#Clark’s head just explodes

[jazz020]

People being annoyed that they gave Jon Kon’s 90s undercut: 😠

Me sitting here with a headcannon that Jon sometime tries to look like Kon cause he was the first Superboy and is kinda really cool and he’s also Jon’s kind of older brother that he looks up to a lot: 🧍‍♀️

[kxllerblond]

On Clark && Organized Crime.

I really emphasize the fact Clark dabbles heavily in the criminal world (and corporate business overworld) and that he has a reputation, but also is a relatively mysterious individual-—you may have asked yourself how the fuck he manages to be some business-equivalent of John goddamn W*ck and does so while being a supernatural creature.

We've been over the HOW in terms of how he has the influence he has, the connections, etc. Clark works OBSESSIVELY, he's toxic about it to the point where the only reason he hasn't fucked his own health is because he's got the perks of being inhuman. I really hammer in the fact that Clark NEEDS to keep busy and so he dumps just about all of his waking energy into what he does and with the combination of supernatural perks && his own unmatched drive, he accomplished an insane amount in a mere 20 years that could rival just about any multi-generational crime family at this point. I touch on it a little more in detail HERE.

WHAT'S HE DO?

What does he bring to the table? What has gotten him so well connected and powerful? As one might expect from the son of a demon-— he's a deal maker, a deal settler, and a deal enforcer. He's your middleman they can't say no to and, more importantly, he's one that don't WANT to say no to. He brings other things to the table that's earned him some respect like being insanely reliable and always delivering on his promises and, of course, the fact he's got enough money and favors pocketed it makes him valuable just to be in business with.

On the less savory side of things, there are certainly stories ring leaders tell their underlings to keep them in line and many of them may or may not involve Clark and what he has may or may not have done to groups that have gone back on their word with him or went so far as to double-cross him. Rooms of gore, entire crime families wiped over night if they were lucky, killed in every way but physically if they weren't. Gnarly stuff and gnarly punishments for what Clark considers the biggest affront to him. Needless to say, with statements like that, betrayal doesn't happen much nowadays.

Got a pretty decent example of something he might get up to if you reeeeally peeved him off HERE.

BEING IMMORTAL IN A MORTAL WORLD

Arachno, you may ask, how the fuck does he exist like this for twenty something plus years and do the things he does and not be found out? Does no one ask questions??? The short answer is: he really only half avoids it and also people would rather believe a nonsensical lie than they would to accept some batshit truth.

The long answer is he has a plethora of aliases. Frankly, you could be working with or for him and not even know it. Aside from that, he sends liaisons in his stead at times, he impersonates as his own grandson, was his own son before that. Sometimes, he just goes as Mr. Thompson in person, sometimes he only communicates via voice or text. Between all these mediums of doing business, it just further lends to his wild ass reputation. Which leads us to...

THE DEMON OF WALL STREET

An annoying moniker he's earned (much to his chagrin) and is due to the culmination of his own dark reputation, the manner in which he conducts business and settles deals, and also because of the fact there are totally grandpappy crime lords out there on their last leg who SWEAR they remember dealing with the same eerily beautiful blond man in a suit that their predecessor is working with now despite how humanly impossible that would be. Some real Age of Adaline shit. Mr. Thompson does get tossed around a lot, but this title is what you'll hear most often-—especially when you're in a pinch and looking for a last ditch solution to a problem. This is where I get a lot of the OMG!! HE'S JUST LIKE JW from because, really, that's how he gets talked about-—like this scene for example.

Really, he's just some highly professional, efficient, and will-driven businessman that can be like a force of nature if you personally agitate him. Truly an angel to some, a demon to others.

GETTING IN CONTACT WITH THE DEMON

Sort of just an altered version of how you'd get ahold of him in a supernatural sense. He's got a business card with nothing but a number that usually gets passed around by people he's already worked with, sometimes it's by word of mouth. You call or text this number, you get meeting instructions, the line becomes unreachable.

[futuregws]

Okay before I ask the question I wanna ask I just wanna make one thing clear so yall don't judge me, I have ADHD okay so my brain is everywhere, one small thought will in fact lead to completely random unrelated shit that sometimes start a whole monologue, so don't ask me how I think of the stuff I ask about bc I don't know okay lmao.

So my random ass question of the day is something I need other opinions on, it's GoT related btw so let's imagine that there was another targaryen woman besides Daenerys and they were introduced pretty much at the same time and that other character had as much or maybe even a little more screentime than Dany, do yall think that this character would have been as popular in the media and between fans and as iconic as Dany or would she be overshadowed and kinda ignored.

[schrijverr]

It Just Hits Different When It’s Batman

5 times a League member heard Batman use slang + 1 time they knew where the fuck he got it from.

This fic is based off this post by @wednesday-if-it-was-tuesday bc it was just too good! Hope you don't mind :D

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none

~~~~~

1. Flash

Barry is pretty sure he has to get his hearing checked as he speeds through a city, trying to find a series of bombs, courtesy of a new alliance of villains. He and Batman are on bomb duty, thus sharing a private com line as to not distract the others or be distracted as they coordinate.

However, Barry is very much distracted by his own partner in this whole mess, because unless he’s gotten a few too many hits to the head in recent years, he’s pretty sure Batman just reported: “The bombs look like yassified thermos flasks.”

“What?” Barry chokes, nearly tripping over his own feet as he does.

Batman doesn’t seem to notice, instead explaining the bomb, not his wording: “The casing looks to be made from plastic, likely to escape Superman’s notice. Start checking water pipes, I found this one near a toilet. I’ll report again once I figure out how to disarm it.”

Okay, questing his sanity later, finding bombs, now.

So he zooms off again, having to agree with the fact that the bomb does look like a yassified thermos flask. He wonders if he can use that in his report or if Batman will scold him for language. He has worked with the man for long enough that he knows Batman isn’t above hypocrisy.

Then he wonders again if he even heard it right. In the heat of battle, the brain sometimes does weird things, especially when someone thinks at the speed of light. Or faster.

He’ll put it out of his mind for now, maybe tell Hal about it just so he’ll have someone to share the bizarre experience with.

Clark probably has a thesaurus, he should probably also find a synonym for yassified. Does a thesaurus have slang too?

2. Green Lantern

It’s true that Barry had told him about Spooky saying yassified in that one battle, but Hal hadn’t truly believed that Bats was capable of something like that. I mean, look at him. The guy might be a weirdo who dresses up as a Bat, but he’s not a weirdo who says shit like yassified.

However, at the moment it is starting to look more and more likely. Fuck, Barry is gonna give him so much crap for not believing him.

The moment in question is Batman working with him on the stealth mission. It’s one for the Green Lantern Corps, so Batman is doing him a favor. Though Hal is starting to wish that he hadn’t done him that favor, because Batman has just said: “It looks like Luthor is being thristy for Superman again. For someone who hates the guy, he sure wants his attention a lot. That’s Kryptonian honing device.”

Hal doesn’t react, still thinking about the fact that he’s just heard Luthor, thirsty and Superman in one sentence. In Batman’s voice no less.

“What?” he says.

“A Kryptonian honing device,” Batman repeats, sounding as if he thinks Hal is stupid, not uncommon. “So he can hone in on Superman, find him. Something we need to do something about.”

Hal decides to take the smart way out and lets the whole thing drop in favor of focusing on the mission. He’s not just telling Barry, but Ollie about this as well.

3. Cyborg

Being in the Justice League isn’t much different than being on the Teen Titans. Like right now, being in a building that could explode at any moment unless he hacks into the system and stops that from happening.

Ah, good old life-threatening pressure.

Batman is fighting some of the goons in the background. They’re on their own here, with the others fighting through an army outside to get to them. But it’s mostly up to them. Batman yells: “Cyborg, status.”

“I’m getting through, but something is bugging me about this whole thing,” Victor calls back. “I think there is someone I’m missing that will allow me to crack this.”

There are a few grunts in the background as Batman fights on, while Victor starts to scan through everyone who worked for the organization, trying to find the missing link.

He is interrupted by Batman, who says: “I took a tour here once. There was an intern, Kyle Paulson, he was kind of sus. Look him up.”

For a second, Victor is thrown by the sus in that sentence, but he quickly focuses back on what’s important. Indeed finding Kyle to be the missing link that gets him to disarm the bomb. While Batman is taking out the last of the bad guys.

In fact, the whole thing slips his mind until he’s writing his mission report, going through the footage to get accurate information in there. Then he pauses again, before dismissing it. Those who trained under Batman are always prepared, maybe it’s not slang but shorthand to be useful in the moment. Or he’s trying to include him, sweet, though unnecessary.

Victor puts it out of his mind.

4. Green Arrow

Ollie doesn’t believe Barry or Hal for a second. Like, really? Batman using slang that the sidekicks are using?

Sure, Nightwing sometimes uses some here and there, but Red Robin is always very professional and Robin is closer to a Shakespearean actor than a TikTok teen. There isn’t anyone else he could have gotten it from and it doesn’t make sense with his whole ‘I am the Night’-persona.

Victor suggested it was to make the newbies more comfortable when he overheard them talking, but that’s even more ridiculous in Ollie’s opinion.

So, he’s not at all in the slightest prepared for Batman’s reaction when he shows him the new arrows he developed. Because Batman’s reaction is: “Hm, serves cunt.”

“Excuse me, what?” Ollie says, his eyes nearly bulging out of his skull.

Batman just stares at him, then in a confused sort of voice goes: “You know, it slays? It’s, you know, good? Positive.”

“Huh, what? No, I- I know what that means. How the fuck do you know?” Ollie splutters.

“I’m Batman,” is all he says. Then he walks away and leaves Ollie to stand there, still frozen in time, because what the hell was that? Batman can’t just do that, can he? That’s illegal. How does he even know that?

What Ollie doesn’t know, is that this was a calculated move. Bruce had overheard the three talking as well and decided to have a little fun. All the times before, it just slipped out in the heat of battle, but this one was purposeful.

Bruce knows Ollie would know what it meant, because billionaires Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen have done TikTok trends in the past and try to keep up to date, despite their age. Not that Ollie knows it’s him under there.

And last gala, he left Bruce for the wolves – Vicky Vale – so now Bruce is dealing psychological damage to him as petty revenge.

5. Superman (and Practically the Entire League)

They’re in a meeting with most of the Justice League members that are present on earth at the moment. It’s not often they hold such meetings, since they are a little overwhelming and tend to drag on more than be productive.

However, Clark thinks it’s important to ensure there are avenues through which ever member can state their piece and be heard. So, here they are again.

Booster Gold is complaining about always being on the sidelines and never in the heat of the action, even though he’s a great hero. He’s claiming that there is a bias against younger heroes, despite the fact that the ‘old guard’ will have to give it up eventually.

Apparently, Batman has had enough, because he gets up and snaps: “We don’t have bias based on age, we have one based off skill. Maybe if you stopped abandoning your post and being someone reliable, you might get put out in the field more often. Now stop being salty about it.”

It’s silent.

Clark is scrambling his brain, to figure out the meaning. As a journalist he tries to stay up to date on current language use, however, the only person he’s heard use that word is Jon. The boy never explained, but Clark guessed what it means. Doesn’t explain why Batman knows it.

Then the silence gets broken by a snort, everyone’s head whipping towards the source. It’s Nightwing, a newer addition and one affiliated with Batman himself. The only one there brave enough to laugh at Batman, mirthfully asking: “Did you actually say salty?”

There is no change on Batman’s face, but as a longtime friend, Clark knows he isn’t emotionless. Indeed, when he listens close, he can hear the blood rush to his face, blush hidden by the cowl.

“That was not the point of the sentence, Nightwing,” Batman counters, the name a little bit pointed on is tongue.

“Okay, okay,” Nightwing grins easily, showing his hands in surrender, an act which is made null by him adding: “Just pointing out that this is an official meeting. You’re on the record and you know I’m reporting this to the others.”

Red Robin and Robin, Clark fills in mentally, the other two known associates. Everyone already guessed that Nightwing must be close to them as well, since the younger two are closer to being Batman’s children. Now that is confirmed.

“Thank you for reminding me,” Batman says tersely, before quickly pivoting to the next point on the agenda. No one calls him out for it.

However, just because no one calls him out on it, doesn’t mean they drop it. In the weeks after the incident, whispers make their way through the halls of the Watchtower as people speculate why or how Batman came to use the word salty and how out of character it is.

Clark can hear the gossip all over the Watchtower and he’s sure Batman is aware of it too, because some brave souls have asked about. Especially when some of the others talked about the incident not being the first one.

Batman hasn’t replied yet to any of the questions or rumors. Clark thinks he likes the mystery and chaos, likes that they don’t know why the hell he sometimes lets slang slip. Even Nightwing has been seemingly silenced, never commenting with a sort of professional ease at evasion.

Nightwing is the only clue they have, along with Robin and Red Robin, but none of them seem like the culprit.

It just doesn’t make sense and Clark can’t help but have his reporter brain itch.

+1. The Batfamily

There is going to be an attack somewhere in a major city in America tonight. They cannot figure out where, so there is a nation wide stake out at all the important places. Nearly the entire Justice League has been pulled out for it and even then they don’t have enough.

Batman insists on having a skeleton crew remain on the Watchtower in case the threat turns out to be a distraction. And when it is protested, he pulls out an army of associates none of them have ever heard about to fill out the last gaps in their observational net.

The sudden introduction of about six new Gotham vigilantes, which have apparently been operating inside the city as well as outside of it, would have been the main shock if it weren’t for how they are on coms.

Red Robin and Nightwing are known as professionals like Batman, while Robin isn’t a known entity in missions, though those who have met him, know him to be serious. However, with the introduction of the others all of that professionalism melts away.

It starts about 45 minuted into their mission when Spoiler’s voice suddenly crackles over the coms: “I fucking hate stake outs, they’re so boring.”

“I know right, my ass is starting to hurt,” Red Robin – to everyone’s surprise – replies.

“No chatter on the coms,” Batman dutifully reproaches like he always does, but he sounds less stern this time. It’s as if he knows they won’t listen, but says it because it’s his role to do so.

Red Hood ignores Batman completely, idly commenting: “I don’t know, stake outs always hit different for me.”

“That’s just because you’re boring AF,” Spoiler says, an eyeroll practically audible.

“Oi, take that back,” Red Hood says, offended. “I didn’t die to have you slander my name like that!”

This is horrifying news for most of the other people stuck on the coms, however, there is a cacophony of annoyed groans as well. Why anyone would be so blasé about someone mentioning their death, they don’t know.

Until, Robin says: “Cease mentioning your death as excuse. It’s unbecoming to be so reliant on one measly event. You’re not the only one who has died, don’t be – what was it? – ah, yes, don’t be basic, Hood.”

“Yeah, Hood, don’t be salty just because you’re becoming a boring old man,” Red Robin pipes up, sounding smug. That solves the salty mystery.

“Shut up, Replacement,” Red Hood huffs. “I can talk about my death as much as I want to and you can’t stop me.”

“Hood, please, stop talking about your death, you’re going to make B sad,” Nightwing suddenly interjects, stopping the conversation before it can get out of hand.

Those with super hearing will hear Barry mutter in a shocked manner: “Is he talking about Batman?” But he is overshadowed by most of the newly introduced (and already) known Bat-associates booing loudly.

“Don’t be a fucking suck up, Dick” Spoiler hollers, only those in the know picking up on the fact it’s his name. It’s the only time Batman won’t correct them, because not everyone will know it’s a name unless it’s pointed out.

“Periodt,” the quiet voice of Black Bat supports Spoiler.

“Hell yeah, that’s what I’m talking about, BB,” Spoiler cheers when she hears the other girl.

“That was the correct usage?” Black Bat asks.

“It was, well done,” Oracle’s kind voice comes over the coms, from where she is in her lair helping with coordination.

After that it all quiets down again for about half an hour, then Bluebird breaks the quiet again, complaining: “I can’t believe I had to stay behind in Gotham of all places.”

“You live there. Willingly,” Signal answers. “And I had to stay behind too, you know.”

“They’re sleeping on us, Signal, be upset with me,” Bluebird exclaims, indignantly.

“Okay, but tea though,” Spoiler says, most of the Justice League listening in are starting to learn she likes stirring the pot a little.

“Don’t be a simp, Spoils,” Red Robin says.

“Oh, look who’s talking about being a simp,” Red Hood snorts loudly. “I observed you, loser boy, you’re the simp.”

“It’s not as much of the serve you think it is to admit to stalking me,” Red Robin deadpans.

“RR, not to be that bitch, but you’re the OG stalker, maybe- maybe don’t do that,” Nightwing says cautiously, which is apparently funny enough that multiple people start laughing.

Meanwhile Red Robin complains: “Stop laughing at me, when I did it was totally different, I didn’t plan on killing any of you.” Which is mildly disturbing

“Oi, I never planned to actually kill you-kill you either,” Red Hood protests, even more disturbing. The Justice League is starting to wonder why Batman works with the man.

“Stop with the chatter,” Batman interjects again, before it can go further. “It’s not just us on the com lines now. At least try to be professional.”

And much to the horror of the League, who could never imagine doing such a thing, Batman gets booed. Again. This time directly.

Then to add to the horror, Batman doesn’t explode in anger, like everyone would have imagined, instead he just sighs. Defeated. Batman is like a cockroach, he doesn’t get defeated. However, these kids are managing.

Batman remains defeated too, because the Gotham vigilantes continue to idly chat all throughout the next hour. They are definitely bat associated, because they never reveal any information that could be tied to their civilian identity. Instead discussing other missions, general news, funny things they saw on patrol and personal grievances with the others on the line.

If this is what Batman deals with on the day to day, some are starting to see why he would prefer the heroes of the Justice League to keep their mouths shut on missions unless it’s important.

Most try to tune it out and focus on their own stake out, though the voices keep them awake. But they notice when Spoiler’s voice suddenly becomes serious as she reports: “Sus individuals moving towards the Mayor’s office.”

“Received, getting visual on your location,” Oracle’s voice replies, also snapped back into professionalism.

Spoiler reports their appearances and currently location, until Oracle has them, running a check on them, before confirming they have a criminal record and might be thugs for hire. Spoiler says: “I am going to move in.”

Batman says: “Do not engage, Spoiler, they could be a decoy. Try and get more information first.”

“Alright, alright,” Spoiler huffs. Then adds petulantly: “I’m not gonna do it, I was just thinking about it.”

Which sounds pretty reasonable for most listening in, who aren’t of the right age group to know the meme. Batman, however, does know, because he’s been subjected to it multiple times. So, he yells: “Spoiler, no!” startling some members.

A second later, there are sounds of a fight and Spoiler gleefully saying: “I did it.”

Batman lets out a frustrated growl, but Spoiler pays it no mind and she can’t truly get chewed out, because more and more start to report suspicious individuals moving in on the targets they’re watching.

Within minutes of it starting, Nightwing reports: “They’re decoys with targets. Not the main attack, but will do damage if they succeed.”

“Everyone make sure to take out the decoys,” Batman says. “Those without decoys, keep your eyes peeled, you might be at the real target.”

“Done with my targets, moving to help the others now,” Nightwing reports seriously, before he adds: “And can I just say that I’m the GOAT. Dibs on cookies for finishing first.”

“Okay, shade much,” Bluebird says.

“Don’t be arrogant, it’s unbecoming,” Robin retorts as well.

“Yeah, stop flexing,” Spoiler adds. “I’ve wrapped up too, by the way. You’re not special.”

“Let me have this,” Nightwing complains. “You already took all my shit, let me be cool. You all used to think I was cool.”

“Yeah, used to,” Red Hood scoffs. “Then we all realized you’re a looser.”

“Ha, get wrecked,” Red Robin snorts.

“Baby bird, wasn’t I your favorite?” Nightwing asks hurt, though over the top enough to show he is faking it.

“No, sadly, that was Hood,” Red Robin replies, sounding a little like he’s grimacing.

“No cap?” Red Hood asks, surprised.

“No cap,” Red Robin confirms.

“Now I feel kind of bad for you,” Red Hood says, before some bullets are fired. “Wrapped up here, moving to help.”

Red Robin seems glad to not have to reply and none of the other Gothamites do either. With what the League has heard so far, they’re also kind of happy the topic is being dropped, unsure what to think.

Batman’s associates are among the first ones cleaning up, however, soon others are joining them and the true battles grounds – yes, there are multiple targets, these people are organized (Batman will likely obsess until he has tracked down their organization afterwards) – are discovered and heroes move in to fight them.

Throughout the battle, everyone catches snippets of this strange, newly introduced group. A group, who works well together, like an oiled machine, yet obviously made up of highly competent parts that can act on their own as well.

Like Black Bat calling out: “Red Hood, yeet,” before those fighting alongside them see Red Hood boost her into the air, so she can come flying at the terrorists.

But they also make comments about the people they’re fighting and the others that are fighting alongside them.

Signal calling out: “Bluebird is pulling some sick ass moves. Another one for her on the slay-board, Oracle.”

Or Spoiler commenting: “Okay, not to be like that or whatever, but these terrorists are kind of looking snatched.”

To which Batman sighs: “Spoiler, please, no chatter,” in a vain attempt to get them under control.

“What?” Spoiler says. “I can appreciate when they’ve at least tried to pull a fit instead of that usual para-military, ninja type BS.”

“Go off,” Black Bat pipes up again and Spoiler cheers while Batman drops it. Defeated again.

They also check in on each other, with Red Robin hissing in pain, which is immediately followed by Nightwing going: “RR, you good, fam?”

“Gucci,” Red Robin replies. “Just low-key got stabbed.”

“There’s nothing low-key about getting stabbed!” Nightwing exclaims, getting called a hypocrite by many people, while Batman is already calling for Oracle to get a visual and for a medic to head Red Robin’s way.

By the time the battle is over, the Justice League understands how different the team is that Batman usually works with. If they were surrounded by heroes who talked like that continuously, they would have probably picked up some things here and there too.

Still, it fucking weird when Batman checks over his horde, before declaring: “You were all lit out there,” causing multiple of the kids around him to groan loudly, with Bluebird calling Batman a boomer.

Clark, however, sees a small uptick in Batman’s mouth. And in that moment, he knows Batman is doing it on purpose, that he’s enjoying it. That he’s fucking with them. He doesn’t know what to do with that, nor does he think that anyone will believe it. So, he decides to share the amusement and drop it.

They’re never going to figure out Batman.

~~

A/N:

This work is going to get dated so so so fast lmao, but it’s fun rn (if ur commenting in the future, welcome to outdated slang vibes from someone who wasn’t that up to date with current slang when writing it, bc im secretly a grandpa).

Hopefully I didn’t overdo it to an unrealistic degree, but if I did, such is the story that was being told oops

Also this whole fic is just an excuse for me to write batfam banter bc I love it lmao

I didn’t include Batwing, Batwoman and Flamebird here, sorry, but writing the batfam is always so hard bc there are so many characters T-T

[honeyplus]

Clark seeing his son fall in love with Damian has got to be one of the most dreadful periods of his life. Then he sees them get two different sandwiches and switch half of them and realizes he and Lois do that at lunch sometimes too, then it isn’t so bad.

Then he sees Jon punch Damian in the face with Damian returning it ten fold and thinks letting this relationship foster was the one of the worst decision he’s made.

But when Jon gets injured, Damian lays in his hospital bed, suit in all, combat boots on the stark white bed sheets and thinks he doesn’t know what to think.

He knows they love each other. He knows his son is too reckless for his own good. He knows Damian has known unfathomable violence. He knows his son has things he can never share.

It seems cosmic to him. Like a car crash you can’t look away from, except the wreck never comes. At least, not in the way he expects.

There’s no bloodshed or battle or crazy world altering event. It’s all so mundane that Clark almost feels ridiculous.

His son is worried about the right gift to get Damian just as much as he is about Damian getting himself killed in space. And Clark realizes he’s completely out of his depth trying to understand this relationship.

They’re not Superman and Batman, they’re not dashing reporter and superhero alien. Damian is just as likely to throw a brick at Jon’s head as he is to kiss him. Clark’s wife is apart of him, his other half. He wonders if sometimes Jon and Damian are more than just half of each other.

He watches them throw themselves at the couch and argue over what to watch and thinks maybe he’s blowing it way out of proportion. Who knows. But if all of this does explode in his son’s face, he knows exactly what he’ll do. That’s what he does understand. That he loves his son more than anything.

[suzukiblu]

Excerpt from the one where Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it.

(The read-more is definitely necessary, length-wise. I . . . got very into this idea and frankly this is barely a third of it so far, lol.)

"So, uh . . ." Kon says, skeptically eyeing the softly glowing rock in his hand. Metallo, like, threw it at his head. He has no idea why. "Is this supposed to do something or . . . ?"

"It's pink," Kara says leerily, staying very firmly back. Like, unexpectedly far back, in fact.

"Yeah, I'm not actually blind, thanks," Kon says, turning the rock over and squinting at it. It continues not to do anything, aside from the glowing thing.

"No, it's pink kryptonite," she stresses.

". . . it literally doesn't hurt at all, though?" Kon says. Though he probably should've figured it was some kind of kryptonite, given that Metallo had it and had apparently thought he could hurt him with it.

Seriously, though, his gloves are fingerless and he's got it right in his hand. It should be hurting him, if it's actually kryptonite.

"Pink kryptonite doesn't work like that," Kara says, edging a little farther back. They're floating a few hundred feet in the air right now, but from the way she's acting Kon's vaguely concerned that he might be about to explode or something. "It just affects our sexual . . . urges."

"Oh," Kon says, frowning in confusion. Weird, but . . . "Is that all?"

"I don't mean like it makes you horny, Kon, I mean like it makes you homosexual," Kara hisses, looking mortified. "And don't ask how I know, alright?!"

Kon . . . blinks.

"What the literal fuck?" he asks incredulously, just staring at her. "How does that even–are you telling me Metallo went and chucked gay kryptonite at me in the middle of a fight?"

"Yes!" Kara says, still clearly mortified. "So just–just stay over there with it until somebody shows up with a lead box, okay?! The effects will stop after we get it contained."

"Alright, alright. So then do you think the dude was flirting with me or is he just a fucking idiot?" Kon jokes, balancing the kryptonite on his index finger with his TTK. "Although I really don't think he'd be my type either way. Like, nothing against cyborgs in general, obviously, just the whole thing with him being a murderous supervillain who literally runs on kryptonite seems like it'd make us totally star-crossed. I want somebody I can actually commit to, you know?"

"Sure," Kara says, still eyeing the kryptonite with serious trepidation. It's really not helping Kon feel less like a time bomb, to be honest. Is there like some other side effect that he should be worrying about right now or something? Like, is he missing something here?

"You seem kinda high-strung about this," he observes, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Look, you'd have avoided it too if you'd dealt with it before!" she says protestingly. "So stay over there and definitely keep it away from Kal, I don't know if Jimmy ever really recovered from the last time."

"Oh, well, congrats to Jimmy, I guess," Kon says, since he can't really see a downside to scoring a one-night stand with Superman. Like, a downside for somebody who isn't literally his clone, he means. The clone thing would definitely make it weird.

Just it's also Clark, though, so he'd probably be the generous type in bed. Like, the sort to really take care of somebody. Be as gentle as happened to be appropriate but also be down if his partner maybe wanted it a little rough for whatever reason. And he'd definitely be able to go all night. Again, Kon isn't gonna go there himself, it really would be too weird, but he can make a logical conclusion. Extrapolate one. Whatever.

Then again he'd be down with Power Girl absolutely destroying him whenever the fuck she wanted to and she's genetically his . . . some form of cousin or something, he guesses. His half-cousin from another reality. So really, Clark's not even that weird an option. And like, all appearances aside Kon's a binary clone anyway, not even a one-for-one match, sooooo . . .

Actually it's probably weirder that he thinks Power Girl is so unspeakably hot but comparatively Kara is just . . . fine? Like, that's a little odd, isn't it?

Maybe it's an attitude thing. Or the costume.

Might be safe to blame the costume, yeah.

It's just such a good costume. Like, Kon aspires to reach that level of costume.

But really, all that aside he still doesn't even know what the big deal about temporarily going gay is, although to be fair he's also currently talking to Supergirl and not, like . . . literally any dude whatsoever. So like, who knows how weird this stuff might actually make him under those circumstances. Maybe it like fucks with inhibitions and stuff too?

Yeah, hell if he knows. He's really only dealt with green kryptonite before. He was vaguely aware that other colors existed and apparently did different stuff, but . . . this just seems very different, put it that way.

Maybe best to avoid Jimmy Olsen for a little while, Kon decides privately. The guy probably doesn't need that.

Besides, Clark apparently got there first anyway and Kon just really doesn't want to be worrying about measuring up. Miss him with that, thanks.

. . . although maybe he'll go visit Tim later.

Eh, no, Kara made it sound like the pink K's gonna stop affecting him pretty quick once they box it up, so not much point in bothering. Though maybe he'll visit just to hang, come to think of it; they haven't seen each other in almost a whole week. Well, he hasn't seen Tim, at least–who knows how much Bat-surveillance Tim's seen him through.

Kon should maybe sweep his room for bugs again. Note to self.

Although would it be weird to just like . . . keep the pink kryptonite, maybe? Since it apparently doesn't actually hurt anyone or anything? Because that could be, well . . . just interesting, that's all. Like, Kon is open to exploring that experience. Just–as an experience.

"Actually, you're surprisingly not high-strung about this," Kara says.

"Am I?" Kon asks. "I mean, it's not that big a deal, is it?"

She stares at him.

"Kon," she says slowly. "Pink kryptonite affects your sexuality. It makes you attracted to people you're not normally attracted to. It confuses you and everyone around you and it is really freaking embarrassing to explain afterwards."

"I've been mind-controlled into shaving my head and breaking my best friend's arm," Kon says, continuing to not really see what the big deal is. "That was embarrassing. And fucking traumatic. This? This is just kinda weird."

"Only kinda?" Kara asks incredulously. "You're one of the straightest guys I know! How are you just fine with this?!"

"I mean to be fair, that's probably making some unfair generalizations about straight guys," Kon points out. Kara stares at him. "What?"

"I don't even know how to respond to that," she says.

"Sorry?" Kon says, then tucks the pink kryptonite into his jacket pocket with a shrug. He's not trying to hide it or anything; just getting kinda sick of holding it. And it's that or he either ditches it somewhere or starts tossing it around and that'd probably be . . . just, well, absolutely epically stupid of him.

Or it seems like it would be, anyway. Whatever color it is, it's still kryptonite.

"I mentioned keeping that away from Kal, right?" Kara says.

"Yeah, on that note, are they like . . . done down there yet?" Kon asks, glancing down towards the mess of the street that Clark's standing on a few hundred feet below with a whole bunch of randos from S.T.A.R. Labs, for some reason. Somebody mentioned something about neutralizing Metallo's kryptonite heart without actually killing him, but mostly it was science talk and clearly theoretical anyway so to be honest Kon'd kinda tuned it all out as "not currently relevant", and that's all he knows.

"Definitely not," Kara says.

"I'm gonna call Robin while we're killing time, then," Kon says, pulling out his phone.

"You're going to call your closest male friend," Kara says. "Right now. While you've got pink kryptonite in your pocket."

"Yup," Kon says, already pulling up Tim's contact.

"Can you not see how that might be a bad idea at the moment?" Kara asks. "Not in any way whatsoever?"

"Well I'm not calling Impulse," Kon replies reasonably. Kara stares at him again, for some reason.

Eh, whatever.

He calls Tim.

"Hey, Conner, what's up?" Tim answers distractedly, which Kon doesn't hold against him because when isn't Tim distracted, really. Dude's got too much going on in that head of his, for real. He's just glad the guy ever picks up the phone at all.

"So apparently I'm gay right now," Kon greets conversationally, figuring he should lead with that just in case he actually is about to do something embarrassing to explain. "Pink kryptonite is fucking weird, man."

". . . uh," Tim says as Kara covers her face with her hands. "What?"

"Pink kryptonite makes you gay, Kara says," Kon says. "And we're both just kind of chilling above downtown Metropolis waiting for Kal to finish up with the science-y people so we can get said pink K locked up, so I'm bored out of my mind right now and calling you to complain about it."

"You're calling me," Tim says slowly. "While you're . . . gay."

"What, is he asking to come over?" another voice asks from the phone, sounding amused. It takes Kon a second to recognize it, but–oh yeah, that's the mysterious Bernard, isn't it?

Right, Tim has a boyfriend now. Kon's never actually met him on account of being the worst at secret identities and the whole thing that is Bernard living very firmly in Gotham, land of "no metas allowed unless you're either a supervillain or Batman's too dead to stop you", but he's heard him over the phone a couple times now, although they've never actually personally talked. So maybe thinking about Tim while being high on pink kryptonite isn't actually, like, kosher? Or polite. Or whatever.

. . . then again, Bernard did ask.

"I don't know, maybe?" Kon says thoughtfully, considering the idea. "Are you open to me coming over?"

"Yes," Bernard says.

"Bernard," Tim says.

"Babe, I know we're pretending I don't know you're an ass-kicking vigilante and all but come on, don't make me turn down Superboy," Bernard says wryly.

"We're–wait, pretending?!" Tim sputters.

"Pretending so, so hard," Bernard confirms, sounding nothing but fond. Kon's actually a little jealous of that tone of voice, he's gotta admit. Like–it's been a bit since anybody's talked to him that way, is all. "But like, if you actually thought you were being subtle maybe you shouldn't talk about kryptonite on the phone right in front of me or put themed emojis next to all your superfriends' civilian names in your contacts list?"

"Oh my god, you do that?!" Kon asks with a gleeful cackle, immediately forgetting everything else in favor of that absolutely delightful piece of information. "You're the worst! Batman just rolled over in his grave and Oracle is absolutely losing her shit on the other end of her wiretap!"

"B's not even dead right now," Tim says in exasperation. "And if O cared she'd have already hacked my phone and changed them. And for the record plenty of people put random superhero emojis next to their friends' names, that's a totally normal thing to do!"

"Usually the random superhero emojis aren't associated with contact pics that are dead fucking ringers for said superheroes," Bernard says, sounding amused again. "Just as a thing and all."

". . . anyway so you're gay today, how's that going for you, Conner?" Tim says as Bernard laughs gleefully in the background. "Triggering any unfortunate mental health crisises or anything? Making you worry about the validity of your masculinity? Because I can safely assure you that's all bullshit and you're fine."

"Naw, I know all that, being gay is just a thing," Kon says with a shrug. "Kara's being a little weird about it but honestly it's going way better than, like, the times supervillains mind-controlled me into being into them. Like just as an overall experience, I mean."

"Wait, how many times has that come up?" Tim asks in bemusement.

"I dunno?" Kon shrugs again. "I mean you were there for the Poison Ivy incident, and then Gorgeous Gilly happened to me a while later, which was, uh, genuinely horrifying because she tried to literally marry me during all that, so . . . I think just the twice, probably? But don't quote me on that, I don't even remember what I had for breakfast."

"And how is Kara being weird, exactly?" Tim says in his very unsubtle "assessing my teammate's psychological condition" voice.

"Oh, she's mostly just avoiding me?" Kon says, as a guy who's personally not really all that concerned with his psychological condition at the moment. "Because I've got the rock in my pocket on account of not wanting to just leave it lying around somewhere and she doesn't want to get affected by it. I don't know why, I don't really get why it matters."

"I mean it matters, definitely," Bernard says. "Like it very strongly matters to a lot of people."

"Fair, but I think we're all too invulnerable to really have to worry about getting gay-bashed or anything," Kon reasons. "Like, at least not as a heat of the moment thing."

". . . god can you imagine the world we would live in if every piece of shit gay-basher had to deal with the consequences of punching fucking Superman?" Bernard says feelingly. "For real."

"Oh, pink K's temporary," Kon clarifies. "Kal's not gay anymore."

"Hold up, I'm sorry, are you saying that at some point he was?" Bernard demands in obvious delight. "Is that what you're telling me right now?"

"I guess he was into redheads?" Kon says, tilting his head. "Slightly twinky redheads, specifically. Which I don't blame him for, I'm gonna be honest."

"Well now I know that forever, thanks," Tim says dryly.

"Alternate option: he could've been into Batman," Kon points out.

"Redheads it is," Tim says. "You just . . . redhead away over there."

"I mean I thought about it, kinda," Kon admits.

"Ngh," Tim says, for some reason.

"No thinking about Batman, though?" Bernard asks with a snicker.

"Not so much," Kon says, making a face. "Did consider having some Superman thoughts but I'm apparently not that narcissistic, surprisingly enough."

"Kon!" Kara chokes.

"Tell me you've never considered having Superman thoughts and I'll tell you you're a fucking liar," Kon snorts, shooting her a dry look. "Weren't you like totally naked when you first showed up on Earth? And then he found you like that and wrapped you up in his cape all nice and gentlemanly and took you home with him?"

"He is my baby cousin and you're being affected by pink kryptonite poisoning!" Kara accuses, her face bright red.

"Wait, is it actually poisoning me?" Kon says with a frown. "I feel like you should've led with it actually poisoning me, if that's actually a thing."

"Well no, not actually, it's physically harmless," Kara says grudgingly, folding her arms. "But you're still being affected! You're having Superman thoughts, of all things!"

"He just seems like he'd be considerate," Kon says reasonably. "Like, you know. Biblically."

"Ngh," Tim says, again for no apparent reason. Bernard sounds like he might be laughing. Or choking? Or maybe both; it's unclear.

"Please don't hit on Kal," Kara says. "Especially don't hit on Kal with pink kryptonite in your pocket. I don't want to know how that situation would end up."

"Ideally with him being considerate," Kon says. Tim chokes. Kara covers her face again.

"Does pink kryptonite affect your inhibitions too or are you just always like this?" Bernard asks curiously.

"Eh, pretty sure I'm just always like this, going by the things I've definitely still not been forgiven for saying to Power Girl," Kon says, idly tapping a finger against the side of his phone case. "Like, pretty damn sure at this point."

"That is unfortunately accurate," Tim agrees resignedly.

"So you're saying it is ethically okay to have Superboy over while he's gay," Bernard says in a promisingly speculative tone. Kon grins. Just a little, but yeah–definitely he grins. Kara grimaces, because she is absolutely no fun whatsoever.

Spoilsport.

"I did not in any way say that," Tim retorts dubiously.

"I mean that's what I heard, man, and I'm the one with super-hearing in this conversation," Kon says with a wider grin. "My inhibitions are all inhibited and my personal opinions of people are all the same, I'm just currently batting for the other team."

"So your normal opinion of me is that if you were gay, you'd come over," Tim says dryly.

"Yeah?" Kon says, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, obviously."

"How is that obvious?" Tim says.

"Because I already come over every time you let me," Kon reminds him.

"Oh yeah?" Bernard says slyly. "And how often does he let you come, exactly?"

"Not often enough," Kon replies honestly, and doesn't even bite at the obvious dumb sex joke Bernard so thoughtfully set up for him even though it is frankly painful not to.

"Ngh," Tim says. Kon continues not to understand the reason for him repeatedly making that same weird little noise, but whatever, he guesses. It's Tim, maybe he's stitching his own bullet wounds again or something. Guy's a multi-tasker like that.

"You know this would probably make for a fascinating case study about sexuality, actually," Bernard says musingly. "I mean, all I intend to do is abuse the situation to get into your very tight tights, but seriously, maybe we should all be taking notes or something."

"Ugh, hell no, Rob'll go full Bat if we let him do that," Kon snorts, then smirks. "He can take pictures, though, I know he's into that."

"Ngh," Tim says yet again, accompanied by a weird random "thump". If Kon didn't know better, he'd think he'd just fallen off a chair or something.

"Aw dammit, dude, I think I actually like you as a person now," Bernard says, sniggering. "Are you keeping the kryptonite? Please keep the kryptonite. Like, just for Valentine's and Tim's birthday, that's all I ask."

"Honestly don't know if Superman's gonna let me but I do kinda wanna," Kon admits. It seems pretty convenient, really. And definitely fun.

". . . and you're sure his inhibitions and opinions aren't being influenced in any way, Kara?" Tim asks suspiciously.

"He's really just like this, yeah," Kara says resignedly. "Well admittedly Kal spontaneously developed opinions on window treatments and used the word 'smashing' in cold blood when it happened to him, but that might've just been him sucking at flirting. Because he really does suck at flirting."

"What about when it was you?" Kon asks curiously.

"No one ever said it happened to me," Kara says.

"You kinda implied–"

"No one ever said it happened to me," Kara repeats, narrowing her eyes at him and doing an impressively bad job of acting like she's not blushing.

So it definitely happened to her, yeah.

"Okaaaaay, we'll pretend about that too then," Bernard says. "Well, what are your opinions on window treatments, Conner?"

"That I don't know what they are," Kon says.

"Sounds like he's in his right mind to me," Bernard says.

"He is absolutely not," Kara retorts dubiously.

"I really don't feel weird or anything, I swear," Kon tells her, since he still doesn't get the problem but also doesn't actually want to worry her either. "I don't even feel any different."

"Kon, you are hitting on your best friend and his boyfriend," Kara says. "Together. At once. Simultaneously, one might even say."

"You've met Wonder Girl and Arrowette before, right?" Kon says. "And both the Batgirls? And–"

"Oh my god, Kon," she cuts him off.

"Just saying," he says, then pauses for a moment and frowns consideringly. "Actually, question, how gay is this stuff making me, because while we're on the topic of threeways I kinda always wondered about what Starfire and Nightwing get up to together and if–"

"KON!" Kara yells, covering her ears.

"I'm just asking," he huffs.

"I don't know if it's actually possible to be gay enough to not be into Starfire," Bernard says musingly. "Like I can't imagine how it ever could be."

"Right?" Kon says.

"It's possible to not be into Starfire," Tim says. "Like, theoretically. Asexuals and aromantics both exist, for one."

"Do they?" Kon says doubtfully. "Like in general, sure, but when around specifically Starfire?"

". . . I can't technically prove you wrong due to a lack of reliable evidence but still," Tim says. "The possibility is there. If nothing else the multiverse is a thing."

"Last time I saw her she was wearing half a gold lamé bikini and I am not going to tell you which half or define how loosely I am using the term 'wearing'," Kon says.

"I said it's possible, not probable," Tim says.

"What about you, man, are you the gold lamé type?" Bernard asks with a teasing snicker. "Just while you're gay and all, of course. That's like, practically a cultural thing. Gotta be authentic to the experience, yeah?"

"That is in no way whatsoever a cultural thing, babe," Tim says dubiously.

"Please, like I've never worn freaking lamé," Kon scoffs. "I've worn collars and loincloths and leather and crop tops and enough unnecessary belts to tie up a Bat, lamé is nothing."

"Collars and . . . loincloths?" Bernard repeats, sounding confused.

"Yeah, this one time I crash-landed on a lost isle of beast-men and they kidnapped and enslaved me for a few months," Kon explains, waving a hand distractedly. "Frankly I count myself lucky they even let me have the collar, much less the loincloth."

". . . um," Bernard says.

"You, uh, never mentioned the collar part of that story before, Kon," Tim says, clearing his throat. "You very definitely never mentioned the collar part of that story before."

"Oh yeah, the prince kinda kept me as his pet for a little bit?" Kon tells him with an easy shrug. "Like he and all his buddies ganged up on me and then took me home with them, but I was kinda . . . feral, I guess? Technically? So like, collar and chain setup. But he was cool, he took real good care of me."

"Ngh," Tim says just barely faintly.

"Yeah you should definitely come over," Bernard says. "Tim, get the check. Conner, exactly how super is your super-speed?"

"You can just call me Kon," Kon says. "And . . . mach 3, last I clocked it?"

"Isn't that like two thousand miles per hour?" Bernard asks.

"Two thousand two hundred and twenty-three point three," Kon replies with a pleased smirk. "Faster than a speeding bullet. Or so they tell me."

"We'll just meet you at Tim's, how's that," Bernard says. "That work for you, Kon?"

"That works for me, Bernard," Kon confirms, smirking wider.

"Oh my god, Kon, you cannot possibly be serious right now," Kara says in exasperation, rubbing at her temples. "Just because you're temporarily gay doesn't mean you should do anything about it!"

"I mean, I'm feeling pretty serious?" Kon says, shrugging again. He still doesn't get why she's being so sensitive about this. "It's not like this is the weirdest thing I've ever done in pursuit of a good time. Like, holy hell, lemme tell you about the Ravers sometime."

"You're going to have to look Robin in the eye after this!" Kara says. "And work with him! And be a normal person in his presence! Normally!"

"I'm aware?" Kon says, vaguely bemused by her concern. Like he's never been normal around somebody he's slept with before, geez. "Tell Kal I ran off with the pink K, if he wants to lock it up in the Fortress or wherever I can bring it back tomorrow."

"Maybe Monday," Bernard says.

"Or maybe Monday," Kon amends.

"It's Thursday!" Kara sputters.

"So it's a long weekend," Bernard says.

"I'm not explaining this to Kal," Kara says. "I'm not explaining this to Batman."

"I really don't see why you'd have to," Kon says. "Rob, you cool with the long weekend thing? Not too much of an imposition?"

". . . I got the check," Tim mutters in obvious and absolute mortification.

Kon's gonna take that as a "yes".

"Cool," he says, grinning broadly. "See you soon, Boy Wonder."

He ends the call. Kara drags her hands down her face and continues to stay very far away from him and the pink kryptonite in his pocket.

"When you go back to normal and freak out and make everything weird with Robin and your team and even Robin's literal boyfriend, I'm going to say so many 'I told you so's," she swears vehemently. "So don't say I didn't warn you."

"Your objection is on the record," Kon says, then tosses her a lazy salute with another grin and takes off, kryptonite and all.

Best to just scarper while Clark's distracted, yeah?

Definitely best.

[urfavlarry]

Heyyy:)

I’ve been reading every single SBG Post you have, and I kindly wanted to request something👉👈

Sooo (reader) who’s main weapons are fireworks/explosives(cuz light, and well explosions) And they somehow get hurt by them one day?

(Preferably gn/fem reader, with Ben, Aiden and/ or Tyler) 🧎🧎

Sooo thx for reading this:) You’re so cool!

A/N: oo love this!! thank you for requesting<3 and btw idk why Aidens is so long I think I blacked out while writing for him :,)

warnings: bl00d, swearing, bad grammar, explosives, fireworks, mentions of gagging and throwing up

scenario:

You’ve been playing around with explosives ever since you were little. You lived with your older brother who was experiences with these things and since he couldn’t teach you how to fight, he chose to teach you how to work with explosives. Whether it was fireworks, dynamite, grenades, you knew how to work it. One day while fighting off a phantom your own weapon, well, backfires.

Ben Clark 🎧ྀི

╰┈➤ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ 🎧ྀི ɞ˚‧｡⋆

You throw the grenade at the phantom, another in hand waiting to be thrown. You don’t realize you already pulled out the pin from the grenade and it explodes in your hand. You feel numb, eyes wide from the sudden explosion and ears ringing. You feel a really bad pain in your arm, well at least whats left of it and scream. Everyone turns in your direction and either gasp, scream, or full on start to gag. Ben rushes to your side and pick you on on his back and runs with you to the graveyard along with everyone else, Ashlyn yelling a quick; “Everyone back down.”

Your vision starts to get blurry and someone hits your cheeks; “Y/N, you need to stay awake, okay? Don’t pass out, Y/N, Y/N!” You keep your eyes open but look away from the gruesome sight and start to sob. “Everything will be okay we won’t let anything happen to you.” You hear a robotic kind of voice and look into that direction seeing Ben with the most worried expression, Aiden standing there next to him to somewhat calm him down. You smile weakly but instantly hold back a scream of pain as someone starts to clean your wound.

“Fuck..” You groan and look at the night sky, hoping for this pure torture to end. You sigh as they finally start to wrap your ‘arm’ and finish the little procedure. After that Ashlyn goes away, probably to throw up or something. You don’t blame her, that was really a gruesome sight. You feel a presence beside you and look towards the person, smiling when you see Ben. “Hey..” You say and he nods, pulling you a bit closer to him. You rest your head on his shoulder and close your eyes, trying to sleep the trauma off. It was funny, you were taking it more lightly than you thought. “Ben?” You say and he looks down at you. “Isn’t it funny?” You smile and look up at him, making him raise a brow; “That everyone is taking this so harshly while I’m here literally not even crying? Well yes I did cry but that shit really hurt and I—” You shut up when you get embraced into a hug. You relax and let the tears fall, Ben patting your back. “Let it out.” He whispers so only you could hear. You were one of the only ones except Aiden and his family that heard his voice. It wasn’t often but when he did speak a warm feeling welled up in your chest.

“It’s okay, I’m here.” He says in a raspy voice and you sniffle, pulling away from the hug. You look up at the stars, trying to ignore your aching arm. “Thanks, um, for being here when I need you.” You say and he nods, kissing your cheek and puts an arm around your shoulder. “I’d do anything for you, I’m just sad I couldn’t stop this whole thing from happening.” He thinks to himself and just stares at you lovingly, leaving you to rest.

Aiden Clark

╰┈➤ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ 🎸 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Everything hurt like hell. You could hear a faint buzz in your head as you tried to quickly move away but a sharp pain pierced through your entire body. Tears started to fall from your face. “Why am I crying?” You think to yourself not knowing how to stop the bothersome tears from coming down your face. You look down at your body and your eyes widen, brain forever traumatized by the gruesome sight. Your leg was completely torn off and your side was bleeding as well. Fire was forming beside you where an explosion once erupted from your fireworks. You look at the sky, just hoping for the clock to strike 7 like it usually did and end this horrible nightmare. You feel your body be picked up by someone and just close your eyes, shoulders relaxing as your whole world turns into a black void.

You jolt awake, looking around frantically, quickly relaxing when you recognize your little safe space; your room. You groan, your side and leg feeling numb and tingly. Looking up at the ceiling you contemplate whether you should go to school or not, but you know that would worry your friends and even Aiden even more than you already did. Slipping from under the covers you get ready and walk down to the kitchen where your brother was making you breakfast, your favorite. He smiles at you warmly and kisses your forehead; “Tough night?” He knew what has been going on, you told him just a few weeks after Savannah. You were the first out of the group to tell anyone and your brother of course believed you, knowing you as a person to not make up such things. You frown at the thought of last night and decide to not tell him, knowing he would take the blame, saying something like; “I should’ve taught you better.” or even going as far as saying “I shouldn’t have taught you at all.” You sigh and put on a fake smile; “Hey I’m fine! Everything went well last night.” He smiles and ruffles up your hair; “Okay kiddo, if you say so. Now get to school you don’t wanna be late.” He says and you nod, quickly going upstairs yo gather some last minute things and rush to catch the bus, not really being in the mood to walk to school.

You get to the bus and see a very tired and worried looking group of kids, aka the group. Ben was comforting Aiden who was more quiet then usual, Tyler looking more pissed then ever, Taylor being the complete opposite and put on a fake smile, and well Ashlyn had a poker face on like usual but still looked pretty worried having her head rested on the window looking at god knows what. “Hey.” You say and everyone looks up, Taylor rushing to hug you and Logan who you hadn’t noticed did as well, all of them bombarding you with questions. You sit down and turn so your back is against the chair in front of you and legs towards the back of the seat you were sitting on. You were facing the group and everyone waited for you to speak, but only Aiden caught your eye. He wasn’t looking in your direction and was fiddling with his fingers, something very unlike him. You tell everyone you’re fine and tell them you can talk about it later, grabbing Aidens shoulder when you get off the bus. “Guys go on ahead, we will be there in a minute.” Everyone nods and Aiden tenses up and looks down.

“Hey hun, everything okay? You’re more quiet than usu—” You get taken by surprise when Aiden raises his voice at you, tears in his eyes and a very worried but angry expression on his face. “Okay? Y/N I really am not okay. I saw my s/o get blown up by fireworks, do you know how that feels?” You go to speak but get cut off again and just stay quiet from then; “I’m glad you’re okay but I’m not, oh but wait! I’m totally fine! I just saw the love of my fucking life get blown up but thats totally fine! Is that what you wanted to hear Y/N? Well too bad.” He says and you furrow your brows, fist clenching and face going a bit paler than usual.

“That’s nice Aiden, but you are forgetting who actually suffered here. I’m the one who got hurt and you don’t understand how fucking painful that shit is, getting blown up by something you’ve been taught to use ever since you were little by your own family. I didn’t only suffer physically, but seeing that shit fucked me up just as much as it did you. But yeah if it makes you feel better then you’re the one who suffered the most Aiden.” You say and run off into the school, Aiden watching you disappear in the crowd of students who were rushing to get to class. Your words really got to Aiden, he taught about them more and more as he went to class, where you would be. He sits down and puts on a facade for the others, making himself look like he was okay when he really wasn’t. Ben knew something was off but knew better than to interfere in your guys’ situation.

After school you go home, laying in your bed and look up at the ceiling, salty tears pouring out from your eyes making them sting. You hear a knock on your door and you quickly sit up and wipe your tears; “Probably my brother.” You think to yourself but your body tenses when you see a weakly smiling Aiden with flowers and a teddy bear in his hands. You let him in and close the door behind you, facing him. He sets the gifts down and slowly approaches you, opening his arms for a hug. You tackle him in a hug and you both fall to the ground with a loud thud, making both of you chuckle. You stay on the floor like that for quite a bit, Aiden rubbing your back to soothe you as you cry your eyes out, mumbling apologies and ‘I love yous”. He sits up with you in his lap and kisses your cheek and then nose. “I’m so sorry for yelling at you like that it was so uncalled for and I should’ve realized how painful that must’ve been for you. I hope you can forgive me even tho a simple sorry won’t really make up for what I did and said.” He says and looks you in the eyes, cupping your cheek in his hand. You contemplate what to say, knowing what he did was wrong but you could have handled it better yourself. “I let anger get the best of me again, that fucking realm has been rubbing off on me more than usual.” You think to yourself and sigh, hugging him and put your chin on his shoulder. “Aiden I get it, you were angry, sad, quite literally traumatized. You’re.. no, we’re still just teenagers, that shit was gruesome and I really understand that it upset you, yes the things you said were upsetting and could’ve been handled better but just so you know, I don’t hate you for it.” You say and get squeezed in the hug, making you pat his back; “Yeah, yeah, okay jeez Aiden chill.” You say and he chuckles; “No I’m never ever letting you go.” He says and you smile, looking at the time; “8 more hours..” You say and frown; “Aiden what if I just won’t be able to walk again in that realm, even if you somehow manage to stitch me up, that doesn’t guarantee anything.” You say and get shushed by a kiss on the lips; “Everything will be okay, I promise.”

Tyler Hernández

╰┈➤ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ 🥀 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

“So basically what you’re telling me is I have to be the look out while you guys go for the jeep?” You say and raise a brow as you throw your dynamite in the air letting it fall back in your hand and repeat that like a hundred times. Ashlyn nods and you sigh, grabbing the pitch of your nose; “You know I could potentially explode the jeep? You know dynamite isn’t exactly the best weapon for close combat.” I say and cross my arms over my chest, hoping that Ashlyn would come up with a better plan. Tyler nods along and sits down next to you on the floor of the bus. “Yeah and that shit is pretty dangerous if it explodes near you so what if a phantom attacks Y/N really close? She could get hurt.” He says and Ashlyn sigh, furrowing her brows since you have been planning this for about a week and suddenly the plans would be changing. “Everything will be fine, we have necessary recourses if anything goes wrong.” She says and everyone gets up, apart from you. You sit there and think about all the worst possible outcomes, knowing your own brother once got hurt by dynamite but recovered and still lives a fulfilling life.

Tyler stops in his tracks and looks at you, walking back to you and crouches in front of you. He lifts your chin to look at him and smiles at you; “Everything will be fine, you’re talented Y/N, not everyone can work explosives like you do.” You smile and stand up, hugging him tight and give him a quick kiss on the cheek; “Well, let’s knock these bitches dead.” You say and grab your dynamite and lighter, putting them in your pockets. Aiden ordered some suits online and bought a different one just for you since your weapon was dynamite. You can store them in a belt you have or pockets. It was nice of him but you really couldn’t stop thinking about how anything could go wrong. You finally shake off the thoughts and leave with everyone except Logan who would be near the base with a gun. Everyone runs to the house as “Party rock anthem” were heard in the background.

You smirk and get your dynamite in hand; “Let’s get this party started!” Aiden cheers and Tyler rolls his eyes, making Taylor laugh. “Take this seriously guys.” Tyler yells over the music and you just smile sheepishly as everyone runs into the house except for you like the plan was supposed to go. You turn on your headlamp so the phantoms can’t get that close. You see a group of them standing near the speakers where the song was playing, but you knew you didn’t have that much time before it stopped playing. You hear commotion behind you and see Ashlyn getting pulled up by a phantom. “Shit!” Aiden was standing there trying to get up to help her so you boost him up since you can’t really help unless they want an exploded house and a dead Ash on their hands. The commotion atracted a group of phantoms and they were a bit far because of the light you had turned on. You smirk and light your dynamite throwing it right at them. You cover your ears and let it explode, knowing that probably attracted more phantoms so you take another one out. Eyeing the area closely you hear the song end but see tha Aiden and Ashlyn managed to kill the phantom some how. You smile and give them a thumbs up.

You walk a bit farther from the entrance of the house and the jeep, lighting another dynamite and throw it at another group of phantoms. You walk back a bit so you don’t get exploded but don’t hear Ashlyn yelling for you to watch out when a phantom sneaks up on you. Your eyes widen and you shine a flashlight on it but you stumble back and start to hear loud ringing in your ears. You feel a warm liquid run from your upper leg. You look down and see a huge gash in your leg, maling you scream. You cough as dust and ash starts to fly around from the explosion. You sob and crawl closer to the jeep, seeing that phantoms were getting into the house; “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You whisper to yourself and sob, sitting down next to the jeep, keeping an eye out for your surroundings. You tie your wound with a ripped piece of your pants and groan in pain as it tightens around your leg. You see everyone get out of the house and Tylers eyes widen when he sees you laying there, bleeding. “Holy shit, Y/N!” He yells and picks you up, everyone getting into the jeep fast as phantoms start to swarm the car. You sob into his shoulder as Taylor applies more pressure to your wound.

Everyone gets out of the car once Ash swerves into the graveyard and get you out of the car. Sobs and sniffles were heard as you cried your heart out from the pain. Tyler had your head in his lap and brushed hair from your face. He whispered sweet nothing into your ear and things like “It’s almost over.” “You’re doing great mi vida.” making you relax just a bit. Ashlyn was stitching your wound and that was the worst pain ever. “Okay, it’s done.” Ashlyn says and packs up the first aid kit, cleaning the blood off your leg and leaves so you and Tyler can be alone for a bit. You try and sit up but your arms give out, making you fall back into his lap. He puts an arm under your shoulder and lifts you up so you can sit next to him. He looked worried but had his brows furrowed and also looked a bit angry. He was mumbling curses in Spanish and sometimes mumbling something about the phantoms.

You lay your head on his chest and he kisses your head letting you rest after that traumatic event. You smile and start to talk; “Sorry, I should’ve been more careful.” You say and he chuckles a bit; “Yeah you should’ve, but things happen and you’re so brave for getting through that.” He says making you smile. “I should’ve been there to help although I probably would have made things worse, but still you get the point.” You nod and he stays silent for a while before he speaks up again; “I’m glad you’re okay, you really did such a good job at protecting us and don’t you think other wise you hear me?” He says in a stern voice and you nod, chuckling. “Yeah, yeah, if you think so.” You say and he pulls you closer “I know so.” He says and kisses your soft lips, making you forget all of the pain you once felt.

[sanguineterrain]

Hi again 😊 You suggested i could send another prompt, sooo… maybe you & Jason have been together awhile, and you’re kidnapped by (choose your villain) and Jason is worried and frantic but trying to not show it of course, and negotiating for your safety? Ends up rescuing you of course, in whichever way you prefer, and then they find comfort in each-other 💗

I haven’t had time or energy to work on my WIP lately so this is very lovely and gratifying 😂👌🏻💗

aghh that's the worst! wishing you luck on your wip!! i'm glad you like these <3 requests are open for jason, dick, and MAWS!clark kent btw!

this one is very batfam focused hehehe. ft dramatic ass jason and his surprise kidnapped fiancé lol.

jason todd x gn!reader. tw: violence, kidnapped reader, reader is pushed off a building for a moment but they're okay dw <3, batfam feels, jason being a protective bf, bruce being a GOOD DAD! c:

****

"Actually, if we're being honest, if anyone has the most trauma in this family, it's—"

Batman grunts. "Really, Spoiler, not now."

The comm line crackles as Stephanie sniffs. "Fine. Stay in denial."

"Bats."

Every bat and bird in Gotham goes still.

"Hood?" Barbara asks carefully, already tracking his comm link.

"Oracle," he says, clipped. "I'm gonna get right to it: I need a favor. Can you help? Yes or no."

"Little Wing, where have you been?" Dick asks. "We've all—"

"Shut up, Nightwing," Jason growls. "Either you help me or not. Which is it?"

"We'll help you, Hood," Bruce says, voice washing over Jason like a balm.

Jason takes a deep breath. It's okay. He'll find you. Batman always beats the bad guys.

He fiddles with his jacket zipper. Moments tick by. Dick remains crouched on a rooftop. Damian is similarly poised.

"My..." Jason swallows. "My... fiancé's been taken."

The comm explodes with noise. Jason winces and digs the bud out of his ear for several seconds.

"Fiancé?!"

"You're getting married—"

"When was this—"

"Who are—"

"Enough," Jason growls, finally shoving the bud back into his ear. "I don't have fucking time for this. Yes, I am engaged, and they've been taken. No more questions."

"Tt. You are engaged? Impossible. Batman, clearly someone has hacked the line pretending to be Hood," Damian says, folding his arms.

Jason rolls his eyes. "Believe it or not, demon bird, I found someone crazy enough to marry me."

"Little Wing, I—I'm really proud of—"

"Shut up!" Jason pinches the bridge of his nose. This was a bad idea. You're in trouble, and Jason intends to tear Gotham apart to find you, but involving his family? Has he really stooped so low...

Deep breath. His focus is you. You're the only person that matters.

"Look, I'm telling you because Oracle's tracking me anyway, and B would snoop until he figured out who I'm really looking for, so it's easier to just tell you. But make no mistake: you aren't my family, and you won't see us again after tonight."

Bruce's throat tightens. His cape flutters in the wind.

"Very well," he says after a couple beats. "Last known location?"

"I'm sending you the address now. I've retraced my steps a hundred times though, and I can't—" Jason grits his teeth. He can't tear up or break things, not again. "Fuck. I can't fucking find them, B. I... I don't know if-if maybe I'm too late—"

"You're not," Dick says automatically. "We'll find them, Little Wing. We'll bring them home."

****

Your head is on fire.

It feels like there's a thousand needles pelting your skull. Whatever you were drugged with, it's hard stuff, and it hasn't worn away yet.

You look up; you're gagged and tied to some kind of support beam. As your vision clears, you see that you're in one of the new high rise-in-progress. Only the skeleton of the building has been completed because if Bruce Wayne isn't involved, construction takes forever to complete.

Faintly, you recall Jason mentioning something about a construction company leaving half finished projects across the country and using them as havens for criminal activities.

Yeah. This is not good.

"Where the fuck is he?" The voice echoes across the concrete floor foundation.

"Mike, we sent—"

"I don't give a fuck what you did; obviously, you screwed up! He's not coming!"

You close your eyes, trying not to throw up on your gag. Your head spins when you open your eyes again.

Who's not coming? Your rescuer? Or somebody worse than your kidnappers?

You try to take a deep breath, but your chest tightens instead.

"Fine," Mike barks in the adjacent room. "If that hooded psychopath doesn't show up, we'll just dump this one. That'll send a message. Prepare the explosives."

A door swings open, and you flinch. You cower, shrinking from the figure.

"You better hope he shows," the guy growls, and cocks his gun. "Your boyfriend is the only reason you're still alive. It'll be such fun to watch him fall to his death, don't you think?"

You try not to show your swelling panic. How does he know about you and Jason? And you have to warn him. Explosives. Jason's walking straight into a trap, without backup, because you know he'll be alone. He always works alone.

Mike sneers and waves the gun around.

"Oh, yeah. I know your secrets. In bed with Gotham's biggest crime lord. You must be his favorite. I can see why."

"Mike!" someone shouts. "We got company!"

Mike's eyes blaze cruelly. "Showtime. You're coming with me."

You thrash as hard as you can because if there's one thing Jason taught you, it's to always fight back.

Mike backhands you hard enough to send you sprawling. Your hands are bound, so you can't catch yourself, and you hit your head on the concrete. Blood pools in your gums.

"Try that shit again, bitch," he snarls, and hefts you up.

He drags you up a flight of stairs. Your head throbs, and now your jaw aches. You're too dizzy to try to fight back again.

You end up on the roof, which is a miasma of beams and wooden lattices. Wind cuts through your face, and you close your eyes so they don't water.

"Hood!" Mike crows. "Wonderful of you to join us!"

"Wish I could say the same," Jason says, and your heart leaps at the sound of his voice.

You start to shout through your gag because you have to warn him. It's a trap, he'll kill you both—

Mike wraps his arm around your throat and squeezes. Air stops, and you choke on your cries.

"I'll kill you," Jason snarls, and you know he wants to say more, but he's trying to protect you. "Let them go and maybe I won't break every bone in your body."

"Oh, don't worry. You two will be reunited soon. What is it they say? Love blinds you?"

"Michael Cassidy," a new voice says, deep and deadly. "Let go of the hostage. We can talk this out."

You crack open your eyes. Is that... Batman? And Robin? And... Nightwing? What—

The arm around your throat tightens and you gasp for air as you start to choke for real. Oh God. Batman's going to die because of you.

"You involved Batman?" Mike snarls, now truly irate. You feel yourself being dragged backward, toward the edge. Your stomach rolls in warning.

"Take it easy," Batman says, palms up. "We can work this out."

"You can't play fair?" Mike shouts. "Then neither will I!"

The wood beneath your feet is gone. You're falling.

"No!"

But no sooner than you fall are you caught. Warm arms encircle your waist, and you're jerked to a stop before you can fall more than a few feet.

"I got you, baby, I got you."

Jason is connected to a grapple. At the roof edge is Batman, Nightwing, and Spoiler, all holding the grapple.

You shake your head, screaming against your gag. Bomb. Bomb!

"'S alright, 's alright, sweetheart, I won't drop you."

You scream urgently through your gag, butting your head against his helmet. Jason pulls your gag half free and you choke out the warning.

"B-bomb!"

His grip tightens. "Shit. B, get out of here! Place is rigged to blow!"

The first explosion goes off. Jason meets your gaze. He's terrified, you can tell, but he tries to mask it.

"Let go," he says.

"Wh—"

"He'll catch you," Jason promises. "I trust him."

And then he lets go.

Several more explosions go off. The building begins to crumble. Dust and heat sweep across your face and lodge in your already sore throat. You scream, in the air for a few more seconds.

Then you crash into gray body armor. A cowl, a cape.

"It's alright," Batman gruffly says. "Hold on tight."

Batman swings you both to safety on an adjacent rooftop. You watch him dive back into the flames. It isn't long before Jason swings out of the smoke, then the others. He pulls off his helmet and tosses it to the side, arms open.

You run and bury your face in Jason's neck, clinging to him. He hugs your tightly and rubs your back, saying over and over, I got you.

You sigh and slacken out of exhaustion.

"I've got you, baby," he says, though his voice is wet this time. "You're safe."

Jason checks over your wounds. You see the rage cross his face several times at every bruise and cut on you. He doesn't let go of you even after he's done. He's shaking too, perhaps more than you, as he cuts your binds and completely removes your gag.

The Bats land gracefully behind you. Jason stiffens as they do.

You kiss his jaw. His gaze returns to you.

"You saved me," you say.

"I always will," he says. "Always."

"Are either of you injured?"

Batman suddenly swishes to your side. You blink, startled.

"Nothing serious," you say. Jason grunts unhappily at that. You manage a smile. "Thank you. All of you. Thank you so much."

Jason nods stiffly. "Thanks, Bats."

Nightwing smiles, face soft with affection. "'Course, Hood. And, uh, Hood's fiancé. We're there any time you need us."

"That's right, chum," Batman says. The obvious care in his voice makes you ache.

Jason had called his family. His family with whom he has a plethora of problems. He'd called them for you.

"Jay," you say, voice thick with emotion. He seems to understand instantly.

"I'll always bring you home," he vows, cupping your face. "Whatever it takes."

He pulls you to him like he can't bear to be away from you any longer.

You squeeze his wrists. "I know. It's okay, Jay. I'm okay."

Out of the corner of your eye, you see that the Bats still have not dispersed. Spoiler looks like she's about to melt into a puddle. Nightwing is the same. Even Batman looks a little sentimental.

Robin is the only one scowling, tapping his foot impatiently.

"Hood, are you not going to introduce your fiance-we-just-learned-existed-tonight?" Robin asks, arms folded.

Jason huffs. "Not with those manners, demon brat."

You roll your eyes and extend your hand to Batman. You say your name, smiling.

"It's an honor to meet you, sir," you say.

Batman laughs, and it sounds a little fond. It's also kind of weird to hear Batman laugh. "No sir necessary. It's equally an honor to meet the person my son is marrying."

Jason makes a choked little noise. You beam.

"Well," Batman murmurs. "We'll let you two get home. We'll track down the rest of Michael's thugs—"

"Come to the wedding," Jason blurts.

Batman stills. "Me?" he asks carefully.

"Everybody," Jason says, tugging you into his side. "Uncle Clark, Aunt Diana, Selina, your ten thousand kids, everyone."

He turns to you. "I-I mean, as long as that's okay with you, baby."

"Oh, Jay. It's your family. Of course I want them to come." You lean in to whisper in his ear. "I'm proud of you."

"Little Wing, c'mere!"

Nightwing tackles Jason in a hug, then drags Robin, who protests loudly, in by his cape. Spoiler snaps a picture from the sideline.

"Now that's adorable," she says.

Batman looks at you. He removes his cowl, and you gasp quietly. He smiles, and it makes him look decades younger. You guess he hasn't smiled much since he lost Jason.

"Thank you," he says.

You tilt your head. "For what?"

"For bringing him back to us."

You duck your head. "Oh, Mr. Wayne, that wasn't me—"

"Bruce," he corrects gently. "And it was. You played a bigger part than you know. You saved him. Thank you."

[general-fanfiction]

Hopes And Fears. (Wally Clark x Reader)

Summary: Y/N’s death is traumatic. So traumatic in fact, she can’t even look at Wally without reliving what happened to her.

Word Count: 3,073

Gif Not Mine. Requests are open!

Warnings: Violence, Swear Words, Hints Of Rape?

I’m not too sure how I feel about this to be honest but it’s my first fic since coming back and I would love to write for Wally more so please send requests! I might continue with this if people like it, I’m not sure yet though.

“Homecoming game tonight. Are you nervous?”

Closing my locker, I look to my left to see Abby, my best friend since elementary school. We’re inseparable. People find it odd that we look like we are complete opposites and yet we are the platonic loves of each other's lives. She’s a very loud and extroverted theater kid, I’m quiet, shy and introverted. Though in a weird turn of events, I became head cheerleader. Kind of ironic right?

“I’m not too worried. We’ve been rehearsing everyday, sometimes twice a day. I think we might actually have our best routine yet, I just hope we can pull it off.”

“You’ll be great, you always are. Besides I heard Spencer is going to ask you to be his date for homecoming.”

Abby’s words catch me off guard. Spencer is the Split River High quarterback. While typically the head cheerleader and quarterback are perfect for each other, I’m way below his level that the thought of us being together is ridiculous. I couldn’t even imagine it, that’s how ludicrous the idea of us is. Not that I would complain, Spencer is model level attractive, an academic genius and of course, insanely popular. Any girl would die to be his homecoming date. Me included.

“Don’t be stupid.” The blush on my cheeks is a vibrant red as I speak, leaning against my locker with my books clenched against my chest.

“I’m being serious. Some of the other football guys were talking about it in study hall. Apparently he’s got some sort of big surprise planned.”

Her grin is wide, clearly happy for me, though I can’t match it. I still don’t believe it, that sort of thing does not happen to girls like me. Guys aren’t interested in girls like me. That’s just the way high school works, maybe I’ll blossom when I head off to college at the end of this year but for now, guys keep their distance. My mom always told me that high school guys like girls that are easy and that because I know my worth, guys don’t even attempt it. I’ve always hated that idea though. If nothing else but for the slightly sexist and anti-feminist ideals that it pushes.

“Not to alarm you Y/N but he’s walking down the hallway.” Abby tells me, grabbing my forearm tightly, obviously excited. “I think he’s headed this way so that’s my cue. Have fun, text me all the details!”

With that she scurries away, flashing me a cheesy smile over her shoulder as she speeds down the hallway. Almost bumping into several other students as she does so. I laugh slightly, always entertained by her antics before hearing the metal of the locker next to me clang at the sound of somebody leaning against it.

“Mind if I steal you for a second Y/N?”

Spencer’s voice is charming and smooth, a relaxed smirk on his face as he stares down at me. His eyes are intoxicating and I feel as though I’m drowning in them. There’s no way Abby could be right. God, if she is I’ll never hear the end of it. Maybe I could live with that though, especially if it does result in Spencer potentially being my boyfriend.

“Sure, yeah, okay.”

Spencer’s smirk grows wider, and as he leans in to take my hand in his, I catch a whiff of his cologne. A dark musk that matches the darkness of his eyes and hair perfectly, it takes everything in me not to collapse right then and there. My senses are completely heightened and I can feel the roughness of his hand against my palm. The butterflies in my stomach make me feel as though I’m about to explode from my nerves and before I know it we’ve made our way to the old block of showers that were closed in 2004, following an incident involving an inappropriate relationship between a student and gym coach. New showers were remodeled and these were left to decay.

Spencer takes my books out of my hands, placing them on the bench that sits in the center of the room before turning to face me. His hand gently cups my cheek and although his smile is soft and loving. His eyes hold a mischievous glint. Without saying anything he leans down to kiss me, unprepared and a little shocked I step backwards.

“I didn’t know you wanted to kiss me. I didn’t even know you liked me.” I tell him, shuffling backwards again as he continues to approach me.

“Everybody likes you. I’ve just been wanting to save this for a special occasion, and what better time than homecoming?”

With my back pressed against the wall, a soft smile forms on my face as he cages me in. Though it doesn’t feel threatening, it feels new and exciting and my insides are on fire waiting to see what happens. I feel as though I finally understand what the cringey teen movies are talking about when they discuss sex and love and passion.

“I really like you Spencer.” I whisper, voice barely audible, gazing up at him through my lashes.

He laughs, pushing his hair out of his face before leaning down once again. This time his lips do touch mine and it’s nothing like I imagined. He’s rough, hands moving down to grab my breasts , almost painfully. The softness from before clearly disappeared. As much as it is a dream come true to be making out with the guy of my dreams, I’m still disappointed that this is how my first kiss turned out. His tongue forces its way into my mouth and its uncomfortable, I know this isn’t how it is supposed to go. As I try to pull away, to allow myself some air, his hand grips my throat, holding me in place. Continuing his almost aggressive movements.

“Yo Spence, did you get the bitch?”

Finally, he pulls away. I manage to take in some air despite his hand still wrapped around my neck. He’s looking over his shoulder, nodding his head. The rest of the football team stands in the doorway, menacing looks on their faces as they see me in such a vulnerable position. I hear the click of the door lock, and the butterflies in my stomach don’t feel so good anymore. The energy in the room shifts to one of darkness and evil, no trace of kindness and love.

Spencer looks at me, and for the first time in my life, I fear for my safety. This is not the same guy that I was obsessed with. There is no sign of human emotion on his face, no sympathy or pity. Gripping his hand to try and pry it away from my throat, I feel the tears begin to prick in the corners of my eyes and upon seeing my reaction, he smiles. My pain is his pleasure. Despite my attempts at removing his hand, his grip only gets tighter and I’m pushed further against the wall.

“Let’s have some fun boys.”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A dull ache radiates through my body, pushing through the pain, I force myself to stand up. Staring at the room around me, I wonder if I was dreaming. However, with no sign of my books on the bench, I take that as confirmation that what I experienced did truly happen. Blood splatters the walls and floor but with no sign of injury on my body, I refuse to believe it’s mine. Sure, what happened was bad, but not that bad.

Not wanting to stay in this room any longer, I quickly make my way to the exit, pushing open the door with more force than necessary causing it to slam against the outside wall. Making the shy looking boy who happens to be standing outside jump. I smile apologetically, about to make my way past him when I notice what he’s wearing. Clad in double denim with round glasses, he looks straight out of Friends.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to come in because I thought you might feel kind of exposed but I wanted to introduce myself.” He says quietly, holding out his hand for me to shake. “I’m Charlie.”

Shifting my gaze between his hand and his face, my mind can’t really comprehend what is happening. Why am I suddenly meeting someone new? By the old shower block of all places, especially after what has just happened to me. The confusion on my face must be obvious as he smiles before revoking his hand.

“You haven’t worked it out yet have you?” He asks, almost as though he doesn’t want to push me.

“You’re dead, cherry pop.”

Looking to my right, I spot a girl sat against the wall, blue lollipop between her lips that has stained them ever so slightly. Wearing a black turtleneck with a matching cap and pinstripe pants, she’s the kind of girl that would intimidate me had I seen her walking down the street. Who am I kidding? She still intimidates me.

“Rhonda, Mr Martin told us to be gentle with her!”

“I’m sorry, I actually have somewhere to be but you two look great.” I tell them, beginning to walk away and head towards the main school building.

“Did you not hear me? You’re dead, you don’t have anywhere to be.” The girl, I’m assuming Rhonda, shouts after me, causing me to stop in my tracks.

“Look I don’t know what sort of joke this is, but it’s not funny. Seriously, go find some other kid to pick on.”

As I walk into the school building, I begin my mission of searching for Abby, hoping I can find her in the auditorium or even the costume department. My search doesn’t take too long, as my assumptions proved correct. She is sitting on the stage, the theater club’s newest script in one hand and her phone in the other. Our text thread open on her screen, as I sit myself beside her, she doesn’t even acknowledge me, eyes flicking between her phone and the script.

“Abby, I need to tell you something but you have to swear you will not tell anyone.”

She completely ignores me, flipping the page of her script. Its as if I’m invisible to her, a joke that isn’t funny. Waving my hand in front of her face in an attempt to get her attention also proves futile as she doesn’t even look up. Glancing at her phone I notice she’s messaged me multiple times asking me of my whereabouts, telling me she’s seen Spencer but she didn’t see me with him, asking me if I am his homecoming date.

“Abby, seriously? This is important, your show can wait.”

“She can’t hear you.” Charlie says, him and Rhonda standing in front of me, arms resting on the edge of the stage. “Or see you, we’re invisible to them. Nothing you do is going to change that.”

“I don’t get it, why isn’t she answering me?” I ask, panic starting to set it as I grow more and more confused at my situation.

“Oh my god, do I really have to tell you again? Are you that fucking stupid? You’re dead. D-E-A-D. Deceased. Not living.” Rhonda speaks slowly, using a voice you would use for a child.

“I can’t be dead. There’s no way, it’s just not possible.”

“Yeah it takes some getting used to, but we’re all friends and you’ll come to terms with it soon enough. Mr Martin’s support group helps too.” Charlie tells me, smiling encouragingly as I watch Abby walk away with some of the other theater kids.

“Support group?” I ask, hopping off the stage to stand with the only two people that can see me.

“Come on, we’ll take you.” Rhonda states, almost as if it's more of a chore and not like she offered to take me.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sitting in a circle with the rest of the group, I can’t help my heart racing as I spot the football player sitting amongst everyone. He reminds me of Spencer and that’s what makes me nervous, or maybe it’s just the fact that he plays football. Either way I can’t help but feel on edge, hence why I placed myself in the furthest seat from him.

As I take in the rest of the room, I notice the basketball team playing further down the court. Not aware of the existence of the group of ghosts sat in a circle like they’re in an AA meeting. It feels so surreal, almost like an intricate nightmare that I will wake up from at any moment. Yet everything I’ve seen so far has been pretty real.

“We have a new student, would you like to introduce yourself?” The only teacher, who I am guessing is Mr Martin asks, as I feel all eyes divert their attention towards me.

The football player has a gentle aura around him, smiling at me as he waits for an answer to Mr Martin’s question. I look away quickly, unable to face the feelings of sickness in my stomach that I get when I look at him.

“I’m Y/N.”

The group mumbles a chorus of welcomes as I stare at the floor, still struggling to come to terms with the fact that I am actually dead.

“It’s hard at first, but I’m grateful that you decided to give the group a shot. It helps us all to move forward instead of focusing on our deaths and the past.” Mr Martin tells me, offering a look of sympathy. “Charlie, Rhonda, thank you for being Y/N’s guide, I’m sure it was very helpful.”

“So how did you die? In the old showers clearly, but that’s gotta be an interesting story right?” Rhonda asks, her eyes piercing into me as she places the lollipop back between her lips.

“Rhonda, you can’t just ask people that. Let her get used to us at least.”

His voice startles me, it’s as gentle as his aura. Soft and ever so charming. The protection in his tone is obvious as though he doesn’t wanna frighten me away and I glance at him for a moment. His football shirt sits perfectly against his toned chest and a gold chain hangs delicately from his neck. He’s beautiful. Truly beautiful.

“I’m Wally by the way, Wally Clark.” His voice is directed at me, staring at me intently.

At that moment, I can’t help but be transported back to before. Remembering my screams and pleads for them to stop. Praying someone would hear me and come to my rescue. They never did. They never stopped.

Jumping up from my chair, I feel myself getting worked up as I sprint out of the room. Terrified of reliving the past. Finding myself in an abandoned hallway, I slide against the wall until I’m sitting on the cold linoleum floor. Staring at the lockers as I try to calm my breathing.

“Hey, hey, are you okay?” Charlie asks, crouching in front of me with a concerned expression on his face. “Wally’s shitting himself thinking he did something wrong. I told him to hang back while I spoke to you.”

I let the tears fall down my face as I stare up at Charlie, feeling guilty that I’ve potentially upset an innocent boy because of my own trauma. I can’t go back to the group, I know I can’t. It would be in the best interests of every other ghost if I do my best to simply avoid Wally. That way nobody gets hurt.

“I’m sorry Charlie. I can’t do it, I can’t go back to the group. I can’t see him in that fucking uniform. I just can’t, I’m sorry.” My sobs are uncontrollable and I feel bad even just for putting Charlie through this when he’s known me for all of two hours.

“It’s okay, you’re okay. Is it the uniform, we can get him to change I’m sure, I know it’s not the best look but it is all he had since he died in his shoulder pads and all.”

I can’t help but let out a small laugh, wiping the tears from my face with the sleeves of my jumper. Charlie offers me his hand to help me stand up which I take graciously. He places a hand on my shoulder as a sign of encouragement, along with a gentle smile.

“I mean it Charlie. I can’t go back to the group. I don’t want to relive the memories.”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“She’s adamant she’s not coming back.” Charlie tells the group, all of them awaiting the answers he has for them as to why the new girl ran away. “I don’t think it’s anything personal Wally but she said she can’t see you in that uniform and I think she may have had something happen regarding the football players. I don't wanna speculate though.”

“So, what? Her footballer boyfriend cheated on her and now she can’t look at poor, innocent Wally because it reminds her of him?” Rhonda asks, unimpressed by the lack of answers Charlie has.

“No, I think it’s something more than that. Something deeper. I’m sure she’ll tell us when she’s ready but for now, I would stop wearing the uniform Wally.”

The footballer didn’t need to be told twice, he instantly pulls the shirt over his head leaving him in only a tight, white tank top. Charlie smiles in appreciation, while Rhonda scoffs slightly upon seeing his muscular arms.

“Okay, so I’ve ditched the uniform, should I apologize or what?” Wally asks, looking at the group to gauge their reactions.

“Maybe now isn’t a good time Wally.” Mr Martin states, trying to think rationally. “I’d give it a day or so.”

“Or maybe just leave her alone for a while. Let her come out of her shell a bit first.” Charlie interjects.

“Yeah, let's not hurt cherry pop’s feelings.” Rhonda replies sarcastically, staring directly at Charlie.

As the rest of the group session continues, Wally stays silent, playing with the football uniform in his hands as he attempts to figure out different ways to apologize. To help her feel more at home in her new life, and potentially help her overcome the trauma of her death. Despite not managing to come up with a good idea, he does decide one thing. He will do whatever it takes to make her feel safe and become her friend.

[theocddiaries]

Clark: You do this every time. We meet a new friend. They say one thing you don't like and you just write 'em off. Bruce: I do not. Clark: Oh, really? What about "But yet" Rachel? Bruce: "I'd love to go, but yet I don't feel like parking." It's either "but" or "yet," not both. Clark: You're lucky no one's kicked your butt yet. What about Thomas? You wrote him off because he serves a salad after the meal… which, by the way, is very common in Europe. Bruce: What part of Europe is he from? Pretentious-tan? Clark: Okay, fine. Keep judging. Don't let anyone in. I could care less. Bruce: I think you mean you couldn't care less, because if you could care less, it means you care a little bit. Clark: …I'm going to the hot tub. If I stay here one more minute, my head is literally gonna explode. Bruce: I hope not, because if you mean literally… Clark: I DON'T FEEL SAFE IN MY OWN HOME! Bruce: …

[envysparkler]

In a world where Batman never joined the Justice League, Superman rescues Robin in Ethiopia.

Batman arrives at the exploded warehouse, too late as usual, but Superman is there. Superman tells Batman he took Jason to Themyscira to heal from his wounds, and Batman demands to be taken there as well.

In this universe, Batman has a strong suspicion of the Justice League. His demand for the League to stay out of Gotham is half-fear, since the League is full of gods and aliens that he cannot hope to beat in a fair fight. To make matters worse, Dick left Gotham for Bludhaven, took a Kryptonian name, and refuses to talk to him.

Of course, in response to Batman's standoffishness, the Justice League doesn't much like him either.

Themyscira is Not Happy that Batman's there. They're happy to heal Jason, but an adult man who radiates hostility? They only let in Batman on Superman's word, and Wonder Woman demands Batman disarm completely and follow all their rules. So Bruce is left weaponless on an island of people far stronger than he is and are predisposed to despise him.

When Jason wakes up fully, he gets into old arguments with Bruce and screams at him to leave him alone. Bruce is forcibly escorted out and more than one person comments on his parenting skills.

Things come to a head at some festival-type thing that Bruce is forced to attend. He drinks something that makes him feel very fuzzy, snapping the razor thin control over his panic, and has a breakdown. Wonder Woman calls for Superman, but that doesn't help, Bruce just begs Superman not to take Jason away from him like he took Dick.

Bruce passes out. When he wakes up the next day, he runs immediately to Jason's room--his heart stops when he sees Superman there. Clark gently asks him how much he remembered of the previous night and Bruce is unable to fully hide his fear. Clark promises he won't take Jason away. Jason, for all his snappishness, is very alarmed at the idea of being taken away from Bruce, and clings tight to his father, hissing at anyone who tries to separate them.

Diana apologizes for their mistaken assumptions and his treatment here, and Clark finally flies them both back to Gotham for Jason to complete his treatment there. Bruce really only calms back down when he gets to the Cave and confirms that there are no Justice League members anywhere near Gotham.

The next day, there's a knock on the door. Dick looks uncertain of his welcome, but Clark was very insistent he show up to correct some misunderstandings. Bruce hugs him tight and refuses to let go of either of his sons for quite some time.

[kingofthelizardpeople]

Attention- Yan!Caitlin Clark x Reader

"Caity?" You asked, pouting at the star athlete. For multiple minutes now you tried to talk to her, only for either no reply at all or a distant grunt coming out as a response.

It's been months since Caitlin made her move onto you and you rather quickly began to adjust to your girlfriends 'quirks'. She wouldn't have it any other way anyway. You could even just suggest going gift shopping for her and the brunette would explode at the mere idea of you going somewhere without her. It was like arguing to a wall. Given Caitlins tall frame and noticeable biceps, this applied in multiple ways.

But maybe you have been adjusting to quickly. To a point where Caitlin isn't the only one feeling entitled to the others constant attention. To be fair, it's not like you had anyone else to get attention from, so it stung even harder when Caity ignored you.

"I'm leaving-" You could barely mutter your sentence, having slowly crept to the door, before Caitlins head shoots up. "What?"

It wasn't a reaction of sadness, confusion or bewilderment. Maybe they all played parts in it, but mostly it was anger. Anger that YOU would even think about leaving.

Of course, you didn't want to leave. This was all a plan to get the point guards attention and you got it. But what would you do now?

There were barely 5 seconds between you finishing your sentence and Caitlin pinning you against the wall, getting so close you could feel her breath. "You're not fucking leaving"

You didn't respond. For one, how could you respond to this? And second... a dominant Caitlin is the best Caitlin.

"C-Caity-" "What?!" "N-Need you..."

You almost whimpered against her as her grip onto you tightened

"I-I just wanted you"

Caitlin doesn't reply, her eyes darting around your face, trying to think about how she should react. You're desperation for her is pretty cute, but she has to kill the idea of you leaving before it even starts to become real.

As soon as her grip loosens, you instinctively nudge against her, your head fitting against her neck almost perfectly.

For the rest of the day you most certainly had Caitlins attention. She never left your side and payed attention to your every word. But she would always make sure for you to understand who's in charge.

Was it really worth it?

Yes, obviously

[frownyalfred]

eye in the sky has captured my ENTIRE brain and i was thinking back to how in an earlier ask you were imagining bruce eventually blowing the watchtower out of the sky like holy shit

bc like for bruce to blow the whole thing up with himself inside, he’s gotta distract the other regime members yeah? like j’onn and hal and diana and everyone - but especially kal. between the super strength, telepathy, super speed, super senses, laser eyes, etc. he Has to incapacitate them or they will be able to physically stop him from exploding the base and duke from escaping.

cause i imagine that after so many years it’s not like bruce can just pull out some kryptonite or lead or red sun lamps or whatever, kal would’ve destroyed those long ago. and now i have this image in my head of superman being weakened for the first time in actual years, unable to reach bruce to stop him, and the two of them screaming at each other over the comms system all of the grievances bruce has been unable to say

bruce (and especially batman) is a character defined by hope and his faith in people, but the hostage situation is so perfect for engineering him losing that faith in clark being so so resentful over all the abuses he and his family have suffered at clark’s hands. he reminds me of that mountain goats line “i hope you die i hope we both die” and it’s making me crazy they are SO unwell in this au

Mhmmm. I’m not sure if it fits but this made me think about what that scene could look like. And I think it would hurt extra special if Bruce managed to capture Kal in a chamber of energy field of some sort in the Watchtower (maybe something he was painstakingly building from scratch pieces over the years in secret) and he starts the detonation sequence and just…locks both him and Kal in the room together, with Kal in the chamber and Bruce sitting with his back up against the wall, holding the remote to trigger the final sequence and slowly bleeding out (maybe he was injured trying to trap Kal? Help the kids escape?)

And Kal is SCREAMING at him. Pleading with him. Begging him not to do this. Because Kal will live — even weakened and in the chamber, he’ll probably survive the explosion. But Bruce won’t.

[bloatedandalone04]

Dangerously - Too Close Part 1

Series Masterlist

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 7.2k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine <3

Leon’s brain felt like it was about to explode from how much information he was taking in. Your father led him down one of the many halls of your house, the older man a few steps ahead of him as he continued to talk away. 

As Leon kept up with his boss, his eyes looked at the various paintings that hung on the tall walls, ones he had passed by many times now. He no longer asked himself why on earth your dad needed this big of a house when it was just him and you, his only child from his marriage with your mother. She had long since passed and he never remarried, so the space of the house was questionable at first.

But then Leon realized your dad just liked to show off. 

“I know the scumbags are hiding around town, but I haven’t been able to find them,” your dad continued, whiskey glass in hand as he turned around to face the younger man. “I need you and a couple others to keep an eye out. We need to take these fuckers by surprise. This is a nice part of town, I won’t let them ruin it.”

Leon nodded, his eyes not meeting the eyes of his boss as he swirled the liquid around in the glass. “Yes, sir,” he said. “I won’t let you down, Clark.”

Your father gave a quick nod before downing the rest of the whiskey. “I have to refill this, then we’ll go over possible hiding places,” he turned and headed towards the den, leaving Leon to stand still in the middle of the hall.

He was about to follow after the man but stopped when he felt a hand wrap around his wrist and pull him into the room next to him. Leon had failed to realize that the hallway they stopped in was the one that connected to your room, despite him being in there countless times now. 

You closed the door quietly, leaving an inch or two open to be able to hear when your father came back. Grabbing Leon’s hands, you pressed yourself against your wardrobe and pulled his body against yours. “God, you two talk for a long time,” you mutter as you bring your hands up to rest on his chest.

Leon gave you a shrug and a smirk. “It’s just business, baby,” he replied, his hands gripping your waist as he looked down at your outfit. “What is this?”

The shirt was lacy and flowed with every movement you made, the fabric thin but not to the point of it being see-through. It was paired with white underwear that was made up of more lace and completed with a bow just above the most private part of you. “It’s new,” you grin up at him, your fingers pinching the fabric of his shirt gently. “Do you like it?”

Leon held back a groan at the innocent look you gave him, knowing damn well you had a darker side to you that he had seen first hand. He had experienced it more times than one and in this very bedroom. 

You trail your hands higher, your fingers pressing into his tense shoulders as you pout your bottom lip. “I got it for you,” you hum, leaning up just a bit so your cleavage was on display in the dark room. “I know how much you love me in this color.”

Fuck, did he ever. 

The color white made you look like you came straight from the doors of heaven, a fallen angel that landed right in the palm of his hand. His for the taking, his to corrupt. “Fuck,” he muttered, not bothering the hold back the throaty groan this time as it spilled from his lips. “Are you trying to get me killed?”

There was no way around it. Leon wouldn’t be fired if your father found out he was sleeping with you - and had been for a while now - no, he’d be killed right then and there. A bullet would be lodged in his head so quickly, his body wouldn’t know how to react fast enough to prevent it. 

But, somehow, it was worth it. You were worth it. 

You laughed quietly, locking your arms around his neck as you stood on the tips of your toes and brushed your nose against his. “I would never,” you murmur, your lips brushing against his as you speak. “Never want you to leave me.”

Leon hummed as he leaned closer and connected your lips in a proper kiss. You sigh into it, wrapping your arms tighter around him as he pressed himself firmly against you. One of his hands pressed flat against the door of your wardrobe behind you while his other bunched up your shirt. “Good,” he mumbled against your mouth, taking his hand off the wood and reaching into his pocket. He gave you two more kisses before pulling away and holding up the necklace he got earlier in the week. “Because it would be really awkward if you were to break up with me before I got the chance to give you this.”

Looking at the charm that hung from the chain, you squealed quietly, your hands sliding down and resting on his back. “What’s the occasion?” You ask as you admire the way the moonlight reflected off the metal. 

Leon pulled you into him as he clipped the necklace onto you, his focus slipping away as he felt you place open mouth kisses on his neck. “Seven months is a long time for me,” he answered when he pulled away to look at you fully. “And I love you.”

You grin up at him, your cheeks tinted pink as you place a hand over the charm that rested against the base of your neck. Leon lifted the chain and showed you the back of the heart shaped charm, smirking proudly when your eyes widened. 

L.K was carved into the metal, hidden away from everyone as it was the side that would rest closest to your skin. It was his way of marking you, claiming you, even, without getting his head blown off by your father. 

You shake your head as it falls back against your chest. “I love it,” you murmur, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “And I love you.” 

Leon hums again and closes the space between you, his lips pressing to yours in a heated kiss. Your arms lock around his neck once again and one of your thighs lifts up and wraps around his waist with the help of his hand. His fingers dig into your bare skin as he presses his front against yours completely, giving one swift grind of his hips. He swallows the moan you emit and uses his other hand to tightly hold your waist. 

Before he could create more friction, the sound of your father calling him from the hallway had him breaking the kiss. You groaned quietly as your leg left his waist and you grabbed his hand, tugging him into your bathroom. It had two doors, one that led into your room, and one that was connected to the hallway your dad was currently in. 

Pressing one final kiss to your lips, Leon let you push him into the room and close the door behind him. He wipes his mouth with his thumb before leaving the bathroom and nearly running into the man himself. “Sorry, sir,” he said as your dad looked him up and down. “The whiskey from earlier went right through me.”

Just then, your bedroom door opened and you stepped out into the hall, your flimsy pajamas - and the necklace Leon had just put on you - hidden underneath your housecoat. “Are you guys still talking about business?” You played dumb, pretending you had no idea what they were really talking about. “It’s late.”

Leon held back a smirk at how easily you fooled your dad. “Sorry, sweetie,” he says, putting his glass down and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I didn’t know you were still up.”

You shrugged, giving him an innocent smile, playing up the good girl act you had long since been corrupted from. “It’s okay,” you glance between the two men, hiding the growing grin by saying, “It’s almost midnight, maybe Leon should just stay here tonight and you guys can finish talking in the morning.”

Your dad looked in thought for a few seconds before shrugging once. “Sure, I guess that would be fine,” 

You and Leon share a quick look before your father turns to him. “There’s a guest room just at the end of this hall,” he picked up the glass again and emptied it before turning to you. “Y/n/n, would you please show him where it is? I’m off to bed.”

Nodding, you press a kiss to his cheek. “Of course. Goodnight, dad,” you answer sweetly, watching as he walks away. You grab Leon’s hand and pull him down the hall, standing outside the guest room door. “Wait for me. He usually falls asleep really quickly, so wait for me. Don’t fall asleep.”

Your boyfriend laughs, lacing his fingers with yours. “Yes, ma’am,”

Pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, you push him into the room before hurriedly walking back to yours, your hand reaching out to flip the lightswitch off and letting the hallway fall into complete darkness. 

After waiting in your room for a good ten minutes, you run your fingers through your hair a few times before peeking out into the hallway. Your room was a fair distance from your dad’s, so it wasn’t like you could hear him snoring to ensure he was asleep. Still, you creeped quietly down the hall and opened the door to the guest room.

Leon was lying on the bed, the covers messily thrown back. His shirt was off, as were his jeans, leaving him only in his black boxer briefs. 

The room was dark, the only light coming from the moon that peered through the curtains that were left slightly open. It made the atmosphere more private and felt as though you weren’t sneaking around in a house that belonged to your father - sneaking around with one of his best men, not to mention.

Leon’s arm was draped over his face, so you weren’t sure if he heard you come in or not. He definitely felt the dip in the bed, though, as you kneel on it, your fingers playing with the string on your housecoat. 

Moving further up the bed, you let your free hand run up the length of his thigh, your featherlight touch creating goosebumps on his skin. “The old man asleep yet?” He asked, keeping his arm over his eyes.

You hum, straddling his waist as the fabric falls off your shoulders and pools around your middle. “He won’t be up for hours,” you murmur, your voice quiet even though there was no way your father would be able to hear you as his room was even further from the guest room.

“Hmm,” Leon blindly reaches his hand out and grabs your waist. “So, what I’m hearing is that I finally get you all to myself after listening to your father go on and on for hours about some drug ring in the area?”

Tugging the housecoat away from you and dropping it on the ground, you lean forward and place your palms on his toned chest, your fingers running over the defined lines. When he moves his arm and makes eye contact with you, your head nods a few times in answer to his question. 

Both his hands are gripping your waist tightly now, a possessive and dangerous glint in his eyes that has your legs squeezing around his middle. “Worth it,” he mumbled, one of his hands reaching up and grabbing the back of your neck. He brings your body down to rest on top of his as his lips connect to yours, his other hand sliding up and bunching the fabric of your flimsy top as it did so. “God, today was brutal. Thought about you every second I was stuck with your dad.”

You hum against his mouth, one of your hands sliding down to palm him through the material of his boxers. You swallow his low groan by kissing him harder before pulling away to look at him. “Never thought I’d be jealous of my own father,” you mutter, your lips brushing against his. “But I don’t think it’s fair that he gets to see you more than I do.”

Leon cursed when you pressed your hand harder against him, his eyes staring into yours.

“I’ve been feeling so lonely,” you mumbled, placing kisses along his jaw. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you like him more than me.”

“The man is arrogant as fuck,” he muttered. “The thought of him not knowing what his precious little princess does to his best man every chance she gets……what would your old man say if he saw you like this, hm?”

“I’d say you seduced me,” you answer with a shrug, sitting back up and placing your hands on his chest.

“That’d make you a liar, baby,” he pointed out, his hands gripping your hips and gently grinding you against him. It was slow and subtle, but created enough friction to get by…for now.

“So? You and I both know how good I am at lying, why would I keep such a talent to myself?” You ask with a grin, pushing your chest out a bit so the end of your shirt lifted and exposed the skin of your abdomen to him. Tracing your finger over the various scars that littered his body, you tilt your head in a teasing way. “Plus, you know I’d lie for you.”

Your words send him into a frenzy, his hands digging into your skin and his hips shifting upwards just slightly. “God, you’re perfect,” he says and you feel a searing wave wash over your body and settle at your core. His blue eyes flicker all over your form, taking in the way the white, flowy shirt contrasted damn near perfectly with your skin tone and the way it barely covered your breasts. He could still see the faint bruises of the love bites he left on you a week or so ago peeking out from the fabric. “You look so pretty in this.”

But he would rather admire how it looked when it was discarded on the floor.

You hum in appreciation and shrug when you say, “Just wait until you see how I look in a wedding dress,”

Leon’s heart skipped a beat or two at your words, and not because the thought of marrying you scared him or because he didn’t want to. Fuck, did he want to. It was because he simply couldn’t. Not now, at least.

If your dad found out that you two were dating behind his back, Leon would have less than five seconds to react before he was killed, so to announce that you were married? Forget about it.

It wasn’t as if he was scared of the man - oh, no. Leon had been dealing with men like your father for the majority of his life. He knew how they operated, what they valued and could easily pinpoint when they would snap.

He wasn’t scared of your father.

He was terrified of losing you. 

As far as he was concerned, the two of you will be married one day and he will take you far away from here, and away from the place you were forced to grow up in. 

For now, Leon just had to play the waiting game.

His hands ran up and down your thighs, his eyes meeting yours. “You’ll get your ring. And your wedding,” he told you, watching the way a look of excitement flashed in your eyes - despite already agreeing that you two were it for each other - you still got excited at the thought of having the achingly beautiful boy beneath you for the rest of your life. “And anything else you could ever want. I promise.”

Your heart flutters and you lean back down, pressing your chest to his while you ghost your lips over his mouth. “I already have everything I could possibly want,” you whisper against his lips, reaching a hand up to caress the side of his face, one of the few gentle touches that would be shared for the remainder of the night. “I don’t need anything else when I have you. You’re all I want.”

Your words, mixed with your touch, were all he needed. He was pretty much done for after that.

Leon doesn’t say anything as he leans in and connects your lips, his hands sliding up your back when his hips lifted and shifted the two of you so that you were on your back and he was hovering over you. 

His lips trailed down your neck, kissing over every inch of skin they made contact with. “That’s good,” he mumbled against your shoulder. “Because I’m never letting you go.”

His possessive words go straight to your core and you whine quietly, your hands tangling in his hair as his lips travel between the valley of your breasts. His fingers lift up the thin material of your shirt and tug it so your stomach is exposed. Blue eyes darken even more as they stare at the faint bruises he had marked you with a week or so ago - too long ago, in his opinion. 

As his lips peppered kisses to your abdomen, his eyes flicker upwards to focus on your face. Your eyes were closed, head tilted slightly back and your lips parted. You looked unbelievably hot right now, even more than normal. Maybe it was because Leon had missed the feeling of your skin against his lips, maybe he was selfish and had gone too long without the chance to be alone with you and it was making his mind a blurry mess of lust.

Eitherway, you looked very edible. 

“Fuck, baby, look at you,” he muttered, his teeth grazing over your skin as he redefined his previous marks on you. Your fingers gently tug on his blond strands, your hips pushing upwards just slightly in a silent beg for him to do something. “It’s been too long.”

For him, at least.

Before he met you, Leon wasn’t all that interested in sleeping around. His job was dangerous and had him risking his life every time he stepped outside, so he didn’t want to waste his time sleeping with random girls. He didn’t even want to settle down as he knew there was a good chance his job would get in the way, resulting in the relationship ending or them being a target.

Then he happened to spend a couple of hours with you many months back and that was enough for him to throw away all his promises to himself and give all he had to you. You were so sweet and cute and intimidating, despite your kind smile and curious eyes. Leon had never felt more attracted to someone and it was quite scary how fast he fell for you. 

It was a mere week or so after your first encounter when you became involved with one another, and ever since then Leon had been infatuated with you and considered you the single most important person in his life. 

And when he finally got the chance to have you all to himself for a night…oh boy. Leon had never been the same. You had successfully ruined any other girl for him, not that he even planned on leaving you to begin with. Until you flat out told him to leave you alone, he was completely yours. 

His hands tugged on the lace that covered your core, his lips pressing a kiss to the small bow that rested above it. One of your hands left his hair and caressed the side of his face, your eyes opening and head tilting to look down at him. “I need you,” you whined. “Please.”

Leon’s eyes darkened even more - if that was even possible at this point - and he kept eye contact with you as he tugged the thin material down your legs, his mouth pressing kisses from your knee up to your thigh. “My sweet girl. I haven’t been able to take care of you in the way you deserve, have I?” When you shook your head in response, he refrained from praising you at just how responsive you always were to him, and instead positioned his body so his head was directly in front of the place that ached for him. “I’m sorry, baby. ‘M gonna make up for lost time.”

That was all he said before his lips wrapped around your clit without warning. A moan instantly left your mouth as your hand returned to his hair, where your fingers threaded through the strands. The sound only encouraged him as his tongue poked out to swipe along the length of your folds, his eyes closing as he savored the sweet taste that only belonged to you - and by default, him as he was the only one allowed to experience you in this way.  

All air leaves your lungs as you refrain from bucking upwards and into his mouth. One of your hands leaves his hair and blindly searches for his, your head tilted back once again and eyes squeezed shut. His blue eyes stay trained on you, his left hand coming up to hold your right one. He laces your fingers together as he feels your other hand tug on his hair, quiet moans leaving your lips. 

Leon loves when you pull on his hair, and you knew this. It drove him wild and brought out animalistic growls every time he felt your gentle yet firm tugs on the top of his head. You never tugged too hard, afraid it would hurt him and his heart swells at the fact that you didn’t want to cause him any pain, despite him telling you that he’s felt worse pain than just having his hair pulled. 

He had been stabbed a couple times now in non-vital areas, and had even been shot, but it still made his heart feel fuzzy that you refused to add yourself to the list of people who had inflicted pain upon him.  

His tongue pressed harder against your clit, the muscle slowly beginning to trace random shapes onto the nub. What you didn’t know was that the ‘random shapes’ were actually the four letters of his name and he was marking you as his in one of the few ways he could. 

The hand that wasn’t holding yours moves down your body, his index finger sliding up your slick folds. Your hips shudder at the feeling, your hand squeezing his even tighter as your head falls back against the pillow. “Fuck, baby,” you moan breathlessly, rolling your hips upwards when the tip of his finger sunk into you. His tongue never stopped its assault on your bundle of nerves, and his eyes never left you despite you being unable to hold eye contact with him at the moment. 

Tugging a bit harder on his hair, but still not to the point of it being anything other than pleasurable your back arches. Your rising chest blocks Leon’s view from your face and he lets out a deep moan when he catches sight of the way your shirt hiked higher up and exposed more of your smooth skin. 

The sound vibrates your core and leaves you breathless, your fingers running over the spot on his head in which gladly took your relentless tugging. 

His finger slips even deeper into you, his lips wrapping around your clit once more and giving it a harsh suck. You jolt upwards, an unexpected and loud moan fleeing from your mouth.

Leon smirks at your reaction, his ears instinctively listening out for any sign that your dad could’ve somehow heard you. “You know, I’m convinced you’re out to get me,” he murmurs and licks a stripe up your folds. Your legs shake a bit as you lift your head to meet his eyes. “We’re in the same house as your father and you aren’t exactly being quiet, not that I’m complaining.”

And he really wasn’t. Leon loved your voice and the way you sounded in bed, your sounds fueling the fire that burned for you and only you. If he had his way, he’d have you screaming at any chance he could get until he would receive complaints from the neighbors. Even after that, he wouldn’t let up because he loved the sounds you made for him, maybe more than he should.

“I can’t help it,” you whine quietly, your fingers digging into his as you hold back another moan when his tongue began fucking you along side his finger. “You’re so hot.”

Leon laughed at that, his teeth shining in the moonlight as he pulled away from your core. Replacing his tongue was his middle finger that moved with his other one, the digit quickly becoming coated in your slick as you took them both with ease. He moved back up your body, his lips pressing kisses to your stomach, chest, shoulder and finally your mouth. 

You kissed him back with a fair amount of need, your hand slipping from his so you could wrap both your arms around his neck. Tugging him even closer to you, your sounds are lost to his mouth as he pumps his fingers at a brutal pace, pulling you closer to that sweet edge in which always has your mind blanking. 

While his fingers make work of preparing you for taking him, his thumb presses against your clit once more, further amplifying the pressure building in your stomach. “Fuck, I’m there,” you said, reaching one hand down to wrap around his wrist, moving in time with his own hand as he continued to fuck his digits into you. 

Leon hummed against the skin of your neck, his thumb not letting up on its assault on your nerves. “Come for me, baby,” he murmured, sucking over a previous mark he left and that was all it took. 

Your hand slides up to tangle in his hair as your legs shake, your mouth parting as your high crashes over your body. Your walls clench around his fingers as your hand wraps impossibly tighter around his wrist, a feeling of sensitivity washing over you when he rides you through your high.

Your arms fall limp by your sides and that’s when Leon slowly removes his fingers and lifts his hand, his mouth eagerly sucking his digits inside, all while holding eye contact with you. 

You shake slightly at the sight, your hand reaching out and tugging on the waist line of his boxers. Ignoring the shakiness of your whole body, you pull him down so he is pressed completely against you. Your fingers gently press against the bump that found home on his right hip, the result of him being shot for the first time. Every time you caught sight of it, a sense of sadness as well as anger filled you, but now wasn’t the time to be feeling that way.

His hands fall flat against the pillow on either side of your head, his eyes blown wide with lust as you pant heavily. His head leans down to messily connect his lips to yours, his tongue slipping inside with no resistance from you. Your mouth meshes against his in loud kisses, your hands gently scratching up his sides. 

Leon’s lips move to your neck, holding back on sucking a mark into your soft skin as there was no way it would be hidden from the eyes of your father. His fingers tug on your shirt and pull upwards, the lacey material being stripped from your body and leaving you bare. 

“Think you can take another one?” He asked against your mouth, his tone teasing as he knew you could easily take another. Briefly, his mind went back to the weekend your dad went out of town and Leon ended up staying over. He took you over and over again that weekend and left you with sore legs and a permanent grin. 

You huffed out a laugh, nodding afterwards. You don’t think you could ever pass up an opportunity to be intimate with your boyfriend. This was definitely the most successful relationship you had ever been in, as well as one that was one hundred percent private. Any chance you got with Leon, you were taking it.

“Are you ready for another one?” He asked, more quietly and caring this time. 

Brushing your lips against his, you give him another nod. “Yes,” your hand reached down to palm him through the impossibly tight restraints of his boxers, his forehead pressing against yours as a low groan left his mouth. 

You free him from the fabric before placing your hands on his waist and tugging him even closer to you. Leon reaches down to guide himself to your core, his body settling against yours once he was fully buried in you. 

A moan of relief left his mouth while a whine left yours, your core still a bit sensitive from the relentless pace of his fingers just minutes before. Your hands grip his shoulders as he bottoms out, your brows pressing together as you bite down on your lip.

“We gotta be quiet, baby,” he mumbles, his nose brushing against yours. “Can’t have your dad walking in on you getting fucked by his best man.” Though the thought secretly turned him on to no end.

His words went right through you, a muffled groan settling in the back of your throat. “Oh, fuck, Leon,” you sharply whispered, your hands moving to his back when he pulled halfway out before slipping back in. 

Your abdomen muscles tense and your thighs shake as you wrap your legs around his waist. His hips hit yours as he lets out a throaty groan, his head leaning down to press against your shoulder. “Fuck,” he muttered, rocking into you at a steady pace. He felt like he could barely move, your walls hugging him with everything you had. “It doesn’t matter how many times I take you, you’re still so tight.”

Another wave of heat flows steadily through you, your core clenching and proving his point as he stuttered out a strangled moan. “Mm, only for you,” you merely said, further fueling his libido.

“Yeah,” he groaned, the sound going straight to your heat. “That’s right, baby. Only mine.”

His eyes locked on the necklace you were still wearing, the charm having flipped and revealing his initials that you proudly wore. 

Leon never knew he could become so possessive over someone. It seemed as though he learned a lot about himself since he started this relationship with you. As soon as it was official between the two of you, Leon quickly became obsessed with you and with that came his need to protect you and look out for you. Never had he ever put this much effort into any relationship in his life, the few serious ones he had. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he cared this much for someone.

It was a scary thought, but you somehow were all the reassurance he needed to keep those thoughts at ease.

With his forearms placed on the pillow by either side of your head, he successfully cages you in place while his hips rock into yours. He creates a steady pace, his chest tightening when he caught sight of himself disappearing inside you. 

Your nails rake down his back, the sting making him suck in a breath through his teeth as a stuttered moan leaves his mouth. Your core tightens at his sounds, your own mouth parting to release a string of whines. 

In hopes of keeping quiet, you bring your lips to his neck, freely sucking mark after mark as he wouldn’t be questioned on it, like you would be if you were to allow him to ravish your neck any time he wanted to.

You were envious at the fact he could do whatever he wanted without having his father breathing down his neck. From what little he’s told you about it, you knew that Leon didn’t have the best relationship with his family and that actually had a huge impact on what he does for a living now, that being your father’s best man. 

He could proudly wear the purple marks you left on him and no one would take a second look at them, whereas you would be grounded for life if your dad saw just one of the many secret marks Leon littered you with. God, if you could you would gladly show off the love bites he wishes he was able to mark you with. 

One day he would mark you on all the visible areas he could, and that thought was what settled his need to show you off. Everyone, at some point in the future, will know that you belong to him. 

You wondered what your father would think if he knew the marks his best man wore damn near everyday were from his own daughter, half of which were made in his own house.

Tearing your lips from his neck, you turn your head to press your mouth to his. Leon’s arms move down, one wrapping around your back while the hand of his other tightly grips your thigh as he steadily fucks into you. 

Your moans are lost to his lips as you tighten your hold around him, your arms locking around his neck and pulling him even closer to you. The bed, the expensive thing it is, was sturdy enough to allow him to roughly rock his hips into yours without the headboard bumping against the wall. 

With your legs wrapped around his waist, your whole body moved with his from every sharp and powerful thrust he gave, each time he ended up reaching a bit deeper inside you. 

Ever since your first time together, Leon still couldn’t believe how perfectly the two of you fit together. Your walls hugged him so tight while he filled up every inch you had hidden inside. He was convinced that you were made just for him, and he was made for you. 

“Mm, fuck, Leon,” you whimper as you break away from his mouth. “You’re so good, so deep. I can feel you in here.” His eyes averted downwards and they darken as you pressed down against the bulge that formed in your lower abdomen. 

He holds back a groan, one that leaves his mouth seconds later when he heard your fucked out voice murmur, 

“So big,”

His eyes damn near roll back as he gives another deep thrust. “Fuck, princess,” he grunts, a deep groan following when he felt you clench around him. “I love you so much, fuck, need you to come for me.”

You hum in response, your eyes squeezing shut as your lips latch onto his neck once again. “Right there, please,” you whine against his skin when you feel his tip brush against your sweet spot. “Don’t stop, please, baby.”

He wouldn’t be able to stop if you paid him, the way your walls hugged him so tightly and perfectly, the way your words dripped of desperation, the way your nails dug into the skin of his back, another way of marking your territory. 

“Fuck, I’m there,” you whimpered as your legs wrapped even tighter around him.

“Yeah, baby,” he mumbled against your shoulder. “Come for me, let me feel you.”

You didn’t need much after that. Your head fell back against the pillow as loud and heavy pants left your mouth, followed by quiet whimpers as you tried to keep yourself quiet. 

Your release, warm and wet, triggered his own and he gave one final thrust before he came, too. Your heels dug into his back to press him impossibly closer to you, his seed painting your inner walls and marking you as his. 

His forehead presses to yours as deep groans leave the back of his throat, his nose brushing against your own. You contently hum, your arms loosening around him but still keeping him close to you. 

He pulls out of you and falls beside you, making your body turn as he falls on his back. “That was fun,” you tease, gently biting on the skin behind his ear, making his hand on your waist tighten slightly. He breathed heavily, his chest rising and falling quickly as you gently sucked on his skin. “Now that it’s over, will you let me stay with you? I don’t want to go back to my bed without you.”

Leon breathlessly laughs, his arm moving further under you to wrap around your middle and pull you closer to him, his free hand reaching down to place your thigh over his waist. “You think I would let you do the walk of shame to your room after that?” He teased, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips and using his leg to kick the sheet up so it was covering your bodies. “Stay with me, baby. I’ll wake you up before your dad realizes your bed hasn’t even been slept in.”

You grin, resting your head against his chest. “Okay,” you mumbled, your body relaxing against his. “I love you.”

Leon presses a kiss to the top of your head as he pulls you tighter against him. “I love you,”

-

Leon knew this was a bad idea from the start. 

He had a gut feeling that he was walking into a trap, but your father was persistent in him and his other man, Harvey, continuing on. 

The store was dark and seemingly empty, but the half empty glasses of alcohol that were placed on the counter proved that someone was definitely in here. Or at least had been in here, and recently. 

His suspicions were confirmed when he motioned for Harvey to follow him, the man matching his stance and keeping his footsteps light, his hand firmly grasping the gun. The sound of a can falling had the men pausing, Leon’s hand tightening on his own gun as he looked in the direction the noise came from. 

Harvey held up his finger and rounded the corner, disappearing from the blond’s sight. His whereabouts were quickly discovered as the lights turned on, making Leon act fast and duck behind one of the shelves.

The poor man didn’t have a chance to hide before he felt the tip of a gun press to the back of his head. Harvey held his hands up, his gun still grasped tightly in his fingers. “Who are you?” The man asked, walking around to face Leon’s brown haired accomplice. “What are you doing here?”

Harvey kept his hands up as another man came over and grabbed the gun from him and set it beside the glasses of booze. “The name is Harvey,” he spoke casually, his eyes discreetly looking for Leon.

The man in question quietly moved a couple of jars out of the way so he could properly assess what was happening. Leon muttered a curse word when his eyes landed on his weaponless partner. 

The gunman smirked as he took a step closer to Harvey. “Ah, you’re one of Clark’s guys, aren’t you?” He tsked, shaking his head afterwards. “How many of you are there?” 

Harvey only shrugged his shoulders. “It’s just me,”

“Bullshit,” the other man said. “There’s no way Y/l/n just sent one guy.”

“I swear, man,” Harvey insists. “I’m his throwaway bitch. You know, the one he sends to scout out an area? That’s me.”

Leon rolls his eyes at the quick and pretty believable lie Harvey just spewed out. He quietly takes the safety off the gun and leaned a bit straighter up, his hand ready to move at any given second. 

The man holding the gun snickered, sharing a look with his friend before looking back at Harvey. “The throwaway bitch, huh?” He asked with a deep laugh, pointing the gun higher and aiming it at his head. “Then I guess you won’t be missed.”

The sound of a gun going off filled the store and Harvey jumped, a state of shock taking over him before he realized that he wasn’t the one who got shot. The guy who was just pointing a gun at him now had a deep hole in his forearm, blood pouring out of it as he fell to the floor. 

The gun fell from his hand and Harvey was quick to grab it, ducking behind the  counter when another shot was fired, this time from the other man. He hit the ground behind the counter with a harsh thud, his arm taking a lot of his weight as he pulled himself into a seated position. “Hey, nice shot, Kennedy,” he called out, a grin forming on his lips when he heard the loud cries of the man who had been shot.

“Fuck, dude,” the friend of the bleeding man said as he grabbed a gun. “I knew there was more than one!” 

Leon raised his gun again and fired a shot at the wounded man, burying a bullet into his side. The friend finally spotted him and raised his own gun, ready to fire a round at the blond assassin. Before he could Harvey stood up and shot him in the back, sending him falling to the floor. 

The two share a look before Leon stood up from his crouching position, his hands still on his gun as he kept his eyes on the two bleeding men on the floor. “Watch out,” he called out to Harvey. “There might be more.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the brown haired man waved him off as he stepped towards the two guys. He crouched down, tossing both guns aside as Leon searched around the store for any indication that there were more men. “So, now that we’ve established who’s in charge here….where are the drugs?”

The man spit blood at Harvey in a failed attempt to regain control, despite him bleeding from two places now. “Fuck you,” 

Once Leon confirmed that there were no more guys hiding, he put his gun in the back of his pants as he walked back over to his partner. “That’s not very nice,” Harvey pouts but before he could continue to tease the poor guy, his friend spoke up,

“They’re in the safe,” he muttered, blood staining his lips. “Behind the counter.”

Leon raises his brow before nodding at his own friend as he walks behind the counter. “Combination?” Harvey asks.

“Forty six, twenty eight, thirty seven,” he weakly replied, giving his boss an apologetic smile as he knew his time was limited. “Sorry, Johnny.”

Johnny shook his head, blood spilling from his own mouth. “Fucking idiot,”

After Leon put the numbers in and opened the safe, he was met with two large bags of powder. “Wow, would you look at that,” Harvey tsked when Leon held the bags up. He reaches out and places a firm hand on the man’s shoulder before pressing his gun against the side of his head. “Hey, thanks, buddy. You really helped us out here.”

~

And that's on not knowing how to end it after writing over 4k words worth of smut...part 2 is in the works.

[suzukiblu]

Parasite WIP is so good and I desperately want more of it! I voted for it in the poll and I’m so sad it didn’t win

Friend, I appreciate you asking after it because it really is one of my fucked-up faves that I really need to work on more, so uh . . . have all 4500 words of the prose so far all together, hahaha. Yes, yes I DID reformat this whole thing into Tumblr-friendliness all for you. THAT IS HOW MUCH I APPRECIATE YOUR APPRECIATION, FRIEND. ( so definitely we are gonna need that read-more down there, lol. )

Clark wakes up. 

Clark didn't even know he wasn't awake. 

"Superman," Bruce says with absolute neutrality. He's wearing the cowl. Standing in rubble. Clark is . . . not standing in rubble. 

Laying in rubble. That's what Clark is doing. 

Bruce is looking down at him very, very carefully, and seems . . . reserved. 

Reserved for Bruce, even. 

"What happened?" Clark asks, trying not to concentrate on the little seed of dread that the sight of that reservation invokes in him. He can hear the heartbeats of other League members, here and there in the wreckage of the street around them. Hear civilians and city noise. Hear Lois and Jon, distantly, and Ma and Pa, even more distant. And . . . Kara–both of her–and . . . 

"We'll go with 'electrocution', but I think we can safely say just about anyone else would've been virtually incinerated," Bruce informs him, distracting Clark from his mental rundown of people he's currently worried about. "Or just exploded."

"Ah," Clark says with a grimace. Well, that explains why his head hurts so damn bad, he guesses.

At least it was him, then, and not any "anyone else"s. 

He pushes himself up. Looks around. He . . . isn't sure where they are, exactly, except that it's probably somewhere on Earth and within the continental United States, judging by the architecture and signs he's seeing and the accents and languages he's hearing. 

He has absolutely no idea how they got here, though. The last thing he remembers is . . . 

. . . he's not actually sure what the last thing he remembers is. 

Not a great sign, that.  

Bruce is watching him. Like he's . . . expecting something, almost. Clark would ask, but there's an odd feeling distracting him. Something's . . . off, somehow. 

Missing. 

Bruce's utility belt is a new design, he notes absently. J'onn is down the street a bit and his costume looks a little different too. And Diana . . . 

Diana is over across the way, and her hair is a couple inches longer than he remembers it being. 

Clark would assume he was mistaken, except for the eidetic memory and all. 

"Hm," Clark says. 

"Hm?" Bruce says. He still sounds faultlessly neutral. 

"Trying to figure out if I'm in the right reality. Things look a little off," Clark replies, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes in concentration. No unexpected sounds or scents. No particular feeling of disorientation that can't be accounted for by being apparently electrocuted. No additional pains past the dull pressure in his head or any immediately obvious peculiarities beyond the minor little scattered differences here and there in his teammates. 

But something is–

"I can't hear Kon," Clark realizes abruptly. He doesn't usually especially keep an ear out for the kid, at least not deliberately, but . . . 

Bruce . . . pauses. 

"You can't," he says, very carefully. It doesn't sound like a question. 

It sounds like something, though. 

"I can't," Clark confirms anyway, glancing around again. He still doesn't know where this is. "Where are we, exactly?" 

"What's the date, Kal?" Bruce asks, and Clark's heart sinks. 

He answers the question. 

Bruce's mouth thins. 

Hell, Clark thinks. 

"We're currently in Keystone City," Bruce says, very carefully expressionless. "We've been here for three days. The date you just provided me was a full fourteen months ago. And Kon-El has been MIA for roughly thirteen and a half of those months." 

Hell, Clark thinks, and doesn't let himself process anything past that. 

"We need to get a scan of your brain," Bruce says. "For starters." 

"For starters," Clark agrees tightly. 

Bruce tells Diana they're leaving, then abandons the rubble and takes Clark up to the Watchtower. Clark goes. He doesn't ask what electrocuted him or who's died in the past fourteen months or if there's anything immediately urgent that he should know. Bruce would've already told him, if there was. 

And he thinks he'd choke on the question if he tried, anyway. 

They go to the med bay. There's a total stranger standing in it who smiles at them when they step through the door. 

"Haven't seen you in here in quite a while, Superman," the stranger observes in amusement, tapping a pen against the clipboard in their hands. "You still haven't been in for that checkup I owe you, you know." 

"He doesn't know you," Bruce informs them evenly. The stranger blinks. 

"Sorry?" they say. 

"He was electrocuted," Bruce says. "Now he thinks it's fourteen months ago. We need a brain scan. Immediately." 

"Hell," the stranger says, their eyes widening in alarm. 

Clark gets the brain scan. 

He and Bruce wait in a convenient exam room for the results, which seem to be taking a while. Bruce seems a bit more guarded than usual, which means Clark is standing next to goddamn Fort Knox right now. He sighs to himself. 

"Suppose at this rate I should call and tell Lois and Jon I'll be late for dinner," he jokes wryly as he folds his arms, no real humor in the comment, and Bruce goes very, very still beside him. 

. . . hell. 

They're not dead. He knows they're not dead, he heard their heartbeats before they left for the watchtower, Bruce would've already told him if either of them were–

"They aren't expecting you," Bruce says with absolutely no intonation whatsoever in his voice. "You moved out eight months ago. The divorce is already finalized." 

"Ah," Clark says, very slowly. He doesn't let himself process, again. Not–just, not yet. "What happened?" 

"You left them," Bruce says, and Clark . . . blinks. 

"I left them?!" he demands incredulously. Leaving Lois is one thing, horrible and impossible a thought as it is, but– "Not just–I left them both?!"

"As you explained it to me, you were no longer interested in maintaining the . . . 'persona' of Clark Kent," Bruce replies carefully, looking just past him. "You said you couldn't stand the screaming anymore. That you appreciated us . . . humoring you for so long, but you couldn't just keep walking around making excuses and lying to everyone while people were suffering and dying just because you had to pretend to be human for a while. So yes. You left them. Haven't visited since Lois finally signed the divorce papers. Haven't spoken to your parents either. You've been . . . erratic. Since Kon-El's disappearance. When we couldn't find him . . . when we couldn't even find out what happened to him . . ." 

"Oh," Clark says, and his heart sinks again. 

He doesn't understand, though. Kon is–he cares about the kid, obviously. Cares very deeply about him. He's pretty sure he even loves him, at this point. But he's not . . . 

It feels terrible to think it, but Clark doesn't understand why Kon disappearing like that would affect him enough to stop being Clark. It's awful, and he still hasn't let himself actually think about it happening at all because he really can't process it right now, but that awful? Really? Awful enough to abandon being any semblance of a normal person? Abandon Lois and his parents entirely? 

Abandon Jon entirely? 

Apparently, yes. 

"Technically you're on unpaid sabbatical from the Planet," Bruce tells him. "We thought you might . . . reconsider, once you'd grieved properly, so Lois pulled some strings with Perry White. He thinks you're having an early mid-life crisis and your co-workers think you're off finding yourself in South America with a bad cell phone plan." 

"I guess I don't believe in satellite phones?" Clark says, trying for wry again. It doesn't work, but he tries all the same. 

"This is unfair of me, but I'm going to take advantage of your current mental state," Bruce says. He's looking at the wall, though there's nothing there to actually be looking at. Not even anything on the other side, at least not according to X-ray vision. "Try to remember how you feel right now, when your memories of the past year return. Try to remember who you are right now, when those memories return."

"Why?" Clark asks, watching him carefully as he does. The corners of Bruce's mouth tighten. Just barely, but undeniably. 

"You've been . . . gone, Clark," Bruce says slowly. "You won't even answer to 'Clark' anymore. You aren't the same man that I . . . that we all . . ." 

The stranger comes back before Bruce has to admit to too many personal feelings or Clark can figure out what to say to any of that, which might be a mercy but might also be–

The stranger looks . . . strange, Clark notices. Nauseated, almost. And definitely distressed. 

"I haven't done brain scans on Superman before," they say, their grip on their clipboard concerningly close to white-knuckled. "And my predecessor apparently hadn't done any in a while either. Last ones in the system are over two years old." 

"What's wrong?" Bruce says, narrowing his eyes. Honestly at this point Clark figures a kryptonite brain tumor would really just be the icing on the cake, and frankly would probably explain some of his apparent behavioral changes and current memory loss. That genuinely makes more sense than anything else, really, even with grief and guilt to contend with.

More sense than abandoning his own damn kid does, at least. 

Although a tumor's the worst-case scenario, obviously. And it can't be any worse than that, really, or any worse than anything he's apparently done to his family this past year, so at least he's braced for–

"There's an . . . organism," the stranger says, swallowing uncomfortably. "In your brain." 

"What?" Clark says. 

"A dead organism, now," the stranger clarifies. "But it looks like it's been there for a while. There are . . . roots. And . . . lesions, too." 

"An organism," Bruce repeats very, very slowly. "In Superman's brain." 

"Yes," the stranger says. 

"I don't . . ." Clark trails off. 

"We need more scans," Bruce says. 

"I ran it four times on two different machines," the stranger says. "It's organic. It's not giving off any recognizable life signs. It seems like it might've been . . . you mentioned electrocution, before?" 

"You think the electricity killed it," Bruce realizes. "And then Superman forgot fourteen months?" 

"I'm not sure Superman ever experienced those fourteen months to begin with," the stranger says tightly, gripping their clipboard even harder. 

Clark was in no way whatsoever braced for this. 

"Fuck," Bruce says. 

More scans happen after all. A lot more scans, a lot of specialists, and a lot of arguing. Everything's a bit of a blur, in a sense. Clark absorbs very little of it, and mostly leaves things to Bruce unless he's asked a direct question about his medical history. His judgment might be compromised right now, after all, whether the . . . organism is dead or not. 

The emergency OR gets prepped. The red sun lamps get set up inside it. 

"Should we contact Lois?" Bruce asks as Clark's shrugging into an ill-fitting hospital gown and preparing himself to possibly die in pursuit of getting a dead who-knows-what out of his brain before it can start to rot there and potentially kill him that way. "Or your parents?" 

"No," Clark says. "Just get this damn thing out of my head." 

If he doesn't survive the removal process . . . 

They don't know what's been going on. What he let happen to himself, somehow.

He isn't going to tell them he's back just to immediately take himself away again. 

He records something for Jon, just in case. It's not enough, but it's–something, he tells himself. It's something. 

It's all he can bring himself to do. 

He leaves the disk with the recording on it with Bruce and asks him to have Dick deliver it, if it's necessary. 

Things proceed from there, and Clark wakes up again a week later in a private room in the med bay, connected to half a dozen machines and needles and tubes and directly facing the sun. Diana is dozing in the chair next to his bed. Bruce is pacing at the foot of it. They're both in costume. Clark feels weak and groggy, but he can hear half a dozen other heartbeats lingering in the hall, so presumably they were expecting him to wake up around now. 

"Mm," he says. Diana snaps awake. Bruce stops mid-step. 

They both look at him. 

"The operation was a success," Bruce informs him. "Textbook. Or as textbook as removing a mind-controlling parasite of unknown origins from a Kryptonian brain can get for mostly-human surgeons, anyway." 

"Do you need anything?" Diana asks. "Would you like us to call your family yet?" 

Clark shakes his head, then closes his eyes and sleeps for another week. 

"Sleep", he supposes, counts as something that he needs right now. 

The next time he wakes up, he's alone in his room and disconnected from the machines and just feels . . . normal, really. Like nothing was ever wrong at all and he didn't just have major surgery that was, essentially, the equivalent of multiple traumatic brain injuries. His hair is already starting to grow back from where it was buzzed down for the surgery, and there's not even any bandages on his head. 

There's no noticeable scarring, Clark observes when he makes it to the little ensuite bathroom to take a look in the mirror. The surgeons told him there probably wouldn't be, given both the methods they'd been intending to use and the nature of his own physiology, but seeing the total lack of proof of what happened to him is just . . . strange, somehow. 

It feels almost like a cheat. Like it should be obvious, in some way. 

There was a parasite in his head. Something controlling him. Pretending to be him. Passing for him. It could've done anything it wanted. 

It did do things that Clark still has no idea about. 

So many things. 

He couldn't even fight it. Wasn't conscious or aware enough to, or just not strong enough to, or just . . . 

He couldn't even fight it. 

And he doesn't know what it did. 

The door opens. Diana walks in. 

"Would you like us to call your family now?" she asks. 

"Yes," Clark says roughly, curling his fingers around the sides of the sink in front of him. "Please." 

"Of course," Diana says with a terrible and merciless gentleness. 

Clark sits down on the lid of the toilet and just . . . cries. Just for a minute. 

Or twenty. 

Diana kneels in front of him and holds his hands in her own. 

Fourteen months, Clark thinks, all twisted up with grief and pain and so, so much regret. He missed so much. He wasn't there for Jon or Lois or his parents. He wasn't there for Bruce or Diana or the League, for either of Kara, for . . . 

For Kon. He wasn't there for Kon. 

Wasn't there for Kon when the kid needed him. 

Kon completely vanished, and who knows if the damn parasite even pretended to help look for him? If it did anything at all for him? Who knows if Clark could've found him, could've saved him, if he'd still been himself at the time? 

. . . who knows if the parasite isn't what made Kon disappear to begin with? 

It took fourteen months of Clark's life, and Kon . . . Kon disappeared two weeks into those fourteen months. 

If nothing else, the timing is a screaming red flag. 

Clark abandoned his son and might've murdered a kid who only ever looked up to him, a kid who he was never really able to fully understand but literally named, and he can't do anything to bring Kon back or to make up for the year that he wasn't there for the rest of his family. 

Their family. 

God, what has he done? What has Clark done, and did Kon die feeling afraid or shocked or terrified? Did he die feeling betrayed? Did he think it was Clark doing it, however it happened? 

Did he die thinking Clark wanted him to die? 

Clark doesn't even know what happened to his body. 

There won't be another resurrection.  

Clark chokes. Diana squeezes his hands. He grips hers like a lifeline and shudders through it. The grief is a terrible, ugly thing. It's one of the worst things Clark's ever felt. 

The guilt is worse. 

"Lois," he murmurs finally, feeling like the weakest man alive. "Could you call . . . Lois, please, and just . . . ask if she'll come. I'll explain it all to her, just–could you call her, please." 

"Yes," Diana says, squeezing his hands again. "Of course." 

"Thank you," Clark says. 

He pulls himself together, more or less, and Diana goes to make the call. She comes back a few minutes later and tells him Lois agreed, but needs to find a babysitter first. Clark in no way blames her for not bringing Jon along and frankly is surprised she's willing to come at all. 

He's not sure what he could even say to Jon right now. 

What can he? 

Diana makes sure he eats something, then leaves for monitor duty. Clark tries not to overthink things. Tries not to think too much at all. 

He spent fourteen months not thinking at all, though, all of it lost in one oblivious blink, so that doesn't work out all that well for him. 

An hour later, he hears the Zeta platform activate on the opposite side of the base, and hears Lois's heartbeat appear inside the watchtower. 

Clark exhales, very slowly. 

He waits. 

Lois comes to the med bay. She doesn't stop to talk to anyone on the way. Doesn't talk to anyone except that stranger Clark still doesn't actually know the name of, who tells her where to find him. 

And then a minute or a millennium later she's standing in the open doorway of his room, and Clark is looking at her. Her expression is neutral, and her hair is shorter than it was the last time he remembers seeing her–the last time he was the one actually seeing her. An inverse bob, not shoulder-length anymore. He recognizes the blazer and heels that she's wearing, but not the blouse or the pants. Not the earrings or the necklace, either. 

And there's no wedding ring to recognize either way. 

Clark wonders what happened to his. 

God, but she's still the most amazing woman he's ever seen, and he's still never once deserved a single part of her. Not even a fraction of a part. 

Especially not now. 

"Kal," she greets, tone just as neutral as her expression, and Clark aches. 

"Clark," he says, just a little too abrupt, and Lois–pauses. 

"Clark," she amends casually as she tucks her hands into the pockets of her blazer, and if he didn't know her quite so well he wouldn't have even heard the crack in her voice around his name, super-hearing or not. "Never seen your hair this short. I kinda miss the curl, not gonna lie. It has charm, you know? Very boy scout next door." 

"I had emergency brain surgery," Clark says. Lois pauses again. Tilts her head. He keeps talking. "Two weeks ago, now. Just woke up again fully today." 

"What?" she says, just staring at him. "You–what happened?" 

"It's . . . unclear, still," Clark replies slowly. "But as far as we can tell, roughly fourteen months back an unidentified alien parasite moved into my brain and . . . took me over, essentially. I don't actually–I don't remember any of that time. At all. Then two weeks ago I got electrocuted in Keystone and the parasite died. The surgery was to remove its body so my brain could heal from the damage it did without it rotting in there." 

Lois keeps staring at him. 

"Fourteen months," she echoes very, very carefully. 

"I'm so sorry," Clark says tightly. "Bruce told me I left you. Left you and Jon. That I stopped being . . . myself. I can't imagine how difficult that was, or how it must've felt." 

"I can't imagine how waking up and hearing that none of us even noticed you were gone felt," Lois says. 

"You never do pull a punch, do you," Clark says with a weak attempt at a smile. 

"I'm sorry," Lois says evenly. "I should've known." 

"No one did," Clark says, then . . . hesitates. "Or . . . we think no one did." 

"You think that's what happened to Kon," Lois says, because of course she's already done the math, and of course she's already had the thought herself. Obviously she would've. 

"The timing is . . . likely, at least," Clark says. "And really, if anyone was going to see my face and notice that a different person was wearing it . . ."

"You have a point," Lois murmurs. She steps into the room. Clark wants to hold her. He also wants to bury himself in the coldest, darkest place that he can find and never, ever let himself see the sun again. 

He doesn't deserve it anymore. 

"I'm so angry that I want to cry," Lois says, her voice very distant and her eyes locked on his. Clark can see her hands fisting in her pockets. "I'm so . . . god. I should've known. You never would've left Jon. Not like that." 

"Bruce made it sound like the parasite was . . . very convincing," Clark says. It convinced Bruce, who may just be the most paranoid mind on the planet, so . . .

"It was," Lois agrees, still without taking her eyes off his. "But I still should've known." 

Clark blinks a little too quickly. Lois tightens her jaw. Takes her hands out of her pockets and leaves them at her sides instead. Clark never thought he'd see them without her wedding ring again. 

"It's been–months, I know," he says, hating himself for thinking he even deserves to say this. "For you. But I still . . ." 

"I love you," Lois says. "Come home." 

There is no possible world in which he could tell her "no". 

Med bay makes him wait for another two hours of observation and runs some scans, but then they let him go. Lois waits with him the whole time. She doesn't call anyone or send any texts. Doesn't leave the room. Barely says a word. Hardly even takes her eyes off him, like she thinks if she blinks he's going to disappear. 

Clark can hardly keep her heartbeat out of his ears, so he doesn't blame her. 

He doesn't blame her at all. 

They go to Smallville. Bruce had said he'd send Dick to pick up Jon from the babysitter's and get him to the farm, and as much as Clark had wanted to go straight to him himself . . . 

Ma and Pa first, he reminds himself. This is going to be upsetting for Jon–most likely traumatic, once it all sinks in. And definitely disorienting. It'll be best if as many of the adults in his life as possible know what's going on in advance, so he can go to whoever he needs to go to; get whatever comfort they can prepare themselves to offer. 

Clark doesn't know how to do this. 

He doesn't . . . 

They don't take two steps onto the farm before a familiar blur is crashing into him head-on. 

"Oh," Clark manages, and Krypto barks excitedly and flies up to lick his face, tail wagging wildly as he jumps all over him. Like he's missed him. Like he's been waiting for him. 

Clark nearly cries again.

"Good boy, Krypto," he tells him, quiet and rough. "I missed you too, boy." 

He scratches Krypto's ears. Strokes his back. Krypto nearly bowls him over in delight. 

Clark buries his face in his neck and cries a bit after all. 

Lois watches. 

Waits. 

Clark spends . . . maybe a little bit too long crying on his dog, and then they all head up to the house. Ma and Pa are both standing on the porch; presumably they heard Krypto barking. They both look a little bit startled and a little bit confused and a lot more pained at the sight of him, and Clark swallows painfully and stops just before the porch steps. 

He looks at them, and he loves them so desperately. Everything they ever did for him, and everything they've ever been to him, and . . . 

"I'm sorry," he says. "I just . . . there was . . ."

God, the way this hurts. 

"It was mind control," he says. "The past fourteen months or so. I was . . . I wasn't. Wasn't here. Or . . . anywhere." 

"Oh," Ma says, and her eyes are instantly wet with tears. Pa blinks very quickly, his hand curling against the porch railing. 

"I'm so, so sorry," Clark repeats tightly, his own hands in useless fists. "But I'm–back now. I'm home." 

"Oh, Clark," Ma chokes, and then they both throw themselves at him. Clark's been hugged by people with strength far past superhuman, but it's never felt . . . 

No. It's never once felt the same way as when his parents do it. 

They cling to him. He clings back. Krypto barks again and swoops around the knot of them, wagging his tail hard enough to nearly knock Lois over with the force of wind it stirs up. Definitely some of the porch furniture gets displaced. 

Clark feels so much. 

They sit together on the porch, Krypto sprawled contentedly across Clark's lap and Lois on the steps beside him. Clark gives Ma and Pa what explanation he can–tells them everything he knows about Keystone and the electrocution and the watchtower and the surgery and waking up. They watch him just as intently as Lois does the entire time. 

He doesn't . . . he doesn't mention his suspicions about what might've happened to Kon. Not . . . not yet. 

He doesn't know how to. Not to Ma and Pa. Not after he brought the kid here and left him on their doorstep with no real direction and . . . 

Just–he'll tell them. He'll tell them soon. 

Just . . . not yet. 

It's not a very long talk, in the end. Ma and Pa take in everything he says and just take it all in stride, just like they always have. Baby in a spaceship? Kid with superpowers? Son who thinks he can save the whole damn world? 

Of course they take it in stride. 

Clark loves them too much to even define. Too much to even wrap his own head around. They're the best people he knows. The best people he's ever known. 

They don't even think there's anything for him to be sorry for. 

It's . . . painful, a little, when Clark realizes that. 

Or a lot. 

So, so damn painful. 

Clark hears the definitely-not-a-Batmobile coming, far down the road. Three heartbeats inside it. Dick, Damian, and . . . 

Jon. 

Obviously. 

Clark strokes Krypto's ears one last time, then gets up. No one asks him why, but he supposes the look on his face must be answer enough right now. 

He steps off the porch and goes to wait by the driveway. 

It's not that long a wait, but it feels like the better part of eternity.

[spaceman-earthgirl]

Supercorptober 2023 Day 18: Lena

(Just a heads up, I won't be posting over the next few days (until the 24th at the earliest) as I'll be out of town. I hope you enjoy this one!)

ao3 fic link. series link.

Lena Luthor is nothing like Kara expects.

She’s beautiful, which Kara did know before meeting her, she’s seen photos, done enough research into Lex to know who she is, but seeing a photo and seeing her in front of her are two separate things.

She’s absolutely stunning, and Kara is having a hard time focusing on what Clark and Lena are saying.

Kara knew Lena was smart, you have to be to be CEO of a company like Luthor Corp. But she’s sharp, and witty, and clever in a way that makes Kara want to find a way to drag this conversation out, just to hear her talk more.

Kara expects lies from Lena, expects deceit, things she’s become accustomed to whenever the Luthor name is involved. Maybe Lena is just better at it than the rest of her family, but Kara can’t help but believe her as Lena speaks.

And then Lena is talking about her family and being adopted and wanting to make a name for herself outside of her family and Kara totally understands, feels it even more strongly with Clark standing by her side.

Lena hands Clark a flash drive and Kara just knows, she can feel it, that Lena is telling the truth, that they can trust Lena.

Not that she can tell Clark that, so she does something dumb, something that Clark would definitely disapprove of, something she spends absolutely zero time thinking about (which is honestly sometimes for the best) and she quickly places her notebook down on the edge of Lena’s desk. Quick enough that neither of them notice, not even Clark.

They leave Lena’s office, and Kara already maybe regrets her plan a little, but it’s too late now, because Lena has her notebook and she needs it back.

“Shoot,” Kara says as she steps onto the elevator with Clark. “I left my notebook behind, I’ll meet you outside.”

She steps out of the elevator as the doors close, leaving a confused looking Clark behind.

Kara takes a couple of deep breaths before knocking on Lena’s office door.

“Sorry, I left my-“

“Notebook?” Lena finishes, holding up the book in her hand.

“Yeah, sorry,” Kara stammers. “I’m not used to this reporter thing. Not that I’m a reporter, I was just here with Clark, which you know, so I mean…” Kara trails off, realising she’s rambling when Lena tilts an eyebrow up. “Sorry,” Kara says for a third time.

“Don’t be sorry, but I am curious as to why you left this here. Don’t think I didn’t catch you leaving it on my desk.”

Kara is pretty sure her cheeks were already red after her little ramble, but now she feels her whole face flush at being caught.

Kara takes a deep breath. Again, she’s not sure what she expected coming back here, not sure entirely what she wanted, but she may as well be honest, there’s no point in lying now. She’s embarrassed herself already, what’s a little more?

“I didn’t have a plan exactly, was more of a spur of the moment thing. But I didn’t want to leave without telling you that Clark might not believe you but I do. I’ll figure out why the Venture exploded and prove to Clark he can trust you too.”

“I’m not sure Mr Kent is very quick to trust.”

“He’s my cousin, I’ll make him see reason.” Kara hesitates. She could leave it there, but she has one more thing she wants to say. She’s never usually this forward but something about Lena feels like it’s pulling her in, and she wants to know more. “The other reason I came back is I wanted to ask for your number because I know I’d regret it if I never saw you again. I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

There’s that eyebrow raise again, this time Kara can tell Lena is surprised.

Lena picks up a pen and scribbles something on the notebook before she hands it back to Kara.

“Thank you,” Lena says, and Kara can tell she’s being sincere. “Not many people trust me because of my name, and I’ve never met anyone like you before either.”

Lena smiles and Kara feels her knees go weak.

“Have a good day, Miss Danvers.”

“You too, Miss Luthor,” Kara replies with her own smile, feeling more confident that Lena hasn’t laughed at her or had her thrown out. “I’ll see you around?”

“I hope so.”