotions you held back from crying. You’d cried so much already, for your dignity and for the child that was either all in your head or cooking up in your belly.

”I…” He moved his hands from his face. He took a deep breath before meeting your gaze, and you found it so jarring to see those mystical blue eyes with Clark’s disposition. “I was hoping… Hoping you’d put the pieces to-together.”

“And I did,” you said. “Made a mess of things, didn’t we? My ma thinks I’m some sorta harlot now, and maybe I am.”

“No, never. I-I can talk to her,” he said. He breathed a deep sigh before he continued to speak. ”I- I want to s-say sorry,” he said carefully. “But I d-don’t even know w-where to b-begin.”

“Well,” you laughed bitterly. “Lucky for you, you have a lifetime now to apologize to me for this.” In another context, maybe even in another world, these words would have been romantic. But here, in this moment, they were cold and unforgiving. You weren’t sure you could understand Clark, or Kal-El.

In fact, you didn’t know where one ended and the other began. Who was speaking to you right now? You were listening to Clark’s stutter but his voice was deeper, more firm like Kal-El’s. Who were you marrying?

Clark didn’t reply but instead hung his head in shame. You sighed and slumped forward, your whole body managing to fit snuggly in his chest as he wrapped his arms around you.

“I think I hate you,” you mumbled against his suit, his tie rubbing against your nose. Clark didn’t reply but instead held you tighter as though it was now his turn to be scared that you’d disappear.

You chuckled at the thought, at the mess, and wondered how you could both hate a man and love him, and if a man could be two at the same time.

[kirietown]

Star Burster | Part V

Pairing: clark kent x f!reader

Summary: two generations of women, both with their own perspectives, and hardened by their own realities. both very different, and yet so similar. what did that mean for you?

Content: period typical misogyny, slut shaming, allusions to religious sentiments regarding premarital sex

18+

[chapter four] … [chapter six]

Word count: 2.1K

a/n: already drafting for my battinson fic that takes place in this universe… part of me is considering adding some of the age appropriate batboys & batgirls as potential romantic interests too because ur girl loves a good love pentagon .. but are yall okay with the mess? lol

Your mother had been upset with you that morning. You’d slept in severely and neglected to tend to the various chores you were meant to do. She’d called it unusual behaviour and had a sour look on her face as she had watched you get up and move quickly.

After you’d finally done everything you were able to walk over to your granny’s house. A reasonable distance, usually your pa would give you a ride there but it was too late since you had slept in. In your house, and in most Smallville households, if you weren’t up by six sharp then you practically missed the whole day. You thought a lot about Kal-El on your walk, and felt that maybe things wouldn’t be so bad. He’d said you seemed like an overthinker, and maybe you were.

You reached your granny’s house and opened the door without much thought, people here hardly locked their doors anyway, it just never felt necessary. You’d heard that in the bigger cities, country folk who started to move into them were given a rude awakening. Leaving your windows open through the summer was common practice in the farmlands, but in the city you’d likely be greeted by some creep trying to smuggle themselves in.

“Why I was startin’ ta worry,” your granny spoke from the kitchen. You entered, and immediately washed your hands in the sink because you noted that she had already started on preparing lunch. “Ain’t sure if you forgot ‘bout me today,” she said.

”Oh ‘nanny,” you replied. Your back now turning away from her to begin chopping the vegetables she had laid out on the counter. “How could I forget my one and only? I’m sorry, I just slept in today.”

She offered only a hmph in response as she continued to stir her stew on the stove, you noted the quantity and guessed you’d have to be carrying it home with you on your walk back later.

“I ‘ssumed ya forgot ‘bout me ‘cause ya got one of them fancy dinner parties tonight with the Kents. Gettin’ yaself all prim an’ proper for ya groom to be,” she finally spoke after a few minutes of peaceful silence as the two of you prepared lunch. Despite how much you loved your granny, she was a stubborn one. So stubborn sometimes she threw away logic like it was a used tissue.

In reality, you’d completely forgotten that you were meant to be meeting with the Kents tonight. Last week’s dinner had been called off because of your sickness and so you hadn’t thought about this week’s either. In fact, now that she’d mentioned it, you were suddenly hit with nerves regarding the whole thing. “You know you’re always invited to those too, granny, the Kents love you.”

You turned to face your granny, noting the way she rolled her eyes. “Them Kents is good folks,” she said. “Really, I love ‘em to death, but I can’t sit with all y’all in the same room really,” she said with a sigh. Her aged hands returning to the soup ladle. You noted the way that despite her words and the years of hardening from all her years of farming, she still had a delicate side. She was a smaller woman, and it made you wonder how she was okay living alone when so often your ma and pa offered her to live in the spare room in your home. She always refused, citing that this was the home she built and if she died in it, she’d die proud.

”Why’s that?” You asked curiously.

”Their boy,” she said softly, her hand still gently stirring. The smell of the soup was enticing, a rich blend of tomatoes and other veggies, far better than any of the slop other families had to offer. Your granny had a special gift when it came to her recipes. You were so immersed in the richness of the blend, you barely even realized she was talking about Clark until she continued.

“I just don’t think you should marry him,” she said coolly. The words shocked you, and you felt your eyes widen as this was the first time you’d heard her speak on the matter— at all. She’d never even acknowledged your union as far as you knew, and you now realized she’d never really attended any of the parties your family had hosted to celebrate.

“Clark’s a good boy,” you said softly, as if unsure of why you even needed to say that. Clark and good were practically synonymous to anyone who knew him.

”And I ain’t doubtin’ that,” she said with a scoff. “But I ‘on like no man who keeps secrets, what’s up with ‘em stupid glasses? He don’ need no glasses,” she finished.

”He needs them to see, don’t he?”

Your granny halted her stirring and turned to you, a quizzical look in her eyes. “See now,” she said. “I known that boy his whole life, and I know two things; the Kents been telling some fib, ‘cause no way that beast of a man came from Martha’s ‘lil twat—“

”Grannie!” You shrieked in embarrassment.

“An’ secondly,” she continued, unbothered by your interruption. “That boy ain’ never needed no glasses, that boy could always see clearly. Some’ ‘bout him changed over the years, he used to be outgoing, he used to chase ya around the place, lift ya up like ya weighed nothin! Now it’s like he’s tryna’ make his-self all small, and it pisses me off! Wearing his hair how he do, them silly glasses, and oversized suits. He got everyone fooled, but the boy’s built like an ox, an’ always has been since he was a wee chile,” she huffed.

You stopped for a moment, and considered her words carefully. She was right though you hadn’t really taken it all in. It must’ve been easier for her to spot the changes over the coming years since they had more limited contact. But for you, all the changes were like filling up a cup of water using only drops every so often. You could faintly remember Clark’s old outgoing personality, faint traces of a boy who once played with you and made efforts to do so. He was bolder, but overtime it changed, and maybe you were too self-obsessed with your own changes after puberty that you hardly noticed that Clark was a shell of himself.

But you knew deep down, that you did notice, you really did. You’d just cried about it last night, it just took a man, a familiar man to let you notice it.

“He’s still a good boy,” you said quietly.

“Men don’t go making they selves small, no not ‘round here, not unless they hidin’ some’ bad, real bad.”

You hummed in response, and for a brief moment, an emblem, a bright red and yellow flashed before your eyes.

You brought your knife down hard on a carrot.

…

You had to leave your granny a bit earlier than you would have liked because you needed time to change before the Kents arrived. You carefully adjusted the pot you were holding over your hip as you opened up your door. You knitted your brows in confusion, noting that your mother wasn’t sweeping away around the dining room table as she usually did during this time. You assumed she must’ve been cleaning at some other area of the house before you placed the pot of stew on the kitchen counter and made your way upstairs.

You sighed on your way up the stairs, thinking about what clothes to bring with you, as the bathroom was a small shed about a minute’s walk from the house. Your pa had recently been talking about making some arrangements for indoor plumbing so that no one had to take those midnight walks no more. Your family was a little behind on that, but most folks in Smallville were too.

“Ma?” You said, as you stepped into your room. You noted her figure, hunched over on the floor by your closet. Cleaning supplies and a laundry basket scattered around her though she didn’t seem to pay no mind. In her hands you noticed a familiar sheet clutched in her grip.

You felt your stomach drop.

“I can explain,” you said calmly despite the tremor in your voice. She didn’t move, nor did she appear to have registered your words.

“At first,” she said, her voice grave. She hadn’t moved from her position on the floor, the sheets still tucked in her arms as though the evidence would disappear if she let go. “At first, I thought maybe you had just had your time of the month, ya know? And tried to hide it ‘cause you were embarrassed to have ruined these good sheets.” She chuckled at that as she rose, the edge of the sheet still clutched in her hand despite how the rest of it spanned the floor around her. “But then I caught a whiff of it,” she paused and turned to look at you. Her face void of emotion if not for her heated eyes, it was animalistic almost. You had never seen your mother this angry before in your life. “And darlin’, I may be getting old, my nose might not be what it used to be. But I sure as hell know what a man’s spent smells like.”

You burst into tears, and realized that seemed to be the only thing you could do these days. You’d cried more in these past few days than you have in your whole life. Maybe all this was to make up for having a good childhood? I’m sorry, you wanted to say but you couldn’t over the sounds of your own frightened gasps of air.

“I can’t believe I raised some harlot,” she said. “A stupid one at that, a dumb sentimental slut who doesn’t know how to hide anything from her mama.” Her words were like poison, like she was feeding you teaspoons of it, forcing you to swallow until your skin grew cold. This wasn’t your mama, was it? Your mama had a temper, oh she sure did, but never like this.

“Ma—“

“Don’t you sniffle at me like that,” she sneered. The sheets now crumbled to the floor as she raced to clutch you by the shoulders. “You think you grown now? Don’t ya?” She cooed, but it wasn’t comforting like you were used to, not with those crazed eyes and barred teeth. “You listen here, girl, and you listen good,” she said.

“Tell me is it Clark’s? He the one you let into your bed at least?”

You didn’t know.

“Actually, don’t answer that; I don’t care. Did this scum finish in ya?” She took your silence, and your sniffling as an affirmative, and gripped your shoulders tighter.

“Are you with child?” She moved to latch onto your cheeks in your hand when you didn’t respond. “You need to tell me.”

”I- I don’t know yet,” you said honestly. She sighed, and dropped her hands though you could still feel where her nails had dug into your cheeks. Your face was sore from them, but you stared straight at her confused by this change. Confused by her capacity to hurt you after having never had hurt you before; never like this at least.

”Tonight,” she sighed. “Tonight, you’re gonna tell the Kents you wanna speed up the wedding; they’ll be overjoyed.” You nodded hesitantly at her instructions. “Then I want you to take Clark on your little walks, and you decide what you’re gonna do.”

You grew confused, and stared at her unsure, until she sent a fierce glare your way.

”Like I said, I don’t care whose it is. But if a baby comes kicking and screamin’ in nine months, I want Clark Kent to believe it’s his without a shadow of a doubt. Do what needs to be done tonight; hopefully it’s nothing at all, but who am I to know? After all, you lie to your mother, you lied as if you understood what this family— what this town values, I bet it’d please you to lie to the Kents. To lie to a good man, don’t it?”

You didn’t respond, the shock setting in of what she was demanding of you.

“I asked you a question,” she said.

“It don’t,” you said quietly.

She scoffed in response, and turned to leave the room and the door slammed behind her. You collapsed to your knees at the sound, your eyes made contact with the open window across the room. The sun was setting, and the outside looked barren if not for it setting across the field. You wondered if he had somehow heard all that, and if he did, why didn’t he bother saving you?

[kirietown]

Villain Creation System Chapter 8

Pairing/s: Invincible x Reader x Invincible Variants

Warning: mild suggestive themes

CHAPTER 7: My Mama Done Tol' Me a Man… Series Masterlist <<read the synopsis and trigger warnings first>>

This was your first time leaving campus grounds since you entered this universe.

Your schedule was open today. No classes, no tutoring, and thank God, no parties.  You were free to get on a bus and go anywhere you wanted.

You were in no mood to speak with anybody who even remotely knew you, so you did something you always wanted to do but couldn’t when you were alive: you shut off your phone.

It was liberating. 

As much as you appreciated your phone’s many utilities, you never did enjoy how easy it was to be found.

The system was in no position to protest. A perfect affinity score was not a requirement in completing your mission, only the darkening, and it was happy with the increase to Mark Grayson’s corruption. It was also too terrified to incur your wrath, so it sequestered itself in a corner to read romance novels.

Without the system’s intrusive voice, the soft whirring of the bus AC was the only thing you could hear. You were alone with your thoughts, and for the first time ever, you hated that.

You haven’t spoken with Mark since the cafeteria incident. It took you several showers to get rid of the stench of meat and grease from your hair, but no amount of cold water could soothe your frayed nerves.

Mark’s guilt-ridden face haunted you, appearing behind your eyelids every time you tried to sleep. The image flashed in and out of your mind, constantly tagging with the memory of the night he aired out his grievances towards you and your alleged coldheartedness.

You were too old to hold a grudge towards playground level insults. 

…that’s what you kept telling yourself, anyway.

In reality, remembering his expression and his looming frame as he said those horrible things scraped at your heart; pinched off small pieces every single time you relive the night.

Relationships tend to leave you discombobulated. 

You loved learning, but educating yourself in social interactions was done out of necessity rather than genuine interest. You like to think that you’ve gotten better over the years at reading the room and giving appropriate responses, a solemn nod, a polite smile; but it would seem that you still had room for improvement.

The bus slowed to a stop and you got off.

You were a five minute-walk away from the mall. It wasn’t technically your choice. You didn’t know where to go, only that you wanted to leave your dorm, so you spun a Wheel of Names containing random hangouts and it gave you the mall. 

Might as well. Maybe some good old window shopping can alleviate your mood.

Well, this was unexpected. 

You carried shopping bags in each hand. You saw a really cute jacket and while it was a little pricey you figured you deserved it, and you did need a new jacket.

One purchase. It’s okay, you told yourself. One expensive but practical jacket is an investment. 

But then you caught a glimpse of a shiny pair of cat ear noise-cancelling headphones. It was in your favorite color and its price would have been way beyond your savings in life, but it was on sale and your bank account here was surprisingly big and the ears were too cute to ignore.

This was also an investment, a steal even! You reasoned.

You were on your way to the food court when you passed by your biggest weakness: a stationery store. 

You spent way too much time inside and ended up buying way more than you could delude yourself into believing was pragmatic or reasonable.

On the bright side, you felt better, especially when you examined the notebooks, highlighters and pens you bought while sipping a fresh fruit smoothie. Nothing beats the feeling of unwrapping a present, even if it’s technically not a present or even wrapped. 

You held a notebook to your face, pressing the page to your nose and inhaling the scent of paper. 

“Mmmm…” No tablet or laptop can hope to replicate that scent or replace pen and paper in your heart. 

You overheard a child’s voice from the next table: “Mommy, that girl’s sniffing a book.”

“Shh, don’t point, don’t even look.”

Recovering from your drunken bliss, you closed the notebook and put it back inside the shopping bag. 

You were considering changing tables when someone called your name. It was Rick, dressed too fancily for a simple trip to the mall and holding a cup of bubble tea.

“Small world,” he laughed. 

Too small. “Hello.” You nodded. You chose this specific mall because it was quite far from the campus. The chances of running into someone who knew you was small, but lately, fate has been working against you. 

“Free day too, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Meeting someone?”

“No, I just did some shopping.” You put your purse over your lap. “You?”

“I was supposed to meet someone. Blind date. But he’s over thirty minutes late.” He sighed.

You wanted to sigh, too. He looked like a kicked puppy. “Did you eat already?”

“I was going to but it’s lunchtime and I couldn’t find any vacant tables. I was thinking of going home.”

“Do you want to sit with me?”

“You don’t mind?”

“Go ahead.”

“Thanks.” He put down his milk tea and shrugged off his suede jacket before taking a seat. “You know, I spent the entire night thinking of what to wear and I haven’t eaten anything and I’m pretty sure I already ran out of tapioca pearls.”

“I get that.”

“Someone stood you up before?”

You tilted your head. “No. I don’t know why I said that, actually.”

He laughed. 

“If it’s any form of comfort, I think you look nice today.”

“Thank you.” He scratched his jaw. “I hate that I have to ask this so soon, but are you okay?”

You grabbed your smoothie. Knowing exactly what he was referring to, you replied, “I am, thanks for asking. I’m much better now than I was yesterday.” You patted the shopping bags sitting next to you, a proud smile overtaking your face.  

“By the way,” he said, pointing at his own eye. “Your makeup’s kinda smudged.”

Gasping, you turned away from him and opened your phone��s front camera.

The concealer you applied to cover your black eye must have rubbed off and onto the paper. You reapplied until the shiner was barely noticeable.

“Are you–”

“I’m fine.” You threw the concealer stick back into your bag. “Can we change the subject?”

“Uh, sure thing.” Rick tapped the plastic cup. “...you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but are you and Mark a thing?” 

You stopped sipping and looked at him. 

Rick raised his hands up. “I just, I've never seen him react that way before.”

“You know him?”

“I know of him. My ex-boyfriend used to be friends with him, not to mention he was Mister Popular back in our high school, and I’m not just talking about the students, the teachers loved him.”

“Really…”

“Uh-huh. He was part of a lot of orgs, he actually mellowed out a lot when we started college. I expected him to be part of the major–”

“Hold on.” You reached into your shopping bag and took out the notebook you sniffed and clicked an apple-scented pen. “Go on.”

“Are you planning to write his biography or something?” 

Rick meant it as a joke but you weren’t kidding when you informed him, “More like a research article.” You paused. “Also, can you keep this a secret between us?”

He thought for a moment, then he laughed. “All right. I’ll help you.” In his mind, he was convinced he was playing Cupid when he stuck up his pinkie finger and began counting, “Debate team, book club, wrote a few feature articles for the school paper, was a camp counselor for four consecutive summers, volunteered at homeless shelters and what else… he was always in the top five performing students and…for some reason, he never played any sports.”

Apple green ink filled the page as you wrote maniacally. “This is great. Do you know any long-term girlfriends?”

“Please, Mark Grayson and girlfriend? Long-term?” He chuckled, then he stopped and hurriedly added, “He was young, we all were, but maybe now he’s thinking of something more serious, people change. He’s a nice guy, I swear. I think. I don’t actually know him, know him–”

Your hand moved faster when it wrote “no serious relationships.” You then cut off Rick’s rambling about a man’s ability to change for the better, “How about his parents or family?”

He shifted in his booth uncomfortably. “I don’t think it’s my place to tell you that.”

You leaned over the table. “Please?”

“Sorry, but you’re going to have to ask him that. My lips are sealed.”

He was stubborn. You doubted that you could get him to talk about more, but his silence told you plenty. 

You jotted “bad home life” on the paper and then retreated into your seat. You stared at the words. You thought of Mark, confident and always smiling Mark. You then pictured a little Mark experiencing all sorts of horrible things that little boys shouldn’t go through, causing your good mood to plummet.

It didn’t take long for a new distraction to arrive though, and this one came in the form of a cutesy dog mascot holding a tray of bite-sized desserts. 

“Cake samples?” The voice was a forced higher pitch, meant to emulate a kids’ cartoon character, but you recognized it easily. You’ve been replaying that voice in your head and from the clip recordings in your phone. 

Rick didn’t though, and he reached for a mini cupcake. The dog smacked his hand away.

[Ding. Darkening: 26.4%]

“Hey!”

“The cakes are for the lady.”

“What?”

“Bakery policy. For today. If you want a taste you need to go visit the store.”

“I never heard of that kind of policy before.”

“Ever heard of ladies’ night? It’s the same, a promotional thing.” The dog turned its comically large head back to you and held out the tray. 

“What are the flavors?” You asked.

“Um… this one’s clearly chocolate, and this one is strawberry, er, raspberry I think–”

“I can’t really have any?” Rick interrupted. 

You heard the dog take a deep breath before answering, “I don’t know what to tell you, pal.”

You picked up an orange-colored cake. “What if I take two and give him one?”

“That’s–”

You were going to hand over the cupcake to Rick but the dog snatched it from your finger and forced it into Rick’s mouth.

“Whampf!” 

“What’re you doing? He’s going to choke!” 

“He’ll be fine,” remarked the dog as it gave Rick a not-so-gentle pat on the back.

Rick swallowed hard and coughed. He took big gulps of his milk tea, grateful that he didn’t have to worry about swallowing any sticky pearls.

When he recovered he glared at the mascot. “What is your problem, man?!”

“Don’t be dramatic.”

A young man wearing a sando shirt and sweatpants ran into the food court, a security guard right behind him. He glanced around and when he saw the dog he wailed, finger shaking, “There he is! That’s the thief!”

The mascot muttered, “Crap.”

Before anyone could move, the system dinged and a loud BOOM followed, shaking the whole mall and causing the ceiling behind you to collapse. Thick, black smoke crept into every space.

You and Rick were dragged from your booths by the mascot. “Get out of here.” 

Not wasting time, you grabbed Rick by the wrist and urged him to run.

“What was that?!” He yelled.

“No idea, but I know it’s something we can’t handle.”

You two were several steps away from the exit when another piece of the ceiling fell. 

You shoved Rick forward and stepped back before the debris could hit both of you.

He shouted your name.

“I’m fine! Just run!” You shouted back. “I’ll find another way out.”

You were about to sprint to a different route when a hulking man with a cybernetic arm was sent flying over you, hitting a nearby support beam. 

That was close. 

But before you could breathe in relief, the man groaned, pushing himself up by the elbows. He blinked and turned to you. He gave you an icky smile.

Double crap. 

Invincible shot like a bullet, slamming into the villain and sending a shockwave that had your knees collapsing beneath you.

The sound of rushing water multiplied as the two broke more and more pipes and triggered the sprinklers.

You put your hands on the corners of your lips and yelled for Invincible.

A blur of black made threw the man to the wall and made its way to you. 

“Are you hurt?”

His voice came out muffled because of the giant mascot head he wore. 

There was no time for any smart remarks as you pointed at a hole they created leading to the basement parking lot. “You gotta take the fight outside before you level the whole mall.”

“Good idea–” 

He pulled you into an embrace and spun around just as a red beam sliced the air and hit the chairs and tables behind you.

More thick smoke covered your forms.

Invincible held you by the waist. “I’m getting you out of here first.”

“If you get us out of here do you think he’ll follow you or destroy the building?” 

You didn’t wait for his reply and pushed against his chest and he reluctantly let you go. “Take the fight somewhere else, drop him in a pool or the river before he hurts more people.”

[Host, the miscreant’s about to fire another laser.]

You gestured again towards the basement. “Go.”

“But you–”

“Now!”

He flinched but was already in the air. “Okay. Promise me you’ll get out in one piece.”

You smiled wryly. “I’m tougher than I look.”

[Ding. Affection: 57%]

Once Invincible dragged the villain elsewhere, the rescue team arrived in no time. You didn’t even have the chance to get your purchases because the firefighter was already carrying you out the food court and to the mall entrance, where Rick was being interviewed by a cop.

When he saw you his shoulders rolled slumped when he sighed. You could tell he wanted to give you a hug but you raised your hand placatingly. “I’m fine.”

A paramedic sat you at the back of their ambulance and began taking your vitals. 

You obediently offered your arm for the blood pressure cuff and glanced at the mall.

There was more destruction than you anticipated. The windows of top floors were shattered and angry red flames licked the sky. Sirens screamed from everywhere, but even they couldn’t cover the cries of surviving loved ones.

***

You stepped out of the shower and changed into a pair of loose pajamas. 

There was a tapping on your window.

[Invincible is here.]

I can see that.

You walked over to unlatch the lock and push open the window.

The dog head was replaced with a pink motorcycle helmet with cat ears. He sheepishly lifted your soaked shopping bags. “They were like this when I found them.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” You took the bags from him and smiled. “But thank you.”

“Just part of the job, miss.”

You stared at each other for a while.

He cleared his throat. “Anyway, enjoy your night–”

“Do you want to come in?” 

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.” 

“You…”

“What’s wrong?” You asked, laying down your purchases over your bed to air them out.

“I just…don’t you, I mean, are you fine with letting strangers inside your room like this?”

“Not typically, but you saved my life and you did go out of your way to bring me my stuff. Come in, take a seat, let’s–” mhhhmmmhm “–chat.” You weren’t even going to bother asking how he, Invincible, could have located your current address as a so-called “stranger.” 

[Ding. Affection: 58%]

“Um, okay.” He floated inside and landed softly on a flower-shaped rug. The helmet glanced around. “Nice room,” he said, standing awkwardly and looking out of place in your tiny dorm. 

“Thanks. I didn’t design it though.” The credit goes to the World Consciousness.

“Roommate?” 

“Don’t have one.”

“You lucked out then. It’s really hard getting a compatible roommate, usually you get freaks.”

“You in college?”

“Ye–no, no, no.”

You chuckled. “Do you want something to drink? I can make you some tea or coffee. I’ll turn around so you don’t have to worry about the secret identity thing.”

“You’ll make me something?”

“I’m not actually going to make anything, I’ll just be putting a teabag or instant coffee in hot water.”

“That’s fine!” He jumped lightly and began levitating. “I’ll have some tea.”

“What–”

“Any flavor.”

You walked over to your kitchenette. Your fingers traced the drawer containing your collection of tea and then you realized something. 

“Sorry,” you said, moving towards the electric kettle instead. “I ran out of teabags, are you okay with coffee?”

“Sure!”

The comforting aroma of coffee filled the room in no time as you stirred the powder. You then searched your cupboard for any snacks and found two butterscotch bars.

When you turned around, Mark was still in the air, examining your bulletin board and desk. 

You returned to his side and handed him the mug and candies. “You can take a seat.”

“Does my flying bother you?”

“No, in fact, it fascinates me.” You held up the coffee mug and butterscotch bars. “I still can’t get over the fact that some people can fly here.”

“Here?”

“It’s weird.”

“Not really?”

“It is for me, for us regular folks, I mean.” You watched him stare at the mug and asked, “I have to ask, how do you fly?”

“I dunno the science behind it, I just do.”

“You never felt the need to find out how?”

He shrugged. 

Flight was relatively normal in their society so it made sense how blasé he was, but if it were up to you, you would cut him open and see which parts did what. 

Invincible rotated in the air, flipped open his helmet and took a sip of the coffee.

You crossed your arms. “I’m surprised caffeine even works on you.”

He laughed, sliding down his visor before facing you again. “It doesn’t, but I like the smell. Great coffee, by the way, what brand do you use?”

“Nothing special.”

He flew a little closer. “I doubt it, I–” He looked over your shoulder. “What’s that?”

You followed his gaze and saw that the pages of the notebooks you were airing out have flipped. Without hesitating, you made a swan dive towards your bed, but Mark was faster. He snatched the notebook with green stains.

[Ding. Affection: 40%. Darkening: 35%]

“What is this? Why do you have notes on Mark Grayson?”

You pushed against the bed and tried to shuffle to a stand, but he was right in front of you, pushing the pages towards your face.

The back of your head hit the mattress and Invincible seized your wrist. 

“Did Cecil send you?”

You can’t believe your beloved stationery would betray you like this. 

Stay calm, you told yourself. 

“Answer me,” he hissed, he dropped the notebook and grabbed your other wrist, pinning you down.

“Why do you care? Are you friends with him?”

“I-I don’t need to be friends with anyone to worry about a possible stalker.”

You were grateful for his helmet. You would’ve caved instantly if someone did this to you while making eye contact. Also–

“If you want to intimidate me, maybe lose the kitty helmet,” you said. This tactic would have worked better if you didn’t know who was Invincible. It was like watching a sheep cosplay a wolf. 

“They’re not cat ears.” 

“They’re triangular.” You were certain you saw this exact helmet on display in the mall between one in bubblegum pink and another colored sparkling blue. 

“Enough!” He was straddling you now. “Tell me the truth, are you part of Cecil’s team? You already know that I’m–”

“Fine, I will tell you.” You faux sighed. “The reason why I have notes on Mark Grayson is because he interests me.”

Half a beat passed before he said, “Are you trying to say that you…like him?”

“Yes.”

“That’s why you have those creepy notes?”

“Creepy is in the eye of the beholder. Love follows knowledge and vice versa.” If someone went out of their way to learn about you, you would be flattered. 

You turned your head and glanced at the pens and highlighters littered next to you and added quietly, “I’m good at studying.”

You could sense him thinking under those cat ears and opted to stay silent as you observed him. What was going through in his skull right now? You wanted to cleave it open and take a peek. 

You shifted under him, your knee accidentally brushed against his thigh and his breath hitched.

He pulled back and rose into the air. “Sorry,” he mumbled before vanishing out the window. 

[Ding. Affection: 65%]

You lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Was he being polite when he complimented the cup of joe you served? 

Or does his kind not register bitterness the same way human tongues do?

You got up from the bed, picked up the notebook he almost ripped apart and sat at your desk. 

You then wrote: “Doesn’t taste/unaffected by dishwashing liquid (?)”

Truly fascinating. Your blood heated up at the prospect of learning more. 

***

The tap squeaked when Mark turned it.

Hot water washed over his hair and back. It was a relief to be rid of that helmet, and that awful mascot head. The entire day he was reminded why he opted out of a mask for his costume.

Humans have a tendency to ignore what’s in front of them; that’s how he and Eve and so many other pros managed to keep their secret identities. 

Still, knowing you, he couldn’t risk showing his face.

Mark leaned his forehead on the wet tiles. 

That coffee was weird, but at least the butterscotch was sweet enough to cover the uber-bitter aftertaste. 

He closed his eyes.

Your room was more cluttered than he imagined. Books and printouts were on every surface, even the floor. There were a few posters of singers and bands and TV shows and movies, he even spotted one for Seance Dog. Clothes were haphazardly strewn over the furniture. He had to avert his gaze when he found a bra strap peeking from under your pillow.

He groaned, remembering how cold it was tonight, and how your nipples pressed against the fabric of your shirt.

His fingers twitched.

The lips of your ghost brushed his ear. “He interests me,” you whispered. 

He ran his right hand over his belly.

He tried to recall the feeling of your knee on his thigh and crotch, tried to picture you beneath him, but then he saw your face. Your pretty face was bare and he saw the bruise around your eye.

His knuckles turned white as he grasped the tap.

Ice-cold water rained over his hair and neck and down his chest and stomach. 

He thumped his head against the wall, cracking the tiles. “Shit.” 

taglist: @weponxwrites @ratkidcalledallie @qxuanii @lilacoaks @gluttonousriceflour @phisen @sleepyzzz3 @whaaaaaaaaat111 @ik33ponmakingc00ki3s @lonely-entity @noxus123

Author's Note: I feel like I missed something...mmm. Well, whatever, I need to grind for Skirk WAHAHAHA

Disclaimer: The images used in this post do not belong to writerclaire. They were lifted from the following sources:

Invincible flying

Alternate Invincibles

CHAPTER 9: Coming soon. Series Masterlist

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MAIN MASTERLIST

Any questions for the author? Ask here.

[kirietown]

My Dead Girlfriend - Chapter Index

Invincible Varients X reader

Current word count: 187K. Ongoing. [Ao3]

He lied about being a superhero. You lied about not having freaky ass mind powers. You broke up- bitterly. End of story. No shot Invincible and some superpowered grunt for Machine Head would ever work out in any reality. Except. When he comes in droves, hoards of himself, brokenhearted and wanting, wrecking cities for a chance to get one last glance at you.

// Long form, multi-arc, porn with a lot of plot, afab (she/her) reader, use of (Y/n), (Y/n) is a bad person. //

TW: Canon typical violence, toxic relationships, abuse, unhealthy BDSM dynamics, major character deaths, what the flip is wrong with everybody here.

Arc 1

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20][21]

Arc 2

[22] [23]

Caught up! Check my blog for updates or sillies, I may be a little slow updating this post! Thank you for your interest.

[kirietown]

Heyy! I just wanted to say that star buster is amazing! I've literally searched all of tumblr for corenswet Clark Kent x fem! Reader fics and nothing, until i found yours and i loved it soo much im so ready for the next part! 🩵🩵

omg thank you so much!! despite the movie not being out yet I’ve just become soo obsessed with his Superman and judging by the trailers and promo he’s gonna kill it! I have a corenswet superman soulmate AU waiting to be published too but I’m waiting to see how the film characterizes lex since he’ll be very important to that one (though knowing me i might just post early anyway)

thank you again for reading!!

[kirietown]

Star Burster | Part IV

Pairing: clark kent x f!reader

Summary: the big talk with Superman.

Content: angst, mentions of possible pregnancy

18+

[chapter three] ….. [chapter five]

Word count: 3.1K

a/n: I wanted to share a lil on characterization. I think Clark in Smallville vs metropolis are very different, but for the sake of this fic I combined that but included more nervousness towards reader. To others he very much has Smallville charm n a strong sense of justice whereas with reader the metropolis personality comes out and he just seems shy 24/7

You were half asleep by the time he appeared in your bedroom. You had been under your sheets, a small candle being the only light in the room, strong enough for you to see the words in the book you were holding, but weak enough that you didn’t notice him until you felt your bed dip.

“Now, did I say you could sit on my bed in your outside clothes?” You said in a quiet voice, anxious that somehow your mama or papa’s ears would pick up on you.

He only chuckled softly in response, and you turned your head to face him and noted a tired look in his eyes. You wondered if it was there earlier today and if you’d somehow missed it. Were you any better than the crowds that swarmed around him? You hardly knew anything about him, and yet you’d let him in between your legs within minutes of meeting him. Would you have done the same with any man who’d comforted you then?

”What are you reading?” He finally asked quietly, matching your softness. In lieu of a reply you simply flipped the cover so that he could see.

“Frankenstein,” he said. “A little old, but I’ve read it in my spare time as well, I enjoyed it. How are you feeling about it?”

”I’ve read it a few times already, this is my ma’s book, she told me she got it as a little girl and it scared the hell outta her. I like to read it, just as a reminder that ma was a dumb kid at one point too.” You laughed softly at the memory of her description, and how your granny had to tell her there was no walking corpses lurking outside the farm. “The book ain’t scary at all,” you continued. “I think it’s sad, and it sorta… It… Well, it’s starting to make me think of you.”

“Me? How come you say that?”

You shut the book, laying it on your bed as you sat up on your elbow, careful not to let your blanket slip and reveal your night gown. You had changed into it out of habit, but now felt unsure in the sheer material, not wanting to send an unclear message.

“You ever wonder if people would have still kept kindly to you if you didn’t look the way you do?”

“How do I look?” He asked curiously, to which you rolled your eyes.

”Now don’t be modest, you’re a handsome fella. But what if you weren’t? Now the creature in the story, he wanted to be kind, but he was hardened not just ‘cause he was different but because he was ugly too. That ain’t fair now is it?” You tilted your head as you met his eyes, and if he needed to think about his response, he didn’t show it because it flew out his lips like it was nature.

”I think I’ll always believe in human kindness, in goodness. There’s a lot who love the idea of me, and maybe it’s because I look like most people—“

“— more handsome though,” you interjected, much to his amusement. You could spot the blush that crept onto his face despite the dim lighting.

”I… I suppose,” he continued in his deep voice. “I have a privilege in looking the way I do, despite the fact that I’m not even from this earth. That’s why it’s part of my duty to be a champion of the people, a champion of the oppressed.” You nodded at his words, a sense of pride swelling in your gut at the fact that you managed to get him to open up. Maybe, you could see how far he could go?

”Do you mind telling me where you’re from? I know ma always says that’s a rude question but…” you trailed off, hoping he’d reply. The room was silent for a few painful heartbeats before he spoke.

“I was sent here as a babe from a faraway planet once called Krypton… I had parents, and likely more family, but I never got the chance to meet them. Krypton was doomed, and so I was sent here as its only survivor; my planet’s last son.”

“I’m sorry,” you replied earnestly. He’d confirmed your suspicions, as well as the suspicions of many people that he was some sort of extraterrestrial. It was strange to think about, but it didn’t bother you. You don’t think it would have bothered you even if he looked a little funny. He had a good heart on him, and maybe he was right about kindness, but in your eyes there was a lot of bad in the world.

“No, I understand the curiosity,” he replied. “I grew up in America, raised by regular parents, and eventually became this,” he gestured to himself. “My mother wove fabric that came from my spacecraft and made this for me, this cape came straight from this planet though. My mother thought it would add to the appeal, at first I thought it silly, but I couldn’t let her down. Now I suppose I couldn’t imagine being without it.”

“A bit of a mama’s boy, huh?” You inquired, a teasing smile gracing your lips.

“It’s hard not to be,” he replied coolly.

“I don’t suppose you were raised in Smallville, now were you?” You asked, regretting the words before they even finished on your lips.

”I am unsure if you want to know the answer to that,” he said. You didn’t know what he meant by that, and you realized the reality of the situation. It felt as though the temperature of the room had changed though you weren’t sure why. You’d always had a sense of yourself and your surroundings, and realized it wasn’t the room at all but your own worries suddenly creeping up. You could only chitchat for so long until the inevitable conversation needed to happen. It had been fun while it lasted; just talking about books and mothers. It was nice to know he had a mother, it was something else that pulled him down to earth, made him digestible as a stranger.

”I don’t know what to make of myself,” you said into the room. Your eyes were focused on nothing, and seemingly everything all at once. You could hear his light breathing, you could see the shine of his red and yellow emblem on his chest. But you couldn’t bring yourself to look into those eyes of his. You weren’t sure if you could stomach it, especially when you tried to imagine Clark’s and it felt as though you couldn’t get his face right. His features seemingly confused, as though his nose didn’t know how it was meant to sit, and his eyes didn’t want to cooperate. It seemed to always be like that in the Superman’s presence.

“I think you’re very wise for your age,” he said. “I think you think a lot, and maybe a little too much.”

“A wise woman wouldn’t have cheated on her betrothed with the first man to call her pretty,” you said. “If anything, I think that’s the making of a very unwise woman.”

“I’d hardly call it cheating,” he replied softly, and surely. “It was like you said, you didn’t think he liked you, and it was your parents’ decision, wasn’t it?” There was something below the surface of his words, as if it was breaking him to say. Was he guilty too? Your pa had once said a man can often hide his sins through doing good deeds. It was gambling almost, and his words as a child, led you to steal cookies from jars every time you needed to do your chores. Your pa had chuckled after he told you just because lots of folks do it, don’t mean it works that way.

“But now I know he does like me,” you said.

”And how do you feel about him? This man you were told you gotta marry?” You heard him hold his breath after, and in an odd way you felt as though the silence of your room didn’t feel as familiar as the sound of his breathing.

You were quiet for a moment, unsure of what to say. “I made a promise to him,” you finally decided.

“You didn’t answer the question,” he said softly. You weren’t sure why, but you felt as though you failed them both, at that very moment.

“I think you have the answer then,” you murmured.

“Do you love me?” He asked after a small sigh, and you suddenly felt as though you were saying all the wrong things.

”I don’t even know you,” you said. “I don’t even know your name.”

“You didn’t answer that question either,” he replied. You could feel the tears beginning to trickle down your cheeks, and embarrassingly you began to wipe them away. You stopped at the feeling of him shifting over, almost hovering over your frame as he wiped them away himself.

“I…” You trailed off, at the sensation of his fingers brushing away a tear that had travelled close to your lip. His hand had moved, and circled itself under your chin, bringing your face up towards his. The candle light reflected in his baby blues, and from the flame’s light you remembered that despite his gentle and soft hands, he could kill you if he really wanted to. Yet, despite that, you felt yourself sink down, and rested your head in his hand.

”I don’t understand what pulls me to you,” you whispered. “I’m not some crazed fan chasing a dream, I feel like I know you, as though I’ve known you my whole life. Is it disgusting to say you remind me a bit of him? The parts a’ him I could never talk to ‘cause he couldn’t let me in?” Your words came out like a flood, with sudden gasps as you felt your stomach get lighter with your confession.

“You could never be disgusting,” he said, and you knew he meant it. He meant every word he’d ever said to you, and that was what made him frightening. “I’m sorry it has to be this way, I wish I could make it better somehow.”

”I miss him,” you said. “I feel like when I’m with him I feel an ache like he’s not there with me; it goes away when I think of you. Ain’t that something?”

“I’m sorry,” he replied. You knew it was the type of sorry someone gave, but they meant something else entirely. Why did it feel like he was saying I love you? You didn’t know this man, and yet it felt like you’d always known him.

“I think we’re a mess, not a single one of my thoughts makes any sense when I’m around you,” you finally said, sniffling. He chuckled at that, though you knew his heart wasn’t in it.

“Is that so bad?” He asked gently. His hand under your chin, and the other rubbing your cheek with his thumb. It was intimate, more intimate than anything you’d ever experienced before you met him. The thought overwhelmed you even more.

How could any of this be bad when it felt so natural? When it felt natural to be in the dark, with this man, a nameless man, as if you’d known him across many lives. It felt natural with Clark too, but disjointed somehow as if there was some type of force preventing the two of you from merging.

How long had it felt that way? Why did it take another man waltzing into your life to see that?

“I don’t know anymore,” you whispered. You shut your eyes, consumed by the softness of his skin. It felt familiar, like a hand you know just as well but your mind couldn’t put the pieces together.

“It’s hard for me too,” he finally said. You opened your eyes in confusion, your brows knit together. “I wish I could tell you everything, I wish I could stop the tears, but there’s… I can’t say too much, it’s a burden really.”

You scoffed, sitting up and away from his hands. You were suddenly aware of the cold as you moved away from him, your nipples pebbling up under your gown. You didn’t care if he noticed, not in this moment.

”Don’t tell me you’re hiding a wife and child back home or something,” you said. The thought of it made you sick to your stomach.

“No,” he said. “Definitely nothing like that, but it isn’t as if I can ever be truly honest with you about who I am. That’s something for you to put the pieces together on, it’s a vow I took, in order to protect those I love.”

Those I love.

“How can you love me? You don’t know me,” you said.

“I don’t know Krypton either,” he replied without hesitation. “A distant planet, now nothing more than ashes in space. Yet, I carry it with me everywhere. I see home in everything I see, in what I touch, in every smell. I may not know you in the ways you think I should, but that doesn’t mean I can’t love you. Ever since I’ve met you, I’ve seen you in everything.” He spoke softly, not a stutter, and not a single moment where he looked away from you. It was overwhelming, it was so overwhelming to know a man so capable of vulnerability.

You had been so used to men who carried their feelings inside of them until it ate away at them. Your pa was a good man, but that didn’t mean you’d ever heard him talk about your ma the way the men in stories did about their wives.

“You scare me,” you said. “It’s scary to know there’s someone out there, someone who knows all the right words into your heart.” Your words had a touch of humour, but deep down, what you really meant to say was I love you. You suspected he knew that, because the truth was despite your self awareness, you weren’t quite as ready to be as vulnerable as he was. You may have been your ma’s spitting image, but you had all your father’s flaws.

“It is,” he said. He looked away for a moment, as though in contemplation, before he turned to face you again. “I think there’s something else you’re scared of though, your heart’s been beating like a rabbit all night.”

You gulped softly, your mouth suddenly turned dry. “I’m scared I could be pregnant,” you said carefully, watching as he shut his eyes in thought. “It’s too soon to know, but… I don’t know what to do if that is the case.”

He kept his eyes shut tight, before he opened them again. His eyes downcast, and you could feel your stomach drop at the sight, a sight that felt so familiar. You hadn’t seen him look so reserved before, and yet something about it itched.

“I shouldn’t hav—“

”It wasn’t as though I didn’t want you to,” you said. “If I could go back, I don’t think I would’ve changed anything. I don’t care anymore if that makes me horrible.”

“You’re not horrible,” he said. “You could never be horrible.” His eyes were blazed, you felt as though you saw a spark of red but it disappeared as quickly as it came. He moved fast, his body suddenly leaned over yours as he held you gently in his arms. They circled around you protectively as though you could break, and you supposed you could if he wasn’t careful.

“What is it you’re not telling me?” You asked hesitantly. Your own arms now circled around his neck, as you breathed in his scent.

“I want to tell you everything,” he whispered against your neck. His breath tickled you, and caused the little wisps of hair on the back of your neck to stand. “I want to tell you so bad, I think it’s breaking me,” he said quietly, his voice so soft you nearly didn’t hear. You turned in his arms, moving enough that your head was now pressed against your head board. You moved your hand to cup his cheek, and stared into his eyes and noted their sudden glassiness.

“Why can’t you?” You asked softly. “A vow you said?”

“You’ll understand in due time,” was all he said. “Please, please,” he begged. “I want you to know that you will be okay, you won’t ever have to feel bad ever again, okay?” You knew he was telling you the truth, but it still wasn’t enough somehow.

”And if I’m with child?” You asked bluntly. He replied with silence, his forehead now pressed against yours as if to comfort you. You only sighed, your hand moving to your belly, and finding his own already pressed gently there over the sheets.

You gripped his hand and let out an unexpected sob. A silent pathetic sob because despite your turmoil, despite the anxiety and fear, you were much more afraid of waking your mother. He shushed you gently, his hand still clutched in yours, and his other wrapped around your head. He rubbed tenderly, doing his best to calm you down with his hands. How could you mother a child when you felt like a grown child yourself?

“My name,” he said suddenly after you’d finally stopped your crying, the room quiet if not for your shared breathing. “My name is Kal-El,” he spoke again after another beat of silence.

“Kal-El,” you murmured with a dull sense of thrill, as if the two of you were sharing a secret. It didn’t stop your worries, it didn’t stop the pit of fear that had manifested deep inside you.

Regardless, you shared another secret of your own as your lips met against his. There was no hesitation, and there was no guilt either, and perhaps that would be your biggest secret of all.

Kal-El, you’d whisper it sporadically through the night as he held you tenderly. You traced the letters onto his hands, and tried to picture it as though you’d read it in a book somehow. You held a small fearful delusion that you’d forget it the moment he turned his back to leave you.

[kirietown]

Charmless Morning | Ch. III

Pairing: mark grayson x f!reader

Summary: you were a pretty good hero, but it just seems as though some folks need more persuasion than others.

Content: violence, hive antics, minor body horror.

18+

[chapter one] [chapter two] [chapter three]

Word Count: 3.4K

a/n: took longer than expected to get this chapter out but im happy to continue the mystery of the hive! also i promise things will get more confusing until they start to make sense lol

According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. It was already a miracle that they could do it, so the fact that your insect wings (around the length of your forearm, and width of your thigh when you sat down) could take you across cities in minutes meant that science really needed to catch up to bees. 

You were currently flying towards downtown Chicago after having seen a bunch of live streams on TikTok of civilians videotaping some sort of villain attack,— to which it seemed the current Guardians were getting their asses kicked by. 

This is our chance. The GDA has been watching us for some time now so we’ve already caught Cecil Stedman’s eye. Now all that’s left is to show how we’d be an asset to them.

You didn’t feel like much of an asset due to the fact that you were flying with your eyes shut, relying on The Hive to guide you through the air. It was your fault really, you’d always assumed that superheroes just had lenses on their masks for the aesthetic. But unfortunately you had to learn the hard way that they served an actual purpose. 

What’s the deal with this villain anyway? You asked mentally, as you also had to learn the hard way that talking whilst flying super fast was next to impossible. 

The bees say he calls himself Mastermind. He seems to use some sort of auditory related ability to control mass amounts of people. It looks like he’s got nearly every Guardian of the Globe, how embarrassing. 

Mastermind? What a dumb name… 

Stop here. 

You halted mid-air, thankful that the journey had ended. You hovered, and opened your eyes to see you stopped directly above what should have been a busy intersection full of cars. Instead it was full of dancing people, swaying to awful trap music. 

The music cannot hurt us. We are The Hive. We cannot be controlled. 

“Cool,” you said. You scanned the crowd and noticed a few costumed figures dancing along to the music. You recognized a few of them such as Black Samson and the Immortal. You looked over again and realized the villain, Mastermind was standing atop a fountain, and circling around it eagerly as he took in his crowd of followers. He wore a tacky orange and white suit, and appeared to be a dark skin dreadhead. If he wasn’t so evil you’d think he was pretty cute. 

Focus. We should determine how to do this. Maybe something flashy to stand o— 

It was very rare that you were able to take The Hive by surprise because of the whole hive mind thing. So over the years you had mastered the technique of not thinking and although you suspect that it didn’t actually work, it didn’t stop you from attempting to annoy The Hive. 

Before The Hive could finish its talking, you soared down until you were a few feet away from Mastermind and yelled, “Hey! Can you change the song?” The villain in question only glared at you, but before he could even lift a finger you acted. You raised your arm, all five fingers pointed toward him, and watched as two stingers shot right out of your index and middle. A painless process for you, though you had to bring your hand to your face and lick those two fingers in a subtle manner. You had always imagined healing factors as this cool thing; yours made you feel like a wounded cat. At the contact of your saliva, the skin of your fingers immediately sealed up leaving you with nothing but the sensation of light tickling. 

“What the—?” He hissed at the pins in his face, and raised his gloved hand as if to inspect them before he instead fell to his knees and crashed onto the ground below him. 

Not very flashy. 

“We’re here to impress the GDA,” you mumbled quietly. “Something tells me they value efficiency over flashiness.” You watched as Mastermind slept peacefully against the pavement, only wincing when you realized his collision seemingly caused a head injury. Blood seeped out of his hairline, pooling slightly against the ground. Before you could float down to check up on him, a voice above whistled as if impressed. 

You turned to look above, seeing none other than Invincible with a brick in his hand. 

“You handled that pretty well,” he said. You were stunned as you had not expected his appearance at all. 

Did you know he was back from space? The Hive did not reply. 

“Uh,” you said. “Thanks, what’s with the suspicious brick?” You flew up to meet him at eye level, still maintaining a sizeable gap of distance between the two of you. A few bees had joined you, who had likely came from a nearby park and grew curious by your presence. They hovered around the air, a few rubbing against your skin, but you paid it no mind. Invincible didn’t seem to either, but you couldn’t tell from the lenses of his mask.

“Well,” he said. “I didn’t wanna risk the whole mind manipulation thingy, so I was planning on just dropping this brick on his head from way up above.” He blushed as he spoke the words as though he was only just now realizing how silly his plan was. 

You giggled, smiling a bit at his revelation. 

“Seriously? That literally could have killed him,” you said with a raised brow though all it did was cause your mask to slip a bit. You readjusted it awkwardly, hoping he didn’t notice your fumble. 

“Well I didn’t really have many options, other than punching my way through things. What was that you used? Stingers? I’ve never really seen anything like that before.” Your eyes widened in shock at the realization that Invincible was seemingly geeking out over you. You had honestly expected the opposite to happen, but nonetheless you were very pleased. 

“Um yeah,” you cursed yourself for your casualness but hoped you came off as nonchalant. “I can shoot stingers; they grow out of my fingers, not my nails. One is enough to knock out the average person, two or three for superpowered folks, but four or five is deadly.” He nodded his head, and some part of you felt compelled to spill more. After all, it’s only been a few days since you unlocked all your new powers according to The Hive. The stingers were the most painful, more painful than the wings but now felt as though they were always a part of you. 

“I also talk to bees and can do some other weird stuff.” You tried to be cool, but frankly you felt pretty overpowered. The only set back was you definitely did not have the super strength to match, but the stingers helped with close range contact. You had gotten your ass whooped enough during the first few weeks of your superhero career to realize you needed to rely heavily on your stingers if you wanted to make it out with your butt intact. 

“You can talk to bees?! God, I hate to risk sounding lame but—“ Invincible wasn’t able to get his thoughts out as suddenly another individual joined you in the sky. 

You turned at the sound of the wind shifting and saw Immortal facing you. For some reason, his presence spooked you more than Invincible’s likely due to his strict demeanour. 

“You’re the Immortal,” you said stupidly and immediately wanted to shoot your own stinger into your skull. “You’re like… the guy.”

Let us stop talking. 

“Indeed,” he replied. “And you are the one who rescued my team from Mastermind. I think we could use talents such as yours on the Guardians of the Globe, if you’d be willing to speak with our superior at the GDA.” Your brain scrambled for a minute to process what he had just told you. 

That easy? 

It would appear so. We saw how they struggled. This team needs us now more than ever. 

“I… I would love to join you,” you finally replied hoping that you didn’t sound as winded as you felt. You almost spoke again until you sensed Invincible shift from his spot. You turned to face him, noting an unreadable expression on his face. 

“I gotta jet now,” he said. 

“Invincible,” the Immortal spoke. “I hadn’t realized you returned from space.”

”Yeah, I just got back and realized I have a lot of things to do and catch up on. Anyway,” he turned to face you. “It was nice to meet you, your name was?” 

You hesitated for a moment because you realized you hadn’t thought much of anything regarding a superhero alias aside from the obvious bee theme. 

“The Hive,” you said finally. You waited for its voice to scold you in your head but heard nothing. “You can call me The Hive.” He smiled in return, before saying a quick goodbye and flying away. You held back a frown, wondering when you’d get the opportunity to see him again. 

…

All your fantasies about how cool it would be to work with a superhero team like the Guardians of the Globe were quickly shot down the moment you sat in their shuttle plane and found yourself face to face with Rex Splode. 

“Y’know that whole creepy crawly thing isn’t really that heroic,” he said with a wave of his fingers. You narrowed your eyes at him, and felt the bees tense in mid-air (about five of them hovered around you, as they were anxious for you to be riding a plane). 

“Creepy crawlies? Bees are like… fucking awesome.” You wanted to die in a hole for how lame you sounded. To be frank, this was probably your longest conversation with anyone for a long time. The Hive always thought it best that you kept to yourself and you agreed. That sentiment was quick to bite you in the ass however because you were slowly beginning to realize just how stunted your social skills were. 

Rex only scoffed in return. “Bees and butterflies just have pretty privilege. Same applies to you, if you were some basement dweller with roach powers, do you think Immortal would’ve invited you here?” You weren’t sure if this was all some sort of bit, or if Rex Splode was genuinely a weird hater. Perhaps his sentiments about the Immortal may have been true judging by the hostile glare you were currently receiving from Dupli-Kate. But shitting on bees was inexcusable. 

“Bees do a ton for the environment,” you said calmly. You opened your palm and let one nuzzle against your thumb, its soft fur rubbing against your skin. “I’m not here to educate you, but if you keep talking shit I may have to teach you a lesson.” 

“Did you guys hear that?” He groaned. “New girl just threatened me! You guys gonna let that slide?” 

“Maybe if you weren’t antagonizing her, it wouldn’t have had to come to that, Rex,” Black Samson spoke up from his spot in the shuttle. “Besides you have some nerve treating The Hive so hostile after she just saved all our asses.” 

“Yeah you need to cool off for real,” Bulletproof chimed in. 

Rex only rolled his eyes. “Listen,” he said. “Most of us had to audition for a spot on this team, one rescue doesn’t make you a Guardian.” He spoke to the entire group, earning a few scoffs and a groan of frustration from Monster Girl. “So don’t you go thinking that just because you’re hot that you get an easy path to the A-list.”

”Do superhero teams have an HR department?” You asked genuinely, a few chuckles were returned in response. Rex aside, you could get used to the team. 

…

You had definitely spoken too soon. You had realized that the moment you stepped off the shuttle and found yourself greeted by the presence of a half dozen government agents. You really realized it when you found yourself in Cecil Stedman’s office after the gentlemen escorted you. Your bees, all but one that hid in your boot, all having been shooed away the moment the plane landed in the pentagon headquarters.

What got to you was the fact he was silent. No greeting, no acknowledgment of your presence, just a cold hard stare. 

“I’m… The Hive,” you said finally after a few minutes of awkward silence. 

“I’ve been watching you for quite some time,” he spoke finally. He was leaned back in his chair, his elbow rested on its armrest and his fist pressed smoothly against his scarred cheek. His posture would have looked lazy on anyone else, but instead he looked focused. You felt that he was a man ready for anything. 

“Y-you have?” You had already known that, thanks to The Hive’s intel. But you knew it was best to pretend to be shocked than anything else. 

“You know, despite how it may seem, the whole superhero thing is very formulaic.” He sat up, his eyes never losing focus. “There’s always a catalyst or some type of explanation. Tell me what was it; shady experiment or did you have some type of bee related accident?” 

A giggle, a smile, shaky knees, and your sister’s hand reaching close, too close. 

“I can’t say that I know,” you replied honestly. “I’ve just always had a connection to bees ever since I was young.” Your reply was honest. Although you knew that the day your sister disappeared meant the beginning of your connection to The Hive, you felt unsure. It made your stomach turn to think of a time before The Hive; it felt impossible. 

Cecil hummed in response. “I know you had gone missing as a toddler, your sister was never found. It took the search party 15 days to find you— and do you know what the report said about you?” 

Your breath stilled at his words. 15 days? It had only been a few hours, you were sure of it. 

Does it matter? We were safe. 

If you were worried about seeming unnerved before, you face now definitely sealed the deal. “What… What did it say?” 

“It said you had survived by living off of honey that whole time. A toddler, all alone, and yet somehow you had been completely unharmed and in perfect health. Isn’t that something?” 

You wondered if he was building up to a point or something. Did he suspect something off about you? 

“I’m curious about you,” he said. “I can admit that, but I’ll leave that on hold for now. To be frank, I’m not in the position right now to figure out the mechanics of every superhero who comes by. Instead I’d like to propose an offer.” 

“I’m listening,” you said softly. 

“I’d like you to join Fight Force,” he said finally. 

Absolutely not. 

You held back a wince at The Hive’s angry intrusion. Fight Force? They were practically a joke. As if reading your thoughts, Cecil spoke again. 

“Although you show promising talent, and the Guardians could use more flyers on the team, I’d like you to join Fight Force because of your more close range nature. Works for villains like Mastermind, but I’m not sure how much help you could be in outer space; that seems to be the trajectory nowadays for a team like the Guardians.”

”The Guardians were almost wiped out by Mastermind if not for me—“

”Invincible would’ve intervened had you not interrupted.” Intervened? His idea was to drop a brick on Mastermind’s head. 

He doesn’t trust us. The Hive’s voice was clear as day in your head, it grounded you in place. The Immortal was a known (and televised) crash out, and Invincible was a nepo baby who’s been swung around like a baseball bat by practically every villain he’s come into contact with. But you were only Fight Force material? 

We should cut Invincible some slack. You tried not to scoff at The Hive’s weird favouritism for the guy, or else you’d risk losing more ground with Cecil. 

“Frankly I think you’ve underestimated me,” you said finally. Cecil didn’t move a muscle at first, his shoulder stiff before he suddenly relaxed in his chair. 

“Listen kid, I get that you’re overeager; that’s nice to see, especially now. But you’re gonna have to earn being able to play with the big dogs…” You lost focus as he spoke, your mind focused on the one bee that had been hiding near the top of your boot. You never went anywhere without one hovering near you, even if GDA scum tried to force you to leave them behind. 

We mustn’t. 

Why, because he gives you the ick? 

The Hive did not reply, and so you took matters into your own hands. You tried to focus your attention solely on Cecil’s face despite knowing that the bee was now crawling under his desk. 

“What does earning a spot entail? After all, I just saved all their asses, and prevented Mastermind from a possibly fatal head injury that would have been caused by a hero on your payroll.” If Cecil was amused, then he certainly showed it by the way his lip quirked up. 

“Well,” he said. The bee now hovered behind him, silently observing him, and you willed yourself to focus only on his eyes. “That’s for me to decide.” 

“No,” you said with a smile. “I think it’s for us to decide.” It plunged into his ear, his eyes widened for a moment, and you stilled as you watched his expressions shift from shock to anger until suddenly a look of calm filled his eyes. 

“I see,” he said finally. “I think I misjudged you— it looks like we have similar goals.” You furrowed your brows for a moment before it all hit you; Cecil’s experiences, at least the ones he wanted to share, and his thoughts. 

The Hive was intrusive, but it never took; it was always up to the host to give. It didn’t make sense sometimes, but some were more open than others. You couldn’t say what they saw once the bee burrowed its way into their skulls, but you knew they eventually reached an understanding with The Hive. The Hive liked to say the host saw everything too, but you knew that was a lie. Even you couldn’t see everything, but it didn’t matter, as The Hive knew best. It was odd to know however, that this powerful man in front of you could now feel everything you felt even if diluted and only if he focused on it. 

“I’m sorry it came to this,” you said. “I see that you do understand now.” The bee fluttered out of his other ear, dislodging his ear piece; it was never meant to stay— just to show. It was a risk, a big risk that you had even tried this. But it worked, for now at least, as you didn’t know if Cecil would suddenly change his mind now that you removed the bee and let him keep his memories of the experience. He could very well decide to have the GDA kill you in your sleep. But his mind hadn’t displayed that, and all you had seen was fragments that showed trust and everything he knew about the Viltrumite race. 

“That chip in Mark Grayson’s ear might prove bothersome to The Hive’s objectives,” you said finally. “But I’m guessing it can’t be removed without him finding out and likely turning hostile toward you?” You knew more about Mark now, and through Cecil’s eyes saw a boy who was as hot headed as he was naive. 

Before Cecil could reply, a buzzing sound emitted from the ear piece that had fallen on his desk. He hesitated before placing it back on his ear and listened for a moment before he let out a deep sigh. 

“Kid’s not gonna like this,” he said before he pressed a button to end the call. You stared for a moment as his attention refocused on you. “You talked about proving yourself as a member of the Guardians? Well you’re in luck, they’re needed in space right now— along with Invincible.” 

This is very good. Despite The Hive’s optimism, you felt anxious nerves suddenly flood your stomach.