#so metropolis is a completely new start for him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

solar-wing · 11 months ago

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⚣ Too Late 💙

⚣💙 A/N → request for @alexanderstarhero! Hope you enjoy it! Also, I apologize for my extended absence. I have a job, I'm starting a new school program, and business-related things keep me busy, but I'm still here guys! I promise! Not sure how I feel about this one. I feel like I could've done better but we desperately need some more Clark Kent x male reader though so here you go. Which, by the way, if you haven't checked out @nouearth, his Clark fics and literally everything else makes me melt and feel unholy things. Churches beware. ANYWAY, Hope everyone likes it! WARNINGS: Magical Male Reader | Angst & Fluff | Childhood Friends To Lovers | SFW |

⚣💙 Summary → You know, one would think moving to a completely different city in hopes of forgetting your past life and feelings would be enough. But fate is a sneaky little bastard that just loves to play with your feelings. Is it too late for a do-over?

⚣💙 Words → 12.4K

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💙

⚣ ENJOY 💙

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The city lights of Metropolis flickered through the windows of a small, cozy apartment, where the hum of traffic below provided a constant background noise. Y/N stood by the window, a glass of juice in hand, staring out at the skyline. Since moving to the city, he often found himself feeling nostalgic, with old memories of Smallville popping into his mind more frequently than he’d like. Most of those memories had a common thread.

A soft sigh escaped his lips as he took a sip of his juice, the cool liquid doing little to ease the anxious tightness in his chest. Moving to Metropolis was supposed to be a fresh start—a way to leave behind his past and focus on building a better, normal life for himself, free from the constraints of small-town life.

Since he was a baby, Y/N had been gifted with magical abilities. How he got these powers was a mystery to both him and his parents; they could never find any trace of magical ability in their ancestry. With no idea where the powers came from, and no one to turn to for help, his parents did everything they could to hide their son’s abilities from the outside world. They tried their best to teach him control, but without expertise, they were flying blind.

Growing up, Y/N barely knew how to control or use his powers. You’d think in a small town like his, people would have noticed or called in the town priest, but that wasn’t the case. In Metropolis, when something strange happened—something that often happened to Y/N—people would give him odd looks, but then they’d move on with their day as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. In Smallville, though, everyone treated it as normal.

After the Kents arrived with their new kid, who seemingly appeared out of nowhere, the town acted as if every strange occurrence was just part of everyday life. They quickly shut down anyone who dared to question it, and that extended to both Clark Kent and Y/N.

Small towns were usually known for everyone knowing everyone’s business. Gossip was the native language. But not in Smallville. Y/N couldn’t help but smile a little at the memory of how the line between the ordinary and the extraordinary seemed to blur there. Most places would have been up in arms if they noticed the strange occurrences that happened in Smallville. But in that little Kansas town, people had an uncanny ability to overlook the impossible, shrugging off the extraordinary as if it were just another quirk of life.

Take Clark Kent, for instance. Anyone could see that something was different about him. He was stronger, faster, and able to do things most grown men couldn’t even imagine, let alone a small farm boy. But the townsfolk never questioned it. They simply accepted that he could do things no one else could and moved on.

It was the same with Y/N. He might accidentally cause a book to float off a shelf or a light to flicker when he was upset, but no one in Smallville ever made a fuss, something his parents were very grateful for. There were whispers—there always are in small towns—but they never left closed doors. The people of Smallville had learned long ago to mind their own business, especially when it came to the Kents and Y/N.

Even more so when a bunch of guys in black suits, glasses, and SUVs showed up one week, probing around town and asking strange questions. It had been after one of the more noticeable incidents—a moment when Clark saved someone in a way that couldn’t be easily explained. If there was one thing you could count on from a small town, it was that they weren’t saying anything to those types of Feds or government officials.

The memory was still vivid in Y/N’s mind: the way the town closed ranks, the polite but firm way the locals deflected every question, sending agents on wild goose chases until they finally gave up. His parents had mentioned that it was nothing compared to when that strange meteor hit the Kent farm and a bunch of government agents and scientists showed up—the same week the Kents got a new kid named Clark.

It was as if the entire town had decided, collectively and without speaking a word, that whatever was going on with the Kents—and by extension, Y/N—was their business and no one else’s. The unspoken rule in Smallville was clear: if you saw something strange, you didn’t see it. You didn’t ask questions, and you certainly didn’t talk about it. It was a kind of willful ignorance, a way for the town to protect its own from prying eyes. And in some strange, twisted way, it worked.

Y/N often wondered how much of it was a conscious choice and how much was just the way Smallville was. It was as if the town itself had decided to shield them, to create a bubble where the extraordinary was just another part of everyday life.

But as comforting as that was, it was also suffocating. Because even in a town that turned a blind eye to the unusual, Y/N couldn’t escape the feeling that he was different, that there was something wrong with him. He couldn’t shake the fear that one day, the bubble would burst, and everyone would see him for what he really was—a freak, an outcast.

At least he had a friend.

Imagine the two kids in town who both had episodes of strange, inexplicable things happening to them or around them becoming friends. Completely ironic, like something straight out of a story. Unless...

...

Nah.

But in a place where the extraordinary was treated with a shrug, having someone like Clark as a friend made all the difference. It was as if fate—or whatever unseen force governed the universe—had decided that these two oddities should find each other. And find each other they did, in the most natural, unassuming way possible.

Clark and Y/N became fast friends, drawn together by their shared experiences of feeling different, even if neither of them fully understood why. They never talked about the strange things that happened to them, never discussed how Clark could lift bales of hay like they weighed nothing, or how Y/N could sometimes make things move with just a thought. It was an unspoken agreement, a mutual understanding that whatever was happening to them was theirs to carry, together.

In a town that turned a blind eye to the impossible, Clark was the one person who made Y/N feel like he wasn’t alone. There was a quiet comfort in their friendship, a sense of belonging that Y/N had never felt before. They were both outsiders in their own way, but together, they found a place where they could be themselves, where they didn’t have to pretend or hide.

But as they grew older, that comfort became a source of anxiety for Y/N. The more time he spent with Clark, the more he realized that his feelings for his friend were deeper than just friendship. He cared about Clark in a way that went beyond the bond they shared, and it terrified him. In a town that could overlook floating books and superhuman strength, there were still lines that couldn’t be crossed, and Y/N knew that his feelings for Clark were one of them.

He tried to suppress those feelings, to bury them deep inside where they couldn’t cause any harm. But the harder he tried, the more they grew, until it became impossible to ignore them. He started to pull away, putting distance between himself and Clark, hoping that space would make the feelings fade. It didn’t.

Plus, Y/N still didn’t understand the extent of his abilities, and he knew sometimes his powers would react to his emotions. He didn’t want to risk doing anything that could hurt Clark. He didn’t think he’d be able to live with himself if something happened because of his inability to control his powers.

Yet, good old noble Clark, always perceptive and caring, noticed the change. He didn’t push or pry, but there was always that look in his eyes, a quiet concern that only made Y/N’s heart ache more. Clark didn’t know why Y/N was pulling away, but he never stopped trying to bridge the gap. He was always there with a smile, a warm word, or an invitation to hang out, never letting the distance between them grow too wide.

It was those small gestures that made it so hard for Y/N to keep his resolve. Every time he saw Clark, every time Clark reached out, Y/N was reminded of why he had fallen for him in the first place. Clark was kind, selfless, and endlessly patient—the kind of person who would give you the shirt off his back without a second thought. How could Y/N not fall in love with someone like that?

But that love was exactly what made Y/N so afraid. The more he cared about Clark, the more he feared losing him, either because of his uncontrolled magic or because of the feelings he couldn’t keep buried forever. He knew that if he stayed in Smallville, if he stayed close to Clark, something would eventually slip. Maybe he’d accidentally reveal his powers, or maybe his feelings would come spilling out in a moment of weakness. Either way, Y/N was sure that it would end with Clark looking at him differently, seeing him as something strange, something other.

Thankfully, the age of adulthood and high school graduation came, and Y/N took that as his way out. His parents were as worried as ever about him moving to a college so far away, but he reassured them he’d be fine.

He decided on college in New York, thinking the change from small town to big city was exactly what he needed. At least there, it made sense for people to turn a blind eye to whatever strange things were going on around them.

But even throughout his years of undergrad, Y/N could never shake the memories of Smallville, and more specifically, he could never forget Clark. No matter how much distance he put between them, the memories of their friendship lingered, haunting him in the quiet moments when he was alone. He would often catch himself thinking about Clark—wondering what he was doing, if he was still in Smallville, if he had moved on with his life the way Y/N had tried to.

Y/N thought that maybe, over time, those feelings would fade, that he would move on and forget the boy who had once meant everything to him. But they never did. Even in the crowded, bustling city of New York, where life moved at a breakneck pace and there was always something new to distract him, Y/N found his thoughts drifting back to Clark.

He tried dating other people, hoping that maybe if he found someone else, someone who wasn’t Clark, it would help him move on. But it never worked. No one else could compare to the boy who had always been there for him, who had seen him at his worst and never judged him for it. Every relationship ended the same way, with Y/N feeling like he was chasing something he could never have, like he was trying to fill a void that only Clark could fill.

Then, after graduation, Y/N was offered a job in Metropolis. It was a great opportunity, the kind of offer he couldn’t turn down. It wasn’t too far from where he was already living, but he figured a new change of scenery couldn’t be too bad.

Plus, he wanted to check out the rumors he’d heard of some sort of superhero who had started making headlines in Metropolis. The stories seemed almost too wild to believe—a man with superhuman strength, speed, and the ability to fly, saving people and fighting crime in the heart of the city. It was the kind of thing that would have been dismissed as tabloid nonsense anywhere else, but Y/N knew better. If there was one thing Smallville had taught him, it was that the extraordinary often hid in plain sight.

So, with a mix of curiosity and the desire for a fresh start, Y/N packed his bags and moved to Metropolis. He found a small, cozy apartment in a quieter part of the city, close enough to the action but far enough to avoid the chaos. The job was great—challenging, fulfilling, and exactly what he needed to take his mind off things. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t escape the feeling that he was still running, still trying to outrun the shadow of his past.

Despite his attempts to leave his old life behind, Y/N couldn’t completely ignore his powers. He had spent too long hiding them, too long fearing them, but deep down, he believed that if he had these abilities, he should use them for good. In Smallville, he had been careful, using his magic only when absolutely necessary, but here in Metropolis, he found himself with more opportunities to help in small, subtle ways.

He’d mend a broken bike chain with a whisper of an incantation or quietly heal a scraped knee when no one was looking. He’d use his magic to nudge a stray cat away from traffic or to coax a wilting plant back to life. He was always careful, always discreet, making sure that no one noticed the little miracles he performed. It was his way of giving back, of using the gifts he had been given to make the world around him just a little bit better.

But there were times when he couldn’t help but step in and do more.

One evening, he walked past a small, family-owned bookstore that he had become fond of. The owner, an elderly man who had run the shop for decades, was sitting behind the counter with a look of deep worry on his face. Over the weeks, Y/N had noticed the shelves becoming sparser, and the customers fewer. The man had confided in Y/N once, mentioning how the business was struggling, how the bills were piling up, and how he feared he might lose the store if things didn’t turn around soon.

Y/N couldn’t bear to see the man lose everything he had worked so hard to build. So, that night, under the cover of darkness, Y/N returned to the bookstore. He stood outside the shop, focusing his energy on the building, weaving a spell that would attract more customers and give the store a sense of warmth and welcoming. He whispered incantations for prosperity and good fortune, sending out waves of magic that would subtly influence the minds of those who passed by, drawing them in with an inexplicable urge to browse and buy.

Over the next few days, Y/N was delighted to see the shop bustling with customers. The owner’s smile returned, and the store was once again filled with the chatter of people and the smell of fresh coffee brewing in the corner. The shelves began to fill up again, and the old man even had to hire an assistant to help him manage the increasing business.

Another time, he found himself playing guardian angel when he was walking home from work one night and spotted a young woman on the opposite side of the street, her pace quickening as she noticed a group of men following her. Y/N’s heart raced, and he quickly assessed the situation. He couldn’t confront them directly—he wasn’t a superhero—but he could help in other ways.

A few thoughts and concentrated focus, and suddenly a series of events unfolded: a nearby street light flickered and went out, casting the area in shadow; a loud crash from behind pulled the men's attention away from her; a gentle breeze nudged her toward a more populated, well-lit area. With the streetlight out, it gave her natural cover long enough to slip out of sight and into the safety of a nearby diner, the sound of her heels muffled by Y/N’s magic.

Y/N watched from a distance, relieved when the woman was safe inside, her would-be attackers now lost and confused. It wasn’t the first time he had done something like that, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Recently, he visited a local hospital where a friend’s child was being treated. The doctors were worried; the illness wasn’t responding to treatment, and the prognosis was grim. Y/N spent hours by the child’s bedside, speaking softly to him, holding his hand. When no one was looking, he let his magic flow through him, just a touch, just enough to help the child’s body fight back.

The next morning, the doctors were stunned by the sudden improvement. They couldn’t explain it, chalked it up to a miracle or a sudden turn of fate, but Y/N knew better. He slipped away before anyone could question it, leaving behind only a whispered prayer of thanks for the child’s recovery.

Y/N never took credit for any of his acts. And while they weren’t grand, weren’t the stuff of legends, they were enough to give him a sense of purpose, a way to use his gifts without drawing too much attention. He was careful, always careful, to remain in the shadows, to let the world think these small miracles were just coincidences, nothing more.

But now, standing in his apartment, staring out at the city skyline, Y/N couldn’t help but feel like he was right back where he started. The memories of Smallville were stronger than ever, and the loneliness he had tried so hard to escape felt more suffocating in this big city than it ever had in the small town.

It had been years since he left, but the memories of that quiet town still lingered in his mind, especially the memories of Clark Kent. He just couldn’t figure out why they had suddenly become so strong. Maybe it was the time of year, or maybe it was because he had been thinking about how he used his magic to help people in Metropolis—something that Clark would surely approve of, even if he never knew about it.

Or maybe it was because, despite everything he had done to distance himself, Clark had always been there, a constant presence in his thoughts, no matter how much Y/N tried to move on.

He took another sip of his juice, the cool liquid doing little to ease the tightness in his chest. He hadn’t seen Clark in years, hadn’t heard from him since he left Smallville, but the feelings he had for his old friend hadn’t faded. If anything, they had only grown stronger, deepening with time and distance. And that was what scared him the most—how much he still cared, how much he still missed him.

Y/N set his glass down on the windowsill, running a hand through his hair as he tried to shake off the nostalgia. He had a new life now, a good life, and he couldn’t afford to dwell on the past. Clark was probably living his own life, happy and successful, just as Y/N was trying to do.

But the more he tried to push the memories away, the more they clung to him, like shadows that refused to disappear. He sighed, turning his gaze out the window, hoping that the familiar sight of the city would ground him, would remind him of the new path he had chosen.

The city lights twinkled in the distance, a sea of illumination against the darkened sky. Y/N’s eyes scanned the skyline absently, taking in the familiar sights he had grown accustomed to since moving to Metropolis. But something caught his eye, something unusual that made his breath catch in his throat.

High above the city, a figure streaked across the sky, moving with impossible speed and grace. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as he recognized the red and blue blur—a sight that had become increasingly familiar to the citizens of Metropolis. It was Superman.

Y/N watched, mesmerized, as the figure soared through the night, his movements precise and powerful. But as he watched, a strange sensation began to creep over him, a feeling that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It wasn’t just awe or admiration—though those feelings were there, too—it was something deeper, something unsettling.

There was something about Superman, something in the way he moved, in the way he seemed to command the air around him, that tugged at the edges of Y/N’s consciousness. It was as if some hidden part of him recognized the hero in the sky, even though he knew that was impossible. He had never met Superman, had never been anywhere near him. And yet…

Y/N pressed his hand against the cool glass of the window, his heart pounding in his chest. His magic, usually so controlled, began to stir, responding to the swirl of emotions inside him. The sensation was both familiar and alien, a strange mix of nostalgia and unease that made his chest tighten.

As he watched Superman disappear into the distance, Y/N couldn’t shake the eerie feeling that had settled over him. It was as if the presence of the hero had awakened something inside him, something that had been dormant for years. And with that awakening came a sense of foreboding, a nagging feeling that his past was not as far behind him as he had hoped.

Y/N tore his gaze away from the window, trying to dispel the uneasy feeling that had taken root in his chest. But even as he turned away, the sense of familiarity lingered, haunting him like a ghost from a life he had tried so hard to leave behind.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, but the image of Superman remained burned into his mind, along with the inexplicable sense that something—someone—was drawing him back into a world he thought he had escaped.

And deep down, Y/N knew that this was only the beginning.

The grand ballroom of the Metropolis City Hall buzzed with chatter, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter. The charity event his job was sponsoring was in full swing, a glamorous affair with the city’s elite mingling and donating to a worthy cause. Y/N stood near the edge of the room, awkwardly holding a glass of water and wondering how quickly he could make a polite escape.

This wasn’t exactly his scene. Networking? Sure. Small talk? Not so much. Especially with these tone-deaf, overly stiff airheads. He glanced around, trying to locate the nearest exit, but the sea of people made it difficult. And just when he thought found a suitable path of escape, a waiter with a tray of hors d'oeuvres suddenly appeared in front of him.

“Crab cake?”

“Uh, no thanks,” Y/N mumbled, sidestepping the tray, only to nearly collide with a woman in a sequined dress who was clearly on a mission to get to the bar. He offered a quick apology and finally made it to a quiet corner, where he could breathe again.

As he scanned the room, his thoughts drifted back to last night and a certain caped superhero. His curiosity combined with the still overwhelming feelings of longing and nostalgia had the magic in him feeling antsy. And the last thing Y/N needed was to accidentally cause a chandelier to implode or a champagne glass to refill itself endlessly.

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady himself, not wanting to make a big scene considering he wanted to make a hasty and sneaky exit. As he opened his eyes, Y/N forced his thoughts away from Superman, away from the strange connection he’d felt the night before. He needed to focus on the present, on getting through this evening without incident.

Y/N sighed, taking a sip of his water. This was supposed to be a fresh start. The past was behind him, and he needed to keep it that way.

But fate, as it often does, had other plans. Little sneaky bastard.

Just as he was about to make a break for the exit, Y/N’s eyes caught sight of someone across the room, and his heart nearly stopped. There, standing by the dessert table with a bemused expression, was Clark Kent.

Of course, Clark would be standing around looking lost with his cute little confused expression. Even now as a grown man, Clark managed to keep his boyish and innocent demeanor. Y/N’s mouth went dry as his eyes took in the sight of the male—older, more polished, and just as big as ever.

Since they were little, Clark always stood out among the other kids for his build and height alone. And it looks like that didn't change with the way he towered over everyone in the room and how his broad shoulders filled out his suit perfectly, the fabric clinging just right in all the places that mattered. Y/N felt a familiar flutter in his chest, a mix of nostalgia and something more complicated that he’d been trying to ignore for years.

Clark, as if sensing someone’s gaze on him, looked up from the dessert table. His eyes, those same bright blue eyes that Y/N remembered so well, scanned the room briefly before landing directly on him. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, and for a split second, he considered ducking behind the nearest potted plant.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Y/N could feel his pulse in his throat, and for a second, he entertained the idea of hiding behind the nearest potted plant.

But then Clark’s face lit up with a grin that could have powered the entire room, and he started making his way over, weaving through the crowd with the kind of determined politeness that only Clark could pull off.

Panic set in, and Y/N’s mind scrambled for a plan, but his feet were rooted to the spot, his body betraying him. All he could do was watch as Clark closed the distance between them, that familiar grin never leaving his face.

“Y/N!” Clark’s voice was as warm and friendly as Y/N remembered, and before he knew it, he was being pulled into a hug that was just as firm and comforting as it had always been.

Y/N stiffened for a moment, caught off guard by the unexpected embrace. When Clark finally pulled back, still keeping a hand on Y/N’s shoulder as if afraid he might vanish, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the slight smudge of chocolate on Clark’s tie. It was such a Clark thing to have—always a little messy, always endearing.

“Clark,” Y/N managed to say, his voice coming out more breathless than he intended. “It’s been a while.”

Clark beamed at him, the smile reaching his eyes in that way that always made Y/N feel like everything was going to be okay. “Yeah, it really has,” Clark said, his tone filled with a warmth that made Y/N’s heart ache with memories of simpler times. “I almost didn’t recognize you without the Smallville backdrop.”

Y/N let out a small laugh, trying to keep things light despite the sudden rush of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. “Yeah, I guess we’ve both changed a bit.”

Clark’s gaze lingered on Y/N’s face, a mix of curiosity and concern in his eyes. It was clear that Clark had questions, but to his credit, he didn’t push. Instead, he gave Y/N one of those easy, reassuring smiles that had always been able to calm him down. “I’m really glad to see you again. I’ve missed you, Y/N.”

There it was—the punch to the gut that Y/N had been dreading. He had missed Clark too, more than he wanted to admit. But standing here, face-to-face with him after all these years, all those old fears and feelings began to resurface. The fear of Clark discovering the truth about his powers, about his feelings. The fear of losing the one person who had always meant the most to him.

“I’ve missed you too,” Y/N said, the words slipping out before he could stop them. It was the truth, but saying it out loud made the tightness in his chest even worse.

Clark’s smile softened, and for a brief moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the room. Y/N could almost believe that they could pick up where they left off, that everything could go back to the way it was. But deep down, he knew it could never be that simple.

His smile didn’t waver, but his eyes narrowed slightly, a familiar look of concern flickering across his face. “You okay? You seem a little… off.”

Y/N forced a laugh, hoping it didn’t sound as strained as it felt. “I’m fine, just—uh—surprised, I guess. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Well, surprise!” Clark laughed with his usual shy manner that was somehow still charming for Y/N’s frayed nerves. “I’ve been working at the Daily Planet. Moved to Metropolis not too long ago. How about you? What brings you here?”

“Work,” Y/N answered quickly, trying to keep the conversation light. “Got a job offer I couldn’t turn down.”

Clark nodded, his eyes never leaving Y/N. It was as if he was trying to read him, to figure out what was going on beneath the surface. For a moment, Y/N was afraid that Clark could see right through him, could see the turmoil and conflict he was struggling with.

But then, the moment passed, and Clark was smiling again, his expression softening.

Y/N cleared his throat, forcing his thoughts away from the past and back to the present. "So, the Daily Planet, huh? That’s a pretty big deal," he said, trying to keep the conversation light.

Clark’s eyes lit up, and he nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! It’s been a dream come true. And the best part? I get to work with some amazing people—Lois Lane and Jimmy Olsen. They’re right over there, actually," Clark added, his tone suddenly turning a bit more nervous. "You’ve got to meet them!"

Before Y/N could even process the idea, Clark grabbed his arm, leading him through the crowd with an urgency that caught Y/N off guard. He barely had time to adjust before they were standing in front of a petite woman with sharp eyes and a confident demeanor, who was mid-conversation with a young man enthusiastically fiddling with a vintage camera.

"Lois! Jimmy!" Clark called out, drawing their attention.

Lois turned first, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in Y/N. Then her expression softened into a warm, welcoming smile. "Clark! Who’s this?"

Clark beamed, looking from Lois to Y/N with a hint of nervous energy. "This is Y/N. We grew up together in Smallville."

"Smallville?" Lois’s eyebrow arched with clear interest. "Now that’s a place with some stories, I bet."

Jimmy, now peering at Y/N through the lens of his camera, quickly snapped a picture before lowering it with an apologetic grin. "Sorry, couldn’t resist. It’s a habit."

Y/N chuckled, shaking his head. "No worries. I’m used to it."

Lois leaned in, her curiosity clearly piqued. "So, Y/N, what was Clark like back in Smallville? I can only imagine."

Y/N glanced at Clark, who looked both hopeful and slightly anxious. "Clark and I were pretty much inseparable growing up," Y/N said with a smile, trying to keep the conversation light. "He was always the guy you could count on, the one who’d help you out of a jam and then offer you pie afterward."

Lois’s eyes twinkled with intrigue, clearly not ready to let the topic go. "Pie and jam, huh? Sounds like you two got into some interesting situations. Any fun stories you care to share?"

Y/N felt his heart rate pick up. He could sense the inquisitiveness behind Lois’s casual tone, the way she was gently probing for more. She was good—really good. "Oh, you know, small-town stuff," he said, forcing a chuckle. "Mostly just boring farm work and school."

Clark, sensing Y/N’s discomfort, quickly jumped in. "Yeah, nothing too exciting. Just your average childhood, right, Y/N?"

"Right," Y/N agreed, a bit too quickly. He could feel Lois’s eyes on him, studying him, and it made his magic stir uneasily. The last thing he wanted was for her to start asking more pointed questions that might lead her to the truth.

Lois didn’t miss a beat. "So, you two must have been really close, then. I bet you know all of Clark’s secrets," she said with a teasing smile, though there was a hint of genuine curiosity in her voice.

Y/N’s stomach dropped. He forced another laugh, this one more strained. "Well, everyone’s got their secrets, right?"

Lois raised an eyebrow, clearly catching the subtle tension in Y/N’s voice. "True," she said slowly, her eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to piece together a puzzle. "But something tells me you’re not just any old friend from Smallville."

Clark, sensing that the conversation was veering into dangerous territory, let out a nervous laugh. "Lois, come on, don’t interrogate him on the first meeting!"

Jimmy, sensing the shift in tone, chimed in, grinning as he tried to lighten the mood. "Yeah, Lois, ease up! You don’t want to scare off Clark’s oldest friend."

Lois gave a soft laugh, raising her hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I’ll back off… for now."

Y/N smiled, but there was a tightness in his chest that he couldn’t shake. Lois’s perceptiveness had always been one of her strengths, and it was clear she was picking up on more than he wanted to reveal.

"Seriously, though," Lois said, her tone softening as she gave Y/N a more genuine smile. "It’s good to meet you. Any friend of Clark’s is a friend of ours."

Y/N relaxed slightly, appreciating the warm reception despite his earlier nerves. "Thanks, Lois. I appreciate that."

As the conversation continued, Y/N found himself relaxing a bit more, though the earlier tension still lingered in the back of his mind. He knew he’d have to be careful around Lois—her curiosity and sharp instincts were not something to be underestimated.

Lois, ever the sharp-eyed reporter, leaned closer to Y/N. "So, what brings you to Metropolis? Work?"

"Yeah," Y/N nodded, "I got an offer I couldn’t turn down."

Lois nodded, impressed. "Well, welcome to the city. You know, we’re always looking for interesting people to feature in the Planet. Maybe we’ll run into each other more often."

"Maybe," Y/N said, feeling a bit more at ease. "It’s a small world after all."

Clark chuckled at that, his earlier nervousness fading as the conversation flowed more naturally. "I’m really glad we ran into each other, Y/N. We should definitely hang out more. I mean, if you’re not too busy with work."

Realistically, Y/N should have declined. He should have politely excused himself and gone home, putting an end to the whole thing. But when he looked at Clark, saw the hope and excitement in his eyes, he couldn't bring himself to say no.

All his nervous thoughts and reservations about what could happen if he allowed himself to get close to Clark again seemed to just fade to the back of his mind as he re-connected with him and got to know his two friends. A new familiar feeling also settled in place as well, but not so much nostalgia.

It was more of something he didn't even remember feeling. A sense of ease and comfort, his magic calm and feeling completely grounded. A feeling he hadn't experienced in a long time but something that wasn't new or unfamiliar, a very welcomed sensation and peace.

"I'd love to," Y/N said, his heart skipping a beat.

Clark's smile was brighter than the sun, and though Y/N knew he was in trouble just for that, emotions and impulse overtook his logic. Thus, he didn't really care.

As the night continued, Y/N found himself more at ease, the earlier tension gradually dissipating. Lois, ever the investigative reporter, kept throwing glances his way, but she seemed content for now, her curiosity temporarily satisfied. Jimmy, meanwhile, was snapping pictures of everything and everyone, his energy infectious.

Y/N had to admit, despite his initial apprehension, he was enjoying himself. The company was good, the conversation flowed easily, and for the first time in a long time, he felt like he was part of something. A small part of him wondered if this was what he had been missing—connection, camaraderie, a sense of belonging.

Clark leaned in closer, a warm smile on his face. "So, Y/N, how have you been? I mean, really been?"

Y/N paused, considering his answer. He could have brushed off the question, given a generic response about work being busy and life being hectic. But something about the way Clark asked, the genuine concern in his voice, made Y/N want to be honest.

"I’ve been… okay," Y/N said, the words coming out slower than he expected. "Moving to Metropolis has been a big change, but it’s good. I’m still finding my way, I guess."

Clark nodded, his expression softening with understanding. "I get that. Moving here was a big adjustment for me too. But you know, it helps when you’ve got friends around. People you can rely on."

Y/N smiled at that, a warmth spreading through him. "Yeah, it does."

Lois, sensing the shift in the conversation, jumped back in with her trademark curiosity. "So, Y/N, what exactly do you do for work? You mentioned an offer you couldn’t turn down."

Y/N hesitated, not wanting to reveal too much. "I work in consulting," he said, keeping it vague. "It’s a bit of everything, really. I help businesses with strategy, operations, that sort of thing."

Lois’s eyes narrowed slightly, clearly not satisfied with the lack of detail, but she let it slide, for now. "That sounds interesting. Metropolis must be a great place for that kind of work."

"It is," Y/N replied, grateful she didn’t press further.

Jimmy, ever the enthusiastic one, suddenly popped up between them, holding out his camera. "Hey, how about a picture? You guys look great together!"

Y/N barely had time to react before Jimmy was positioning them for a shot, his camera clicking away. Clark chuckled, clearly used to Jimmy’s antics, while Lois struck a pose with practiced ease.

As they waited for the flash, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a sense of surrealism wash over him. Here he was, reconnecting with an old friend, surrounded by new ones, in a city that was starting to feel less like a strange place and more like a potential home.

The camera flashed, capturing the moment, and Jimmy grinned as he checked the screen. "Perfect! This one’s definitely going in the album."

Lois nodded in agreement, a smile on her face. "Yeah, this is one for the books. You’re officially part of the crew now, Y/N."

Y/N laughed, the sound genuine and light. "Well, I guess there’s no turning back now."

Clark’s smile was warm, his eyes shining with something that made Y/N’s heart skip a beat. "I’m really glad you’re here, Y/N. It feels like old times."

Y/N nodded, feeling a mix of emotions swirl within him. "Yeah, it does."

As the evening drew on, the four of them continued to chat, the conversation flowing easily between light-hearted banter and more serious topics. Y/N felt a connection with Clark and his friends that he hadn’t felt in a long time, and for the first time since moving to Metropolis, he allowed himself to relax and enjoy the moment.

But as the night wore on and the event began to wind down, Y/N couldn’t shake the nagging feeling at the back of his mind. Lois’s earlier questions had been harmless enough, but he knew her type—persistent, sharp, and always on the lookout for a story. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down too much, especially with his magic always threatening to reveal itself.

Yet, despite the risks, Y/N found himself wanting to spend more time with Clark, to catch up on the years they’d missed, and maybe even find a way to make this new life in Metropolis work. It was a dangerous line to walk, but for tonight, he was willing to take that risk.

As they all said their goodbyes and made plans to meet up again soon, Y/N felt a sense of contentment settle over him. Maybe this fresh start in Metropolis wouldn’t be as complicated as he feared. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to balance the old and the new, to keep his secrets while building something real with the people who were quickly becoming more than just acquaintances.

And maybe, this time, since he was older and more aware and mature, he could keep his feelings for Clark in check.

Yeah, that hope didn't last long.

Y/N sighed as he stared up at the ceiling of his apartment, reflecting on how quickly things had spiraled out of control since reconnecting with Clark. It had only been a few weeks, but in that short time, his life had become a whirlwind of old emotions, new challenges, and unexpected complications.

He’d spent more time with Clark, Lois, and Jimmy than he had anticipated. There were coffee runs, after-work dinners, and late-night brainstorming sessions where Lois would excitedly discuss her latest scoop while Jimmy showed off his latest photos. Clark, ever the supportive friend, would listen intently, adding his own insights with that same gentle warmth that had always made Y/N feel at ease.

Lois and Jimmy were friendly and welcoming, but Y/N could never fully relax around them. He still had to always be on guard, constantly aware of the magic simmering just beneath the surface.

And despite the camaraderie, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of being out of place. It wasn’t just that he was trying to reintegrate into Clark’s life; it was the constant need to keep his magic under control, especially around Lois and Jimmy. The two of them were sharp—Lois, with her inquisitive nature, and Jimmy, with his keen eye for detail. They’d pick up on any slip-up, any sign that Y/N wasn’t just an ordinary guy from Smallville.

And then there were the moments of crisis—because Metropolis was never short on those. It seemed like every time Y/N was with the trio, something would happen. A runaway bus, a building fire, some random new villain on the loose—something always required Superman’s intervention. And every single time, Clark would disappear with a flimsy excuse, only for Superman to show up moments later.

The first time it happened, Y/N had been at a food truck with Clark and Jimmy, enjoying a rare sunny afternoon. They were laughing about something silly Jimmy had said when suddenly, the sound of screeching tires and panicked screams filled the air. Without missing a beat, Clark had mumbled something about needing to make a quick call and bolted, leaving Y/N standing there confused with Lois and Jimmy. Moments later, Superman was on the scene, saving the day like clockwork.

Lois and Jimmy had immediately sprung into action, Jimmy snapping photos while Lois started interviewing witnesses. They had been weirdly calm about the whole thing, a lot of things actually when Y/N thought about it. It was like Smallville all over again, things that should cause people to react with caution and apprehension, but instead, they barely blinked an eye.

It didn’t help that every time Clark returned, he looked winded and disheveled, and Lois would give him a knowing glance that made Y/N’s stomach twist with unease.

Meanwhile, he'd also been using his magic discreetly in these various scenarios to help keep people safe and minimize destruction and casualties. But in the chaos, he’d nearly been caught by Lois, who had turned around just as Y/N was subtly redirecting a beam of wood away from a trapped child.

“Hey, how’d you do that?” she’d asked, her sharp eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Y/N had stammered out a weak excuse, something about adrenaline and luck, but he could tell Lois wasn’t convinced. She’d given him that look—the one that said she wasn’t done with him yet.

And it wasn’t the last time, either. Every time something happened, Y/N found himself using his magic to help, and every time, he came dangerously close to being caught by Lois. She was perceptive, and it was clear she was starting to get suspicious. Her questions about his past, about his connection to Clark, were getting more pointed, and Y/N could feel the pressure mounting.

But there was another element to this that Y/N hadn’t anticipated—jealousy. The more time he spent with the group, the more he noticed how close Clark and Lois were. It wasn’t just their professional partnership; it was the way they interacted, the easy banter, the shared looks, the inside jokes. Y/N couldn’t help but notice the way Clark’s eyes lit up whenever Lois was around, how he seemed more at ease with her than anyone else.

It irritated Y/N more than he wanted to admit. He knew it was irrational—Clark was allowed to have close friends, and Lois was obviously important to him. But every time he saw them together, it felt like a thorn in his side, a constant reminder of how complicated things had become. It didn’t help that Lois was so naturally curious, always asking questions about his and Clark’s past, digging into their history with a relentless enthusiasm that made Y/N squirm.

And then there were the quiet moments—those rare instances when it was just Y/N and Clark, away from the chaos of the city. They’d talk about everything and nothing, slipping into the easy rhythm of their past friendship. But every time, Y/N felt the old feelings bubbling up, stronger than ever.

Like the night they’d gone for a walk along the Metropolis River. The city lights reflected off the water, casting a soft glow over everything. Clark had been unusually quiet, his hands tucked into his pockets as they strolled. Y/N had felt the tension between them, the unspoken words hanging in the air.

“I’m glad you’re here, Y/N,” Clark had said suddenly, breaking the silence. “It’s like… it feels right, having you around again.”

Y/N had smiled, but it hadn’t reached his eyes. He wanted to say something—anything—that would match the sincerity in Clark’s voice, but the words had caught in his throat. Instead, he’d just nodded, trying to ignore the way his heart raced every time Clark looked at him like that.

But every time they were together, every time Clark smiled at him or brushed against him accidentally, Y/N felt his resolve weakening. It was getting harder to pretend that everything was fine, that he didn’t still have feelings for Clark.

And as they spent more time together, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder—did Clark feel it too? There were moments, subtle ones, where Y/N thought he saw something in Clark’s eyes, a lingering gaze, a soft smile that seemed meant just for him. But then Clark would pull back, or Lois would step in, and Y/N was left questioning if it was all in his head.

But now, lying on his couch and staring at the ceiling, Y/N couldn’t ignore it anymore. The old feelings hadn’t just resurfaced—they were drowning him, pulling him under with a force he couldn’t fight.

It wasn’t just about Clark, though that was a huge part of it. It was the fear of what would happen if Clark—or worse, Lois and Jimmy—found out about his magic. They were all so caught up in their own world of secrets and dangers, and Y/N wasn’t sure if he could handle being part of it. He wasn’t sure if he could keep up the act much longer.

His phone buzzed on the coffee table, pulling him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the screen and saw a message from Clark: Hey, want to grab dinner with Lois and Jimmy? We’re thinking Thai.

Y/N hesitated for a moment before typing a quick reply: Sure, sounds good.

As he grabbed his jacket and headed out the door, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that he was walking a tightrope, balancing between the life he had built for himself and the one he had left behind. And with every step, he was getting closer to falling off.

As Y/N walked to the restaurant, he kept his hands stuffed deep in his pockets, trying to calm the unease that had settled in his chest. He needed to get a grip, to find a way to keep his feelings in check before they, and thus his magic spiraled out of control. The last thing he wanted was for Clark to notice—or worse, for Lois to start asking questions.

By the time he reached the restaurant, Y/N had managed to push his anxiety down, forcing a smile as he spotted Clark, Lois, and Jimmy waiting outside. Clark waved him over, his smile as bright as ever.

"Hey, glad you could make it," Clark greeted him with his usual warm and bright tone.

"Heh, wouldn't miss it," Y/N chuckled, trying to keep his voice casual.

As they ate, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the easy dynamic between Lois and Clark. There was a familiarity there, an unspoken understanding that made Y/N’s chest tighten with a mix of jealousy and longing. He wanted to be part of that, to be as close to Clark as Lois was.

But then Lois turned to him, her sharp eyes studying him with that same curiosity he’d noticed at the gala. “So, Y/N, what was Clark like back in Smallville? He never talks much about his hometown.”

Y/N felt his pulse quicken. He shot a quick glance at Clark, who was suddenly very interested in his pad Thai.

“Oh, you know,” Y/N began, trying to keep his tone light, “just your average small-town kid. We spent a lot of time getting into trouble and trying to keep out of it.”

Lois raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with the vague answer. “Really? I find that hard to believe. Clark’s practically the poster boy for responsibility.”

Y/N forced a laugh, trying to deflect Lois’s probing gaze. “Yeah, well, even poster boys have their moments. We were just kids, you know? Doing dumb stuff like exploring abandoned barns or sneaking out to the creek after dark. Nothing too wild.”

Lois leaned in slightly, her eyes narrowing with that trademark inquisitiveness. “Come on, Y/N, you’re holding out on me. I want the juicy details. What kind of trouble did Clark get into?”

Y/N could feel the heat rising in his face, a mix of nerves, and the pressure of trying to avoid any slip-ups. “Honestly, it was mostly me dragging him into stuff. Clark was always the one keeping me out of serious trouble.”

Clark chuckled nervously, his eyes darting between Y/N and Lois. “Yeah, Y/N was always the adventurous one. I was just along for the ride.”

Jimmy, sensing the tension, tried to lighten the mood. “I don’t know, Lois. I think Clark’s just good at covering his tracks. Bet he’s got a whole secret rebellious side we don’t know about.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at Jimmy’s words, the irony of the statement not lost on him. If only they knew just how many secrets Clark was hiding—or how many he was keeping himself.

Lois, however, wasn’t so easily deterred. “I don’t doubt it,” she said, her eyes flicking back to Y/N with a knowing smile. “And I bet you’ve got some secrets of your own, Y/N. You seem like the type who’s good at keeping things under wraps.”

Y/N’s smile faltered for just a second before he forced it back into place. “Who doesn’t have a few secrets?” he replied, trying to keep his tone light and nonchalant.

Lois’s gaze lingered on him a moment longer, and Y/N could practically feel her trying to piece together the puzzle she was sure he was hiding. He shifted uncomfortably, desperate to change the subject.

“Anyway,” Y/N said, his voice a bit too loud in his haste to redirect the conversation, “what about you guys? You’ve all been working together for a while now. Any crazy stories from the Daily Planet?”

Clark gave him a grateful smile, clearly relieved at the change in topic. “Oh, you know, it’s mostly just chasing down leads and trying to stay out of trouble ourselves.”

Lois smirked. “Mostly. There have been a few close calls, though. Like that time we were covering that gala and—”

But before she could continue, there was a sudden commotion outside the restaurant. The sound of screeching tires and shouting filled the air, followed by the unmistakable sound of something crashing into a building.

Clark’s expression immediately shifted to one of concern. “I’ll, uh, be right back,” he mumbled, already moving toward the door.

Moments later, Superman was on the scene, and Y/N found himself once again in the midst of a crisis, trying to discreetly use his magic to help those around him. He directed falling debris away from pedestrians, subtly reinforced a crumbling wall, and calmed panicked civilians—all while trying to stay out of Lois’s line of sight.

As Y/N moved through the chaos, he couldn’t help but keep one eye on Lois. She was already pulling out her phone, likely trying to reach out to sources or start documenting the scene for the Daily Planet. But more than once, Y/N caught her glancing his way, her sharp eyes narrowing as if she were trying to figure something out.

It didn’t help that every time Y/N used his magic, Lois seemed to notice something was off. Like when he subtly redirected a falling streetlight away from a group of bystanders, Lois had been nearby and had whipped around, her eyes narrowing as she spotted Y/N standing there, his hand half-raised.

“Where, how did you—” she started, but Y/N cut her off quickly.

“Uh, just lucky timing,” he said, flashing what he hoped was a convincing grin.

Lois didn’t look convinced, but before she could press further, another explosion rocked the area as Superman swooped across the sky in a fight with some new villain. Lois’s attention was immediately drawn away as she dashed off to get closer to the action, leaving Y/N with a brief moment of relief.

But it was short-lived. He could feel the weight of his secret bearing down on him, the fear that at any moment, Lois would start putting the pieces together. She was too perceptive, too determined to uncover the truth, and Y/N was running out of excuses.

Y/N’s heart pounded as he watched Lois dart away, her focus now on Superman’s battle overhead. The city block was in chaos—buildings crumbling, cars overturned, and terrified civilians running for cover. Y/N could feel the familiar tingle of his magic, urging him to act, but he hesitated. He was too exposed, too close to Lois and Jimmy, who were both still in the thick of things, trying to stay safe while getting their story.

But then he saw it—a mother and her young child, trapped beneath a fallen piece of debris, their terrified cries cutting through the noise. Without thinking, Y/N moved. He knew he couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.

Darting through the chaos, he reached the trapped pair, his heart racing. The chunk of concrete pinning them was far too heavy for him to lift on his own, but that didn’t stop him from trying. He pretended to struggle with it for a moment, glancing around to make sure no one was watching too closely. Then, with a whispered incantation, he let his magic flow, lifting the debris just enough for the mother to pull her child to safety.

“Go! Get out of here!” Y/N urged them, and they didn’t need to be told twice. They scrambled to their feet and ran, not looking back.

But as Y/N released his grip on the concrete, allowing it to crash back to the ground, he felt a prickling at the back of his neck. He turned just in time to see Lois standing a few feet away, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and suspicion.

“Y/N…” she started, her voice barely audible over the sounds of destruction around them. “How did you—”

Before she could finish, a loud crash interrupted her, drawing their attention to the ongoing battle above. Superman was locked in a fierce struggle with the villain, who was wielding some kind of energy weapon that was tearing through the city with reckless abandon.

Lois hesitated for a split second, torn between confronting Y/N and rushing to cover the story. The journalist in her won out, and she turned to run towards the action, but not before shooting Y/N one last look, a promise that this conversation wasn’t over.

Y/N let out a shaky breath, but there was no time to dwell on what Lois had seen. The battle was escalating, and the destruction was growing worse by the second. He knew he had to do more, had to use his magic more openly if he wanted to save lives. The fear of exposure warred with his instinct to help, but his desire to help won out.

As Y/N wove his way through the chaos, he could feel his magic surging within him, responding to his need to act. With each subtle spell, he could feel the pressure mounting, the risk of being discovered growing with every passing moment. But he couldn't stop, not when so many lives were at stake.

As Y/N moved through the chaos, helping people where he could, he lost himself in the urgency of the moment. He pulled a child out of harm's way, extinguished small fires with a flick of his wrist, and used his magic to steady a teetering scaffold that was threatening to collapse onto a group of bystanders. Every action was instinctual, his focus so intense that he didn’t even notice how close he was getting to the epicenter of the danger.

Meanwhile, Superman was engaged in a fierce battle with the villain, their clash sending shockwaves through the city. Clark’s attention was divided, trying to subdue the threat while keeping an eye on his friends below. But in the midst of the fight, he noticed Y/N inching dangerously close to the conflict.

“Y/N, get back!” Superman shouted, his voice strained with panic as he saw Y/N unwittingly step into the path of a collapsing billboard that had been dislodged during the battle.

Time seemed to slow as Clark realized he wouldn’t reach Y/N in time, especially with his opponent actively trying to block his way. His heart pounded in his chest, fear gripping him like a vice. But just as the massive billboard was about to crush him, Y/N’s instincts kicked in.

Without even thinking, Y/N threw up his hands, and a powerful force field erupted around him, deflecting the billboard away and sending it crashing harmlessly to the ground. The magic burst out of him like a tidal wave, raw and unfiltered, saving him in the nick of time.

The impact of what had just happened hit Y/N all at once. He stood there, breathless and trembling, staring at the spot where the billboard had fallen. His heart raced as he realized how close he’d come to being crushed—and how easily he had saved himself with powers.

Superman, who had seen the entire event unfold, hovered in the air, momentarily stunned. His mind raced, trying to comprehend what he had just witnessed. Y/N had powers—real, undeniable powers. And in that instant, a dozen memories from their time together in Smallville flashed through his mind, moments that suddenly made sense in a new, startling way.

The villain took advantage of Superman’s distraction, launching one final attack. But Superman, fueled by a surge of determination, quickly regained focus. With a swift, powerful strike, he knocked the villain off his feet, sending him crashing to the ground, unconscious and defeated.

The battle was over, but the tension in the air was far from dissipated.

Superman landed softly on the ground, his eyes never leaving Y/N. The adrenaline from the fight was still coursing through him, but now it was mixed with a cocktail of emotions—shock, confusion, and something deeper, something more personal.

Y/N looked up, locking eyes with Superman for the first time. The two of them stood there, surrounded by the remnants of the battle, but it felt as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of them.

“Y/N,” Superman began, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. He took a step forward, but before he could say more, Lois and Jimmy rushed over, their faces a mix of concern and relief.

Superman took a step toward Y/N, his mind racing with questions, but before he could say more, Lois and Jimmy rushed over, their faces a mix of concern and urgency.

"Superman," Lois called out, her voice edged with urgency as she glanced around. "We’re in the middle of the street. People are starting to notice."

Jimmy nodded, his camera hanging by his side as he scanned the area. “Yeah, maybe we should take this somewhere a little less… public.”

Superman blinked, realizing the gravity of the situation. There were indeed a few onlookers, phones out, capturing the aftermath of the battle. The last thing he needed was more attention, especially with Y/N’s secret now out in the open.

He turned to Y/N, his eyes filled with both concern and determination. “Y/N, we need to talk. But not here. Do you trust me?”

Y/N, still shaken from everything that had happened, hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Yeah, I trust you.”

Superman gave him a small, reassuring smile before glancing back at Lois and Jimmy. “I’ll explain everything later, but right now, I need to get Y/N out of here.”

Lois gave a curt nod, understanding the need for discretion. “We’ll cover for you. Just… be careful.”

Jimmy shot Y/N a quick thumbs-up, though his expression was tinged with curiosity and concern. “We’ll handle the crowd. Go.”

With a final nod, Superman wrapped an arm around Y/N’s waist, holding him securely. “Hold on tight.”

Before Y/N could fully process what was happening, they were airborne, the ground falling away as Superman lifted them into the sky. The wind rushed past them as they soared above the city, the chaos of the battle below quickly becoming a distant memory.

Y/N clung to Superman, his heart racing not just from the flight but from the whirlwind of emotions and revelations that had just unfolded. He had always admired Superman from afar, but now, being so close, knowing that this was Clark—it was almost too much to take in.

They flew in silence, the cityscape sprawling out beneath them, until finally, Superman began to descend, landing gently on the rooftop of the Daily Planet building. The iconic globe loomed above them, casting long shadows in the setting sun.

Superman set Y/N down carefully, stepping back to give him space. For a moment, they just stood there, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between them.

Clark, still in his Superman suit but with the familiar warmth of his old friend in his eyes, took a step closer. “I know. It’s a lot to take in. For both of us.”

Y/N nodded, his mind racing with a thousand questions. “So, you're Superman?”

A faint blush along with his nervous smile appeared on his face, a glimpse of the boy Y/N had known. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

A moment of silence passed before Y/N spoke again, "I really don't get how people don't catch on faster. The only visible difference is the glasses," he said, gesturing to the frames on Clark's face.

Clark looked confused for a moment, "Wait, huh? Did you know?"

"Well, not for sure. But I had my suspicions. I mean, the glasses, the timing of your disappearances, the fact that you were never around whenever Superman showed up... it wasn't exactly hard to put the pieces together. But, I didn't know until I saw you up close. Until now, whenever you were Superman, I wasn't close enough to get a good look. Then, you were right in front of me, and well, it was like, 'Oh yeah, that makes complete sense,'" Y/N admitted, rambling a little.

"Oh," was all Clark could manage, a sheepish look on his face.

"Why did you never tell me?" Y/N asked, his voice soft.

Clark sighed, his expression conflicted. "I wanted to, believe me. But it's not exactly something I can just go around telling people. And after everything that happened back in Smallville, I didn't want to put you in any more danger. I guess, we were both keeping secrets."

Y/N paused for a moment, now realizing the irony of the situation before laughing under his breath, "Sneaky little bastard strikes again."

"Huh?"

"Nothing, just a little joke to myself," Y/N explained, before pausing and looking at his friend, taking in his entire superhero appearance, "Wow, looking at you now, and thinking back to everything, everything now makes so much sense."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you being able to stop cars without getting injured. Or people always calling your parents to ask for you when their tractor was broken down. And that time you and Suzy were playing in Old Man Ferris's field and he almost mowed her over with the shredder but you saved her and broke the shredder in the process. I always thought it was weird, but now, it's obvious," Y/N said, his tone a mixture of amusement and disbelief.

"I mean, it could've just been weak metal," Clark tried to argue, but the blush creeping up his neck betrayed his embarrassment.

"Clark, no offense, but anyone else verse that shredder would've been minced meat. And yet, one run-in with you and it had been totaled with no chance of repair. Which, did he ever get a new one?"

"Yeah, the town all chipped in to get him one while my parents got him insurance on it for a year as an apology."

"Hmm, you know for the amount of weird things that have gone on in that town between you and me alone, you'd think someone would've said something or freaked out," Y/N commented, shaking his head.

"Yeah, well, Smallville is a weird place," Clark chuckled, a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

"That it is," Y/N agreed, a fond smile tugging at his lips.

Clark cleared his throat while rubbing the back of his neck, "I guess things also make sense for you too. All those times that lights and power in school went out after you got angry, things disappearing and reappearing in random places, and that one time you got in an argument with a squirrel. Can you talk to animals with your powers?"

"Okay, first of all, we didn't have to bring that specific instance up. You remember everyone made fun of me for like a month after that happened. And either way, that squirrel had it coming," Y/N said, a slight pout on his face.

"It was a squirrel, Y/N."

"And it was a jerk!"

"How was it a jerk?"

"It kept throwing acorns at me and always running at me like it wanted to fight. I can't understand animals naturally unless there's a spell for it that I just haven't figured out, but they do seem to gravitate towards me for whatever reason. But, that squirrel had it out for me since freshman year and I was just trying to defend myself," Y/N argued, his voice taking on a slightly whiny tone.

"By arguing with it?"

"Well, yes," Y/N said, crossing his arms, "But, it was a very heated argument."

"If you say so," Clark laughed, his eyes bright with amusement.

Clark's laughter filled the air, and for a moment, it felt like they were back in Smallville, two friends joking around like they used to. But the reality of their situation quickly settled back in, and the weight of everything that had happened—everything that had been revealed—hung between them.

"So, magic," Clark said after a beat, his tone more serious. "I can't believe you were hiding that all these years."

Y/N shrugged, looking down at his feet. "It wasn't exactly something I could just go around telling people. Especially not in Smallville. I barely understood it myself, and my parents were terrified of what might happen if anyone found out. They were always worried that some government agency would swoop in and take me away if I ever slipped up."

Clark nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I get that. My parents had similar fears about me. We were both trying to protect each other, in our own way."

"Yeah," Y/N agreed quietly. He glanced up at Clark, a hesitant smile on his face. "It's kind of ironic, isn't it? Both of us with these...abilities and we never knew about each other."

Clark smiled back, but there was something in his eyes—something that made Y/N's heart skip a beat. "I wish I had known," Clark said softly. "Maybe things would have been different."

"Maybe," Y/N echoed, the word hanging in the air between them.

A comfortable silence settled over them, the kind that only old friends could share. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow over the city. Y/N found himself getting lost in the moment, in the quiet presence of his friend, the tension of the past few weeks slowly ebbing away.

But then Clark spoke again, his voice filled with an emotion that Y/N couldn't quite place. "You know, I've always felt like there was something more between us. Even back then."

Y/N's breath caught in his throat. He looked at Clark, his eyes searching his friend's face for any sign that he might be joking, but all he saw was sincerity. "What do you mean?"

Clark hesitated as if trying to find the right words. "I mean... I've always cared about you, Y/N. More than just as a friend."

The confession hung in the air, and Y/N's heart pounded in his chest. He had dreamed of hearing those words for so long, but now that they were here, he didn't know how to respond. His feelings for Clark had been buried deep for years, hidden away to protect both himself and their friendship.

"Clark, I..." Y/N began, but his voice faltered. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I care about you too. A lot. But this—" He gestured to the city below them, to Superman’s suit, to everything around them. "This is complicated. Our lives are so different now."

Clark stepped closer, his expression earnest. "I know it’s complicated. But maybe we can figure it out together."

Y/N looked into Clark's eyes, seeing the hope and the warmth there, and for a moment, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, they could make this work. He thought about all the things they had been through, the secrets they had kept, the bond that had never really broken despite the years and the distance.

He smiled softly, his heart finally settling into a steady rhythm. "I'd like that," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Clark's smile was brighter than the sunset behind him, and Y/N felt a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the fading sunlight. For the first time in a long while, things felt right. Complicated, yes, but right.

But before they could say anything more, the door to the rooftop burst open, and Lois and Jimmy came rushing in, both looking out of breath and a little frantic.

"Clark! Y/N!" Lois called out, her eyes wide as she took in the scene before her. "You guys okay? We’ve been looking everywhere for you."

"Yeah, we’re fine," Clark said, quickly stepping back from Y/N, though he couldn’t quite hide the smile on his face.

Jimmy glanced between the two of them, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "You know, you guys really should be more careful. The paparazzi would have a field day if they caught Superman having a heart-to-heart with some random guy on a rooftop."

Lois rolled her eyes but nodded in agreement. "He's right. We should get off this rooftop before someone spots us."

Clark looked at Y/N, his expression a mix of reluctance and agreement. "Yeah, you're right." He turned back to Y/N, his voice softening. "We'll talk more later, okay?"

Y/N nodded, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nervousness about what that conversation would bring. "Yeah, later."

With that, they all made their way back down to the city, where the chaos of the day had finally settled. But even as they stepped back into the world, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that something significant had shifted between them.

And for the first time, he was ready to see where it would lead.

☀️ | Clark Kent/Superman | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

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long-live-astronerd-ghost-king · 2 years ago

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DPXDC prompt. Wes Weston in Metropolis.

Lois Lane is a talented reporter and is proud of it. Her name has long been known for her scandalous investigations and private interviews with Superman. Without exaggeration, she could call herself an extremely valuable worker of the Daily Planet.

So when she was assigned to teach the new unexperienced intern, who was completely unimpressed by her skills, Lois was more than unhappy. But the new guy was perfectly able to find common ground with people and efficiently carried out assignments, so she finally warmed up and even decided to do take him on an interview with members of the Justice League for a practice.

When they entered the room heroes were a little tense. Lois let herself be a little smug, realizing that they were used to her presence and the new man wasn’t seen as credible.

She turned to the intern to tell him something inspiring before they start to make him feel less anxious about work with such well-known personalities. And she cut herself short. The red-haired man's face expressed a strange mischievous satisfaction.

"Long time no see, Phantom. Or, should I say, Fenton."

One of the new members of the League quickly hid behind Batman and swore.

"Who the hell let Weston in here?!"

Within seconds, the conference room turned into Tom and Jerry’s film set.

"I’ve wasted the best years of my life on you, asshole! Get back on the ground and let’s talk man to man, Fenton!"

"Help!"

"I know where you live, you can’t hide from me! So listen here, you.."

"Get that damn stalker away from me!"

~~~~~~

Only at the end of the working day Miss Lane realize that Weston did not take a single photo or note during the entire evening. Wes doesn't respond to her outrage and says he's already taken care of it.

The next day, Phantom himself arrived at their office and immediately headed to Weston.

Danny: I brought a thumb drive with photos, "Mr. Jameson". May now Dobby be free?

Wes: Until next Tuesday. Paulina ordered me to drag you to school reunion.

Danny: What? Hell no, Valerie will be there. I'm not looking for death.

Wes: Not my problem, I’m still mad at you. Can't believe the photographer at the press conference where your identity was revealed was...who he was again? Oh, right, not me. Such a betrayal.

Danny: Come on, Wes, you were on vacation at this time.

Wes: Get out of here.

Danny: How to get you to forgive me? I swear on my life you’ll be the photographer at the wedding, okey?

Wes: The guarantee is so-so.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dpxdc crossover #dpxdc prompt #dp x dc #wes weston

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secretidentie · 5 months ago

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Since Clark grew up in a rural town in the mid west I'd imagine he was exposed to a lot of government and military propaganda. So a young Clark, feeling obligated to protect his country and being literally indestructible, ignores his parents advice to lay low to protect himself and decides to secretly join the military. Even if someone figures out he's an alien, it will be much easier to make a case for himself being one of the good guys if he's already in the military, Clark rationalizes. He leaves his parents a letter and sneaks off in the night.

At the same time across the country, a young angry Bruce is looking for any excuse to get a break from Gotham and the prying media. He decides to join the military not just for escape, but to gain training for his mission to take down the criminals of Gotham. Alfred having been in the army himself thinks this will be good for Bruce and a much more grounded idea then fighting criminals himself.

By fate, they are assigned to the same dormitory, Bruce on the bottom bunk and Clark on the top (yes this is an innuendo). About a week into their basic training they start to realize the military might be super evil and have to work together to stop the creation of a really dangerous weapon. Through working together and confiding in each other about their feeling and worries, they start to form a close friendship or even more

After they complete their mission they both quit before the end of their basic training and go their separate ways. Bruce decides his training would be better aligned with his values if he is taught by monks who obey the same honor code as him and leaves to go train in Tibet. Clark instead decides his calling is journalism to expose the lies and corruption in the country. To do this he goes to study at Metropolis University and later on decides to become Superman to fight these injustices hands on.

Every now and then they both think bac to their short lived romance and what could have been. When Bruce sees the first Daily Planet article by Clark Kent he can't help but smile and when Clark hears news of Bruce Wayne's return he can't help but make a quick trip to Gotham.

#you could throw a Hal Jordan cameo in just for fun #bruce wayne #batman #dc comics #worlds finest #clark kent #superman #superbat #bruce x clark #military au

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goblin-jr · 4 months ago

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Tell me, where’s your hiding place?

Pairing: Clark Kent x Reader

Summary: The documentary starts taking over Clark’s life. The similarities between Kal and Clark take up Y/N’s

part 1 . part 2 . part 3 . part 4 . part 5

complete

words: 7.3 k

💌 💌 💌 💌

Clark adjusted his tie and exhaled slowly, willing himself to stay calm. The meeting room at Y/N’s record label was ridiculous. He had covered government briefings, sat across from world leaders, been inside courtrooms filled with corruption and power, but somehow, this was the most aggressively expensive space he had ever stepped into.

The walls were lined with plush acoustic panels, the chairs looked custom-made from imported leather, and the sleek, black conference table stretched so far across the room that Clark was sure it cost more than his Metropolis apartment. A skyline view loomed beyond the towering windows, and even the water bottles on the table had gold-embossed labels.

It was excessive.

It was exactly what he had expected.

The executives sitting across from him, however, weren’t as predictable.

They were measuring him, trying to figure him out just as much as he was trying to figure out a way to get through this as quickly as possible.

“So, Mr. Kent,” one of them finally said, folding her hands neatly on the table. She was poised, professional, the type of person who had perfected the art of sounding polite while still managing to look like she could fire you in an instant.

“You don’t typically cover entertainment.”

Clark nodded. “That’s correct.”

“Then why are you here?”

It was a fair question.

One Clark did not want to answer.

He almost said, Because I was blackmailed into it, but that didn’t seem like the kind of thing Perry would appreciate him admitting out loud.

“I was requested,” he settled on, keeping his tone professional.

A few of the execs exchanged knowing glances.

One of them, an older man with silver-rimmed glasses, leaned forward slightly. “By Y/N.”

Clark resisted the urge to shift in his chair. He kept his expression neutral. “Yes.”

Another exec, a younger man who had been quiet up until now, leaned back in his seat, appraising Clark. “Are we sure about this guy?” he asked, not bothering to lower his voice. “No offense, but Y/N is a global superstar. This documentary is going to be deeply personal. Are we sure we want someone who doesn’t know the industry?”

Clark’s fingers curled slightly against the table. This was his out.

If the label didn’t think he was a good fit, then he wouldn’t have to do this.

And he really, really didn’t want to do this.

Before anyone could press further, his gaze drifted down to his bottle of water. A familiar emblem caught his attention. A small bird, wings spread wide, embossed elegantly into the label.

Clark felt something cold settle in his chest.

His mind flashed back to the silver guitar mounted in Y/N’s apartment.

The same delicate bird decal, etched near the strings.

His pulse kicked up.

It was the same symbol.

But before he could process it, the woman across from him noticed his gaze. “You’re hesitating,” she observed, tilting her head slightly.

One of the other execs smirked. “Don’t tell me you don’t know what that is?”

Clark glanced up, masking his reaction. “It’s… her logo.”

The table went silent for a moment before someone actually laughed.

“Wow,” the younger exec muttered, shaking his head. “You really didn’t do your research, huh?”

Clark fought back a sigh.

“What am I missing?” he asked, his patience thinning.

The older man adjusted his glasses. “That’s ‘The Songbird.’ Y/N’s entire brand. Her fans call her that, the press calls her that—hell, it’s in half her album titles.”

Clark swallowed, forcing himself to nod as if this was brand new information and not something that had just rattled him to his core.

Before anyone else could comment, the door swung open.

“Sorry, sorry—I got held up.”

Y/N swept into the room like she had been here the whole time.

She was completely unbothered by the tension hanging in the air, her presence immediately shifting the energy in the room.

She slid into the chair beside Clark like they were old friends, flashing him a grin.

“Happy to see you, Clark,” she said casually.

Clark blinked.

That… threw him off completely.

“I—uh. You too.”

Y/N didn’t seem to notice his hesitation. Instead, she pulled a thick folder out of her bag and set it down in front of her, flipping it open.

“Alright,” she began, brushing her hair over one shoulder. “I have a lot of thoughts about this documentary.”

Clark tilted his head slightly.

She actually prepared for this?

For some reason, he had expected her to be casual about the whole thing, like she had picked him on a whim. But the folder in front of her was full of notes. Highlighted, color-coded.

She was serious.

Even the execs seemed surprised.

“I want this to feel real,” Y/N continued, flipping a page. “No sugar-coating. No weird, PR-polished version of my life. Just me, my music, and how I got here.”

Clark blinked.

This was already not what he expected.

Then, she said something that made him stop completely.

“And I want all proceeds from the documentary to go to organizations that help survivors of domestic violence.”

The room went still.

Clark paused mid-breath.

That…

That was unexpected.

One of the execs adjusted their suit jacket. “Y/N, that’s incredibly generous, but are you sure—”

“Yes,” she said simply.

Clark looked at her then, really looked at her.

She was still Y/N, still the playful, teasing person who had wreaked havoc on his newsroom, but there was something steadfast in her expression.

She wasn’t just throwing out a random good deed. This mattered to her.

Clark felt something shift.

For weeks, he had been trying to avoid this, trying to convince himself that this was just a nuisance assignment.

But maybe…

Maybe this wasn’t about her at all.

Maybe it was about the people this could actually help.

Y/N must have caught something in his expression because she tilted her head, studying him.

Then, with a small smile, she leaned back in her chair.

“I’m not gonna force you to do this, Clark,” she said. “If you don’t want to be here, you can walk. No hard feelings.”

Clark hesitated.

She meant it.

This was his chance to leave.

But instead, his gaze flickered down to the songbird logo.

The same one on her guitar. The guitar that had once been played by a girl he used to know.

The feeling nagged at him, but he pushed it aside.

Right now, the decision was in front of him.

Helping people.

That’s what this was.

Not about his past.

Not about her.

Just a project that could actually do some good.

Clark exhaled slowly.

“…Alright,” he said, resigned. “I’m in.”

–

Clark Kent was back in the shiny marble elevator.

It was eerily similar to his first visit—the same polished chrome walls, the same soft chime of expensive convenience, the same sensation that he didn’t belong in a place like this.

He adjusted his tie, exhaling slowly as the elevator glided upward, carrying him toward yet another long afternoon in Y/N’s world.

It was bizarre how quickly things had escalated.

A week ago, he had been actively avoiding this assignment. Now, he had production schedules in his inbox, a research folder getting thicker by the day, and an artist who had personally chosen him to dig into her life.

Why him?

The question still sat uncomfortably in the back of his mind.

A soft ding signalled his arrival, and the elevator doors slid open into the same vast, pristine penthouse that had greeted him last time.

Everything was exactly as he remembered it.

Marble floors, floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the skyline, furniture that looked like it was meant to be admired, not actually used.

Cold. Luxurious. Empty.

And then Y/N appeared, barefoot, wearing sweatpants, and grinning like she didn’t live in a billionaire’s museum.

“Welcome back, Kent.” She gestured dramatically like she was unveiling a grand ballroom. “Try not to look so thrilled.”

Clark sighed. “I’m containing my excitement.”

“Good, because I am so ready for some serious brainstorming,” she said, already turning on her heel. “Come on, we’re working in the studio.”

Clark followed her through the polished, impersonal space—past the cold, modern furniture, the carefully curated décor, the spotless kitchen that looked like it had never actually been used. His eyes lingered on the silver guitar still hung in her living room.

And then, she opened a door.

And suddenly, everything changed.

Clark stepped inside and immediately felt the shift.

This wasn’t like the rest of the penthouse.

This was lived-in.

If the label’s conference room had been a corporate temple to capitalism, this space was the complete opposite. Warm lighting, a deep-red vintage rug, and walls filled with music memorabilia. Handwritten notes were pinned to a cork board, some half-finished lyrics, others just chaotic reminders to herself ("BUY MORE TEA" / "DON’T FORGET TO SLEEP, DUMBASS" / "FIND WHERE I LEFT MY BRAIN").

The air smelled like faint lavender and old paper, and in the corner, there was an oversized couch that had clearly been used as both a seat and an occasional bed.

Clark’s gaze flickered to the grand piano in the corner, its surface covered in loose sheet music and half-empty tea mugs.

This was her space.

Not the penthouse. Not the labels or the awards or the PR-perfect image.

This.

This was where she actually existed.

Y/N dropped onto the couch with zero grace, stretching her arms above her head. “Alright, Clark. Time to build a documentary.”

Clark pulled out his notebook and took the chair across from her. “We need a structure.”

“We need vibes,” she corrected, grinning.

Clark ignored that.

He clicked his pen, scanning his notes. “We should start at the beginning. Childhood, early influences, your first introduction to music.”

Y/N nodded, tapping a pen against her knee. “Yeah, that makes sense. Then signing my first deal, what that was like.”

Clark noted the lack of deeper childhood talk. He didn’t press.

Not yet.

“Where do you want it to end?” he asked.

She considered for a moment, then shrugged. “Where I am now, I guess.”

Clark looked up. “And where is that?”

Y/N paused, blinking once like she hadn’t actually thought about it. Then she laughed. “Wow. That’s… a really good question.”

Clark tilted his head, waiting.

She exhaled, rubbing the back of her neck. “I mean—I’m still here. Still making music. I took a break, but I’m back. And now I guess I’m letting you write a deep-dive into my soul.”

Clark smirked. “Good life choices.”

“Terrible life choices,” she corrected. “But we’re already here.”

Clark nodded, scribbling something down. “So, early childhood, signing at nineteen, and then present day.” He looked at her. “Are we skipping the in-between years?”

Y/N leaned back against the couch. “No. Just… let’s save the childhood deep dive for later.”

Clark studied her for a second, then nodded. “Okay. Nineteen, then.”

Y/N let out a breath. “Ah, yes. The Signing.”

Clark raised an eyebrow. “Dramatic.”

“You have no idea,” she muttered, flipping through her notes. “I was nineteen, thought I was on top of the world. Had no idea what I was walking into.”

Clark leaned forward slightly. “How did it happen?”

Y/N tapped her fingers against her knee, remembering.

“My first album was doing well, and labels were circling like sharks.” She smirked. “I thought I had all the power.”

Clark nodded. “And did you?”

Y/N let out a small, dry laugh. “Absolutely not.”

Clark wrote something down. “What changed?”

She exhaled, shaking her head. “I realized pretty fast that they weren’t signing me. They were signing an idea of me. And I let them.”

Clark glanced up. “Because you wanted the opportunity?”

She nodded. “I was nineteen, Kent. The dream was right there. So I made the deal.”

Clark tapped his pen. “And?”

Y/N smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “And then I had to figure out how to survive it.”

Clark felt something settle in his chest.

She was still talking like it was a funny story, still delivering everything with the same offhanded charm. But there was weight underneath it.

The unspoken. The things she wasn’t saying yet.

But she would.

Eventually.

She ran a hand through her hair, shaking it off. “Anyway. That’s the dramatic backstory. You’ll love it. Full of bad decisions and good music.”

Clark gave her a look. “I’m sure.”

Y/N grinned. “So? Are we officially making progress?”

Clark glanced down at his notes—childhood (later), signing at nineteen, the industry (learning the hard way), and present-day (figuring it out).

A rough map. A starting point.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “We’re getting somewhere.”

Y/N clapped her hands together. “Fantastic. I vote we celebrate with food.”

Clark sighed. “You just want an excuse to take a break.”

“Absolutely,” she said cheerfully. “You’re catching on, Clark.”

Clark shook his head, but there was a small, unwanted warmth in his chest.

This was going to be a long process.

And, for the first time, he wasn’t sure if that was a bad thing.

–

The first time Y/N showed up at the Daily Planet, it had been a little funny.

The second time, it had been mildly disruptive.

By the third, fourth, and fifth time?

It was routine.

Clark wasn’t even surprised anymore.

She had taken over his space just as much as he had taken over hers. If they wanted to fit the documentary into their already packed schedules, they had to work in whatever spare moments they had—whether that meant late-night recording sessions or early-morning strategy meetings at the Planet.

It had started as a necessity.

Now?

It was just what they did.

Clark sighed as he walked into the newsroom, coffee in hand, only to find Y/N already sitting on his desk, cross-legged, flipping through his notes like she had editorial authority.

"Morning, Kent," she greeted without looking up.

Clark exhaled slowly. “Why?”

Y/N finally looked up, grinning. “Deadlines, Kent. I thought we established this.”

Clark set his coffee down, rubbing his temples.

It was too early for this.

Across the room, Lois and Jimmy were watching.

Lois, because she found the whole thing hilarious.

Jimmy, because he was still processing the fact that Y/N was just… here. All the time.

Lois raised a brow. “She practically works here now.”

Y/N grinned. “I like to think of myself as an honorary journalist.”

Clark sighed. “You are not a journalist.”

“I interview you constantly.”

“That’s—that’s not the same thing.”

She waved him off. “Details.”

Lois was clearly loving this. She turned to Jimmy. “Did you ever think you’d see the day when Clark had a famous best friend?”

Jimmy shook his head, still slightly starstruck. “No. And I definitely didn’t think it’d be her.”

Y/N leaned over Clark’s desk, grinning. “Aww, you think we’re best friends?”

Clark took a long, slow sip of his coffee. “I’m thinking of filing a restraining order.”

Y/N gasped, dramatic. “Clark, don’t be mean.”

Lois snorted.

Clark sighed deeply.

This was his life now.

–

Clark Kent had never given much thought to how music was made.

He’d always assumed it was simple enough—write a song, record it, release it. But sitting in a high-end recording studio, watching Y/N work, he realized how wrong he’d been.

The room buzzed with controlled chaos—soundboards blinking, cables tangled across the floor, producers tweaking levels, musicians waiting for cues. And in the middle of it all was her.

Y/N, in the booth, headphones on, building something.

She wasn’t just singing. She was stopping, adjusting, running through the same verse over and over with slight variations, searching for perfection. Every take mattered.

Clark, used to fast deadlines and breaking news, sat back in his chair. I didn’t know this much effort went into this.

David, the lead producer, adjusted a dial and sighed. “She’s a perfectionist.”

Clark glanced at him. “Yeah?”

David nodded, watching through the glass. “She hears things the rest of us don’t. We’ll think a take is perfect, and she’ll go, ‘No, I can do it better.’ Drives us insane, but she’s always right.”

Clark looked back at Y/N, who was mouthing lyrics between takes, brow furrowed in concentration.

He believed that.

The track started again, her voice flooding the speakers—clear, powerful, precise. Clark had heard her songs before, but he had never really listened. There was something raw about it, something that made the room still, even though everyone here had probably heard this song dozens of times.

David hit a button. “That one felt good. What do you think?”

Y/N pulled off her headphones, grinning. “Terrible. But I’ll pretend I liked it so we can move on.”

David chuckled. “Classic.”

Clark smirked, jotting something down.

Y/N – terrible critique when it comes to her own work.

Clark had been here too long.

What started as a quick afternoon session had stretched into eight hours.

A sound engineer clapped him on the shoulder as he walked by. “You hanging in there, Kent? How’s your crash course in the music industry?”

Clark exhaled. “Eye-opening.”

The guy laughed. “Yeah, it’s not all fancy award shows, huh?”

Clark shook his head. “Definitely not.”

He’d underestimated all of it—the layers of harmonies, the tiny adjustments no one would notice but that made all the difference. It was art, but it was also relentless work.

And Y/N?

She wasn’t just talented. She was leading all of it.

Clark had assumed—wrongly—that an artist at her level just showed up and sang. That the producers handled the rest.

But every decision, every adjustment, every fight over what made the final cut went through her.

She wasn’t just the face of her music.

She was the architect.

Clark made another note.

Y/N – has full creative control, even when it would be easier to let someone else take over.

–

Clark Kent had spent years keeping his worlds separate.

But now, somehow, Y/N had slipped into his life so seamlessly that he wasn’t sure where the lines had been drawn in the first place.

It had become routine.

Some days, Clark was in her world—recording sessions, photoshoots, interviews, late nights spent in her studio as she played with lyrics and melody, making small adjustments no one else would ever notice. Between the Daily Planet, the documentary, and his actual responsibilities as Superman, there had been very little sleep lately.

They were always working, always talking, always finding time between their packed schedules to fit in just one more meeting, one more round of edits, one more conversation about where this documentary was going.

And now, after another long day—this time, an industry event that had required Y/N’s presence but none of her interest—they sat in the back of a quiet car, watching the city lights blur past the windows.

Clark had his notebook open on his lap, but he wasn’t writing.

Y/N sat beside him, slouched against the seat, staring out at the city, fingers lightly tapping against her knee in time with some silent rhythm.

For the first time all day, she was quiet.

Clark didn’t say anything.

Not yet.

There was something about the way she sat there—not tense, not restless, just still. Like she was waiting for something.

And then, in a voice so soft he almost missed it, she said—

“I ran away when I was seventeen.”

Clark stilled.

She wasn’t looking at him.

Her gaze was still fixed on the window, but her voice was steady.

“My mom had just died,” she continued, each word measured, like she was placing them down carefully in front of her, piece by piece. “And I left. Took a bus to Metropolis and never looked back.”

Clark’s fingers curled slightly around his pen.

She had never talked about this.

She had dodged the questions before, skimmed past the details, treated her early years like they weren’t important.

But now, finally, she was saying it out loud.

“My mom was a victim of domestic violence,” Y/N said, inhaling slowly. “And for years, I knew—I knew—she was never going to leave.”

Clark’s chest felt tight.

“I used to think, If I can just make it to eighteen, I’ll get out.” She let out a soft, humorless laugh. “I had a plan. I was going to finish school, save up, and then leave for good.”

Clark had spent his whole life trying to save people.

But no one had been there to save her.

Her fingers tapped against the seat again, but this time, it felt less like a melody and more like nervous energy.

“But then she died first,” Y/N said, her voice quieter now. “And suddenly, I didn’t have to wait anymore.”

Clark felt something heavy settle in his chest.

He thought about seventeen-year-old Y/N, alone, stepping onto a bus with nothing but a bag of belongings, heading toward a city she had never lived in before.

A kid, leaving behind everything she had ever known because there was nothing left to stay for.

Clark swallowed, forcing his voice to stay even. “Where did you go?”

Y/N shook her head. “We’re not getting into that part tonight, Kent.”

Not yet.

Clark nodded, accepting that.

But the weight of it still pressed against him, still sat in the silence between them.

Y/N exhaled, tilting her head against the window. “Music wasn’t allowed in my house,” she admitted after a moment.

Clark frowned. “At all?”

“Nope.” She popped the ‘p,’ a flicker of her usual playfulness slipping through, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Too loud. Too self-indulgent.”

Clark didn’t move, didn’t even blink.

She had loved music her entire life. And she had to hide it.

“I used to steal radio time when I could,” she continued. “Learned chords in secret.”

Clark didn’t realize how tight his grip on the pen was until his knuckles started aching.

“The silver guitar,” he said, realization settling in.

She let out a breath, nodding. “I saved for it for years. Had to hide it.”

Clark swallowed. “And when you left—”

“It was the only thing I brought with me,” Y/N finished. “That, and some cash.”

Clark looked at her, and for the first time, he truly saw it.

The silver guitar wasn’t just an instrument.

It was the only thing she had ever owned that was truly hers.

Not just something she had worked for—something she had fought for.

Clark felt something twist inside him.

And suddenly, everything clicked into place.

The proceeds from the documentary. The decision to donate every cent to organizations supporting domestic violence survivors.

Clark had assumed it was just a cause she cared about.

But now, sitting here in the dim light of the car, hearing the exhaustion in her voice as she talked about a childhood spent hiding the things she loved, saving for an escape she wasn’t sure she’d ever get—

Now, he understood.

This wasn’t just a cause.

This was her.

Clark exhaled slowly, staring down at the blank page in his notebook.

The questions he had wanted to ask didn’t feel relevant anymore.

He knew why she was telling him this now.

He knew why, after weeks of skimming past it, deflecting, dodging—

She had finally let him in.

Because she trusted him.

Because somehow, in the mess of studio sessions and late-night edits, stolen coffee and newsroom banter, him showing up in her world and her barging into his—

Somewhere along the way, they had become friends.

Real friends.

The kind that tell the truth, even when it’s ugly.

The kind that don’t have to fill the silence.

Clark didn’t say much after that.

Just sat there, letting her words settle.

Letting her breathe.

And for the first time, Y/N didn’t rush to fill the quiet either.

She just let it stay.

—

Y/N wasn’t crazy.

She wasn’t.

But spending this much time with Clark Kent was messing with her head.

At first, she had been sure they were nothing alike—Kal had been sharp edges and reckless grins, a boy who didn’t belong anywhere but carried himself like he belonged everywhere. Clark was careful, steady, the kind of person who made people feel safe just by existing.

And yet, the more time she spent with him, the more she saw it. The way he carried himself, the rare moments where he let go of the professional act and grumbled under his breath, the way he always knew what was happening in a room before anyone else did. It was Kal. Or at least, it felt like him.

But that wasn’t possible.

And it was driving her insane.

There was only one way to prove herself wrong.

She needed to see Clark’s chest.

Kal had a brand on his skin—a jagged scar in the shape of a crest that he had always refused to talk about. It had been there since the day she met him, burned into his skin like a permanent mark of something he couldn’t escape. If Clark had the same scar, then… well.

But if he didn’t—then she could finally let this go.

But how the hell was she supposed to get Clark Kent to take his shirt off?

The perfect opportunity fell into her lap.

A Vogue cover.

–

It had started out fine.

Y/N had landed a Vogue cover shoot, a big deal even by her standards. Since Clark had to ask her a thousand questions for the documentary anyway, it had been decided that he should just tag along, catching moments between outfit changes, hair touch-ups, and the endless chaos of high fashion.

Clark hadn’t been thrilled about it, but in comparison to the other ways Y/N had tormented him lately, it had seemed… manageable.

He had been wrong.

Because thirty minutes into the shoot, disaster struck.

The first sign of trouble was the sharp gasp from Jacques, the artistic director.

"Mon dieu!" Jacques clutched his pearls—well, his Gucci scarf, but the reaction was the same. "Where is Antoine?!"

A frantic assistant rushed over, whispering something.

Jacques gasped again, dramatically pressing a hand to his forehead. “NON!”

Clark, who had been standing quietly in the background, frowned. “What’s going on?”

Y/N, now mid-pose in some ridiculously expensive gown, grinned. “Sounds like our male model is missing.”

Jacques began pacing. "This is a disaster. A catastrophe! We cannot proceed without ze vision!"

Clark, already sensing where this was going, took a slow step back.

Jacques snapped his fingers. “Your bodyguard! He will do.”

Clark froze.

Y/N lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Oh, absolutely,” she said immediately.

Clark’s stomach dropped. “No.”

“Yes.”

"Non!" Clark tried.

"Oui!" Jacques countered, waving his hands. "He is tall, strong, handsome in a very serious way. This will work!"

Clark turned to Y/N, desperate. “Fix this.”

Y/N beamed. “Oh, no. I think this is perfect.”

Clark gritted his teeth. “I am not modeling.”

Jacques clapped his hands. "Into wardrobe! Immediately!"

And before Clark could react, three assistants descended upon him like vultures.

This was happening.

And Y/N?

Y/N was thrilled.

Clark was getting shoved into a dressing room, and all she had to do was wait for him to take his shirt off.

This was foolproof.

Or at least, it should have been.

Except then, at the last second, a horrible thought entered her mind.

What if Clark was sensitive about the brand on his chest? It seemed painful and Kal never talked about—what if he didn’t want people seeing him like that?

Guilt immediately punched her in the gut.

What the hell was she doing?

This was Clark. She teased him, sure, but she never wanted to actually make him uncomfortable.

If he didn’t want to take his shirt off, he shouldn’t have to.

And so, she did the only responsible thing.

She burst into the dressing room.

"Clark, wait—"

She froze.

Clark, halfway through unbuttoning his shirt, froze too.

There was a long, agonizing beat of silence.

Clark’s chest was bare, and it was a good chest, and Y/N had zero shame admitting that to herself.

But that wasn’t what mattered.

What mattered was that there was no scar.

No brand. No mark.

Her stomach sank.

Clark blinked. “Why do you look disappointed?”

Y/N snapped out of it, clearing her throat. “No! No, of course not. You look… great! Fantastic. Just. Uh. I remembered something wrong. That’s all.”

Clark narrowed his eyes. “Right.”

“Anyway!” She backed toward the door, smiling a little too wide. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to! I totally get it, some people are weird about—um, stuff. So if you wanna back out, I’ll tell Jacques.”

Clark exhaled, relieved. “Thank you.”

“Unless, of course, you want to—”

Clark exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. "Listen, if I—if I do this, my face cannot be in it." He leveled her with a firm look. "I’m serious, Y/N. No full shots. No close-ups. No tragic, longing stares into the camera."

Y/N pressed a hand over her heart, gasping in mock offense. "Clark, would I ever betray your trust like that?"

"Yes," he deadpanned.

She grinned. "Alright, fair. But don’t worry, I’ll personally make sure they only use the anonymous, artsy ones. Shadows, silhouettes—the mystery will drive people wild."

Clark sighed, rubbing his temples. "Thank you."

–

Y/N was a little disappointed.

Just a little.

Because, okay, maybe she had let herself believe it for a second. Maybe she had spent too much time looking at Clark and seeing someone else. But the proof had been right there—his chest, completely unmarked. No scar. No brand. Nothing.

Clark Kent was not Kal.

And yet, even as she told herself that, something still felt off.

But she wasn’t stupid.

If this was a dead end, fine. She could live with that.

But there was no way in hell she was letting a golden opportunity pass her by.

Because Clark Kent—stoic, serious, perfectly put-together Clark Kent—was about to model for Vogue.

And Y/N?

Y/N was going to make this the funniest experience of her life.

"Clark, are you having fun?"

Y/N's voice was sweet, teasing, her eyes bright with amusement as she adjusted the delicate lace sleeve of her gown.

Clark, standing stiff beside her, dead inside, muttered, “No.”

She beamed. “Oh, but you look so good.”

Clark closed his eyes.

The shoot had started only fifteen minutes ago, and he was already in hell.

Jacques circled them, adjusting angles, barking instructions.

"Intensity!" he cried. "Longing!"

Clark bit back a sigh.

He had faced literal supervillains with less dramatic energy.

Y/N placed a hand on Clark’s chest, tilting her head up toward him, her lips just inches away from his jaw. “Like this, Jacques?”

Jacques sighed dreamily. “Perfection!”

Clark, frozen, could only stare straight ahead, praying for death.

Y/N’s fingers curled slightly against the lapel of his suit.

Then, in a low, amused whisper, she said, “Don’t worry, Kent. I’ll make sure your first time is so good.”

Clark choked.

Jacques clapped his hands. “YES! That energy!”

Clark was going to combust.

His ears burned as Y/N grinned up at him, clearly thrilled.

“That’s not what I—”

“Shhh,” she whispered, patting his chest. “Let me take care of you.”

Clark wasn’t going to survive this.

"Closer!" Jacques called. "You are lovers, doomed by fate!"

Clark exhaled sharply. “This is ridiculous.”

Y/N, clearly thriving, hummed. "I think it's fun."

Clark sent her a flat look. "Of course you do."

Jacques suddenly gasped. “I have it!” He turned to the photographer, wildly gesturing. "We need the hands!"

Clark frowned. “The what?”

“THE HANDS, MON AMOUR!” Jacques clutched his chest. “The gentle, reverent touch!”

Y/N, eyes glinting with pure mischief, took both of Clark’s hands and placed them firmly on her waist.

Clark immediately stiffened.

“Oh, don’t be shy, Kent,” she teased, leaning in slightly.

Clark’s jaw locked. “I hate you.”

Y/N smirked. “No, you don’t.”

Jacques sighed dreamily. “Magnifique.”

"Now, the final shot!" Jacques cried. "The one Vogue will remember for centuries!"

Clark mentally prepared for impact.

Y/N, however, was clearly in her element.

Jacques paced for a moment, then suddenly pointed at Clark. "Lie down!"

Clark blinked. “What.”

"LIE DOWN, MON CHÉRI!"

Clark was too exhausted to fight it. He carefully eased onto the ridiculously soft velvet chaise lounge, feeling utterly ridiculous.

Jacques turned to Y/N. "Now, you, on top of him."

Clark's brain blue-screened.

Y/N perked up. “Oh, finally.”

Clark shot up. “Absolutely not.”

Y/N pushed him back down. “Oh, relax. It’s art.”

Clark exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I hate this.”

Jacques gestured wildly. “More passion! More tragedy! You are soulmates torn apart by destiny!”

Y/N, now draped effortlessly over Clark, sighed dramatically.

“You hear that, Kent? Soulmates.”

Clark groaned.

Y/N rested her chin on his chest, smiling innocently. “You wanna hold me tighter? Really sell it?”

Clark turned his head toward the ceiling. He was in hell.

The flashbulb went off.

It was done.

And Clark Kent was never going to live this down.

–

Clark was used to people coming and going.

It came with the job—stories started, stories ended. He met people, learned their lives, wrote their truths, and then moved on.

That was how it worked.

And yet, as he sat at his desk, fingers hovering over his keyboard, staring at the final draft of the documentary plan, he couldn’t help but feel…

Weird.

Tomorrow morning, his involvement would be mostly over.

After months of following Y/N through her world—recording sessions, tour rehearsals—the bulk of his work was done. The structure was set, the story complete, the interviews wrapped.

By all accounts, he should be relieved.

And he was.

Sort of.

Because his secret was intact.

For all the time they had spent together, for all the questions Y/N had asked, she had never once connected the dots.

She had let it go.

And that should have made Clark feel safe.

But instead, as he sat there, staring at the screen, he felt something he hadn’t expected.

Something that felt an awful lot like…

Regret.

Because against all logic, he had gotten used to having her around.

Her constant presence at the Daily Planet, her shameless ability to steal his desk, the way she dragged him into conversations he had no business being in.

Her stupid little nicknames, the way she teased him, the way she could pull a smile out of him even on his worst days.

She was a good friend.

And he wasn’t used to losing those.

Clark sighed, leaning back in his chair.

This was good. It was.

Everything had worked out.

So why did it feel like something wasn’t finished?

He rubbed his hands over his face, exhaustion settling deep in his bones.

The day had been long—an oil rig fire had kept Superman out past midnight, and Clark still had to be up early.

He should have gone to bed.

But then his phone rang.

And when he saw the name on the screen, something in his stomach dipped.

Y/N.

He answered immediately. “Hey.”

She didn’t waste time.

“Can you come over?”

Clark frowned, sitting up. “Right now?”

“Yeah.” She sounded… different. Not frantic, not upset, just… off.

Clark’s shoulders tensed. “What’s wrong?”

There was a pause.

Then—

“There’s something missing from the plan,” she said finally. “I know what it is.”

Clark exhaled slowly.

And just like that, the weird feeling in his chest got worse.

Because after months of this, after learning everything about her—her childhood, her music, her fears— there was still one thing she had never talked about.

Her stay in Metropolis.

She had glossed over it entirely.

She had told him everything else, but somehow, the part where she had arrived in the city—broke, alone, lost— had disappeared from the story.

And he had let it go, because maybe she had just… forgotten.

But now, sitting there, phone pressed to his ear, he knew.

She hadn’t forgotten.

She had been choosing not to say it.

Until now.

Clark closed his eyes briefly. “I’ll be right there.”

He grabbed his coat and left.

–

Y/N grabbed a bottle of wine from the counter, uncorking it with an ease that told him she’d done this a thousand times before. She poured herself a glass, took a slow sip, then turned to face him, tilting her head slightly.

"You drinking?"

Clark shook his head. "Not tonight."

She hummed, swirling the glass in her hand before setting it down on the coffee table. Then, with a small smile, she gestured to his recorder.

"Go on, then. Let’s finish this."

Clark pulled the device from his bag, placed it between them, and pressed record.

Y/N’s eyes flickered toward the blinking red light.

Then, softly—

“I never told you about the first person I met in Metropolis.”

Clark stilled.

He kept his expression neutral, but his pulse picked up.

She had never said this before.

She had told him about her childhood. About her mother. About running away. But she had never said what happened after.

Not once.

He leaned forward slightly, pen poised over his notebook. "Go on."

Y/N exhaled, settling back into the couch. “I was seventeen. I stepped off a bus with a few hundred bucks, a guitar, and no clue what the hell I was doing. I didn’t have a plan. Didn’t know where I was gonna stay. And the city—” she huffed a small laugh, shaking her head. “Metropolis is a lot, even when you have money. When you don’t? It eats you alive.”

Clark nodded, staying quiet, letting her tell it in her own way.

“I was barely holding it together. I didn’t sleep much. Kept telling myself I’d figure it out. Then, one night…” she trailed off for a second, eyes distant, like she was looking at something just beyond his shoulder.

Then, quieter—

“There was a guy.”

Clark gripped his pen a little tighter.

“His name was Kal. He found me,” she said simply. “Or maybe I found him. I don’t know. But he let me stay with him. No strings attached, no expectations. Just gave me a place to sleep, something to eat, and never asked for anything in return.”

Clark swallowed, his throat dry. “Why are you telling this now?”

Y/N’s gaze met his, steady. “Because people should know that good people exist. That when you think you’re out of options, sometimes the right person finds you. That help is out there, even when you don’t believe it.”

Clark’s jaw tightened.

Because she was saying this for them.

For the kids who had nowhere to go.

For the ones who would watch this documentary and see themselves in her.

For the ones who needed to know that hope was real.

Clark took a careful breath. “And what happened to him?”

Y/N’s fingers traced the rim of her wine glass. “He left.”

The words landed heavier than he expected.

“He was gone before I realized I didn’t want to leave him behind.” She smiled, but it was small, almost sad. “I never got to thank him.”

Silence settled between them.

Clark forced himself to stay still. To keep his face blank.

But inside?

His heartbeat was a war drum.

She had just told him everything.

Then, finally, Y/N turned to him.

Her voice was soft. Certain. “You remind me of him.”

Clark’s chest tightened.

“That’s why I asked for you.”

Clark didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

Because if he let anything slip—if he gave her even an inch—she would see it.

So instead, he forced a noncommittal expression, nodding slightly.

Y/N watched him. Closely.

And then—

She caught it.

A flicker. A millisecond of hesitation.

Clark barely even felt it happen, but Y/N did.

And that was all she needed.

She reached forward and turned off the recorder.

Clark’s stomach dropped.

The room suddenly felt too quiet.

Y/N set her wine glass down carefully, then looked him straight in the eye.

“Are you?”

Clark’s throat went dry. “…Am I what?”

Her gaze didn’t waver.

“Are you him?”

Clark’s heart pounded against his ribs.

His mind raced.

He had gotten so good at lying. So good at burying the darkest parts of himself, making sure no one ever got too close.

But this was Y/N.

She had seen him at his most human.

And now—

She had seen past it.

Clark swallowed, forcing himself to breathe evenly.

Then, carefully, he gave her a small, almost amused smile.

“That’s a hell of a question,” he said lightly.

Y/N tilted her head, studying him.

Clark held her gaze, keeping himself calm, unreadable.

And after a long moment—

She let out a quiet chuckle, reaching for her wine again.

“Guess it is,” she murmured, taking a sip.

And just like that—

The tension broke.

Clark exhaled, leaning back slightly, believing, for just a second, that he had gotten away with it.

But as Y/N swirled the wine in her glass, a small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

Because she knew.

And Clark Kent had no idea.

–

Bonus

–

Clark had barely stepped into his apartment when his phone rang.

Mom.

He sighed deeply. He’d spent all day following some dead-end lead about a corruption case. It had been a few weeks since the documentary proposal wrapped up and the lull of his regular life had gotten a bit tiring without having Y/N glued to him at every moment.

Bracing himself, he picked up. “Hey, Mom.”

There was a long pause. A terrifying, mom-sensing-bullshit-from-a-mile-away pause.

Then—

"Clark. How do you know Y/N?"

Clark blinked. “Uh—what?”

From the background, Jonathan Kent’s confused voice: "Martha, what are you talking about?"

More rustling. The sound of a magazine being handed over.

And then—

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!"

Clark winced. “Oh, no.”

Jonathan was losing his mind. “CLARK. SON. WHY ARE YOU ON THE COVER OF VOGUE WITH A POP STAR?!”

Clark immediately went into defense mode. “What? That’s not me.”

Silence.

Then, Martha, voice calm but lethal: "Clark Joseph Kent, do not lie to me."

Jonathan, scandalized: “YOUR HANDS ARE ON HER WAIST, BOY.”

Clark rubbed his temples. “Dad, that's not me, you can’t even see the face of the model.”

Martha let out a long, knowing sigh. “Clark. I raised you. I know what my own son looks like.”

Jonathan was still yelling. “YOU THINK A LITTLE SHADOW IS GONNA FOOL ME?!”

“IT’S FOR WORK!”

“YOU WORK AT A NEWSPAPER, CLARK. NOT A RUNWAY SHOW.”

Martha, now flipping through the magazine, humming thoughtfully: “Hmm. These are very… romantic poses.”

Clark groaned. “Mom—”

Jonathan, in horror: “THIS LOOKS LIKE A MARRIAGE ANNOUNCEMENT.”

Clark felt his soul leave his body. “It is NOT—”

Martha, now in full investigative mode: “You know, dear, Y/N seems like a lovely girl. I like some of her songs.”

Jonathan, gripping the pages like they personally offended him: “A LOVELY GIRL WHO IS LOUNGING ALL OVER OUR SON LIKE HE’S HER PERSONAL CHAISE.”

Martha, ignoring him: “Clark, do you… like her?”

Clark nearly dropped the phone. “MOM.”

Jonathan, STILL LOSING HIS MIND: “SHE’S TOUCHING HIS HAIR IN THIS ONE, MARTHA. HIS HAIR.”

Martha, studying the spread: “Oh, I like this one. Very soft, very intimate.”

Clark was having a full breakdown. “WHY ARE YOU ANALYZING THE PHOTOS?!”

Jonathan threw the magazine down like it physically burned him. “BOY. I THOUGHT YOUR BIGGEST SECRET WAS THE SUPERMAN THING.”

Clark was ready to die. “IT IS.”

“WELL, NOT TODAY.”

Martha, still way too amused: “Clark, honey. If you weren’t planning to tell us about Y/N, you could’ve at least warned us before you ended up in a fashion magazine.”

Clark felt faint. “BECAUSE THERE’S NOTHING TO TELL.”

Martha: "Mmm."

Jonathan, muttering: “Son, I swear, I have spent my whole life worrying about people finding out you’re Superman, and now I gotta worry about Y/N’s fans hunting you down too—”

Clark was seconds away from launching himself into the sun. “I HAVE TO GO.”

“Clark—”

Click.

#smallville clark kent x reader #clark kent x reader #clark kent #clark kent imagine #smallville clark kent #smallville #superman #superman x reader

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hey-its-roseaurum · 30 days ago

Text

Hot or Iced (Superman/Clark Kent One-shot)

Pairing: Clark Kent/Superman x fem reader (Katrina, "Kat" for short)

Word Count: 4.8K

Summary: When Kat decided that she was going to work at the Daily Planet, she didn’t expect to be an IT Specialist. She also didn’t expect to meet Lois and Clark Kent. While going to meet Clark Kent at a restaurant to look into Superman, something terrible goes wrong.

Warnings: Cursing, violence/gore, kidnapping, SMUT, oral, Sex P n V, Unprotected Sex, creampie, kissing, praising kink, consent

A/N: This story is dedicated to @lainiespicewrites and her love for Superman. We decided to write a story for each other, this time a one-shot. This story can be from whatever iteration of Superman you like, whether it's Reeve's, Cavill's, or Corenswet. This is my first time writing something that has a little bit of spice to it. Let me know what you all think and enjoy the ride! (Because I may not be doing this again ;) )

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I pushed past the bustling people of Metropolis with three to-go coffees in tow. Each cup looked the same, except for one, a pink lipstick stain on the top of the lid. I had used my mouth to hold the coffee in place while I was on the subway twenty minutes earlier. It took every ounce of balance and coordination to keep myself from slipping and spilling the cups all over myself.

It has been a while since I’ve brought coffee for my favorite coworkers, Lois and Clark. They had been super busy these last few weeks tracking down Superman. So I thought bringing them coffee to give a caffeine boost would help. I figured they would appreciate the kind gesture, considering everything they’ve done for me.

After all, it was Lois that helped me get a job as a reporter here.

She was the first person I met when I moved to Metropolis a few years ago. I had spontaneously accepted a job as an IT support specialist at the Daily Planet in hopes to eventually be promoted. I’ve dabbled in a few IT jobs in my previous job just enough that I was “qualified” for the position.

Lois had been the one to show me around the building. My new boss wasn’t available at the time.

Don’t ask me why it was her that walked me around because I don’t know why either. I’m guessing it was fate because her and I instantly clicked and became friends by the time the walkthrough was over.

We were exchanging numbers just as Clark stumbled into the elevator. He had come through the front main doors disheveled and looked completely out of his element. I found out later that he had been accepted as an intern reporter in the same department as Lois and was starting that same day.

I didn’t know it then, but I was about to see more of Clark in the coming months.

I took ten different visits in the first week to fix his computer before I became friends with him. I found out he’s from Kansas. He grew up on a farm. And he was terrible with technology.

But he was awkward, cute, and kind to me.

From that day a year ago, its always been Lois, Clark, and I.

For a while I wanted something more but I never felt like he looked at me the same way he looked at Lois. I would sometimes catch their silent glances while I’m fixing a printer. It was like they had their own silent language when I wasn’t around. Everyone that I’ve talked to on Daily Planet thought the same thing too. So for the past year or so, I’ve been trying my best to move on and just keep Clark and I as friends.

But it's been harder than I thought.

My thoughts slammed back into the present as I stood in front of the Daily Planet. I was hoping that I was going to beat the rush of traffic this morning.

I didn’t expect a huge crowd of people this morning. The sidewalks were so congested that I couldn’t see the pavement. But hey, the city never sleeps.

And neither do the news reporters.

Shoving myself through the crowd, I made my way up the stairs that lead into the building. Thankfully I didn’t spill a drop of coffee in the process. I crammed myself into the elevator with five other workers and let the lift take me up. It was like a pack of sardines in here, and it even smelled like one. I had to hold my breath to keep myself from gagging. When the elevator stopped at floor 15, I bolted out of there like my life depended on it.

What I was met with was bustling people, newspaper bundles all over everyone’s cubicles and multiple conversations that I couldn’t make out. I scanned the room until my eyes landed on Lois by her desk.

“Hey Kat!” Lois called, motioning me over to her desk. I didn’t wait a second to go over to her cubicle. “Come take a look at these photos.” She clicked on the image tab on the desktop, pulling up a couple pictures. Each image was blurred and looked to be taken from surveillance footage. You could somewhat make out a silhouette of a person, most likely a man by how big they were built. One was near Gotham. Another was in an unrecognizable location, most likely north of Metropolis judging by the mountain scenery. The last one looked like it was taken a few streets over from The Daily Planet. The time stamp on the top right of the photos were dated to yesterday.

“You think this is THE guy?” I pointed, setting her coffee next to her on the desk. A stack of files sat haphazardly on her desk. “Because it looks like someone either photoshopped these or it was a drone flying across multiple cities.” Lois rolled her eyes.

“I’m sure. I wouldn’t be showing these to you if I didn’t think otherwise.” She beamed, not even wasting a second to grab the coffee cup and took a sip. “I got these images from a reliable source. I trust that they wouldn’t have tampered with them.” She rubbed her eyes, the dark circles under her eyes like a flashing neon sign.

“Rough night again?” I questioned while grabbing my own up to take a sip, changing the subject. My eyes settled on the images again.

“Perry wanted another article on Superman by this morning.” She shrugged. “You know how he is with that. He always wants to know more about this mysterious hero rather than what is ACTUALLY going on in our streets.”

“Unfortunately I do.” I let out a sigh “Every time I come up here to fix his computer I have to hear him ramble on about Superman. I don’t know how that hasn’t driven you crazy yet .” I laughed, my eyes scanning the room until I spotted the man himself. Perry White was on the other side of the room yelling at another reporter. A half smoked cigar hung loosely from his lips. “I’m surprised he didn’t ask Kent to write it. He was able to get some good info on the mysterious superhero last time.”

“Lois, did you get the photos I sent?.” I felt my heart stutter as the deep voice reached my ears. I spun around so fast, almost knocking the files off of Lois’ desk.

Speak of the devil.

“C-Clark, hi! Didn’t see you there. We totally weren’t talking about you or anything.“ I cleared my throat. Shut up. Shut up. Put yourself together Kat.

I grabbed the last to-go cup and gave it as a peace offering. “Did you just get in?”

“N-No. I’ve been here for a while.” He chuckled, adjusting his glasses before accepting my offering. “H-How was the commute? It looked intense out there”

“Great besides the bustling people. I thought I was going to get here before the morning rush hour. Guess not.” I finished the last of my coffee before turning to Lois. “If you can send those images to me, I can see if Daryl can trace those images to when or who took them.” Lois nodded, working on my request right away.

“And you.” I pointed at Clark. “I need to talk to you.”

“Me? W-Why would you need to talk to me?” A creeping blush began to grow on his cheeks.

“You were able to get some info last time on Superman. I’m just as curious as anyone else about this mysterious hero. I figured I could see what you know and branch off from there.” It was a half lie. I wasn’t super curious about Superman, but I did want to spend more time with Clark. This was the way to do it. “But if you don’t want to, that’s okay. I can scope out other sources.”

“No, you don’t have to.” He stuttered. “I-I meant to say, yeah I can help you” I held back a chuckle at him stammering. His stutter and awkwardness always was flattering to me.

His mumbling brought my attention back to him.

“What did you say? I’m sorry I couldn’t catch that.”

“W-We could do it over d-d-dinner. As colleagues.” Colleagues.

Yeah…just colleagues. Just friends.

I smiled even though there was a hollow painful feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“Sure. Sounds great.”

The rest of the day went fast. One of my co-workers Daryl was working on teaching me how to switch Ram on a computer. He was the real IT genius in this department. The only things I knew how to really do was turn a machine on and off and troubleshoot computers when they crash. However Daryl and I were in the middle of tracing the images before the day ended. He and I were going to finish it and look into it further the next day.

By the time the ‘non-date’ approached, I was filled with nerves. I desperately needed his help. He always seemed to know where the best shots were taken. With his help, we might be able to uncover who Superman really is.

But I never made it to dinner.

The bag got whipped out of my head. I was met with bright lights, causing me to squint and turn away. The only other things I saw were two silhouettes. My eyes traveled around me. The first thing I noticed was that I was in a chair. The next was my arms tied behind my back with zip ties. Finally, I could be moments away from giving my last breath.

I racked my brain for any sense of time, any clue as to how I got here. The last thing I remember was standing outside the restaurant that Clark and I agreed to meet. The next I’m here, tied to a chair.

“Good, you’re awake.” The voice was male, not distinguishable. “Tell us where he is!” My heart began to pound, its constant beat hitting my ears.

“Where is who? I don’t understand.” My voice sounded like sandpaper against my ears. A million questions were racing through my head. “I don’t even know why I’m here.” The man cracked his knuckles, bringing the light down so I could see their faces.

There were two men, one towards the door at the end of the room. His bulbous nose looked like it had been broken one too many times. The other one was closer to me. He had a scar vertically going down his eye.

“You’re here because we found you lurking in our data system. We traced your IP address. What do you know about these images?” The second one responded. His voice was deeper, more distinguished. The two photographs were shoved in my face.

I recognized them immediately. These were two of the photos that Lois showed me this morning. The one near the Daily Planet was missing. But how did those have anything to do with me? I swallowed hard.

“This has to be a misunderstanding. I didn’t take these photos. I don’t even know who is even in the photos.” I rambled, unable to stop myself. “They are probably photoshopped. I stumbled upon them by accident. I really have no idea so please-”

“You know damn well it’s Superman.” The first man growled at me, cutting me off. I swallowed hard, trying my best to remain calm and not have a panic attack.

“I’m telling you I don’t know!” I practically screamed. “I’m just a girl who fixes printers when they get jammed. I don’t even know why I’m in an IT department in the first place. I’m not even qualified.” I couldn’t stop myself. “If anyone, it would be Daryl. Daryl is practically a genius. He’d be able to tell you and confirm that your-” Hot pain erupted on my cheek as a fist collided with my face, abruptly shoving my face to the side.

“Shut up bitch.” The one closest to the door screamed. I bit my bottom lip, tasting blood in my mouth as something hot ran down my cheek.

“Lie again and we will do more than hurt that pretty little face of yours.” The other one taunted, taking a cloth and wiping blood off of his ring.

Oh my god I’m going to die here.

I’m going to die here and Clark is going to think I stood him up. When I don’t show up tomorrow, Lois and Clark are going to notice. They are going to find my body somewhere in a ditch all because I decided to do things myself.

This is all my fault. I should have never tried to figure out what those photos are. I shouldn’t have just let the journalist speculate who this Superman was. If I kept my nose out of it, I would be sitting at home. I ruined everything and my life is going to be the price.

“Now I’m going to ask you again.” The one with the ring pulled out a knife, pointing it towards my throat, “Who is Superman?” I glared up at the man, tears brimming my eyes. Just as I was about to open my eyes, something burst open behind me. Chunks of cement flung in the air, one of them hitting the man with the ring in the shoulder. The other one pulled out a gun, his eyes looking like saucers.

“Oh no, its-” The man didn’t speak another word before he fired bullets behind me. I flinched before throwing all my weight to one side, tilting the chair enough to fall. I collapsed to my side with a thud, my head hitting the floor. Everything moved in slow motion.

The man with the gun fired more bullets before something red and blue rammed into him. The man laid there, his eyes rolled back. His gun was a few feet away. The man with the ring didn’t have a chance to react before he too was on the ground unconscious.

Then I felt my chair move, repositioning me so I was sitting upright again. I was met with blurry blue eyes.

“Katrina, can you hear me?” I squinted, trying to focus my vision. It kept going in and out of focus. The only things I could make out were that this man was built with brown hair.

“How do you know my-” I started before cutting myself off. This must be the Superman that those goons were talking about. Here he was in all of his superhero glory. His eyes trailed my face, searching for any injuries. His jaw flexed when he caught sight of the blood and what was surely going to be a bruise.

“Let’s get you out of here.” He said breaking the zip ties as easy as snapping toothpicks. Lifting me up bridal style like I weighed nothing, he hoisted himself up into the air.

“So let me wrap my head around this…you’re Clark AND Superman?” I asked while Clark was cleaning the scratch on my face. The two of us were in a place called the ‘Fortress of Solitude’, a place where Clark claimed he goes to recover after battles. After the fight with the goonies, he said he didn’t want to take me back to my place. If they were able to trace my address, then they knew exactly where I lived.

And I didn’t want to be left alone in my place after everything that’s happened in the last twenty four hours.

“I’m Clark when I’m at the Daily Planet, but Superman when I’m saving Metropolis.” Clark responded, dabbing a wet cloth on the scratch, soaking up the remaining clotted blood. He was in a sweatshirt and sweatpants. I watched him as he worked. His eyes looked so focused, so intense. It was a complete contrast to him at the Daily Planet.

“So then…who are you to me? Superman or Clark?” I bit my bottom lip. He pulled away, finished bandaging the wound. But it also looked like he was taken aback.

“To you, I’ve always been me. Not Clark Kent from work, not Superman, just Clark.” I just stared at him, almost unable to believe him.

“So then why tell me now? You could have just taken me to the hospital. Your identity would have been safe. So why reveal it now?’ I couldn’t stop myself from asking the question. After all this time of separating Superman from Clark Kent, why choose now to say something?

A long moment passed between us, so long that I didn’t think he was going to respond at all.

“When you didn’t show up that night, I thought you bailed.” His words were soft, raw. “ But then I knew that you’re not known to just not show up. So I panicked. I was losing my mind trying to find you. I almost lost it when I found out some of Lex Luthor’s henchmen took you.” I felt my heart fall into my stomach. He continued on. “And when I found you tied up and hurt, I knew I couldn’t hide it from you anymore. You needed to know.” He let out a shuttering breath.

That’s when I saw him, the real man behind it all.

Not Superman.

Not Clark Kent.

Just Him.

Quickly unlocking the door into another chamber, I followed him inside. The door shut behind us with a soft thud. Inside was dimly lit with blue lights. A king sized mattress was placed on the back end of the wall, followed by a bookshelf to the right and a chair to the left. I leaned against the door and bit my bottom lip, hesitant to make the first move. All this time I’ve been wishing for Clark to see me more than a friend. And there was for sure something here. So why am I so shy all of a sudden?

Seeing him in the red and blue suit as superman did something to me. All of the feelings I’ve kept inside began to bubble to the surface. I was still reeling over the fact that out of everyone I thought would be Superman I never expected Clark Kent.

His hand gently grabbed my chin, leading my gaze and thoughts back to him. When did he become so close?

“What’s on your mind?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Tell me. It’s okay.”

“I just…I just have been wanting this for so long and I didn’t think that you thought of me like that.”

“Kat, isn’t it obvious. I always wanted you.”

“But what about you and Lois? I thought the two of you were…” He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Lois and I have never been like that. We’re just really good friends.” He stepped closer, closing the gap between us. I froze, my mind reeling but became silent at the same time. His mouth softly grazed my ear.

“Why do you think I always called for you to fix my computer?”

“Because you don’t understand it.”

“No Kat.” He paused, “It’s so I could see you.” I’ve never felt my face heat up faster in my life.

“Oh!....Oh” He let out a laugh.

“I’m from Kansas, not from Mars. I know the basics of fixing a computer.” His laugh died suddenly. Both of our lips were mere inches away. All either of us had to do was move and our lips would touch. My gaze stayed on his while his eyes moved from my lips to my eyes. There was yearning in them, longing, desperation.

“We shouldn’t do this. You’re hurt. You’ve been through a lot. I don’t want to hurt you.” He whispered, his body visibly. straining. Clark was doing everything in his power to restrain himself. Desperately. I couldn’t help but find it hot.

“It’s okay.” I whispered. “You won’t hurt me.” His lips were on mine in an instant. His lips were soft, his kisses softer. He tasted sweet. I could feel him still holding back. But I didn’t care, I was beginning to drown in those soft, delicate kisses.

Just as I was about to drown, he drew back.

I watched him as Clark tugged the fabric over his head. His chest was glistening with sweat from the flight here. My heart was pounding in my chest, a violet rhythm that wished to break through my ribcage and escape.

Mouthwatering. He was utterly mouthwatering.

And I am utterly fucked.

This wasn’t just Clark Kent standing in front of me anymore. He wasn’t the soft spoken, nerdy Clark I met at the Daily Planet. He wasn’t the big, rough Superman either. He was both, but yet none at the same time. This was the human being behind it all.

And I just fell harder.

“Clark.” I whispered.

He stepped closer, his movements slow. Deliberate. Like a man who knew exactly what he wanted. In an instant, our mouths met again. His kisses were primal, wanting, demanding.

“I want you bent over, whimpering,” He groaned in between our kisses. “I want your nails on my back. I want to hear you tell me how good I’m making you feel. I want you to forget every man who tried. I want you to feel like you’re safe with me.” With each confession, his kisses grew more soft, more held back.

His deep almost primal voice cracked-like a part of him was coming through the urge.

“But if you don’t want this.” He pulled away a moment, his eyes locking with mine. “Stop me. I’m not going to force this on you.”

The air between us pulsed with tension. But he never wavered. All I had to say was the word and he would back away.

But I didn’t want that, not when just him telling me how much he needed me was wrecking me. I could feel myself trembling, my inner thighs soaked. It took everything in me to grip the last shred of my composure.

I swallowed hard, nodding once.

“I trust you.” I whispered.

And Clark, ever the gentleman, ever the hero, let out a sound so low and primal that I felt my entire body shiver.

His mouth was on mind again. These weren’t soft, sweet kisses like before. They were wanting, hungry. He was like a starving man who had just found a buffet. And he was intending to eat.

He cupped my cheeks, deepening our kiss. My head felt light, either from how good it felt for him to kiss me or because of lack of oxygen I didn’t care. All I wanted at that moment was him.

When neither of us could breathe anymore, we broke the kiss. I took it as an opportunity to meet him halfway. Gripping my shirt I yanked it over my head, not wasting a second to discard it on the ground. Clark froze, his breathing hitched and his eyes wide. Completely awestruck.

“Kat…You’re so beautiful.” He whispered. Then closed the distance again but before he reached me he stopped, dropping to his knees. He looked up at me, his eyes never leaving mine as he slowly dragged my pants, then underwear, down to my feet.

I’ve never wanted him to touch me more than I wanted him to now.

“Ladies first” he said, his lips grazing the inside of my thigh. Soon after he kissed up my thigh over and over, little gasps and moans escaping his lips. He was giving me another chance to back out.

But I was too far in to back out now.

My hands grabbed his hair, my fingers tangling with his dark locks. My breath caught in my throat, each kiss sending signals to my middle. “Clark-please.”

That was all the confirmation he needed before he dove in, his tongue met my pussy. I felt him moan into me, like I was the best thing he’s ever tasted.

He started incredibly slow, at first long, broad strokes over my entrance before he made his way up to my clit. Each pass he let out a groan, like a starving man being fed.

“Fuck,” he gasped, “You taste so sweet. So good.” My legs trembled from his response.

His mouth closed around my clit and sucked. I saw stars as he sucked, licked, devoured. The only thing I knew was that he was divine and that I wasn’t going to last much longer. He pressed in further, deeper, messier, louder.

A cry escaped my lips, my legs barely holding me up with how much they shook. Clark wrapped one of his arms around my thigh, holding me in place and stabilizing me. He groaned into my clit, sending pleasure towards my approaching orgasm.

“Come for me.” He gasped in between licks. “Come.”

I cried out as my whole body jerked, each one of my muscles clenching to the pleasure. My hands gripped his curls, my world dissolving to the pleasure. His name released my lips as a moan, a soft chant and cry. My legs collapsed, but Clark made sure I didn’t fall.

He released his grip on my clit and looked back up at me. His eyes were wild, desperate, like he wasn’t finished with me yet. He surged to his feet.

He grabbed me by my waist, hoisting me in the air like I was weightless, and carried me to the bed. I was still reeling from my orgasm that I didn’t register us moving until my back hit the mattress. I gasped, my thighs spreading out, my back arching. My eyes moved to him in front of me. He worked on his sweats, pulling them off and then-Oh God.

A whimper escaped my lips.

He was huge. It stared at me, flushed, thick, veined, and leaking. It look so fucking hard that it looked painful.

“Birth control?” His voice was hoarse at the question.

I nodded, breathless.

His eyes darkened before meeting me the rest of the way. Gingerly, he pushed my legs open with almost trembling hands. Lining himself up with my soaked entrance, he paused.

One last chance to back out.

He looked down at me as he stood over me, waiting for the silent confirmation before his eyes softened. “I’ll go slow.”

“I don’t want slow.” I said in a soft whisper, “I want you ruined. I want you rough. I’ve always wanted you”. That was all the confirmation he needed.

He slammed in.

I screamed, Clark matching mine with a moan so deep, so wrecked, I felt it go straight to my core.

“Oh fuck,” he gasped, loosing his composure, “You’re-fuck, you’re so wet-so tight. You’re perfect.” He pulled out and thrust back in hard. Deep. I could feel him hit my cervix. I felt tears fall down my face at the pleasure. I was already overstimulated, but I couldn’t stop wanting, begging for him. I could feel myself around him, needing him to keep going. Clark braced over me, driving in.

Again.

His hips kept snapping, every thrust more brutal. More perfect.

I clutched his broad back, my nails raking down, digging into him, as he pounded into me. I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Harder,” I begged, tears continuing down my face. “Harder, please-need it” Clark responded, hips snapping faster, his whole body jerking with the effort. “You’re doing so good, so fucking good.” As he kept thrusting, he reached in between us, rubbing my clit. I felt the pleasure, built to the point where I thought I was going to explode. I think he saw it in my eyes.

“You gonna come again? He panted. “Come with me baby. Meet me over the edge.” I nodded frantically.

Then it hit.

The pleasure exploded, the pleasure releasing in big waves. Both of us felt it. I could still feel him deep inside me, his cock pulsing inside my clenched pussy. He let out a loud moan.

“Fuck-I’m gonna”

“Do it.” I gasped. He groaned as hot, deep, almost endless heat grew in my insides. His hip twitching, body shaking, gasping my name before he collapsed over me. We both layed there in a haze of sweat, come, and ruin. Our bodies were tangled, hearts racing.

It was the best feeling I’ve had in my entire life.

He pulled himself out, rolling over me and collapsed next to me, his breath still ragged and panting. He looked gloriously ruined, his brown locks damp with sweat. His breaths brushed against my neck in soft, contented huffs. One of his arms was around my waist. I couldn’t help but have my hand against his chest, making sure that what just happened was real.

The room smelled like sex, sweat, and victory.

I had hopefully survived the last abduction of my life.

And Clark was mine. And I was his.

“So how are we going to tell Lois?” I asked sleepily, turning my body so I was facing him.

“About Superman? Or us?”

“Yes.” Clark let out a chuckle, tracing small circles on my hands.

“Someday she’ll catch on that I’m Superman. But as for us.” He paused, locking eyes with me. “I think it’s best we let her know before she investigates us like she does Superman.” I let out a laugh.

“Fair point.” I smiled, kissing him gingerly.

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4sh-n4 · 1 month ago

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Based on ^^^ that post (kind of)

Dick and Bernard don't get along. Well, they don't hate each other but they're not best friends. They're barely friends at all. Vaguely connected acquaintances through their mutual love for Tim at most. So why is it that Dick exits his bedroom one morning (in his personal apartment!! In Bludhaven!!!) to find out that his little brother's boyfriend has set up camp in his kitchen and seems to be attempting to conduct a coup over the pathetic electrical appliances in his kitchen that he had refused to replace when he first moved in as rebellion against Bruce's need to control every aspect of his life and then had just...not gotten around to doing it because he barely ever had the energy or time to cook for himself anyways.

Dick must've made some noise of surprise because Bernard turns around from where he's currently trying to curl the wire of the toaster into different angles and shapes in hopes that it'll turn on. Bernard nods at him before turning back to his task like this is a regular situation (which it decidedly is not!! Dick thinks with a tinge of hysteria).

"What are you doing in my kitchen?"

"Making breakfast? Or well, lunch technically but they're breakfast foods and also the first meal of the day for both of us. So, brunch? I was gonna make eggs and toast but I don't think I'm going to be able to wrangle your toaster under submission anytime soon so how do you feel about pancakes?" Bernard doesn't even have the decency to turn around as he answers. Or wait for a response clearly, since he's already going through Dick's cupboards for ingredients, abandoning the failed toaster to the side.

"Uh, the flour is behind that box. Yeah, right there. How did you get in here? How did you even know where I live? And again, why are you in my house??" Dick would maybe put up more of a protest usually, but he's had a really bad time for the last couple of...forevers really, so he's decided that his new policy (decided two seconds ago) is to never refuse free pancakes from anyone. And he's not an idiot, he's stolen Tim's leftovers enough times to know that these pancakes are about to be quite possibly the best things to greet his tongue in the last week. So instead of knocking out the blonde in front of him and dumping him on Tim's doorstep, he's deciding to be the bigger person. The more mature person. Who really wants some pancakes.

"Did you know the Riddler really likes pancakes? I found out that one time he'd decided to set up his base of operations in the back of that Waffle House on main street that closed down 2 months after it opened. Probably due to the aforementioned criminal activities actually. I was looking for Condiment King's cousin, you know the one that's been stealing all the dessert sauces in Gotham to feed them to Killer Croc as some sort of weird courting ritual even though everyone knows that Killer Croc only has eyes for Ratman since they cohabitate in the Gotham sewers? I made a video on it and everything for my youtube, complete with powerpoints. That's why there's a city-wide shortage of the good strawberry sauce and I have to travel all the way to Metropolis to get some even though theirs does not taste the same, no matter what Tim says. Don't listen to Tim, he doesn't know what he's talking about when it comes to dessert sauces. Other than marmalade, he's got a pretty good tongue for that. He's got a good tongue for other things too, but don't tell him I said that, I've been trying to convince him that he needs to practice with it more and I think it's finally starting to work. Or Tim is just humouring my request to kiss him more, I'm not actually sure yet."

Dick blinks as he tries to process everything that he's just heard. He blinks a few more times, just in case that improves his comprehension and then comes to the conclusion that no, whatever Bernard is talking about makes no more sense after sitting with it for a few more seconds and also that he's currently sharing a kitchen with a madman. His brother is /dating/ a madman, oh god.

Bernard has somehow managed to find everything he needs in Dick's kitchen (how? even Dick doesn't know where he'd put the chocolate chips, he'd lost them after hiding them from Damian) . He's also too chipper for...12:30 in the afternoon. Dick needs him to take a step back and give him a few more hours to wake up on his day off, please and thank you.

Dick thinks about addressing Bernard's inane chatter but decides he has bigger things to worry about and instead says, "That answered exactly none of my questions."

He knows for a fact that he checked his locks before going to bed, and his door has Wayne manufactured (and Batman enhanced) protection that should not be able to be broken by a civilian. So if he's got a security issue, he'd like to know about it before the Joker or someone decides that Dick Grayson would make the perfect target for their next scheme.

Bernard sighs and turns to give him a put out look like he's not the one currently standing in the kitchen of someone he barely knows and is being highly inconvenienced by Dick's perfectly valid questions about his safety. Dick simply stares back silently. He does seem to realise that Dick isn't willing to just let this go, so faces the stove before actually answering his questions instead of deflecting.

"Well. If you must know, my darling boyfriend is away on urgent 'Wayne Enterprises business' in Jump City," Bernard makes sure to add the quotation marks with his fingers and turns again, this time looking at Dick dryly as if telling him just exactly what he thinks of that lie. Dick jolts in his chair, eyes widening slightly before he gets his facial features under control, feeling slightly more awake all of a sudden. As far as he knows, Bernard should have no knowledge of the family's... extracurricular activities.

Luckily (or unluckily), he isn't given the chance to respond before Bernard continues, "I heard you had the day off from Duke who was complaining about how you haven't been visiting recently and got bored enough alone that I decided to drop in. I figured your windows are probably less impenetrable than your doors to account for late night visits, similar to Tim, except you also live too high up for anyone to get up without help." (At this, Bernard rolls his eyes). "So I waited until your downstairs neighbours- that lovely couple, Belinda and Mark- left the house for date night before picking the lock for their house instead and climbing up the windows for only one floor instead of five."

What the FUCK. Where did Tim find this guy?? Does Bruce know that his son's boyfriend is a maniac? Dick gapes at the man opposite him, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. He runs his hand through his hair a few times. At least that answers the question about whether or not Bernard knows about his night time activities (HOW?).

"Okay. Okay. Wow. How do you know my downstairs neighbours?" That's definitely not the biggest concern right now, but Dick honestly and truly has no idea where to even start with the rest of it so this seems like a good point to address.

"I helped Belinda carry her groceries yesterday because Mark was at the vet with the stray cat that they're thinking of adopting because they've been feeding her for a few months."

#did bernard realise that dick hadnt been visiting gotham due to a depressive episode? yes #was he worried? yes (though he'd never admit it)#after this talk they eat pancakes #and then they watch bad romcoms and make fun of them #tim comes back to gotham freaks out at bernard's disappearance and tracks him down #only to find his asleep on dick's couch #are they friends after this? no (yes but they wont admit it)#dc #bernard dowd #dick grayson #timber #timbern #batfam #sorry guys this got away from me #and then i got tired and didn't finish it #can you tell i cant write dialogue #also that i have too many thoughts and no idea how to write them #hopefully this wasn't TOO out of character #dick my beloved #bernard my beloved #i lvoe them #need bernard to be more unhinged always and need dick to be more long suffering #4sh-n4 #bernard is a waffler (waffle heh)#dick is a hypocrite bc he's just as insane as bernard he just likes to pretend he's normal and well adjusted

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jinjeriffic · 1 year ago

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DCxDP Prophecy Universe Part 4

Part 3

Aaaah, Tim had missed undercover work! There was just something thrilling about becoming a whole new person by making a few small tweaks here and there. He had combed his hair in a side-part, carefully applied make-up to make his skin look paler and his eyes bigger and put on a pair of thick rimmed glasses. Worn sneakers, baggy jeans, a loose plaid flannel shirt with a hoodie tied around his waist hid his lean, muscular frame. A slight slouch and his old high-school backpack completed the look. Goodbye Tim Drake-Wayne, Gotham socialite. Hello Adam Taylor, college freshman.

Jason took one look at him and practically fell over laughing.

“Oh my God, you look like a total dork! Would you like some braces to go with that?” he heckled, catching himself against the side of the car.

“I’ll have you know that this is the height of broke college student chic,” Tim sniffed in mock offence, “It’s called ‘blending in’ Jason. Maybe you should try it!” He walked past his snickering brother to get in the passenger’s seat of the beat-up Ford they used for travelling incognito.

“No thanks, I’ll leave the theatre performance to you,” Jason drawled, tossing the keys in one hand before getting behind the wheel. “I’ll just hang back and keep an eye out in case things go tits up.”

“I don’t even know why you insisted on coming along. I’m just going to question a civilian!”

Jason gave him a Look before starting the engine. “A civilian raised by mad scientists. The way our lives work, we’ll find her building Kryptonite powered robots in the janitor’s closet or something.”

“And the fact that she’s a cute red-head has nothing to do with it?” Tim teased.

“Nope!”

“Liar.”

The drive to Metropolis passed in a mix of mutual ribbing, arguing over radio stations and discussion of recent cases. They carefully avoided the elephant in the room - the reason for their current investigation. The sullen anger of their youngest brother, the quiet grief in Bruce’s eyes whenever he thought no one was watching and the mounting tension within the family. Tim doubted that this excursion would be all that fruitful, but he needed to get out and do something for the sake of his own sanity. The last thing he wanted was to watch Bruce emotionally implode over what may or may not be another dead son.

Getting onto the university campus was no problem. Tim had a fake student ID on him just in case, but it looked like he needn’t have bothered. His hacking had revealed that Jasmine Fenton checked into the university library after her last class almost every day, so it was just a matter of biding his time. He sat at one of the carrel desks, idly flipping through the latest issue of Forbes. I wonder if Luthor’s new tech acquisition means he’s up to something? Hm…

“Heads up, target at your 10,” came Jason’s murmur through Tim’s earpiece. Tim turned another page then sat up and stretched, glancing around casually. He instantly recognized the red-head from his earlier research. Tall and light build, long hair held back by a head-band, wearing skinny jeans and a dark grey sweater. She made her way over to the row of desks, carrying a small stack of books and a pencil case. She walked past Tim, only sparing him a glance and eventually settled down at the table farthest from the entrance and away from the other students. Perfect.

Tim got up and returned his magazine to the periodicals section before meandering over to Jasmine’s desk. He put on his best impression of a nervous smile. Showtime.

“Hey, is this seat taken?”

She only glanced up from her work briefly then went right back to taking notes. “No, knock yourself out,” she said in a bored tone.

Tim pulled out the chair next to hers and turned it slightly to face her. He sat down and cleared his throat.

“Hi, sorry to bother you. I’m Adam. Adam Taylor,” he lied, offering his hand to her. She gave him a tight, polite smile and shook hands with him.

“Jazz Fenton,” Her tone was light, but her body language screamed ‘please go away’. Tim filed the nickname away for later, “Look, it’s really nice to meet you but I have this project I need to work on, so…”

Ah, she probably thinks I’m trying to hit on her, Tim thought.

“Oh, I understand completely! I don’t wanna take up too much of your time, I just… I was just wondering if you could tell me about… you know,” he whispered with affected hesitation, “...ghosts.”

The smile dropped from her face and her gaze sharpened. “Excuse me?”

“Sorry! It’s just… your parents run Fenton Works, right? The ecto-biologists?” Tim rushed out, “I just wanted to hear your opinion on their work…” he trailed off at the look of tightly controlled anger on her face. She turned and scanned the room around them.

“Alright. Where’s the camera?”

Tim was caught completely wrong footed. Was she onto them?

“Camera? What camera?” he hedged. She slammed her notebook shut and glared at him.

“I get it. Lets pretend to interview the girl with the crazy ghost hunter parents and have a good laugh at her on social media later. Very funny, har har,” Jazz stuffed her pen back in its case with sharp movements, “Well I have better things to do than make you TikTok famous, so if you’ll excuse me,” she gathered up her books and stood.

Tim winced. He really needed to salvage this situation and quickly. He held up his hands in a placating gesture.

“I’m not filming you, honest! I just read some of your parents’ papers and wanted a second opinion on their research! They, ah… they seem pretty biased,” he said apologetically.

Jazz narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. “Why are you researching ghosts, then?”

The best lies are built on truth.

“Because…” Tim took a deep breath, “I think my brother might be one,” he forced out, then swallowed hard and looked away.

“Oh,” the anger had drained from her voice, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Tim glanced at her as she sat back down. “Thanks,” he croaked and blinked away fake tears. They sat in silence for a few minutes.

“Adam, what makes you think your brother might have come back as a ghost?” Jazz asked gently.

Tim collected himself for a moment, thinking about how to score the most sympathy points.

“It’s hard to explain. My younger brother… he saw something strange and now my whole family is freaking out. Dad is putting on a brave face but I can tell this is eating him up inside but he refuses to talk about it. I just… I need to know if there’s a scientific explanation to all this. I need to make sense of this whole mess!” he looked up at her through his lashes with his best puppy-dog expression, “Please, can you help me?”

Tim could practically hear her heart melting.

“And the Oscar goes to… Timbird!” Jason teased over the comms.

“Alright. But not here,” Jazz said, standing up again, “This is gonna take some time. And diagrams.”

Oh goodie.

Part 5

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #batman #batfamily #jazz fenton #tim drake #red robin #jason todd #red hood #prophecy universe #the one where clockwork uses prophecies to mess things up (and set things right)#tim drake loves acting #help how did this get so long

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fluentmoviequoter · 1 year ago

Text

Honeymoon Suite

Pairing: Dick Grayson x fem!vigilante!reader

Summary: Batman sends you and Dick undercover as newlyweds. At the end of the mission, neither of you want things to change.

Warnings: fluff, possible OOC, brief mentions of insecurity, reader wears a bikini once

Word Count: 2.6k+ words

A/N: Reader is a vigilante but there's no fight scenes or anything, it's more just gathering data for Bruce! I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think or if you have any DC requests! :)

Masterlist | DC/Dick Grayson Masterlist | Request Info

This isn't necessarily Titans!Dick, I just like this gif!

“Since when do you investigate recently paroled convicts?” you ask, looking out over Metropolis. “This seems like more of Clark’s thing. Literally, journalist Clark could do this far easier.”

Bruce sighs, and you smile. You can exhaust him from miles away.

“Because he started in Gotham, and I want to make sure he doesn’t come back,” Bruce answers.

“And I’m still in sunny Superman-city, why? Our boy bought a plane ticket three hours ago.”

“Until he goes to the airport, I want your eyes on him.”

“And then what? He disappears, free to con people who don’t have a Batman?”

“You do it on purpose,” Bruce accuses. “If you’re done asking questions, I’ve got news.”

“Also Clark’s thing,” you quip.

“Never mind. You can stay in Metropolis.”

“You love me, Bats. I’ll stop; tell me.”

“Against our better judgment, we all do.”

You smile, remembering the first night you put on a mask and took to the streets of Gotham. One of your best friends had been permanently altered by Scarecrow toxin, and you were done being scared in your own home. The same week, before you really grasped just how dangerous what you were doing could be, you ran into Robin. Batman wasn’t with him, but you soon met him, too. Robin was your age, reckless, and had a heart-stopping smile, so when he asked you to stay with him, you agreed. Batman reluctantly agreed, likely more interested in getting you off the streets than anything. After a few months, Dick trusted you enough to remove his domino mask, and Bruce sighed as he followed suit. Your relationship with Dick, both in and out of the Robin suit, made you part of two families: The Waynes and the Bats and Birds of Gotham. Every new addition to the family and the team pushed you and Dick closer, and you know what your feelings toward him are, but you have to remind yourself daily that losing him isn’t worth getting it off your chest.

“Still there?” Batman asks.

“Sorry, yeah, I’m here,” you answer quickly, standing as you watch the sun go down.

“There’s going to be a slight detour on your way back.”

“Just tell me it’s somewhere warmer than Gotham,” you joke.

“Much. Nightwing – Dick – will meet you at the airport.”

You want to laugh at the strain in his voice as he says Dick’s name, but your attention catches on another word.

“Airport?”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Welcome to paradise, babe,” Dick greets, pulling you into a warm hug as you walk through the airport doors.

“Thanks,” you murmur, closing your eyes and letting him envelop you completely.

He keeps an arm over your shoulders, leading you to an expensive rental car. After tossing your small bag in the back, he holds your hand over the console, looking into your eyes and smiling.

“I have a question,” he begins. You nod, and Dick’s smile grows. “Will you marry me?”

Your eyes widen as you tell yourself that it’s for the mission.

“A thousand times yes,” you answer, watching Dick slide the ring onto your left ring finger.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

Your hand remains in Dick’s as he begins driving, your dream life with him coming to life around you.

“I checked in when I got here this morning. The honeymoon suite is nice,” Dick says distractedly.

“Honeymoon suite?” you repeat.

Dick hums, and you lower your gaze from his profile to the ring on your finger. It’s going to be a long few days.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Your suitcase is in the closet,” Dick says, leading you into the small cottage with a hand on your back. He sees your confused look and laughs. “I packed a few things for you, I didn’t think you’d have beachwear with you in Metropolis.”

“Thank you.”

Dick lays back on the bed, propping his head up on his hands as he watches you open the closet.

“There’s a white bikini in there that I’m pretty proud of. I think it’s a better choice than you would have made.”

You roll your eyes before looking at the beachy pastels, sundresses, and swimsuits filling the bag. Dick chose things you have always wanted to wear but never felt good enough to buy for yourself. Losing your focus, you finger through the different fabrics, jumping slightly when Dick’s arms wrap around your waist.

“We have dinner reservations tonight, so pick a good one,” he whispers.

“Looks like they’re all good ones.”

“I have excellent taste,” Dick replies with an absent-minded tap to your wedding ring.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Good evening,” Dick greets the couple sharing a table with you. He pulls your seat out, keeping his hand in yours as he sits beside you.

“My, you two are just the most handsome couple I’ve ever seen,” the woman exclaims, leaning toward you. “You picked a fine one, didn’t you, dear?”

You glance over at Dick and smile. “I sure did.”

Dick’s thumb runs over your knuckles, and you let yourself go in the act. Losing yourself, you adopt this character of being a wife to the man you’ve loved for years.

As you eat and talk to the other couples celebrating engagements, weddings, and anniversaries, you lean against Dick’s side, playing with his fingers. After one particularly romantic comment about your eyes, you raise Dick’s hand to your lips, kissing the knuckle below his ring. He turns toward you with a big smile, pecking your forehead before pulling you closer. You could get used to this, which is incompatible with an undercover mission.

✯✯✯✯✯

The proximity is killing you. Dick is so close that you could touch him, and you do, but you try to show some restraint. You set boundaries long ago, including one stating that you would never kiss one another purely for Batman’s never-ending mission. Your firm position on that boundary wavers more with each moment. This island is doing something to you, and you’re terrified that it will ruin your relationship with Dick.

Every time Dick smiles at you or takes your hand, running his finger over the fake ring on your hand, it’s like a glimpse straight out of your dream life. Right now, reclined on the beach in a bikini of Dick’s choosing, though, the dream falls apart.

“Dick,” you whisper, tapping your shoulder against his chest.

He pulls his hand away from your hair, a flower you didn’t see him pick braided into a small section of your hair.

“There’s our guy,” you mumble after he hums, pointing with your chin.

“He coming toward us?” Dick asks, running a sandy hand over your arm.

“Not right now. If he’s looking for the same kind of victim as in Gotham, we’re going to have to set a trap.”

“How?”

You turn toward him, frowning as you answer, “Get in a fight and let me storm off.”

Dick’s eyes drop away from yours before nodding. “Not yet,” he mumbles. “It has to look real.”

“Dinner?” you ask, brushing his hair back.

His eyes flutter closed as he nods, aware that the social setting will make enough of a scene. That doesn’t mean Dick wants to do it, though, nor is he sure about using you as bait.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Do I look okay? This fits weird,” you complain, tugging the white sundress down on the sides.

Dick appears behind you, holding your wrists still as he meets your eyes in the mirror. He pulls your back to his chest, looping his arms over your waist.

“You look beautiful – you are beautiful,” Dick whispers. “So beautiful that I don’t know if I can yell at you.”

“We can change the plan. Pretend like we’ve been arguing all afternoon in private, and I can just choose a moment to storm off,” you offer.

“I don’t want to fight with you at all,” Dick amends.

“Hey.” You turn in his arms, looping yours over his shoulders. “This isn’t real, okay? I will never treat you like this.”

Dick nods, dropping his head to press his forehead against yours.

“Promise?”

You nod, dragging a finger along Dick’s jaw. “I promise.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Yeah,” you mumble, fiddling with the napkin in your lap. “I got it earlier.”

Dick made a passing comment about working with others, glancing toward you at the end, and you took the opportunity to start a fight. The target, Bruce’s con man, is several tables away, but his eyes are on you. Dick’s eyes drop, and you desperately want to cup his chin and apologize.

“Working with women can be hard though,” someone says, continuing the conversation.

“It certainly can,” Dick agrees.

You stand up, silently tossing your napkin onto the table before you walk out. Navigating through the crowded tables, you take a deep breath when you exit and hear footsteps behind you.

“’Scuse me?” he asks.

You slow before you stop, turning toward him and wiping an imaginary tear.

“I’m sorry, I overheard and just wanted to make sure you’re okay. I’m a marriage counselor and I wouldn’t feel right about leaving you here upset.”

“I’m fine, or I will be,” you answer, slightly impressed with how easily he slipped into the lie. “It’s just frustrating to be married, and I wasn’t expecting it to be so different.”

“Marriage counseling is a great option even for newly-weds. I actually have a pay by the appointment service here on the island, if you’re interested.”

“Oh, really? That- actually, yeah, that sounds amazing. What do I need to do?”

“$1,000 cash, up front, and then you can come by anytime.”

“Soliciting for a false business is illegal,” a resort security guard says as he approaches. “I’m going to need to take you to the office for questioning.”

“Really, me? Because her husband looks a lot like the Wayne kid from Gotham, not Gray Todd or whatever he said his name was,” the conman argues. “What about impersonation?”

Dick walks outside just as the security guard looks toward you.

“What’s going on out here?” Dick asks, laying his hand against the small of your back. “Are you okay?” he adds quietly.

You nod and press back against him gently. “This guy was trying to steal our money, apparently.”

“Someone called in a tip that he’s been posing as a marriage counselor,” the security guard fills in. “Though, do you folks have ID?”

Dick removes his fake ID from his wallet, and you’re surprised when he hands one over for you too.

“Your last names aren’t the same, are these up to date?”

“I haven’t gotten my updated license yet,” you answer. “We haven’t been married long.”

“Ask them questions separately and they won’t be able to answer. They’re the con artists, not me!” the conman cries.

“Maybe I should take you two in for questioning too.”

“On what grounds?” Dick asks with an incredulous chuckle. “What would I need to do to convince you we’re married? This is ridiculous!”

You glance over, and a crowd is gathering at the door, so you tap Dick’s side to alert him. He takes a deep breath before speaking again.

“I’d like to speak to your manager in the morning, but for now, are we free to go?”

The security guard also sees the crowd and hesitates before nodding. Dick leads you away and back toward the cottage but pulls you to a stop at the bottom of the stairs.

“Are you okay?” you ask, looking over his face.

“People are still watching us and we need to keep this up or they won’t believe us,” Dick whispers.

“We’re leaving tomorrow. Does it matter?”

“If they think we’re not really married, they can’t prove anything about our guy. Then we just look like we lied to get a nicer cottage.”

You nod and ask, “So what do we do to prove it?”

Your arms are around Dick, you’re as close as physically possible, so you’re not sure what else you can do to look like you’re in love. Especially considering you are in love with him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers before raising his hand to the back of your neck and kissing you.

He picks you up, a strong arm under your hips as he carries you up the stairs. You grip his shirt at the collar, returning the kiss but refusing to deepen it. As Dick unlocks the door, you drop your head to his shoulder and glance at the dissipating crowd, only a few people left who don’t mind imposing on a private moment.

Once you’re inside and Dick sets you down, he steps back.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I know it was the one rule, but I didn’t know what else to do,” he rambles, carding his fingers through his hair. “Sorry.”

You hold a hand up to stop his pacing and shrug. “We had to. It’s fine.”

Dick nods, another whispered apology rolling off his tongue before he offers to let you use the bathroom first. When he steps back, that proximity you thought would break you is taken away, and you realize that is was holding you together all along.

✯✯✯✯✯

When you walk out of the bathroom, Dick is staring out the window. The dark beach holds his attention until he stands wordlessly. Then, when Dick returns from the shower, he doesn’t speak to you. Opening your mouth, you want to ask him something, say anything, but he sits at the far side of the king-sized bed and makes himself comfortable with his back to you.

The last few nights, you started on opposite sides of the bed but woke up with Dick’s arm over your waist and both of you in the middle. Those moments are being ripped away from you, though, and you’re not sure why. If it’s the kiss, you told him it was fine. Dick is usually the one ready and willing to talk about this kind of stuff, but he is shutting you out.

Hating the distance and craving his closeness, you whisper, “Are you mad at me?”

The answer is barely audible, a sigh of, “Of course not.”

You breathe a small sigh of relief, moving your hand to the middle of the bed like an olive branch. “Then what happened? I’m really not mad about the kiss, Dick.”

Dick rolls over, his eyes bright in the minimal light of the cottage as he takes your hand (again). “I don’t want this to end,” he confesses.

After contemplating what this could mean, you whisper, “It doesn’t have to.”

Dick sits up, pulling you in, slow and methodical as he kisses you this time. As he pulls you into his lap, you enjoy knowing that there’s no rush or fear or lies behind this, just you, Dick, and the love between you.

“Maybe we should get married,” he mumbles against your lips. “Bruce will pay for a few more days.”

You pull back with a breathless laugh. “And listen to your brothers after they find out you eloped? No thanks.”

“So, you won’t marry me?” Dick asks, looking up at you perched on his legs.

“I’ll marry you as many times as you want, Dick Grayson.”

“Different honeymoon suite each time?” Dick jokes.

You duck your head against his chest as he laughs, gladly letting him hold you close for one more quiet, slow night before you return to Gotham.

“We need to pack, our flight is at 10,” you remind him.

“Don’t forget the white one,” he says against your cheek, leaving kisses along your face.

You are returning to Gotham with something far better than a new bikini or souvenir: Dick Grayson’s love running through your veins and your heart safely in his hold.

✯✯✯✯✯

Bonus:

"It worked, Alfred."

"Excellent news, Master Bruce. Perhaps you could be the next to go on a trip and come back with a woman in your life."

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x fem!reader #dc comics x reader #dick grayson fluff #dick grayson fic #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson fanfiction #dick grayson

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