#and Clark feels this weight off his shoulders

[rhinexstone]

I think one of the many reasons Clark likes Bruce so much is because the only being capable of killing Superman at any given time without any prep (partially because it’s already been done) is a human without any powers or special abilities

[mamawasatesttube]

i think martha kent should get to threaten rex leech with a shotgun tbh

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Hi 👋🏻 I’m currently very sick rn and I need cuddles and love from either Clark Kent or Simon Riley, you pick. And could it just be fluffy and sorta angsty with a ps!reader who is just super mopey and mad about being sick and others things. You can pick most of the background for this!!

Btw love 💗 all of your writing 💛🦡🙃

.⋆｡Sick Days and Comfy PJs｡⋆.

Clark Kent x plus size reader

Sick days require your boyfriend to become your live-in nurse, but who are you to complain.

Warnings: sick!reader, fluff, little smidge of angst but not really, general sick warnings, brief nudity WC: 840

A/N: I hope you feel better soon! I’m so glad you find joy in my writing and I hope you get some out of this one 💚

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

“I’m dying.”

“No you’re not.”

“I feel like I’m dying.” There was a sigh.

“You just have the flu sweets.” 

“I swear it’s the plague.” The bed groaned and the weight of another person settled on top of it but you didn’t move to look at them. A large hand cupped your head over the thick blanket draped on top of you.

“Can you let me take your temperature again?”

You grumbled back. “No. Too cold.” 

There was another sigh and then the blanket was moved aside, sending a wave of cold air into your little cave of sickness. You groaned in annoyance as you attempted to escape the disruption but before you could, your boyfriend’s thick arm wound around your hips and pulled you up. 

“That’s just the fever talking.” His voice was much clearer now as he held you to his chest while he rummaged around the mountain of things on your nightstand. Your head was pounding with a migraine that was only compounded by your clogged sinuses. 

“Clark.” You whined, squeezing your eyes shut against the harsh light bleeding in from the hallway. 

His palm spread out across your back, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against your shoulder blade as he finally found the thermometer. “Just a couple minutes sweets and then you can go back to sleep.” The cold metal tip prodded your lips for a second before you begrudgingly opened your mouth. “That’s a good girl.” He cooed and pressed a kiss to your sweaty forehead.

“I hate you.”

He chuckled softly, the vibrations of it rumbling through his chest. “I know sweets.”

“Dumb alien genes.” Clark sighed again.

“I can get sick sweets, just not with anything here on Earth.” You cracked your eyelids open to glare at him again, letting him get a good look at your bloodshot eyes and dark bags from three days of fitful sleep. “Fine. I’m sorry I can’t get sick. How can I make it up to you?”

“Grill me a cheese.” The thermometer beeped and Clark gently pried it from your lips. You gave out a rattling cough. “And lemme wear your pjs.”

He tsked and wiped off the end with a tissue. “Still too high. Alright, how about a nice hot shower and I can throw my clothes and your blanket in the dryer so they’re nice and warm by the time you get out.”

“And a grilled cheese?” He gave you a look.

“I’ll heat up some of that soup mama made. A grilled cheese might be too heavy for your tummy.” You stuck out your bottom lip at him. Clark tugged you up higher on his chest, letting your soft legs wrap around his waist as you rested your head in the crook of his neck. His hands fell to your ass and unable to help himself, he gave the plump cheeks a gentle squeeze.

“But you’re the one that got me sick.” He had taken you out on a little fly around Metropolis four days ago, ignoring your warning that it was too cold for you to be whipping around the clouds with him.

“That’s not- ok fine, I’ll make you a grilled cheese.” You beamed up at him. “But only if you don’t complain about a stomach ache afterwards.” He rose to his feet as gently as he could, keeping you from being jostled too much.

You sighed and clung onto your boyfriend, feeling utterly sorry for yourself. “Don’t like being sick. Hurts so much.”

“I know sweetheart.” Clark kept you wrapped up safely in his arms as he turned on the hot water.

“You won’t leave me?” Steam soon filled the small bathroom, making it a little more bearable when he gently stripped you of the old pyjamas you had on. Clark paused.

His brows furrowed and he looked up at you from where he knelt on the tiled floor, one socked foot in his hand. “I’d never leave you. Where-where’s this coming from sweets?”

You shook your head and roughly wiped away the tears of aggravation. “It’s dumb.”

Clark pulled off your sock and threw it into the laundry basket in the corner before standing up to his full height. “It’s not dumb if it’s making you this upset.” He cupped your full cheek. Your hands curled into his t-shirt and you nodded.

“I’m sorry I’m so annoying, making you take care of me.” 

“Hey. I take care of you because I love you, you aren’t annoying or a burden. You’re mine and that means I take all of you. Ok?” You nodded and he rewarded you with a soft peck to your chapped lips. “Good. Now that we’ve cleared that up. Finish your shower and I’ll get everything ready for you.”

With a gentle pat to your ass, you were bathed in hot water, easing the pressure behind your eyes. “Love you sweets. I’ll be back to check on you in a bit.”

And as the bathroom door shut, you smiled. Sick days with Clark weren’t bad at all.

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[suzukiblu]

what do you have for Clark kent?

Clark is the last son of Krypton.

Clark is the last of Krypton.

At least, that's what he thought thirty seconds ago.

"Uh," the kid standing in the middle of the broken-up Metropolis street in front of him says awkwardly, a gloved hand half-covering the bright and bold and undeniable emblem on his chest. There's a lot of surrounding property damage, a lot of staring civilians hovering on the sidewalk, and some very upset police officers cuffing up some very unconscious metahuman gang members. Clark can't even begin to bring himself to care about any of it. "Hey . . . ?"

"Hello," Diana says, raising a curious eyebrow at both the kid and the ridiculous mess that's somehow been made of the street. From the look of it maybe one of those gang members had some kind of tectonic-based abilities or something similar, but Clark continues not to care. "It seems we've encountered an admirer of yours, Kal."

"You're wearing that crest without permission," Bruce says flatly, looking less amused than Clark has seen him since the last time someone died on the League's watch.

Clark, meanwhile, can't say anything at all.

"Hey, Superman gave me permission, okay?!" the kid protests, bristling defensively. Clutching the emblem . . . protectively. Like he's afraid to have it taken away. "Just not, uh . . . this one."

"This one." Bruce frowns. The kid flattens his hand against his chest and just . . . shrugs, looking away. Clark can't look away from him at all. He looks like . . . he looks . . .

"Yeah," the kid says, gesturing a little directionlessly with his free hand. "I'm kinda not, like . . . local? There was like this whole thing, like with Hypertime and–it's complicated, okay? Just, like, it's an alternate reality issue. I'm sort of, uh . . . lost. Or–stranded, more like. I guess more like . . . stranded."

The kid swallows. Drops his hand away from the emblem and folds his arms over it instead.

Keeps standing there, looking like . . .

"Are you, now," Bruce says neutrally, and he's definitely going somewhere with that, but–

"You're Kryptonian," Clark blurts, because he can't hold the words back a moment longer. Diana and Bruce both go very still beside him. The kid just looks surprised.

"Uh, not really?" he says. "I mean, okay, sort of. I'm a binary clone of . . . you know, like a hybrid? Um, they based me off, well . . . our Superman. And then, like, stitched me up with human DNA to hold me together 'cuz the Kryptonian genome is a freaking nightmare and they couldn't really figure it out all that well, so otherwise I would've degraded and–uh. Sorry."

Clark feels something he doesn't think he's ever felt in his life, looking at this kid. Feels like he's been dragging himself through the uncanny valley and finally seen the other side of the thing; like he's finally crossed through the fog and darkness and come out into the clear light of day and seen what people are actually supposed to look like. Everything about him is just . . . right. The pitch of his voice, the slope of his shoulders, the way the sunlight reflects off his skin, the pattern of spokes in his irises, the color of his eyes, the weight of him in the world . . .

Clark wants to snatch this kid up and wrap him in his cape and never let anything else touch him. Never let him be hurt or upset or–or alone. Never. Not for anything.

He feels the way he's heard people describe feeling when they first met . . . when they first . . .

He feels the way he's heard people describe feeling when they first met their child. A sense of awe and wonder and . . . and . . .

He feels like he felt the first time he left the atmosphere and saw all of Earth all at once. Everything on it, everyone on it. The whole thing all together, all the same. Perfect.

Complete.

He's never loved anything this immediately, Clark realizes distantly. Not even that first full glimpse of Earth.

He can't imagine how he ever, ever could have.

"What's your name?" he asks, unable to shake the intensity of emotion held painfully tight in his chest. Not even wanting to shake it.

The kid looks–worried, almost. Puts his hands behind his back. Clark can see the full image of the El crest emblazoned in pride of place across his chest for the first time, and it makes him feel weak.

"Superboy," the kid says. "Um . . . Kon-El."

Clark's heart could burst, hearing that.

Or break.

"Kon-El," he echoes, forcing himself not to step in closer; not to crowd the kid. "I had a . . . on Krypton, before it was destroyed, there was . . ."

"A cousin. From the, uh, second house of El," the kid–Kon-El–agrees, shifting just barely anxiously. "My Superman said I . . . reminded him of him, like from what he saw in the recordings and all? So, uh . . ."

"I named you after him?" Clark asks wonderingly. He would've given the kid a human name over a Kryptonian one, himself, but then again, a public street in an alternate dimension isn't really the place for him to be introducing himself as "Jon Kent" or anything similar. Kon nods stiffly, drawing himself up a bit.

"Yeah," he says. "He said, uh–um. He said Kon-El was strong-willed. And . . . uh . . ."

He trails off, looking nervous, and then visibly steels himself and looks defensive again instead.

"He said I was family," he says, squaring his shoulders and lifting his jaw, like he's actually expecting someone to argue with him or something. "So he gave me that name."

Clark doesn't know who the hell made this kid so much as hesitate over saying that to any version of him that isn't an active supervillain, but he thinks he'd like to throw them into the Phantom Zone for a century or two. Just . . . that's all.

Or maybe three.

[mysterycitrus]

can i get a dickie...

now ur speaking MY language

Headcanon A:  realistic

dick loves kids. he loves lian, and cerdian, and irey and jai and wade, and chris and damian. he loves the younger titans and young justice. he tries to never show it, but when they turn to him first, instead of clark or bruce or diana or j'onn, it makes him feel giddy, like he's about to soar up into the stratosphere.

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

dick loves lying, we know this. however he favourite activity is lying about his early days of robin, when bruce was struggling to acclimate to parenting and the world was just a little more absurd. tim tries to one up him by talking about that time santa got nuked by a sentient meteor. that's cute, dick replies, but you weren't around when bruce had to synthesise a literal cure for ugly.

is he lying? is he telling the truth? they'll never know - he's already paid off alfred, and bruce just grunts.

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

once he told roy that he couldn't make love with someone he didn't love, and that's true. but after - after, he sleeps around for the first time in his life. he knows what he looks like, he knows his own body, so it's easy. he always asks, and they always say yes. it's his choice. he's choosing this. it makes him want to rake his skin off, scream, lie down and never move again, but this is him taking back control. and if he leaves before they wake, if he cant meet his own eyes in the mirror, no one else is any wiser.

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.

it makes him feel terrible, selfish, and wicked - but deep down, it feels good that bruce has been trying to replace him as robin since he was fired. it feels even worse after jason dies, when that heavy weight settles on his shoulders and never quite leaves. you see! he wants to shout at bruce, you tried to get rid of me, and you've spent the rest of your life trying to get me back!

[ilguna]

☼ warfare (Bellamy Blake) ☼

summary; when everyone in camp starts becoming ill, you volunteer to help, not knowing that your boyfriend would come down with it, too.

warnings; swearing, ehh gore, weapon mention.

wc; 4.8k

–

You pull your boot on, stomping your foot into the dirt to make sure it’s on all the way, straightening the tongue to make it more comfortable on your foot. You yank at the laces to tighten them, liking your shoes on nice and tight, but not enough to cut off circulation.

You hate it when you sleep in so late, it’s never on purpose. It makes you feel like you’re not pulling your weight, when everyone else has been working for hours, and you’re just getting up. In reality, you tend to work the overnight shifts at the wall for the people who don’t want to do it, because you don’t mind. You work just as hard as everyone else does.

You stand up, stretching your arms above your head, letting out a loud yawn. The only reason why you’re even awake in the first place, is because of a sliver of sunlight that managed to make it through a rip in the tent. It happened to land right on your face, and after so long, you couldn’t sleep through it anymore.

You crouch, lifting up the corner of the makeshift mattress to find your knife underneath, pulling it out. You flick it open, checking to make sure that it’s clean, before closing it. If it were up to you, you’d sleep with it underneath your pillow. The issue is that you share the bed with Bellamy, and he has a habit of sticking his arm beneath the pillow. You found that out after he cut his bicep by accident last week, because you like to keep it open for faster and easier access.

You tuck it into your pocket, before heading out of the tent. The sun is bright, blinding you slightly. You squint through it, listening to the commotion that’s happening out here. When you can finally see, you can see there’s a problem unfolding next to the fire. Where you usually find most people gathered to keep warm, there’s only one that’s sat in front of it.

It’s Derek, he’s got blood smeared around his mouth, hand cupped beneath his chin.

Your face twists, dropping the tent flap behind you so it can fall back into place.

Clarke suddenly rushes past you, heading for the dropship. From a brief look at her, you can see red smeared beneath her eyes, almost reaching her chin. You follow after her, checking behind you to see if there’s anyone else. Only, you see that there’s a semi-circle around Derek now, barely propping himself upright.

“What have I missed?” You ask, jogging to catch up with Clarke.

“I think that whatever Murphy has is spreading.” She says, giving you a look over her shoulder. “To everyone that gets too close.”

You’re sure the last comment is her way of trying to tell you to back off because you might get sick, but you continue after her. She walks up the path and into the dropship, holding the curtains open long enough for you to catch them, being mindful to move when you get close.

Inside, you can hear wet coughing. Around Clarke, you can see Murphy’s beaten up body, hunched over the floor. When he showed up yesterday, there were a lot of mixed reactions. A lot of people were pissed that he was let back inside, human emotion took over when you all realized how bad of a condition he’s in.

You can’t say that you feel bad for him, though. He’s gotten everything that’s deserved to come for him so far, and you guess this is just another round of it. He looks like hell.

He begins coughing again, you can hear the blood splatter on the ground as he struggles to hold himself up. His clothes are torn in several places from trying to escape the grounders, revealing the wounds he’s suffered from them. Clarke gets close, not worried about her safety because she’s already sick, and gets on the ground with him.

“Murphy, hey, look at me.” She says, he slowly raises his head to meet her eyes. “I need you to tell me exactly how you escaped from the grounders. What happened?”

Blood drips from his mouth, “I don’t know. I woke up, and they forgot to lock my cage. There was no one there, so I took off.”

Clarke’s silent for a second, turning this information over in her mind. “They let you go.”

“What?” You ask, “Why—?”

The curtain moves, light shining inside of the dropship. You turn to see Bellamy coming inside, gun prepared in his hand. He looks over your face first, checking to make sure you’re okay, before landing on the two on the floor.

“Bellamy, stay back.” Clarke says.

You grab his arm, making sure he doesn’t get any closer. He presses a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth, missing your lips, “Did he do something to you?” Clarke shakes her head, Bellamy takes a few more steps forward to see more clearly, you hold onto him. “What the hell is this?”

“Biological warfare.” Clarke says, “You were waiting for the grounders to retaliate for the bridge? This is it.” She turns her attention back to Murphy, “Murphy’s the weapon.”

When Murphy looks up from the ground, you can see the full damage done to his face. He’s covered in cuts and gnarly wounds in general, blood smeared over every inch of his face from the eyes down. Along with that, his eyes are swollen, the cuts are swollen, and his lips are too. 

You press your lips together, thinking over what this could mean. How long before everyone else in camp gets sick? If Clarke thinks it spreads through touch, then it’s only a matter of time before your worst nightmare comes true. Murphy touched three, and who did those three get to? Will it affect everyone or only a select number?

The curtains are drawn to the side again, the three of you watch as the two from outside are brought in by other people. It’s Derek and Connor, they must’ve been the ones to help Murphy inside. They’re just more people that could possibly end up as bad as Murphy, or as mellow as Clarke is right now. 

The two newcomers are laid on the ground, where they immediately begin to succumb to the coughing fits.

You share a look with Bellamy, wondering if you should be covering your mouth with your shirt or something. If this turns out to be the base for the sick, then the place will be a petri dish in no time. You’re asking for it.

“Is this your revenge, helping the grounders kill us?” Bellamy asks, Clarke has begun to dab at some of Murphy’s wounds with a wet rag, starting with his forehead and working her way down.

“I didn’t know about this, okay? I swear.” Murphy mutters.

“Stop lying!” Bellamy shouts, “When are they coming?”

“Murphy, think, all right?” Clarke starts, “What can you tell us that’s useful? Did you hear anything?”

Murphy shakes his head slightly, “They’re vicious, cruel.”

“You want to see vicious?” Bellamy starts forward. You grab at his jacket, trying to get him from getting any closer than you already are. He rips the fabric from your grasp, continuing.

“Hey, don’t.” Clarke says, “Whatever this thing is, it spreads through contact.”

“That doesn’t mean anything anymore, most of you could be infected right now, then.” You say.

Clarke tilts her head, eyebrows raised, trying to tell you that you’re right without saying it out loud. It’s not a comforting thought, knowing that you’re right.

The curtain opens suddenly, and closes just as quick, Finn jogs into the room, “Clarke?”

“Finn, you shouldn’t be in here.” Clarke says, “No one should.”

“We’re fucked.” You sigh, running your fingers through your hair.

“I heard you were sick.” He breathes, looking around the room. It begins to dawn on him, “Clarke, what is this?”

“I don’t know, some kind of hemorrhagic fever.” She shakes her head, “We just need to contain it before—”

She’s interrupted by Derek when he begins to vomit all over the floor, body shaking so violently that he falls flat on the ground. You take a step back to give him more room, Clarke launches to her feet.

Finn reaches for her, she moves his hands away, “Hey, don’t touch me. You could get sick.” They share a look before she moves on, going to help Derek, “Wash your hands, now.”

Finn goes, like he’s ordered to.

“What the hell is happening to him?”

“I don’t know.” Clarke mutters.

A dark red and liquidy vomit hits the floor, consisting mostly of blood. This is when you lift your shirt over your nose to cover the smell, and watch as the boy collapses entirely in his own puddle of puke, the coughing ceases. Clarke gets down next to him, turning his head and finding no resistance. She reaches for his neck.

“Is he…?” Bellamy trails off.

Clarke’s expression falls, turning to look at you two, “He’s dead.”

There’s a few seconds of silence that goes through the room, where no one moves and stares at either Clarke or the body. It kills. The disease that Murphy brought into camp kills.

Once again, she’s the first person to move, grabbing a bottle off the shelf, going up to Finn. “Here, alcohol, hold out your hand.” She dumps enough to douse his hands.

“What do we do?” He asks.

“Quarantine.” She says, “Round up everyone who had contact with Murphy. Bring them here.”

Finn nods, not bothering to wait, leaving the dropship.

Bellamy’s eyebrows raise, “And everyone they had contact with?”

“Well, we have to start somewhere.” Clarke reasons, before turning around, “Connor, who was with you when you found him? Who carried him in? Think.”

Connor’s got a ring of red around his mouth because of the blood that leaked from his nose. The tips of his fingers are covered in blood, “The first one there was Octavia.”

Bellamy’s lips part, eyes widening. He doesn’t even look at you before starting out of the dropship, leaving you here with Clarke, Connor and Murphy.

You shake your head slightly, backing up to the opening, “Do you think some of us could be immune?”

“It’s hard to tell.” Clarke’s eyes find the ground, eyebrows drawing in. “It’s possible, but there’s always delayed reactions.”

You take a spot by the door, planting your feet, leaning against the wall. You hold your shirt over your nose. It can’t be of much use to do this anymore, considering you’ve breathed their air. You could be sick in a matter of hours or as late as tomorrow.

Finn gets to work outside. In the span of fifteen minutes, the ship has already begun to fill up with sick people, being carried in by those who volunteer to help. It isn’t too long after when Bellamy comes in with Octavia, who doesn’t look like she’s sick at all.

Regardless, Clarke does a number of tests on her, trying to see if she has any of the range of symptoms that keep coming out. She has Octavia pull the skin beneath her eyes down and tilt her head back to check her ose. It ends with Clarke shining a flashlight into the back of her throat, checking for sores that might produce blood.

“Okay, we’re done.” Clarke clicks it off, “No visible signs of swelling or bleeding.”

Bellamy’s rubbing his chin, “So you’re saying she doesn’t have it?”

“Don’t touch your face, Bell.” You pull at his wrist, ignoring the look he gives you for it.

“I’m saying she doesn’t have symptoms, but that could change.” Clarke says, “We need to keep her here just in case.”

“No way.” He motions to the people on the floor, “Look at this place. SHe’ll get sick just being here.”

“Do you want to stop the spread, or not?” She asks, “Look, I’ll keep her on the third level with the people who aren’t symptomatic yet. Think of it as a way to stop her from sneaking out again.”

Octavia’s face twits, “Screw you, Clarke.”

“I’ll let you know if her condition changes.” She says. 

“I’ll stay here too, to keep an eye on her.” You touch Bellamy’s arm, his expression changes entirely.

“No, I’m not letting you stay here, too. You haven’t even had contact with anyone that’s sick. You’re asking for it.” He tells you. 

“Someone needs to be in here to help them.” You raise your eyebrows. He clenches his teeth, the outline of his jaw becomes more defined, “I’ll be okay.”

He doesn’t say anything, turning around and walking straight through the curtains to the outside. You let out a sigh, moving the hair out of your face before looking back at Octavia and Clarke. 

Octavia’s done with the conversation, though, heading for the latter directly behind Clarke.

“Octavia, wait.” Clarke turns, “I need you to sneak out again.”

It doesn’t take much to convince Octavia to go and see Lincoln. She leaves immediately, and Clarke asks if you’re going to help cover her absence if Bellamy comes in questioning her. You nod, remarking that you already signed up for that when you said that you’d keep an eye on her for him.

In the meantime, you make yourself a bandana that you tie above your nose to be more careful. If they cough in your face, there’s no way for you to breathe it in, much less get the blood all over. You jump in, trying to help the best you can, moving around the room with Clarke to check on people to see if they’re okay.

The good news is, besides Derek, there’s only one other person that you find dead. She’s laying flat on her face, similar to the way Derek did when he died. You have one of the guys help you carry her out, lining her right up next to him.

“All right, show’s over. Get back to your posts.” Bellamy says, coming toward the ship, “You got enough food in there, water?”

“Yeah.” You smile.

“Some medicine might be nice.” Clarke says.

Bellamy laughs, “I’ll see what I can do.” You and Clarke turn to walk in. “Octavia, you okay?”

Your eyes slide over to Clarke, and you walk another two steps before turning like she does. She’s quiet for too long, it’s a dead giveaway that there’s something going on between you three.

“She’s sleeping.” You lie straight through your teeth, giving him a pretty smile, “We’ve got her isolated from everyone else. I’ve been watching her, as promised.”

He squints at you, watching your face, “What’s going on?”

He’s too smart for you to lie like this. You’ve got to try harder, “We—”

Clarke completely cuts you off, not bothering to keep it up, “She’s not here. I sent her to see Lincoln. Look, if there’s a cure, he has it. I didn’t tell you because I knew you wouldn’t let her go.”

You let out a sigh from your nose. You should’ve known that she wouldn’t actually lie to him. Bellamy glares right at you, you tilt your head at him, pressing your lips together. 

“If anything happens to her, you and me are gonna have problems.” He says, beginning to turn, “You too, (Y/n).”

“Bells.” You take a few steps down the slope.

“Bellamy!” Clarke calls.

The two of you watch him walk away. You let out a scoff, pulling the bandana down from your face, eyeing Clarke, “I thought you wanted a cover, moron.”

“There’s no point.” She mutters, voice nasally, unaffected by what you called her.

“Out of my way.” Bellamy barks. 

You and everyone else out here watch as the guy he’s talking to turns around, bloody tears streaming from his eyes. 

“Dude, your eyes!” Someone says, another pulls out his gun, aiming at him.

“Nobody touch him!”

You reach to pull the bandana up.

“Get to the drop ship, now.” Bellamy points, you watch as three other people aim their guns at the guy. He starts walking toward you two.

“Hey, are you okay?” Raven asks, you look in time to watch a girl collapse, hands covered in red. Two people move to grab her to avoid hitting the ground, and in return, she coughs a spray of blood in their faces.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, it’s on me!”

The second guy wipes the blood from his face onto his hands, smearing it, wandering it in the direction of a few people. They all pull out their guns, aiming at him, “Get away! Get back! Get back!”

You stand in horror,w watching as the panic grows, people covering their mouths, backing away from others. More guns are being pulled, people raising their hands in defense.

“Calm down.” Bellamy orders.

“Put that gun down!” Finn shouts.

Clarke doesn’t watch for long before turning around and heading into the ship. She comes out a second later, a gun in her hand. She points the barrel up, firing three shots. All eyes hit her, silence sweeping the camp. She heads down a few steps, “This is exactly what the grounders want. Don’t you see that? They don’t have to kill us if we kill each other first.”

“They won’t have to kill us if we all catch the virus!” One of the guys shout at her, pointing the gun in her direction, “Get back in the damn dropship!”

Bellamy takes three long strides, grabbing the gun to disarm him. In the process, he slams the butt of the gun into the guys’ throat, he falls to his knees.

“Not to state the obvious, but your quarantine isn’t working.” Bellamy tells her.

When you look over at Clarke, you watch as her eyes roll into the back of her head, the gun beginning to fall from her hand. You jerk forward to catch her before she hits the dirt, managing to grab her arms before Finn swoops in, holding her across his arms.

“Hey, let me go. I’m okay.” Clarke breathes.

“No, you’re not.” He says.

“Octavia will come back with a cure.” She says.

“There is no cure.” Octavia jogs over, “But the grounders don’t use the sickness to kill.”

“Really? Tell that to them.” Bellamy motions to the two bodies on the ground, “I warned you about seeing that grounder again.”

“Yeah, well, I have a warning for you, too.” She says, “The grounders are coming. And they’re attacking at first light.”

She walks right past Bellamy, looking at Finn, “Come on. I’ll help you get Clarke into the dropship.”

You look at Bellamy, pulling the mask down again. He eyes for face for a long couple of seconds, “I can’t believe you let her go, knowing how I feel about them.”

You nod, making a face, “We have to take chances sometimes, you know that better than anyone else.” You cross your arms, “And for the record, if Clarke hadn’t sent her, we wouldn’t know that we’re all going to die tomorrow morning.”

Bellamy’s lips turn up slightly, “You know I’d never let them touch you.”

“I know.” You agree, beginning to back up, “I’ll keep an actual eye on her this time.”

He nods, “Be careful, please.”

“I always am.” You say, pulling the mask over your nose, heading into the dropship.

Inside, you find that Murphy’s given up his hammock so that Clarke can rest in it instead. You start to walk over, Clarke’s half-open eyes land on you. She’s pale, and you can see a thin layer of sweat on her forehead.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Bellamy can never stay mad at me.” You stop by her feet, “I’ll kep an eye on everyone.”

“I’ll help you.” Octavia offers. 

“Me too.” Murphy gets up from where he’s sitting. He looks at you, “I’m feeling better.”

“That’s good.” You grab the nearest cup off of a table, rinsing it in the clean bucket of water before scooping drinkable water out of a different bucket. 

The three of you work as a team to get around the room, slowly hydrating the people that can’t move because of how much pain they’re in. There’s a few instances where they’ll cough in your face, blood splattering around your eyes, but never in your mouth. You try to feed them what little food you have to offer, and then move onto cleaning faces the best you can, even though you know that they won’t stay that way for long.

By the time the sun sets, you’re the only one still consistently moving around, making beds and fluffing pillows for people to use so that they can actually rest. Clarke watches you half of the time, making sure that you’re doing everything correctly when an emergency arises. She stops trying to tell you what you should be doing when she realizes that you’re getting the job done either way.

“I’m going to take a breather.” You say, washing your face with the clean water, and then dumping a small handful of the alcohol over your hands. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Take your time.” Clarke breathes, “You’ve been doing a lot.”

“You want anything from your tent?” You ask.

“No, I’m okay.” She smiles.

You leave through the curtains, immediately pulling the bandana down so you can get a few lungfuls of fresh air. It’s hot in there from the amount of unmoving bodies. You feel sticky from the sweat and blood that clings to you desperately. You’d give anything to take a shower.

You jog down the slope and toward your tent, hoping that you’ll meet someone along the way that has good news. They’ve got a lot of people that are putting their heads together to ensure that you’ll all be safe tomorrow morning, but they haven’t shared those plans just yet.

The moon is shining exceptionally bright tonight, you don’t even need the fires that light up the path. 

Halfway through your journey, you find Jasper, talking down at the corner of some tent. You’re about to make a joke, when you see that he’s talking to someone, not himself. And when you get closer, you see that it’s Bellamy.

“Bells!” You gasp, jogging closer.

“Stay back.” He holds his hand out. You can see that there’s blood running from his nose. You reach to untie the bandana from the back of your neck, turning it into a rag. You crouch down next to him, moving his hand away to wipe the blood. He turns his head away, eyes on Jasper, “Make the shot. Find Finn, go.” 

Jasper leaves, you move the hair out of Bellamy’s face, feeling how hot his forehead is, “Can you stand?”

“You shouldn’t be here.” He murmurs.

“I came out to see if you guys came up with a plan.” You say, “And because I needed a breather. It’s not easy being in there.”

“Is Octavia okay?”

“She’s fine.” You tell him, “Let’s get you up so you can see for yourself.”

Bellamy doesn’t want to touch you with his bloodied hands, so you wipe them as clean as you can. The two of you work together to get him on his feet, you pull an arm over your shoulder, trying to get him to lean on you.

“I can walk.”

“Must be why you fell over then, right?” You muse, he sucks in a breath. 

You work to get him to the ship, he’s dragging his feet, one arm wrapped around his abdomen. Everytime he teeters to one side, you have to try hard to correct it without sending you both falling over.

“Octavia!” You shout, helping him up the slope.

The curtains whip open less than a second later, taking in the sight of you two, before turning to look back inside, “Clear some space!”

Murphy jumps up to fix one of the beds, Octavia takes Bellamy’s other side, because he’s beginning to sink to the floor with each step. As soon as you get him to the end of the bed, you slowly lower him onto it, trying to be gentle.

Bellamy lays on his back, coughing up a mouthful of blood. You jerk to roll him over, watching as it all leaves his mouth, splattering onto the floor. He gags, Octavia pats his back.

“Hey, big brother.” She breathes, leaning over him.

You wipe his face with a dry rag, trying to keep the blood from running down the side of his jaw and onto his neck.

“I’m scared.”

“I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.” Octavia tells him. 

“That’s what I said to you the day you were born.” He’s sucking in air, having difficulty breathing. 

“I know.” She says. “You told me that, like, a thousand times.”

“I’m glad you’re here.” He grabs her hand, squeezing it.

“Just get some rest now, okay?”

Bellamy nods, tears pooling in his eyes. He closes them, head turning to the side. You make eye contact with Octavia, and a silent agreement passes between you two. You nod, telling her that you’ll stay right here.

Octavia gets up to go, you sit flat on your butt, crossing your legs. You slowly run a hand through Bellamy’s hair, wiping away the tears that escape. You try humming to him, knowing that trick works every now and then. He crosses his arms over his chest tightly, so you move to unzip your jacket, laying it across his chest.

He takes your hand in his.

It isn’t too long after when he falls asleep, body relaxing. You sit over him and watch to make sure that he’s still breathing and not choking on his own bloody vomit. Murphy and Octavia take turns to help out everyone, but it seems like people keep turning them away because of how tired they are.

However, there’s a few that are coming back to life, the illness finally passing. Even Clarke begins to get restless.

It’s a few hours later when Bellamy begins to stir. You lift your head from where you have it on the bed, placing your hand on his knee. His face twists before his eyes open suddenly, searching the room for a split second, but he stops as soon as he sees you, sitting up. 

“I’ve got water.” Murphy says, coming over with a cup.

You take it from him, Bellamy glares at him, “Thanks, I’ve got it.”

“Yeah.” He watches Bellamy for a second before walking away.

You pass the cup over, rubbing Bellamy’s knee for a second. He turns his attention to you, “Have you slept?”

“Partially.” You admit, “I don’t need you worrying about me. I work the overnight shifts, this is nothing compared to how late I’ve stayed up patrolling before.”

He doesn’t argue, “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, no symptoms. You look better.”

He takes a drink of the water, and then sets the cup on the floor. Clarke comes over, sitting on the bed next to Bellamy.

“Either of you seen Octavia?”

“She was up all night helping people.” You tell him, “Murphy gave her a break.”

Clarke gives him a look.

Bellamy squints at her, face twisting, “Don’t tell me you trust him now.”

“Trust? No.” Clarke looks away, “I do believe in second chances, though.”

Bellamy shakes his head, changing the topic, “It’s almost dawn. Better get everyone inside. If we lock the doors, maybe the grounders will think we’re not home.”

“Not everyone’s sick.” She says.

“Sick is better than dead.” Bellamy says.

“He’s right.” You agree.

“You don’t think Finn and Jasper are gonna pull it off.” She says, it’s not a question.

“Do you?” He asks.

She pauses for a second, “I’ll get everyone inside.”

Clarke gets to her feet, shuffling out of the dropship. You stretch, letting out a yawn.

“You should sleep, (Y/n).” He says, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

“Should is the key word.” You say, “I’m not sleeping until everything’s settled.”

You get to your feet, tilting his head back so you can kiss his forehead, knowing better than to test your luck by aiming for his lips. He must think this is risky, because he pushes your hand away.

“Bells,” You murmur, “Stop.”

“Don’t.”

“I’ve had sick people coughing in my face all day, you think I can’t handle your germs?” You laugh, pushing his hand out of the way. You hold onto either side of his head, pressing a kiss to his forehead, “See?”

“Yeah.” He says, watching you sit next to him. He pulls you into his side, “Thanks for watching me all night.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that.”

[puppetwoman17]

I’ve been wanting to talk about this but I thought it would sound weird and kinda Mary Sue like! Glad to hear that I’m not the only one.

I’m very adamant on Cap being a pillar in not only the magic community(cause of his Champion role obviously) but the hero community as well. He’s well-known for his heroics and impossible stories about battling sentient worms and being diplomatic with alien dinosaurs.

He’s also loved for the advice he gives. All Billy wants to do is bring smiles to these peoples’ days. He dishes out advice like it’s candy and always sees the good in people. He’s great at looking at situations through multiple viewpoints and understanding everyone’s thought processes. This in particular helps with the Superman and Superboy problem. He tells both of them individually that both of their hardships are valid. Clark is allowed to feel violated because his DNA was stolen and mutated in a way that was against his consent. Connor never asked to be created, always wanting Superman’s love but never receiving it.

They reconcile, and Billy doesn’t think much of it, because it’s what anyone would do, right? No biggie. He even does something similar with Red Arrow, convincing him that he’s not just a clone. He’s his own person. He built his own life. He has his own achievements. He shouldn’t feel bad for any of this because none of it was in his control. And Roy is so damn grateful because it feels like a weight has been taken off his shoulders.

Marvel just shrugs. No biggie.

He talks Leaguers through both personal and professional problems and guides them onto a simple, honest path because adults make everything so damn complicated so why can’t you just sit THE FUCK DOWN—

Ahem.

So he helps with that too. No biggie, right? Just another good deed.

He expands his one-way business to other teams too, like the JSA, the YJ team, the Teen Titans, etc. Spends time with each of them, helps them solve their own problems whether they’re big or small.

No biggie, right?

Fucking. Wrong.

The world of heroes absolutely adores him! The other hero teams look to him like he’s the cool uncle. Despite no one knowing jackshit about his personal life, they trust him wholeheartedly. They know he’s got their back.

That’s actually what hurts, tho. Whenever anyone asks him about his life outside the cape, he gets tongue-tied. Panicked. Silent. Doesn’t say a word until a new topic is brought up and then changes wheels like it’s nothing. It hurts, knowing he doesn’t trust them. They know it’s stupid, he never had obligations to tell them anything about the real him, but it stings. Where does he go when he isn’t Cap? Does he have family? A lover? Hobbies? Pets? Why is he like a brick wall with them? Did they do something wrong?

Things get especially annoying when characters like Booster Gold(from the future) and Doctor Fate(Lord of Order, basically on the same pedestal as the Champion) know his identity and don’t even bother to hide that fact. Leaguers will frequently catch Booster making knowing jabs at the Captain, winking and saying strange things that get the Captain riled up and shaking his head profusely. Nabu is no help either, with Leaguers catching him and Marvel quietly conversing. When someone, say, Barry, shows up, Marvel stops talking.

It fucking hurts. A lot. And Billy doesn’t even notice the looks of jealousy cast at his future teammate and fellow Lord by his coworkers. The YJ team is not taking that shit because that is their den dad. Diana doesn’t appreciate that these strangers know more about her brother than she does. Flash is all confused and slightly annoyed because when are they gonna play another prank on Hal? Is he just gonna keep talking to those weirdos all day? And the next?

Billy’s honestly just happy to be here. He never thought he’d get past the age of ten, so doing all of this, helping these heroes while learning more about himself, is just great. He’s speedrunning his way through every moody, self-righteous, hurt, traumatized hero with no sweat on his back.

So yeah, he is beloved and he doesn’t even know it. You betcha that when Cap’s identity is revealed, everyone goes full mama bear/papa bear/protective older brother or sister on him. No way is he leaving without supervision.

Nabu and Booster are rolling their eyes cause hello? That’s the Champion of Magic. If anything, he’s the one they should be worried about.

Yeah, they are politely asked to leave after that. Anyhow Billy, wanna go get some hot chocolate 😘😍

Excuse the word vomit.

[needlereads]

Bed of Roses

dark!Clark Kent x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ only; DUBCON, coercion, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, major size kink, descriptions of size difference, no plot

thanks to @/inklore for the divider

You had come to trust Clark, trust in his righteousness, and more personally, you trusted him to never hurt you.

Not only was he the hero the world needed; Clark had placed his secret in your hands. The least you could do for him was be there to support him in the little ways you could. It hadn't seemed enough at first, because compared to the fires he battled, the heights he flew, what could you dare hope to provide for Clark? But he kept coming back. In time, you overcame the shyness of beholding a hero. But the awe never wore off.

And how could you not grow to love this lonely soul that insisted you were the only balm for the sacrifices he made?

You hadn't been ready that first time, but he had been patient with you. You started out with so much going through your mind; afraid you would disappoint him, afraid that the next stage of physical intimacy would change too much of your relationship.

Then he came in, with a confident touch and encouraging words. There was so much, he was so much that night.

Hungry -- his eyes blazed up and down your naked form; his hands grasped and squeezed firmly so that were you to try and get away, you would have surely failed. His mouth had swallowed down your mumbles, nipped your skin until you felt dazed in submission.

You had been nervous, yet his cooing washed away your quiet words. His unrelenting weight kept you in place beneath him. Kept you secure, just as he insisted you should be. I'll always keep you safe. He could understand you so well, even better than your own mind, it had seemed. You don't let new things scare you off. You're my brave girl. He shouldered the responsibility of Earth's inhabitants, yet, Clark did not hesitate to pay extra attention to you.

"Just the tip, that's it." He cooed, nuzzling against you as your lips parted in mimicry of how he was opening you up. "So good, sweetheart."

He wedged the tip of his cock between the wet lips of your cunt, pressing, splitting, pushing until the bulbous head burst past that tight opening and stayed caught. You gasped, breathing shallow at the impossibly thick intrusion.

He took your hand. He kissed your fingertips, then licked your open palm and guided you, wrapping your little hand around his shaft and leading you in stroking him. He huffed, grunting how good you made him feel.

"Such a good girl for me. Fuck, this pretty pussy can't fit all of me yet, huh? Keep going."

You did your best, eager to please him, eager to be good so he could see how much you loved him being gentle for you. Even with the overwhelming heat of his skin on yours, the press and mix of sweat, you tried following his lead. The initial sting of his penetration had faded and all you wanted was to make him feel good. He had listened to you. When you were hesitant, he had encouraged you to trust in him and in yourself. He challenged you in a good way, knowing you could handle these new touches. Clark had told you he knew what was best for you, and see how he had proven it?

Your heart thundered, but you sped up, gripping him tight. You squirmed as he sucked hard at a nipple, sparking jolts of pleasure through you, making your whine at the way his teeth ran across your softness. He groaned. You felt his muscles under your free hand, contracted with so much pressure like he was holding all of himself back. He tried so hard, all for your sake. You would be good for him.

You felt sore and so tired after, and so safe in his embrace.

He kissed you as you fell asleep. Grateful that you could share this with Clark. He would never make you do anything you couldn't handle.

He held your knees wide apart and gorged himself between your legs. You grew sensitive after his eager mouth suckled and licked you so. When you tried to sit up, uttering his name, he yanked you onto your back and kept taking in your sweet slick. His tongue thrust into you, then one finger pushed in that had you whimpering.

Again, you were at his mercy -- no, you were receiving his love, his passion. He was so good to you. You could be good for him.

You hadn't expected so much of his attention tonight, and couldn't help writhing as he kept at you, kissing your sensitive core raw.

When he sat up, you groaned in relief. Clark dropped soft kisses along your hip, murmuring praise. You would have swooned if you weren't already a puddle of buzzing pleasure.

Tonight, he asked to touch you again just so. He missed you, couldn't get you out of his mind, needed to be close to you. Just the tip again, he said.

Now, you were trapped under him. The tip of his cock had found home in you once more. Just as tight of a squeeze as the first time. You wanted to make him feel good again. Just the tip. You could do it.

He was leaving wet kisses up your breastbone, when you felt another bit of his cock slide in.

You winced.

"You're okay. I got you."

A brief rut had you pressing at the side of his ribs. "...Cla..Ah..."

He licked into your mouth. His big paw captured your hand, holding it down. He flexed his hip and you whined at getting split more and more.

"Feel so fucking perfect," he groaned. He filled you so much now, you sobbed, trying to remind him of his promise, but he kissed you, his gravelly voice unrepentant in your ear.

"Knew you could take it. My good girl."

He drew out and thrust slow and slick into you, again and again. Each time he withdrew you felt your pussy clinging to him and you didn't know how but the heat in your center flared hotter and hotter. There was so much of him to fit in, and he had primed you for it, dripping as you were. But you had not been prepared for this, and there so much, so much of him to take.

Resting his forehead on yours, Clark took up all the space in and around you. He was everything, all that you could feel as his hips met the backs of your thighs.

Your body grew taut, ready to combust. Grinding against you lit up that nub of pleasure and you whined with your release. Seeing you lose yourself in climax drove Clark to a frenzy, hips snapping until you couldn't remember how it felt before he claimed you. He growled into the crook of your neck, holding you tight as he came.

As your mind slowly cleared, he shifted you, laid you out on top of him. You felt his hands all over, stroking down your back, kneading your shoulder, squeezing your bottom. His touch, heavy and warm, lulled you away from how overwhelmed you had felt.

Clark knew all along what was good for the both of you.

-

[turbulentscrawl]

Naib and Eli resting their head on gender neutral s/o’s boobs sfw, how do they go about to getting into the position, what’s their reaction if their s/o calls them out lovingly ofc!! please :3!!

Heck yeah!! I wasn't entirely sure if you wanted HCs or a little scene so here's a bit of both.

Naib Subedar

-Mr. “I do what I want” right here just sees an opening and goes for it. As long as you’re in private, of course.

-If you seriously want him to get off he will, but he can tell when you’re just messing with him and plays along with it a bit.

-He can take some teasing, especially if it means he gets to stay like this longer.

---

You blinked and he was there, full weight settling carefully against yours. When you lifted your book to peer down at the shirtless mercenary who’d joined you in bed, skin still hot and steaming from his shower. He deigned not to return eye contact and instead nuzzled his jaw into your sternum. Both of his hands wormed their way between the bed and the small of your back and squeezed. His legs clenched and stretched like a cat, and then he fell still.

“Whatcha doing?” you asked.

“‘M tired,” Naib said in response, muffled slightly against your chest. His hair was down, dripping, dampening your shirt.

“I’m sure, it sounded like your match was a busy one for my favorite rescue specialist.” He groaned in confirmation. “But you know there’s a perfectly good pillow right next to me?” You felt more than saw his lips pull into a smirk.

“I like these better,” he said. “Warmer, softer, and they come with a heartbeat.” To punctuate his point, Naib laid his ear right over your heart and settled back in. “Rub my back for me.”

“You’re being awfully demanding,” you replied. “What if I don’t like you laying on me like this, hmm?”

Naib groaned louder and made a show of peeling himself away from you. He got as far as elbow-height from your body before you tossed your book away, forcibly hugged his face back into your chest, and locked your legs around his waist. With a short laugh, he collapsed back on top of you. One of his hands ran the length of your side appreciatively while he settled back in, cheeks now well and truly smushed by your bosom.

“You’re the best,” he muttered when your hands began rubbing circles into his shoulders, and after several minutes drifted away to sleep.

Eli Clark

-A little more shy about it. He asks first, but he’s just a tiny bit awkward about it.

-Also handles teasing well, as he knows when you’re being serious or not, even if you’re really subtle.

-So very sweet about it. He just wants to be held. ;;

---

Eli finally stepped into your room after checking on everyone post-match. It always took him forever to make his rounds, but it was hard to be upset when his absence was for such kind reasons. Brooke Rose took a perch onyour coat rack, and Eli made himself comfortable, sluggishly removing both his cloak and eyemask. You were already watching him when he turned to face you, bright blue eyes locking onto your form. A sweet, but tired smile slipped onto his lips.

After several long moments holding one another’s stares like that, and his cheeks steadily growing pink, you ventured to ask, “Is everything alright?”

“Ah,” Eli finally said. “I was just wondering…if I could join you?”

“Of course you can,” you chuckled. Always cautious, this one, even after losing count of all the times you’ve given permission. You patted the mattress next to you, and Eli seemed pleased with the offer, but stopped again with just one knee on the bed, vaguely hovering over your reclined form.

“Actually, I was wondering if I might…lay on you?” he asked.

“Feeling a little extra clingy tonight, are we?” you asked back. His head dipped away in embarrassment, but he didn’t retreat from you. He chuckled good-naturedly.

“Can I?” he asked again.

“Can you?” Your voice dropped low, teasing and suggestive.

“You’re cheeky,” he said back, “I think I can.” Carefully, he slid himself up against your side. His legs tangled with yours, torso half-topping, half-spooning you. He was trying to be mindful of his weight, but when he finally settled and seemed happy with the position, he was coiled around you like ivy. And his head cradled right against your boobs.

“I see what this is,” you taunted, unable to resist one more. “You just wanted easy access to the stress balls.” Eli barked a loud laugh in response. He turned his head up as if to say something but cut himself off when your fingers slipped into his hair and began combing through it. The treatment relaxed him, and you two fell gently into intimate silence.

[illya-roma]

Dp x dc promt

The clattering of glass rang in his ears once more after Bruce Wayne made another toast for increasing funds for another charity event. It was fun really, Clark doesn't get enough chances to tease his friends without being interrupted by the villian of the weak.

He chuckles as Bruce fails at slipping another flirting remark to the tall and muscler "power couple" (look at him using slang) sandwiching him. Clark knows that if Diana found out she'll try to rope him into doing the same to Bruce.

He looks over the different plates to feast on while tuning in to Bruce's ever increasing heart beat knowing that he'll have something to hold over him.

Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba?

Ba,dum pur dum ba,puuuurrrr, bababa-dum-ba dum-ba, ......, ba-dam

What the?

Wait, is there an-

BA-DUNDUM, DUAM, .....,BA-DUM

It's getting closer. But who, why are they here? Should he make Bruce aware of, something pulls on his pants.

He looks down, the heart beat pinpointed to a child.

The hairs on his nape stand.

Blood drips all over their face, blue eyes overlaping and changing to something. Slit pupils overlapping with round ones.

"Kal-el?"

His heart falls.

The child smiles, sharp fangs glittering.

"You're afraid of hurting your friend's, human and not, aren't you?"

He goes to speak, only for his voice to vanish.

His mouth is moving, his voice sings in his ears.

But he's not voluntary moving.

He's not, he's not in-

"You're stuck fearing for the worst whenever you're not in control. I understand. Won't you tell me more?"

He tries to listen to Bruce's heart beat but his owns deafening him.

"You don't feel like you fit in, too far from your birth planet, too close to the strength that it destroyed it."

He needs to move, he can't, don't think of anyone , don't think of anythin- focus on moving.

"Why don't you talk more? You'll feel a lot better if you do. They , Kents, your favorite lady reporter, Bruce, your coworkers, all would tell you they're proud of you."

His head snaps to the right and there are no suits or dresses or rich people in sight. The metal chair creaks under him as he realises that his head in his hands. He feels the wetness on his cheeks.

He hears the chatter of teenagers around him.

The blood red hair flows-no it covers the table, branching yet not tangling with every flickers that he swears, he swears , is moving.

That his eyes aren't lying when the shadows don't match the girl.

He's in a restaurant. Her eyes glow with hunger and satisfaction.

"You've been so strong for so long, it's time for you to break down. And rest."

His shoulders falls, his body sags with relief as his mind fills with nothing but bliss. He feels lighter. Weight lifted off his shoulders.

His eyes open, the covers fall of his body.

He hears weeping.

The light barely flows in underneath the door.

He open it.

Bruce is holding onto his family on the floor.

The weeping is louder, Bruce is holding a hand out, beckoning him to join them.

They're missing four months from their memories.

----------------------------

We don't talk enough about cryptic jazz.

We don't hear much about her being bullied when she was the Fenton freak, maybe there was a reason not to.

@stealingyourbones @phantom00maverick

@jackpoompkin

[bingbongsupremacy]

Drunken Mistakes Pt. 1

Pairing: John Murphy x Reader

Warnings: Use of Y/N, Pregnancy, Reader can get pregnant, swearing, throwing up.

Summary: It was a one night stand. That's all it was. Little did you know that it'd lead to something else.

*Not Proof Read*

This Fic does not mention body type, weight, race, gender, etc. If I happened to mess up and add a pronoun or anything that could define the readers appearance, please let me know so I can fix it. Ty!

*****

" How long has this been going on? " Clarke asks while casting me a sympathetic look.

I brush my hand over my mouth, trying to wipe off any remaining vomit off of my lips. The bitter taste of stomach acid lingers in my mouth, something that almost causes another round of vomiting.

" I'm not sure. A few weeks? " I try to create some distance between me and the nauseating smell a few inches away from me. I lean back against a rough fallen tree, taking a few deep breathes.

" Have you been feeling extremely tired lately? "

I nod. " I think it's just a cold, C. I'll be fine in a bit. "

I hope it's just a cold. Clarke saw me running out of the drop ship to puke and decided to follow me. Ever since then she's been asking question after question.

I just want to go lie down.

" When was the last time you had your period? " Clarke's question catches me by surprise.

My eyes widen. " Whoa. Look, I appreciate your concern but I don't remember scheduling a consultation, doc. "

I hadn't really thought of that. These questions...she can't be serious, right?

Clarke takes a seat on the tree next to me, her body turned to face me. " Y/N, I think you might be pregnant. "

What?

" No, no. " I shake my head. " No fucking way. "

Clarke sends me a small smile. " I think so. All the symptoms...I've seen this before. I'm guessing your chest has been hurting and you've might of had some cramping? "

I think back to the past few days. She's not wrong. My body's been very weird the past few weeks, especially in the morning when I seem to have my daily puke fests.

" You're pregnant, Y/N. " Clarke softly states again.

" I can't be. " I shake my head. My chest begins to develop a tightening feeling. I pull my knees towards my chest so I can hug myself. " I can't be fucking pregnant. Fuck no. " I bury my head into my knees.

" Look, I can't be one hundred percent sure on this. At least not yet. If you start to show, then we'll know for sure. " Clarke gently pats my shoulder to try to deliver some sort of comfort. " For now, just try to relax, okay? We'll figure this all out when we know for sure. "

This is the last thing I wanted. I knew I shouldn't have gotten drunk.

But everyone did. I mean, we were all so excited to be on earth for the first time. What else is there to do in a place like this but party and hang out with the people around us?

Should I tell John?

We don't know for sure. Not yet. Besides, who knows how he'll react. He's on some weird power trip. Who knows what he's capable of doing.

What if he doesn't want the baby? What if decides to convince Bellamy to banish me or has his friends kill me or something?

Plus we don't know anything about this planet. At least not about how it is now. Is it even safe to bring a kid into a world like this? We don't know what's fully out there. What if there's more than just mutated animals.

Relax. You don't know what's going on yet. It could just be a cold.

Hopefully it's just a cold.

*****

" You were right. " I blurt after bursting into the drop ship.

Clarke looks up from her heated conversation with Bellamy, her brows furrowed in confusion. " What? "

" You were right, Clarke. " I state again, my words beginning to wobble. " You were fucking right. "

Clarke's eyes widen as she realizes what I'm saying. She immediately abandons her conversation with the man in front of her, instead rushing to me.

" What's she talking about? " Bellamy calls after Clarke.

Clarke ignores him and grabs my arm, gently leading me out of the now suffocating drop ship. Clarke leads me into the forest, just far enough for our conversation to be private.

How tears of frustration begin to flow down my cheeks. " I can't believe this, I'm pregnant. I'm fucking pregnant. "

Over the past few days I started to notice a small protrusion in my stomach. Originally I'd thought it was just bloating. It's not bloating. I'm showing.

" What the fuck am I going to do, Clarke? I can't raise a baby. Not here! Not without my mom. I'm all alone and I don't fucking know what to do. " I cry.

Clarke gently takes a hold of my shoulders. " Hey, hey listen. You're going to be okay. You're not alone, I swear. We're here to help you. I'm here to help you. And, you have the baby's dad, don't you? "

The mention of Murphy causes me to let out a small sob. Do I? What if he accuses me of sleeping with someone else, claiming it's not his kid? What if he wants nothing to do with it? After all, it's not like we're dating or even friends for that matter. It was a one time thing. I can hardly stand him as it is.

" I don't know. " I shake my head.

" What do you mean you don't know? You don't know who the dad is? " Clarke asks in confusion.

" No! I-I know who the dad is. I just don't know if he'd want to help. " I pull away from Clarke and sit down on the ground, pulling my knees in to tuck into myself.

Clarke sits down next to me. " Who is it? "

" Murphy. " I mumble softly.

" Who? " Clarke asks again, apparently not hearing me the first time.

" It's Murphy. " I say louder this time.

Clarke is silent. She doesn't know what to say. She's not his biggest fan and I think part of her is thinking the same way. He might not want anything to do with the baby at all.

" I don't think I can do this. It's danger out there, Clarke. There's people we don't even know. What if I get the baby killed? What if we're attacked and I can't defend it? " I air out my worries. " Or what if I'm such a bad parent that they end up hating me? "

" Don't think like that. You don't know what's going to happen which is terrifying but also beautiful. Your baby will love you no matter what happens. And even if you don't have Murphy, you'll still have me and the others. We're a community. We're not going to let you deal with this alone. " Clarke reassures me.

" I don't know, Clarke. " I sigh.

" Listen-" Clarke begins before she's interrupted by one of Bellamy's lackies.

" Clarke, Bellamy needs to speak to you in the drop ship. "

Clarke lets out a small huff in frustration. " What is it now? " She mutters while standing up. She turns to me once more before leaving. " We'll finish this later. Just try to go relax. Maybe take a nap or something. Stress isn't good for the baby. "

This world isn't good for the baby.

Clarke follows the boy back towards the drop ship, disappearing after a few minutes.

I'm going to need bigger clothes in a few months. Where am I going to get them? What about baby clothes? Or toys? Or books? Medication?

Stop.

I force myself to try to calm down. It's going to be okay. It has to be.

I head back in the direction of my make shift sleeping area. Maybe some sleep will help.

Before I'm able to make it very far Mbeige stops me. " Where do you think you're going? " He asks, his voice stern.

" None of your business. " I spit, trying to walk past the boy.

He doesn't let me pass. " It is my business. We need this wall up by nightfall. Get to fucking work. " His voice is venomous, his eyes glaring into mine.

He's not playing.

" I need to go to my tent. " I try to push, not daring to back down from his stare. I fucking hate this guy. He and a few others including John, make it their daily goal to make the lives of everyone shitty.

" You don't need to go anywhere but the wood pile to start putting up the wall. " Mbeige persists.

I glare at the man for a moment, scanning his eyes for any signs of a possibility for him to let me through. Nothing.

" Fine. " I spit, turning on my heals. I walk towards the nearest wood pile and begin to pick up pieces of heavy, thick wood. I manage to drag a few pieces towards the wall and set them up before I feel sweat start to build up from the heat. I need water.

I struggle to pick up one particularly heavy log when one of Mbeige's friends shouts at me.

" Pick up the fucking pace. We don't have all day here. " He snaps.

Annoyance and anger burn up my face. Maybe they should get off of their lazy asses.

" Y/N! " Clarke's voice shouts from out of no where. " Put that down! " She demands while running over to us.

" Stay out of this, Clarke. Y/N's a big kid. They can handle a little weight. " Murphy smirks. He was alerted to the situation from Clarke's yelling.

I try to ignore the snickers from Murphy's friends as I continue to drag the log over to where it needs to be used.

" I'm serious! Y/N can't be carrying shit like that! " Clarke doesn't back down.

Murphy's eyes flicker over to me as he observes my struggle. Humor is evident in his tone. " And why would that be? What makes Y/N so different than the rest of us that they get special privileges' while we have to work? Hm? "

Clarke's expression is furious. She storms towards Murphy before whispering into his ear.

Murphy's friends immediately flock to his side, ready to force her away.

Murphy's eyes widen as they meet mine. His cocky smirk slides off his lips and his face falls into one of surprise. The malice in his eyes fades away and is quickly replaced with shock.

He knows. Clarke told him.

What the fuck.

" Take the wood from Y/N. " Murphy's words surprise me. His demeanor is very different now, his shoulders unusually tense. His gaze doesn't leave mine as he orders his friends around. " Now! For fucks sake, Mbeige, take the fucking wood! " He shouts.

Mbeige doesn't need to be told again. He swiftly takes the wooden log out of my hands and begins to pull it towards the wall.

Murphy's friends cast confused looks at each other.

" You need some water. " Clarke breaks the silence. She walks over to one of the pouches of water and picks it up.

" You're not seriously going to let them drink water when they just barely started fucking working. " One of Murphy's friends complains.

Murphy still hasn't taken his gaze away. " Mind your own fucking business. " He snaps aggressively.

Clarke brings the water over to me and I hesitate to drink it. Everyone around us has paused their jobs, instead choosing to watch us.

" I'm okay. " I shake my head and refuse the drink I so desperately want.

" Drink it. " Murphy orders again.

I meet his gaze again.

His eyes slightly soften. " Please. "

Feeling very uncomfortable, I accept the pouch from Clarke and take a sip. The cool liquid immediately soothes my thirsty throat.

" Back to work everyone! " Murphy orders to the people who are watching us. " This wall better be up by tonight or no dinner! " He threatens.

Once I've had my fill of water, I turn my attention back to Murphy. He walks towards me before stopping a few feet away from me.

" I think we need to talk. "

Oh shit.

[hd-junglebook]

Can I Help You

Part 2 / Word Count 3509

Masterlist

Summary: after days of avoiding Luke, y/n has to man up and see Luke in person after she ran away. But of course, things won't go as smoothly when her ex-boyfriend shows up.

Previous - Next

The music pulsed through the night air, the heavy bass reverberating in their chests as y/n and Clarke approached the big white house. Clusters of partygoers sprawled across the front lawn and spilled over onto the stairway, their laughter and chatter mixing with the thumping soundtrack blaring from inside.

The chill in the air nipped at exposed skin, but the revelers seemed impervious, warmed by the electric thrill of the night and perhaps a few red solo cups.

y/n's heels clicked rhythmically against the sidewalk, a sharp staccato cutting through the dull roar of the party. She tugged at the hem of her dress, suddenly feeling self-conscious amidst the sea of scantily clad sorority girls. Clarke, sensing her friend's hesitation, looped her arm through y/n's and gave a reassuring squeeze.

"You've got this, babe. He's going to eat his heart out when he sees you," Clarke declared, her voice raised to carry over the din.

y/n exhaled shakily, her breath misting in the cool air. She wanted to believe her friend, wanted to trust in the liquid courage buzzing through her veins, but the butterflies in her stomach refused to settle.

They climbed the steps to the front door, dodging red cups and overly enthusiastic dancers, y/n scanned the crowd for a glimpse of him. Her heart stuttered in her chest when she finally spotted him across the room, his tall frame unmistakable even in the dim party lighting.

He looked up then, his eyes locking with hers, and the rest of the room fell away. In that suspended moment, she forgot all about her nerves, forgot why she had run away before. All that mattered was the way he was looking at her now, his gaze smoldering with intensity and unspoken promises.

Clarke's elbow jabbed sharply into her ribs, startling her back to reality. "Go get him, tiger," she urged with a knowing grin, giving y/n a gentle shove in his direction.

As Luke's gaze continued to bore into her, y/n felt a sudden surge of panic. She grabbed Clarke's hand and deftly maneuvered them through the throng of partygoers, weaving between the gyrating bodies until they reached a more crowded corner of the house.

The music was even louder here, the bass thumping in their chests, but at least they were out of Luke's line of sight.

 Clarke turned to face y/n, her long wavy blonde hair blanketing her face. Her leather skirt hugged her curves as she planted her hands on her hips, fixing y/n with an incredulous stare. "You mean to tell me the boy you think is hot says he wants you and your first instinct is to run away?" Clarke asked, her voice laced with disbelief.

y/n fidgeted with the hem of her black dress, the fabric clinging to her like a second skin. The bow in her hair bobbed as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, looking unsure of her answer. After a moment, she reluctantly nodded her head.

Clarke's eyes widened, her perfectly arched brows nearly reaching her hairline. "Girl, what are you thinking? Luke is practically begging to get with you, and you're over here playing hide-and-seek!"

y/n sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I know, I know. It's just..." She trailed off, trying to find the right words. "What if he ends up just like Mark? Even worse, what if Mark finds out?"

Clarke softened, reaching out to squeeze y/n's hand. "Oh, honey. Have you seen the way that boy looks at you? Don't let your fears hold you back from something that could be amazing."

y/n chewed on her bottom lip, considering Clarke's words. She knew her friend was right. Now that he had finally made a move, she was running scared.

Straightening her shoulders, y/n took a deep breath. The bow in her hair quivered with her newfound resolve. "You're right. I won’t let my insecurities ruin this. I'm going to go talk to him. And we’re gonna drink and I won’t run away!"

Clarke grinned, her red lips curving into a proud smile. "That's my girl! Go get your man!" She gave y/n a playful swat on the rear as she turned to head back into the fray. y/n took one last steadying breath before squaring her shoulders and marching towards Luke.

…

As y/n approached Luke from behind, she couldn't help but admire the way his curls shone under the bright kitchen lights. They looked so soft, and she had to resist the urge to reach out and run her fingers through them.

She was close enough now to catch a whiff of his cologne, a heady scent that made her pulse quicken. She breathed in deeply, letting the aroma wash over her, a potent mixture of spice and musk that was uniquely Luke.

Lost in the moment, y/n didn't realize just how close she had gotten until Luke suddenly turned around, his eyes locking with hers. For a heartbeat, the world seemed to stand still. The chatter and laughter of the partygoers faded into the background, and all y/n could focus on was the intensity of Luke's gaze.

His eyes seemed to pierce right through her, sending a shiver down her spine. There was a hint of surprise in his expression, perhaps at her sudden appearance, but it quickly gave way to something else entirely. Something heated and hungry that made y/n's breath catch in her throat.

"Hey," Luke said, his voice low and husky. "I was wondering where you disappeared to."

y/n swallowed hard, trying to find her voice. "I just needed a minute," she replied, hoping he couldn't hear the tremor in her words.

Luke's lips quirked up in a half-smile, and he took a step closer. "Well, I'm glad you're back. I was starting to think you were avoiding me."

y/n's heart hammered in her chest as she shook her head. "No, not avoiding. Just..." She trailed off, unsure of how to explain the riot of emotions swirling inside her.

Luke's smile softened, and he reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His fingers brushed against her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. "Just what, y/n?" he asked gently.

y/n drew in a shaky breath, steeling herself. It was now or never. "Just trying to work up the courage to do this."

And with that, she closed the remaining distance between them, rising up on her toes to press her lips against his. For a moment, Luke went still, and y/n feared she had made a terrible mistake. But then his arms came around her, pulling her flush against his body as he deepened the kiss.

The rest of the world fell away as y/n lost herself in the sensation of Luke's lips moving against hers, his hands roaming over her back, her sides, her hips. She tangled her fingers in his curls, reveling in their softness, just as she had imagined.

When they finally broke apart, both of them breathless and flushed, Luke rested his forehead against hers. "Wow," he murmured, his eyes shining with wonder.

y/n couldn't help but giggle, a giddy sort of joy bubbling up inside her. "Wow indeed," she agreed, before pulling him down for another kiss. As y/n melted into Luke's embrace, savoring the taste of his lips and the warmth of his body pressed against hers, she caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye. Her heart stuttered in her chest as she recognized the familiar figure striding through the doorway.

Mark.

y/n froze, her body going rigid in Luke's arms. He pulled back, his brow furrowed in concern as he noticed the sudden change in her demeanor. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.

But y/n couldn't respond, her eyes locked on Mark as he made a beeline for Clarke. She watched, her stomach twisting in knots, as he leaned in close to her friend, his expression serious as he questioned her about something y/n couldn't hear over the pounding music.

"I... I need a second," y/n stammered, tearing her gaze away from Mark and Clarke. She stepped out of Luke's embrace, her skin feeling suddenly cold without his touch.

Luke's face fell, a mixture of confusion and hurt flickering across his handsome features. "What? Why? Did I do something wrong?"

y/n shook her head, already backing away. "No, it's not you. I just... I have to go."

She turned to leave, but Luke's hand shot out, grabbing her arm. His grip was gentle but firm, his fingers pressing into her skin. "Wait, y/n. Please. Don't run away again."

y/n's heart clenched at the desperation in his voice, but she couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze. "Luke, I'm sorry. I can't do this right now."

"Can't do what?" Luke demanded, his tone sharpening with frustration. "Can't talk to me? Can't be honest with me? You keep sending me all these mixed signals, y/n. One minute you're kissing me like your life depends on it, the next you're running away like I've got the plague."

y/n flinched at the accusation in his words, but she couldn't deny the truth of them. She had been running hot and cold with Luke for weeks now, ever since they'd started skating together. Ever since she'd begun tutoring him in math, staying up late to help him grasp concepts that seemed to slip through his fingers like water.

She'd thought she could keep him at arm's length, that she could ignore the way her heart raced every time he looked at her with those piercing honey eyes. But then he'd kissed her tonight, and everything had changed.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I have to leave."

She tried to pull away, but Luke's grip on her arm tightened. His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking beneath the stubble that shadowed his angular cheekbones. "So that's it? You're just going to run away again? Leave me hanging like you always do?"

The bitterness in his tone made y/n's chest ache, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. "Luke, please. Don't make this harder than it has to be."

"Harder than it has to be?" Luke scoffed, his eyes flashing with hurt and anger. "You're the one making it hard, y/n. You're the one who keeps pushing me away, even though I know you feel something for me. I can see it in the way you look at me, the way you melt into me when we kiss."

He took a step closer, his free hand coming up to cup her cheek. His touch was feather-light, but it burned like a brand against her skin. "Why won't you let me in, y/n? Why won't you give us a chance?"

y/n swallowed hard, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She wanted to tell him everything, to confess all the secrets she'd been keeping locked away in her heart. But the words stuck in her throat, choking her.

"I'm sorry," she said again, her voice cracking. "I have to go."

And with that, she wrenched her arm free of Luke's grasp and fled, pushing through the crowd of partygoers as the tears began to fall. She could feel Luke's eyes boring into her back as she ran, but she didn't dare look back.

She couldn't bear to see the heartbreak on his face, knowing that she was the one who had put it there. She approached Clarke and Mark, their voices grew louder, cutting through the pulsing music and chatter of the party. She could see the tension in Mark's shoulders, the way his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he loomed over Clarke.

"Who is that guy, Clarke? I know you're lying to me. Tell me who he is!" Mark's voice was sharp, his words clipped with barely contained rage.

Clarke, to her credit, looked utterly unfazed. She stood her ground, her arms crossed over her chest as she stared up at Mark with a look of disdain. "When is the right time to leave your ex-girlfriend alone? She doesn't want you, you're crazy."

Mark's face reddened, his nostrils flaring. "I'm not crazy! I just want to know who that guy is. y/n is mine, and I'm not going to let some random dude swoop in and steal her away from me."

y/n's stomach churned at the possessiveness in Mark's voice. She'd broken up with him months ago, but he still seemed to think he had some kind of claim on her. It was one of the reasons she'd been so hesitant to let herself get close to Luke, even though her heart yearned for him.

She stepped forward, putting herself between Mark and Clarke. "Mark, stop. Please. You're making a scene."

Mark's gaze snapped to her, his eyes wild. "y/n! There you are. I've been looking all over for you."

He reached for her, but y/n stepped back, shaking her head. "Mark, we've been over this. We're not together anymore. You need to leave me alone."

Mark's face twisted, a mixture of hurt and anger flickering across his features. "Is this because of him? That guy you were with earlier?"

y/n's heart stuttered in her chest. "Luke has nothing to do with this. We broke up because you were possessive and controlling, and I couldn't take it anymore."

Mark scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Oh, please. You loved it when I took charge. When I made all the decisions for us. You needed me to take care of you."

y/n's hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms. "I didn't need you to do anything for me, Mark. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

Mark's eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a sneer. "Really? Is that why you're running around with some new guy, letting him put his hands all over you? You're just a slut who can't be alone." The words hit y/n like a slap, and she recoiled as if she'd been struck. Beside her, Clarke let out a gasp of outrage.

"How dare you talk to her like that! You're a pathetic excuse for a man, Mark. No wonder she dumped your sorry ass."

Mark's face reddened even further, and for a moment, y/n thought he might actually strike Clarke. But then he seemed to deflate, his shoulders slumping as he took a step back.

"Fine. Whatever. You two deserve each other." He spat the words like venom, his eyes darting between y/n and Clarke. With that, he turned on his heel and stalked away, shoving through the crowd of partygoers. y/n watched him go, her heart racing in her chest.

She felt like she couldn't breathe, like the walls of the room were closing in on her. "y/n? Are you okay?" Clarke's voice was gentle, her hand coming to rest on y/n's shoulder.

…

Luke stood there for a moment, stunned and heartbroken. He couldn't understand why she kept running away from him, why she wouldn't let him in. He thought they had something special, but now he was starting to doubt everything.

As he turned to leave, his shoulders slumped in defeat, he found himself face to face with a tall, broad-shouldered guy he didn't recognize. The guy had a scowl on his face and a glint of something dangerous in his eyes.

"Hey, you," the guy said, his voice low and menacing. "You're the one who was with y/n earlier, right?"

Luke bristled at the accusation in the guy's tone. "Yeah, what's it to you?"

The guy stepped closer, invading Luke's personal space. "I'm Mark, y/n's boyfriend. And I want to know what the hell you think you're doing with my girl."

Luke's eyes widened in surprise, his heart clenching painfully in his chest. y/n had a boyfriend? Why hadn't she told him? Had everything between them been a lie?

Anger set in, hot and fierce. How dare this guy claim y/n as his own, like she was some kind of possession? And how dare y/n lead him on, make him think they had something real, when she was just using him to get back at her boyfriend?

Luke's jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He wanted to punch Mark in his smug face, to make him feel even a fraction of the pain that was tearing through his own heart. But instead, he forced himself to take a step back, to put some distance between them. "No, that's not my girl," he said, his voice cold and flat. "I don't know her."

The words tasted like ash in his mouth, but he forced them out anyway. He wouldn't let Mark see how much this was killing him, wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd gotten under his skin.

Mark's eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a sneer. "Good. Because if I ever catch you sniffing around her again, I'll make you regret it."

Luke just shook his head, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. "Trust me, you don't have to worry about that. I'm done with her."

…

y/n hadn't gone far when she heard the confrontation between Mark and Luke. She'd been hiding in a quiet corner of the house, trying to gather her thoughts and calm her racing heart, when their voices had carried over the din of the party.

At first, she couldn't make out what they were saying. But then she heard Luke's voice, cold and harsh, saying "No, that's not my girl. I don't know her."

The words hit her like a physical blow, stealing the breath from her lungs. She felt like she'd been punched in the gut, like the ground had opened up beneath her feet and swallowed her whole.

How could Luke say that, after everything they'd been through? After the way he'd kissed her, held her, looked at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered?

Anger surged through her, hot and fierce. She pushed herself off the wall and stormed towards the two men, her vision tunneling until all she could see was Mark's smug face.

Without a second thought, she hurled herself at him, swinging her fists with wild abandon. She wasn't thinking, wasn't planning, just acting on pure instinct and rage.

Mark stumbled back, his eyes widening in surprise as y/n's blows rained down on him. He tried to fend her off, but she was relentless, her anger giving her a strength she didn't know she possessed.

Luke jumped back in shock, his mouth falling open as he watched y/n attack Mark. For a moment, he was frozen, unsure of what to do.

But then Clarke appeared out of nowhere, pushing herself between y/n and Mark. "Stop it, both of you!" she yelled, her hands held out in front of her like a shield. Mark snarled, shoving Clarke aside with a rough push. She stumbled, nearly falling, but managed to catch herself at the last moment.

That was all it took for Luke to snap out of his daze. He lunged forward, grabbing y/n around the waist and hauling her away from Mark. She struggled against him, still swinging her fists, but he held her tight, his arms like steel bands around her.

"Let me go!" she screamed, her voice raw and ragged. "I'm going to kill him!"

But Luke just held her tighter, his breath hot against her ear as he spoke. "y/n, stop. He's not worth it."

y/n sagged against him, all the fight draining out of her in a rush. She felt like a puppet whose strings had been cut, like she might collapse if Luke wasn't holding her up.

"Why did you say that?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why did you tell him you didn't know me?"

Luke was silent for a long moment, and y/n felt her heart sink. But then he spoke, his voice soft and sad. "Because I thought you had a boyfriend. I thought you were just using me to get back at him."

y/n's eyes widened, and she twisted in Luke's arms to look up at him. "What? No! Mark's not my boyfriend. We broke up months ago."

Luke's brow furrowed in confusion. "But he said-"

"He's lying," y/n interrupted, her voice fierce. "He's a manipulative, controlling asshole who can't stand the thought of me moving on."

She reached up, cupping Luke's face in her hands. "Luke, I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I was just... scared. Scared of getting hurt again, scared of letting someone in."

Luke's eyes softened, and he leaned into her touch. "I know. I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have assumed the worst."

y/n shook her head, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "No, you shouldn't have. But I shouldn't have run away, either.” Luke smiled back, his eyes crinkling at the corners before y/n continued. "Maybe we can start over? Try this whole communication thing again?"

...

[insomniac4000]

George Clarke was not your average gym-goer. Sure, he showed up four times a week, right on schedule, but it wasn’t because he was obsessed with bulking up or shredding down. That was just a bonus, the gym was more of a sanctuary for George—a place where he could clear his mind, focus on something tangible, and take a break from the relentless cycle of creating content.

Life as a TikTok and Youtube star had its perks, of course. George loved the excitement, the creativity, and most of all, the connection he felt with his fans. But there was an intensity to it that sometimes left him feeling drained. That’s why he cherished his time at the gym. Here, among the rows of dumbbells and treadmills, he could just be George, a guy trying to stay in shape and enjoy his workouts.

He had his routine down to a science. Mondays were for chest and triceps, Tuesdays for back and biceps, Thursdays for legs, and Fridays for shoulders and abs. He’d plug in his earbuds, crank up his favourite playlist, and get to work. The repetition was comforting, and over time, he’d come to recognize the regulars the same faces appearing day after day, each of them absorbed in their own world.

One face, however, had started to catch his eye more than the others.

She was new, or at least new to George. He first noticed her one chilly November morning, about three months ago. She had wandered into the gym with an air of confidence that suggested she wasn’t a beginner, but George had never seen her before. Dressed in sleek black leggings and a simple tank top, her hair tied back in a high ponytail, she moved through her routine with a focus that George admired. She was strong, no doubt about that. He watched as she effortlessly hoisted weights feeling comfortable while doing so and was engrossed in her routine, not bothered about anyone else at the gym, just like George.

It wasn’t just her strength that caught George’s attention. It was her smile, which she offered to the staff at the front desk as she checked in each morning. It was the way she seemed to tune out the rest of the world when she was lifting or on the treadmill, completely immersed in the moment. It was the way she caught him looking once, their eyes meeting for a split second before she looked away, a faint blush colouring her cheeks.

George didn’t know her name. She didn’t seem to be on social media, or if she was, he hadn’t been able to find her. But there was something about her that intrigued him, a mystery that he wanted to solve. He started timing his workouts to coincide with hers, subtly shifting his schedule so that he’d be there when she was. He didn’t want to come off as creepy or overly interested, but he couldn’t help himself. He was drawn to her in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

It was a rainy Thursday afternoon when fate finally intervened. George had just finished his third set of squats and was about to move on to lunges when he noticed her struggling with the leg press machine. She had loaded the plates onto the machine but seemed to be having trouble with the lever that locked it into place.

Without thinking, George walked over. “Hey, do you need some help with that?”

She looked up, surprised, and George felt his heart skip a beat. Her eyes were a deep, warm brown, and up close, he could see the faint freckles that dotted her nose and cheeks. She was even more beautiful than he had realised, George often joked he was incapable of speaking to women and he could feel his heart thumping as the adrenaline flowed through him.

“Um, yeah, actually,” she said, her voice soft but steady. “I think this thing is stuck.”

George leaned down and gave the lever a firm tug. It clicked into place easily, and he stepped back with a grin. “There you go. All set.”

She smiled, a little sheepishly. “Thanks. I’m usually fine with this stuff, but today it just wasn’t cooperating.”

“No problem,” George said. He was about to walk away when she spoke again.

“I’m Emily, by the way.”

He turned back, surprised. “George,” he said, holding out his hand.

She took it, and for a brief moment, George felt a spark of something more than just a handshake. “Nice to meet you, George,” Emily said, her smile widening.

“Likewise,” George replied, feeling a little awkward but thrilled all the same. “Do you come here often?” He then mentally kicked himself for asking such a stupid question.

Emily chuckled. “Sounds like a line, but yes, I try to come most days. You?”

“Yeah, same here. It’s kind of my escape, you know?”

“I totally get that,” she said, her expression softening. “I work in marketing, and sometimes I just need to get out of my head. The gym helps.”

“Same,” George said, though he didn’t elaborate on his career. Most people either knew who he was or they didn’t, and he found it refreshing when they didn’t.

They talked a bit longer, mostly about their favourite workouts and the best times to hit the gym when it wasn’t crowded. It was a light, easy conversation, and when they finally parted ways, George felt a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with his workout.

Over the next few weeks, George and Emily started to see more of each other at the gym. They’d exchange smiles or brief conversations between sets, and gradually, those moments turned into longer chats. George learned that Emily had moved to the city a few months ago for a new job, which explained why he hadn’t seen her before. She was originally from a small town up north, and she missed the quiet but was enjoying the excitement of the city.

“I didn’t know anyone here at first,” Emily confessed one day as they were cooling down after a workout. “But the gym kind of became my place, you know? It’s nice to see familiar faces, even if we don’t always talk.”

George nodded, understanding exactly what she meant. “Yeah, I felt the same way when I first moved here. The gym was where I found my rhythm. Plus my housemates are idiots so it's good to get away,” he joked.

They started meeting up outside the gym, too. It started innocently enough coffee after a workout, a smoothie on the way home. But soon, George found himself looking forward to those moments with Emily as much as he did his actual workouts. She was easy to talk to, funny, and grounded in a way that George found incredibly appealing.

And she didn’t seem to know who he was.

This was perhaps the most surprising thing of all. George was so used to being recognized everywhere he went, his online persona preceding him. But Emily seemed blissfully unaware of his TikTok fame. She treated him like just another guy, a guy she was getting to know, not a social media star.

It was a breath of fresh air.

It was a crisp winter evening when things began to change. George and Emily had just finished a particularly grueling workout as George was now training for a race for charity and were walking out of the gym together, their breath forming small clouds in the cold air.

“Want to grab dinner?” George asked, trying to keep his tone casual. “There’s this great Thai place just down the street.”

Emily hesitated for a moment, and George felt his heart drop. But then she smiled. “Sure, that sounds great.”

Dinner was wonderful, full of laughter and easy conversation. George found himself opening up to Emily in a way he hadn’t with anyone in a long time. He told her about his life, his family, and his love for creating content, though he still didn’t mention the extent of his online presence. Emily talked about her work, her friends back home, and her dreams of traveling the world someday.

As they walked back to their cars, George felt a nervous flutter in his stomach. This wasn’t just a casual friendship anymore—at least, not for him. He was falling for her, hard and fast, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

“So, Emily,” he began, his voice a little shaky. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Emily looked up at him, her expression curious. “What is it?”

George took a deep breath. “I—well, I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you these past few weeks. And I guess what I’m trying to say is, I think I’m starting to like you. A lot.” There was a pause, and for a moment, George’s heart pounded so loudly in his ears that he thought she might hear it. But then Emily smiled, and George felt a wave of relief.

“I like you too, George,” she said softly. “I was hoping you’d say something, because I’ve been feeling the same way.”

George couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. “Really? That’s—that’s amazing.”

“But,” Emily continued, a hint of uncertainty in her voice, “there’s something I should tell you too.”

George’s smile faltered. “What is it?”

Emily took a deep breath, just as he had done moments before. “I know who you are, George. I’ve known for a while now. My friends sent me your TikToks ages ago, and I recognized you the first day I saw you at the gym.”

George was stunned into silence. “You—you knew?”

Emily nodded, her eyes searching his for a reaction. “I didn’t say anything because, honestly, I just wanted to get to know you as you. Not as ‘George Clarkeey, the guy on TikTok.’ And I’m glad I did, because the George I’ve gotten to know is incredible.”

George felt a rush of emotions—relief, happiness, and something else, something deeper. He reached out and took Emily’s hand, squeezing it gently.

“Thank you for that, Emily. It means more to me than you know. I wanted to be just me around you too, not the guy everyone sees online.”

"I think I would have been drawn to you anyway, famous or not because no one can resist you doing a squat," Emily giggled.

They stood there for a moment, the world around them fading away as they looked at each other. It felt like the start of something real, something that went beyond the likes and comments of the digital world. George had found someone who saw him for who he truly was, and that was worth more than all the fame in the world.

The days that followed were a blur of excitement for George. His relationship with Emily grew stronger with each passing day. They started spending more time together, not just at the gym but outside of it too. They explored the city, tried out new restaurants, and even spent quiet evenings at George’s place, where they could just be themselves.

For the first time in a long time, George felt truly content. He still loved making content and connecting with his fans, but now he had something—or rather, someone—who made his offline life just as fulfilling. Emily was becoming his confidante, his support system, and more importantly, his partner.

One evening, as they were watching a movie on George’s couch, Emily turned to him, a playful smile on her lips. “So, when do I get to make a cameo in one of your TikToks?”

George laughed, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “Whenever you want. But only if you’re sure you’re ready for the spotlight.”

“I think I can handle it,” she teased, snuggling closer to him. “But no pressure. I’m happy just being part of your real life.”

George kissed the top of her head, feeling a warmth spread through him. “You’re already the best part of it.”

And as they sat there, wrapped up in each other, George realized just how lucky he was. He had found something rare and beautiful—something that made all the hard work, all the late nights and early mornings, completely worth it.

He had found love, not in the flashy world of social media, but in the quiet, unassuming moments of real life. And he knew that, no matter what the future held, he and Emily would face it together, one set at a time.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Got Milk?

Clark Kent x plus size reader

When Y/N’s milk supply is running too high after Jon’s birth, Clark comes to the rescue.

Warnings: SMUT, lactation kink, established relationship, grinding, daddy kink, unprotected sex, breeding kink, praise, size kink (Clark is huge in all the right places), aftercare

WC: 2.4k

Minors DNI

Clark smiled lovingly down at the small bundle in the crib he himself once slept in some 30 odd years ago. Jon’s little lips were still puckered up, even after his dinner. Laying a light kiss to his soft forehead, Clark turned on the baby monitor. Then, he walked to the other side of the room where Conner had set up his own bed of couch cushions and blankets, not wanting to leave his infant brother alone for even a second.

After giving his eldest a once over to make sure he was tucked in and comfy, he snuck from the room, quietly shutting the door behind him. With a quick glance down the hall, he confirmed that his mother’s door was closed and her light off before he crept to the last room at the back of the small farmhouse.

A soft orange glow still emanated from under the door, illuminating the old carpet Martha refused to replace. “You know, I expected you to be asleep by now.” He spoke quietly to her as he entered his childhood bedroom, not wanting to break the peaceful atmosphere that had settled over the home.

Y/N looked up from her book, her e/c eyes half lidded with exhaustion, wearing one of Clark’s flannels. “Was waiting for you.” Her voice slurred with sleep and if he wasn’t mistaken, a slight tinge of pain. “Uh huh.” He said skeptically, stepping further into the room so he could get ready to join her in bed. 

“And it has nothing to do with the fact that you’re obviously in pain?” He raised a dark eyebrow at her, blue eyes flicking down to her generous chest that she was doing her very best not to touch. Y/N sighed, flopping backwards onto the many pillows behind her. Clark just chuckled and pulled off his shirt, leaving him in gray sweatpants that hung dangerously low on his hips.

“I feel like Jon isn’t eating enough.” She murmured behind her hands, her plump body wiggling as her husband crawled on top of her, settling between her thick thighs. He rested his weight on his left hand which was planted firmly beside her head, while he cupped her wide hip with his right, rubbing soothing circles into her skin with his thumb.

Y/N relaxed below him, comforted by the familiar weight of her giant husband and the heat that his toned body radiated at all times. Her soft arms wound around his muscular neck, palms settling on his shoulder blades. “No matter how much he eats, I still feel so full.” Clark’s full lips turned up into a cheeky smirk. “Oh shut up Kent, that’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“I know sunshine.” He kissed her forehead gently and allowed his hips to relax into hers, his half-hard cock connecting with her covered mound. “Is there any way I can help?” A small moan slipped past her lips.

“’m not sure.” She muttered, purposefully burying her head in the crook of his neck to avoid his gaze. But Clark could smell the sweet scent of her arousal and hear the way her pulse picked up in speed, indicating she was lying, turned on, or both. “Are you sure? Because I think you know.”

His voice dropped an octave, near growling now as he let his hand wander up her soft stomach, coming to rest just below the fatty tissue of her breast. “I think you want daddy to help you, take away all this pain hmm.” Y/N gasped as he pressed harder into her, feeling his entire length against her pussy now. Her body thrummed with desire as he went still above her, teasing her.

“Clark please.” His warm lips traveled down her jaw, nipping at her skin. “Tell me sunshine, tell me what you want daddy to do.” Heat pooled at the apex of her thighs, soaking through her flimsy panties. Her back arched up from the mattress and wrapped her legs around his hips. 

Clark rolled his pelvis down into her and felt her wetness through his sweatpants. “Fuck sunshine, is that all for me?” He knew how desperate she was, he could feel it bleeding into the air, feel it in the way she dug her nails into his skin, trying to pull him closer. She was getting lost in the feeling of him against her after so long, her stomach already tied in knots for what she knew was about to come.

Her hips bucked below him, forcing the tip of his cock to brush her throbbing clit. “Fuck!” She cursed, biting down on her lip in a vain attempt to keep quiet. “Please daddy, please.” His teeth sunk into her throat, moaning against her skin as they moved in rhythm. The push and pull of their bodies was exquisite but Clark pulled away, making his wife whine in protest.

“Tell daddy how he can help you, little one.” But her lips remained sealed, refusing to tell him what he already knew she wanted. “Do you want daddy to drink from you? To drain your full tits?” He let her drag his hips back down for only a second, granting her momentary reprieve before rising up once more. 

Y/N clenched around nothing as her mind began to go hazy. “Let daddy drink your milk sunshine, let me fill my tummy.” His lips connected back to her neck, nipping the delicate skin as he spoke, encouraging his perfect little wife to answer him. “Yes daddy yes.” She chanted, taking no notice of how Clark’s fingers slipped into the spaces between the buttons of her shirt until he pulled and the room was filled with the sound of tearing fabric.

“It’s ok sunshine, let daddy do all the thinking for you. Just relax and let me take care of you.” He cooed and placed a quick peck to her lips. Kneeling between her spread legs, Clark cupped her engorged breasts, lightly tracing the darker skin of her areolas with his thumb. “Oh darlin’, these must hurt so bad huh.” 

The usually soft flesh was almost rock hard with milk, the skin straining under their weight. Giving her left tit a delicate squeeze, a droplet of liquid gold gathered on the tip of her nipple. Y/N whimpered to something of the affirmative, her eyelids fluttering shut when his warm mouth finally enveloped her breast.

Clark groaned as the almost almond milk flavour washed over his taste buds. “Fuck.” He growled. “Tastes so good sunshine.” “G-god.” Y/N trembled underneath him, desperately grasping any part of his body she could, finally settling on burying her fingers in his black curls. Her ankles locked across his pert ass as he continued to feed from her, his other hand massaging her other side, droplets of milk flowing over his fingers.

Y/N’s head thrashed against the pillows, furiously tugging at his hair in a feeble attempt to keep herself from screaming out in pleasure. The pressure in her boobs slowly released but she needed more. “Cla-ark, need you in me.” She whimpered, nudging down his sweatpants with her heel. 

He reluctantly released her tit, droplets of milk still clinging to the corner of his swollen lips. “Ok sunshine, lemme prep you first.” She shook her head, pulling his face back up to her own. “Please.” If he had been standing, Clark’s knees would have buckled with the need in her tone, her blind lust for him.

Their tongues tangled together as they took off the remainder of their clothes, tossing them on the floor to be dealt with later. “You ready sunshine?” He asked, needing to double check before he lost all control. One hand was at the base of his dick, tightly squeezing as he tried to keep a level head, guiding the uncut tip to her weeping hole. “Take me daddy.” She sobbed into his chest as he finally pushed into her, his god-like cock prying her apart.

Y/N couldn’t breathe as he finally settled above her, filling her to the brim. “That’s it, that’s my good girl. You’re taking it so well darlin’.” Puffs of air escaped her lips. She could practically feel him in her lungs. It had been so long since he allowed himself to fill her completely, to push her body to the absolute limits with just his cock. His chest filled with pride knowing it was him who could bring her such pleasure just by being inside her, unmoving.

“Good girl, sunshine.” He murmured into her h/c hair, resting on his forearms that caged her head against the pillow. She was clenching so tightly around him, he could feel the beat of her heart and it was driving him crazy. But he didn’t move, letting her adjust to his size while his lips traveled back down to her chest, lathering her with delicate kisses, licking up the remnants of her milk that had escaped his hungry mouth.

She whined as the light stubble along her husband’s jaw scrapped her skin, leaving behind a delicious burn that only aided in tying the knot of ecstasy in her stomach even tighter. “Move.” She gasped out, unable to form more words than that. His thrusts were gentle at first, merely a roll of his hips that made Y/N moan loudly into the air.

Clark’s hand slapped over her mouth, ears straining in case they had woken up anybody in the house. When he realised that the others slumbered on, he breathed a sigh of relief. “You gotta be quiet, sunshine. Can you do that for me?” He expected her to agree, resorting to biting her perfect lips to keep her sounds of pleasure contained but she shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Ok, is it alright if I try something?” She nodded at that, trusting him entirely. Resting on his heels, he pulled her thighs over his hips so her lower back bowed off the bed. Her hands shot to his forearms, digging her nails into them as she suppressed a whimper. His cock was pressed perfectly against her g-spot, sending shockwaves through her body.

Clark’s jaw clenched as her pussy fluttered around him, internally cursing. “Open.” He growled, tapping her lips with his index finger. She obeyed him dutifully, letting her jaw drop open and her tongue loll out like she would when presented with his cock. A smirk came over his face, blue eyes sparkling with lust. “There’s a good girl.”

Two of his thick fingers were laid on her tongue and she did not hesitate to suck them down, her lips sealing around them. The bed frame shook as his pace picked up once more, driving deeply into her. Y/N’s nostrils flared, her breath hitching every time he buried himself to the hilt. Confident that she would not make any more noise, Clark let his head fall back to her breasts, this time taking the other nipple in his mouth to resume his meal.

Y/N’s mind went blank. Her cunt burned with the stretch but she welcomed the pain, letting it drive her higher and higher. She held onto his wrist tightly, like an anchor keeping her tethered to reality as she began to spiral. Clark’s sharp nose pressed into her breast, desperately suckling from her, quickly losing any remaining control he had. 

He felt her thighs clamp down on his hips, her heels crammed against his pert ass. He knew she was close, she just needed a little push. Just as his unoccupied hand made contact with her clit, she exploded. Pleasure washed over her like a tidal wave, making her eyes roll back into her skull as she continued to cum, her high continuing to build with no end in sight.

Clark groaned and released her tit. “God, you’re so beautiful when you cum darlin’. But do you know what makes you even more beautiful?” She couldn’t answer so he kept going. “When you’re pregnant. You’re positively divine when this big belly swells with my seed as you grow a life we’ve both created. You gonna let daddy cum inside you? Let me knock you up again?”

“Daddy.” She whispered, voice strained and fucked out. “Can we have a girl this time? A little princess to spoil and adore. Maybe twins. Do you think I can cum so deep inside you that I get you pregnant right now? That I can plant a little baby right here.” He rambled on, his hand moved from her over stuffed pussy to her plush lower stomach, pushing down hard enough that he could feel himself moving within her. 

Her vision whited out and she peaked once more, this time Clark followed with a silent howl, his cock twitching violently as he filled her with his cum, giving a few more thrusts for good measure. Y/N gazed up at her husband as she finally came back to herself, watching as the god above her glowed in the moonlight streaming in through the small window beside them.

“What’s that look for?” He mused, running a hand through his curls in an attempt to tame them. “I want our daughter to have your eyes.” He immediately flushed a bright red, suddenly becoming his normal shy farm boy self again. “Oh come on, that’s what gets you? Not the fact that you were just drinking my breast milk?” 

Clark rolled his eyes and pulled out of her carefully, watching his seed drip from her. Y/N winced. “You ripped my favourite flannel.” “It was my flannel sunshine and I have a dozen more you can steal.” He slipped from the bed to pick up a packet of wet wipes from Jon’s diaper bag and pulled a few out. The wet cloth was cold against her hot flesh but soothed the burn she usually got from taking her husband fully.

“You just like destroying my things, supes.” The evidence of their coupling was carefully and lovingly wiped away, the leftover sweat and milk that had cooled against her skin gone with one swipe of his gentle hands. He glanced down at her, a fond smile on his face. “Yes, you’ve caught me. I just adore destroying shirts.” 

“And my lingerie.” “And your lingerie. Now do you want a cup of water or anything?” She shook her heat and opened her arms for him. “Just my loving husband holding me tight and maybe getting up to change Jon when he inevitably wakes up in the next hour.”

Laying down beside her, Clark did what she asked, letting her rest against his chest, winding her arms around his waist as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and a hand on her stomach. “Get some rest sunshine, you’ll need it for round two.” He felt her smile against his skin before her breathing evened out and she fell asleep, him following soon after.

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[suzukiblu]

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for Beatrice_otter; the parasite. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Are–are you–” Jon cuts himself off in an uncertain stutter, and digs his fingers in tighter against Clark’s shoulders. Clark’s not sure what he’s trying to ask, but . . . 

“I want to come home,” he tells him. “If that’s something you’re alright with.” 

If Jon isn’t, he wouldn’t blame him. Either if he isn’t alright with it yet, or just ever. He’ll–work something out. Get an apartment nearby, or stay in Smallville for a while, or–

“Oh,” Jon says, and then throws his arms around him, buries his face in his shoulder, and bursts into tears. 

Clark’s shoulders have, very literally, held up the entire world before. 

They don’t feel anywhere near strong enough to take this weight. 

Jon cries on him for longer than Clark can stand, and he doesn’t know what to do about it. That isn’t–that’s not something he’s used to. Which–even Superman is helpless sometimes. More times than Clark can stand to remember, he’s been helpless in the face of some tragedy or disaster or terrible, terrible mistake. 

But being helpless when he’s faced with Jon . . . when his own child is in his arms and needs him . . . has needed him . . .

That’s an entirely different kind of helplessness. 

Clark has held up the entire world before, but this is so much harder to hold than that ever could’ve been. 

Than anything could’ve been. 

He can’t fix this. Can’t make it better, or make up for it, or . . . 

Lois leaves the porch, eventually. Comes up to them; puts a hand on both of their backs. Jon stifles another sob into Clark’s shoulder. 

“Come sit down, alright?” Lois says, quiet and steady. Clark doesn’t feel anywhere near that steady. “We can all . . . talk.” 

“O-okay,” Jon manages, his voice all cracked and awful. Clark feels nauseous at the sound of it. Feels–helpless, again. 

Because he is helpless, here. Right now, he’s nothing else at all. 

He never wanted to make Jon feel like this. 

Clark stands up carefully. Jon tightens his grip on him for a moment, and then starts to loosen it and let go, and Clark–can’t, suddenly, and picks him up like a much smaller child. Jon was much smaller, the last time he remembers seeing him. 

Clark wonders if Lois actually left Jon with a sitter because he couldn’t stand being alone. Because he was afraid she’d leave him too. Afraid she wouldn’t come back. Afraid–

He tries not to think about it. Not . . . not yet. 

He’ll ask her later, but . . . not yet.

[simp2537]

Project SS

a/n: This is my first 100 series and I’ve had it in mind for a while. I haven’t read the books and there gonna be a few canon divergences. But I hope y’all enjoy.

Word Count : 1.7k

Series Trigger Warnings: Mentioned S/A on another character, depression, self-harm, anxiety, experimentation on children, abusing relationships, murder, blood, gore, unwilling amputations?

Chapter One

It was cold.

Too cold, my cell was at the furthest ends of the ark. Complete solitary confinement was where I’d been forced to stay. As I laid on the cold ground of the cell I stared up at the ceiling. 

The once dull piece of shrapnel had been sharpened. I’d long since carved out the constellations onto the roof. I gently traced the small scars left in my left arm and wrist, the blade I’d made still hadn’t been taken from me.

Maybe that dickhead of a Chancellor wanted me to slit my wrist. Let Kane find me bathing in pools of my own blood, it would free him of his mistakes. As I twirls the blade in my hands it nicked at the skin of my hands. 

It didn’t hurt anymore, nothing really did. 

Soft vibrations echoed down my hall as I sat up. I shoved the knife into my boot and pull down my sleeve. As I rolled my shoulders back the door slammed open. The outside worlds was filled with screams of the other teen prisoners.

His footsteps entered slowly as he knelt in front of me. I kept my eyes closed as I listened to the clocking of the guards guns and all the chains they brought in.

“Hey firecracker,” Kane paused as he knelt in front of me. I sighed softly as I held my arms up, ready to be covered in chains. After a few moments he grabs my arms and looks at my wrist.

I would imagine this hurt him, honestly I wasn’t sure. He was my father but I’d never felt connected to him. Maybe it was because I was raised in the lab and closed off sector. Maybe it was because Alice had sold me away. Maybe because I knew he couldn’t love me.

He pressed his forehead to my wrists, I could feel a tear of two slip from his eyes. Pity must have covered my face as the guards slowly began to covered me in chains. 

After I was practically dress in silver he motioned for them to pause before placing the mask over my face. He pulled me in close, his arms around me. I froze, my muscles tensed up. He placed a kiss to my temple as he gave me a final squeeze. 

“I love you.”

I was hauled to my feet before I could speak and a muzzle was placed on my mouth. I tried to pull away, fight them off but these guards held my chains firmly. They were weighting me down but I was stronger than this. 

I should be able to break each and every chain but…. I’m tired. So tired. I look back at him, my eyes pleading for him to understand. He’s familiar to me at least, I know when he’s mad or happy. I know his ticks and quirks by heart.

“I love you too dad.”

I’m pulled further and further away from him. I’m pained into a shuttle with all the other 100, their eyes all fall upon me as I’m chains to my seat. I internally grown as they pull the needle filled with a sleep drug. 

I glare up at the guard about to inject me. Does he even know where my vein in, his hands are quivering. I rolled my eyes as the shuttle moves slightly and the guard practically runs away. 

I huff softly as I lean back against the seat. I can hear everyone else being to whisper.  My god I’m tired of this shit.

“Isn’t that the girl who killed twenty guards by herself?”

“I heard she has a metal leg.”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes as they carried in the very much unconscious Clarke. I chuckled softly as Wells turned to his ex best friend. 

As the shuttle began to drop down shaking Clarke awoke and began to yell at Wells. I quickly began to rip her chains off. Each hitting the ground with a thud.

As the Chancellor’s video came on I ignored it happily. His words meant nothing to me now. He’d failed in every way to me, he was no Chancellor. He was a coward.

“Y/n? Is that you?” Clarke’z confused voice cause the e/c eyes girl to pause. Slowly I moved her gaze to the blonde.

“Who else would they cover in chains?” Clarke didn’t answer as with shoulder length broth hair began to float around.

“Stay in your seats!” Clarke yelled as the shuttle when further down. I had finally ripped all the chains off her body. I looked at Clarke and she was motioning towards the floating boy in front of her.

I shock my head content to remain in the safety of my own chair. She glared at me giving me a look I knew nothing good would come of. 

With a puff of air I undid the buckle and pulled the glove off my right hand. My arm shot up grasping the back of him. The metal of my arm shined softly in the dimly lit shuttle.

“She said stay in your seats.” I growled softly as I pulled him down. The shuttle jerked up and grasped into a bar as we began to fall. 

I held tightly onto him as I heard Clarke yell, “Finn! Y/n are you okay!”

I groaned as we began to fall helplessly towards the ground. As everyone begins to yell and scream I just focus  on holding onto this stupid boy. 

The shuttle jerks again and I’m thrown into a wall hitting a few pipes. My vision becomes hazy as I feel blood drip down the side of my face. The corners of my eyes slowly fade into black as my vision is completely blurred.

……….

I feel a pair of small hands shaking my body roughly. I shot up pushing the person away as my vision returns. 

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?” I looked at Clarke her eyes full of relief. She ran to me, bombarding me in a tight hug. 

“I was worried.” I let her pull away my arms still at my sides. I hummed softly as I pulled myself away from her. The commotion bellow is caught her attention as she pulled me down. As she climbed down as just jumped. 

I parted the crowds for her as she walked behind me. I helped push her forward with my metal arm. The others around me pull away in fear.

They thought a metal leg was cool why isn’t my arm cool.

“The air could be toxic!” Clarke urged.

“If the air is toxic, we’re all dead anyway.” The older boy at the front voiced. I stared at him tilting my head slightly. He stared back at me then lowered his gaze to my arm.

“Bellamy?” The crowds parted as a brunette girl climbed down and looked at him. 

He turned his gaze to her his eyes becoming full of emotions. He stared down at her smiling softly. 

“My god, look how big you are.” The girl engulfed him into a hug as she breathed in deeply. I sighed softly and moved over to the panel. It was jammed and wouldn’t open the doors anymore.

“What the hell are you wearing, a guards uniform?”

“I borrowed it to get in the drop ship. Someone’s got to keep an eyes on you.” He answered. 

“Where’s your wrist band?” I heard Clarke ask as I began to try and fix the stupid panel.

“Do you mind? I haven’t seen my brother in a year.” I froze at this and turned to the pair.

“No one had a brother.”

“That’s Octavia Blake, the girl they found hidden in the floor.”

Octavia jerked forward going to attack whoever had spoken. Bellamy quickly gasped into her holding tightly to her. 

“Octavia, Octavia no. Let’s give them something else to remember you by.” He tried to calm her. The fire was not lost in her eyes as she pulled herself from his grip.

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Like being the first person on the ground in a hundred years.” He answered with a smile. I watched Octavia’s face brighten at the notion. I watched as Clarke’s eyes fell as he moved over to me. 

“It won’t open.” His eyes darted to me.

“What do you mean it won’t open?”

“The panels fucked.” He moved me out of the way to try the panel himself. 

“You’d need a shit ton of force to open those doors up.” I pause for a moment. “Lucky for you, I hate confined spaces.”

He stared at me, his dark eyes holding mine. I glared up at him as his lips curled into a smirk. I moved away from him approaching the door. I rolled my shoulder, my arm flexing against each metal part.

I slammed my fist forwards, the cool metal of my hand hitting the hot door. It flung towards the ground as people backed away gasping. 

Light hit our faces as a breeze pushed against us. I averted my eyes, the light all too bright. I moved out of Octavia’s way with a nod.

“All yours sunshine.” I mumble as she stared at me. I watched as her brother’s eyes trailed me and try then her. She took in a long breath before exhaling deeply. Her feet slowly moved forward against the metal door on the ground. 

After a moment she jumped down, her boots hitting the firm soil. She took a few more steps as I stared out at the trees. They were lush and green all over. They were nothing like I’d ever seen before.

My eyes drifted till I found Bellamy’s eyes on me. I blinked a few times unsure as to why he was staring at me. In his eyes they held a looked I’d never been given.

“WE’RE BACK BITCHES!” Octavia yelled as the others cheered. Bellamy’s eyes left me and retired to his sister as he laughed. 

All around me the others pushed forwards onto the ground in front of us. I simple stared at them all as they left cheering. After a moment when all were gone I followed. 

I left’s my boots hit the ground. I dug them into the soil as I bent down. My fingers traced the top of the grass around us. It pounced my fingertips gently. I let out a breathless chuckle as I grabbed a handful of dirt.

It crumbled in between the cracks of my hand. I brought it to my nose, breathing in the earth scent deeply. I let out a long breath as I stare out. 

Humans were finally back home.