whothehellismack

[whothehellismack]

I did a thing…

Might have to make it a poster

@whothehellismack @sleepiscrazy @valleylaflor @casp1an-sea

[whothehellismack]

superman imagine---moment's comfort

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a short offering as an apology for last night's post :')

Imagine superman comforting you on your balcony

The night’s cold, wind cutting harshly at your skin, but tonight you’d find it didn’t bother you. Your mind was moving a mile a minute and the usual comfort of your apartment just felt claustrophobic, so on the balcony you decided to sit. 

“You know you could catch a cold sitting in this weather.” 

His entrance would be quiet, slowly hovering onto your balcony until he’d stand behind you as you leaned on the railing. It was quiet but you recognized him by presence alone. 

“Oh really,” you’d hummed, little emotion in your voice, not really looking up to find him. 

His steps, slow, finding a place next to you on the balcony, he’d look over to you, taking in your sullen, blank expression. 

Wordlessly, you leaned over, letting your head fall on his shoulder. He’d look at you with a sense of surprise before letting it fade away. 

“I can’t,” you’d pause, your words hesitant and unsure. “I feel like I can’t do anything right.” 

Your voice would waver, nothing but a whisper to the wind as you’d lean into his warmth. His comfort. 

“Do you want to talk about it,” he’d ask, his voice contrasting from his usual tone. It was soft, gentle and quiet. If you weren’t leaning on him you wouldn’t of heard it

You’d sit in silence, thinking about it. A tight grip on the phone you considered throwing over the balcony a mere set of minutes ago. The fresh phone call between you and your mother that ended prematurely. You’d think back to work, how weird things felt now. Because of you. 

“Moms I guess…you either love them or…try to love them.” 

He’d sense your apprehension. The hesitation as you tried to push out some explanation for your mood. “You don’t have to explain. It’s okay.” 

You’d smile for the first time in what felt like days. Not quite meeting your eyes but not any less true. 

“I hope you know,” he’d say quietly. “Your mistakes don’t make you. You can be more than the things you do.” 

You’d look up at him, meeting his gaze for the first time knowing that while his words didn’t fix every single thing plaguing you, it brought you a moment of comfort. 

“Thank you.”

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hope y'all like it even tho it's short, i wanted to take more time for the next part and not rush it :)

the comments, reblogs, and likes really mean so much to me, thank you guys so much

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[whothehellismack]

COWARD'S SELF-SABATOGE ──CLARK KENT!

2025!clark kent x reader 1.6k angst rivals to lovers

!spoiler-free for the 2025 Superman movie!

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You believed yourself to be someone who could well handle adaptation and change no matter the cost.

When you were 12 you found a love for writing for the school newspaper, but when your mother pointed out that your essays needed more attention, you quit. When you were 17 you dropped out of the debate team, the extracurricular affecting your straight A’s and therefore your chance at valedictorian. It was only a few years ago that you moved away from home to Metropolis when you realized living with your parents was keeping you from chasing your dream career. 

Every single hurdle that kept you from what you wanted you handled with ease. 

But this. You didn’t know how to handle this. The fluttering in your chest and involuntary smile. You weren’t made to handle any of this lovey-dovey crap. It made you want to bash your head into the nearest wall. 

It made your night time linger longer, minutes spilling hours as you stared at your ceiling forcing the thoughts of the man you convinced yourself for the longest you hated. It infuriated you beyond belief. 

So you did the one thing you did know how to do, shove it under a rug until it eventually keeled over and died. What better place to avoid all of your problems than a cafe. 

The midday sun dawned warmly over you, your tea, and your book. For the first time in what felt like centuries, you let yourself fade away into it with each sip. Peace finally found you. A peace that was like a blanket (or a rug), draping over all of your troubles with the promise of coming back to it under less stress (never). 

“Is this seat taken?” 

But sometimes the dustbunnies that were your troubles managed to sneak out from under their rug. 

Looking up from your pages, your eyes rested on a figure that sent your tea immediately to the back of your throat before you finally let out a sputtering cough. 

“Clark,” you exclaimed, your eyes going wide as he stood over your table. “You scared me.” 

A shy smile crossed over his lips as he passed you a few napkins. “I didn’t mean to, sorry ‘bout that.” 

Your hand extended out for the crumbled paper hesitantly, a chill shooting up the length of your arm when his hand brushed against yours. Soft, gentle, and lasting long enough that you could’ve hallucinated it. 

“But um,” he coughed into his fist when he pulled away. “Is this seat taken? I don’t want to intrude if it is.” 

It was taken. Taken by the weight of all the stupid decisions you ever made in your life to lead up to this very moment. 

“No, no it's not.” 

He pulled the chair out and sat in front of you, his classic shy but sweet smile clearing every thought in your mind to erase clear. 

You nibbled on your bottom lip, eyes casted down to the table in front of you as you squeezed your hands repeatedly. 

“Soo…” Clark started, biting off the silence lingering in the air. “What’re you reading?” 

You pushed out a hum, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlight. “It’s um,” you blinked, flipping the book to find the title even though you’ve owned this book for years. “It’s just some mystery novel. Kinda boring.”

Clark didn’t respond immediately, his head titling off to the side, studying you with quizzical eyes. 

“You’re staring, Clark,” you blurted without thinking. 

His eyebrows lifted but he didn’t look away. “M’just…observing.” 

Only one set of eyes were on you, but it felt like they were multiplying with every second his were on you. He was only observing, but to you, it felt like every inch of you was laid on the table to be scrutinized. All you could think about was you and the way you were sitting, breathing, looking and—

“You’re making me uncomfortable.” 

It was short, clipped, all out once and of course, completely accidental. Word vomit of the worst variety. 

Clark blinked, his figure visibly shrinking back and the tips of his ears burning pink. You wondered if it burned as hot as you felt in that moment. 

You recognized this pattern again and again in your life. When there came a situation you couldn’t handle, there came the mistake. With mistakes came overcorrection. Overcorrection meant fucking up and that only left you to choose fight or flight. 

You, ever the coward, chose the same thing almost every time. 

“I didn’t, I’m sorry I,” you let yourself freeze, a breath of air leaving you before you reached for your things. “I should go. Bye Kent. See you Monday.” 

You of course bumped into the table and stumbled into your exit, but either way you were gone before Clark could even muster out a confused goodbye.

“What is up with you today?” 

You looked from your monitor to Cat, legs kicking back and forth as she sat atop your desk. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about Cat,” you mumbled, voice monotone as you continued typing. 

The woman leaned back, hand planting right over the paper you were reading from. “Are we back to the emotional constipation? I thought we were on good terms with Clark.” 

Your eyes shot away from the screen, scanning the area around you before glaring daggers at Clark. “Please say that any louder,” you hissed, only feeding the woman’s amused smile. “I don’t need my business on display for everyone to hear. 

“So you admit Clark is your business?” 

“No.” Your voice sounded anything but convincing. “I’m just…working through stuff right now.” 

“Mhm,” she hummed. “If you say so. Let me know when you want to talk about it.”

Your glare could’ve cut glass, but of course it didn’t affect Cat. She only kept on kicking her feet with her devilishly innocent smile.

“Cat,” a voice boomed from across the room, none other than Perry’s. “It’s not chitchat hour, back to work.”

She turned back to you with a pout, giving you a sad goodbye as she trekked back to her desk before Perry’s eyes zeroed in on you. 

“Go to the basement and help Clark with that old photo copier. He’d been down there for ages now.” 

Your mouth fell open and you were sure you could hear Cat’s gasp and giggle from across the room. “Why not Jimmy?” 

He only shot you a longer stare, one that you didn’t want to protest. Not when it came from him. 

With a sigh that could only be read as exasperated, you pushed back from your desk and made your way to the elevator, pressing the button for the basement. 

On most days, the journey down felt like it took eons, another second of your day wasted in an elevator that took a minute too long to climb a few stories. 

Not this time though. A part of you wished it would even get stuck and you had an excuse to not go at all, but the soft whooshing of the doors opening. 

Most of the lights were broken or flickering, the older fluorescent lights contrasting differently from the softer lighting upstairs. It was cold, a mysterious draft pushing through the room as you spotted a tuft of curly hair poking out from behind a mess of old broken knick knacks, most of them covered in white sheets or a sheet of paper saying out of order. 

You wondered why they’d bother to keep more than half of the junk down here, but what did you know? All you could do was avoid the dust to the best of your ability as you made your way to the man who was doing exactly as you expected: struggle with the busted machine. 

“Perry says you’re taking too long.” 

Just like yesterday, clipped, short, and cold. Just like how you talked to him a mere few weeks prior. However this time, you could feel that fraction of you telling you to be nicer. To be better. 

“He did not say that,” Clark complained, hunched over the clunky machine, fiddling with a piece that looked like it needed to be inserted somewhere. 

“Right because you can hear every single conversation in this building.” 

He chuckled to himself at that, pressing another button. 

You frowned, holding out an impatient hand. “Give it to me, Kent.”

Turning around, you saw his frown as he looked at you quizzically once more. “Are you okay?” 

With a sigh, you took the piece from his hand and circled the machine, standing over the opposite end. “Peachy,” you replied behind a squeezed voice. “What’s with the interview?” 

You pretended not to notice the way his eyebrows dipped down in even more confusion. “There’s no interview…I’m just–I’m just asking a question.”

With a confident push, you inserted the piece, rising back on your feet to meet (near) eye to eye with the man. 

“Look, between you and Cat, I’m getting a lot of ‘beat around the bush’ questions and personally I don’t like it. Unless you suddenly have a degree in psychology, I’d love if you’d stop psychoanalyzing me and ask  me what you need to ask me.” 

And you felt that cycle repeat itself.  Make a mistake, overcorrect.

“I’m…I’m just worried about you…” 

Fuck it up all over again. 

“I didn’t ask you to. You’re not my friend Kent.” 

Always the coward, you chose flight, leaving the man in the dark of the basement. 

You only wished hell would open up and swallow you whole. It’s the least of what you felt you deserved after seeing all the hurt in his eyes.

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tysm for the love, comment if you'd like to be added to the taglist or if I forgot to tag you

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[whothehellismack]

STUPID CHOICES──SUPERMAN!

2025!superman x reader 1.6k hurt/comfort

!mildest spoilers for superman (2025)!

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You knew this was dumb. You knew there were probably smarter ways to execute this, and you knew that if this blew up in your face the first question that would be asked was “Why were you there in the first place”

But who could deny a good source? Especially one coming from Jimmy Olsen himself, the man pulling the most random yet genius sources from seemingly nowhere. 

It started simple, Jimmy approaching your desk with some rumor of an underground illegal metahuman trafficking ring. You could hardly believe your ears. But of course with the way your thread of life loved to unravel, you were now with Jimmy in the darkness of night tracking down a dangerous and possibly fictional lead. 

The things you did for good press.

You weren’t even sure you had ever been on this side of town. It was cold and wet as if it recently rained and every few blocks the two of you—well Jimmy—would attract the attention of a few streetworkers, beckoning the pair of you to accompany them. 

You squeezed your jacket tighter around you and pushed closer to Jimmy. “Tell me again why we didn’t get some kind of protection detail.” 

“Like you said before, it would take too long to get the clearance for that. Plus we’re only going in and getting some pictures enough for evidence.” 

His breath was visible on the chilled air as he puffed out an anxious sigh, looking down at his phone. “Right around here, we're not too far.” 

You followed him, step in step with Jimmy before casting the clouded night sky a glance, praying Superman was hovering nearby. What felt like such a good idea before left that thick tar of regret clinging to your insides. 

It didn’t take long to find destination: a large warehouse with a  beat up sign near the entrance reading PROPERTY OF LUTHORCORPS, UNAUTHORIZED ENTRANCE PROHIBITED. 

“LuthorCorps,” you whispered, nudging Jimmy and snapping a picture of it. “You don’t think…”

“Who knows what billionaires do with their money. Never anything good.” He leaned over your shoulder, inspecting the photo for all its details. 

“C’mon,” he beckoned you to follow through the cracked open door. “I hear someone inside.” 

Your heart pounded fast as the two of you slid through the door and immediately ducked behind a set of crates, giving you a view into a warehouse full of trucks and vans. Your jaw fell open at the sight, seeing exactly what Jimmy told you. 

Some cried, some only hung their heads as they were shoved from one car to the next. Each one of them though, no matter how different they looked from each other, shared the same expression of fear in their eyes. 

A tremble was found in your hand as you brought your phone up to snap more pictures. 

“How long has this been happening?” 

Jimmy shook his head, “I don’t know,” he whispered. “I’d only just heard about it.” 

Your frown deepened as you pocketed your phone. “C’mon. We have our pictures, now call the cops, we need to go.” 

He nodded wordlessly, taking a hunched position to sneak back to the door. But just as the two of you thought you were in the clear, the deafening noise of a metal instrument being knocked down froze the two of you in your tracks. 

All eyes were now on you as you pushed Jimmy to run, no longer caring of discreetness. 

“Stop them!” 

One moment you were a foot from the door, from safety. The next you were suspended in the air, frozen in space and unable to move. Your body was no longer your own as you and Jimmy were being turned around. 

Standing before you were two men dressed in military grade weaponry with a girl in the center. There were many things to notice about her, how her skin seemed to shine iridescently under the fluorescent lights or how her eyes lacked any sclera, every inch of it pitch black. No, what you noticed was how small she was. She only looked about 16 in human years with such regret and fear in her eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, a tear trickling down her cheek. “My brother…” 

The guard pushed in front of her, inspecting the two of you as you hung midair. “Daily Planet,” he snarled. “Tie ‘em up! We’re gonna have fun with these two.” 

In an instant, you and Jimmy were dropped to the ground, barely given a chance to recover as you were pulled from the ground and shoved into a chair, back to back with Jimmy.

“This one’s pretty,” he chuckled, nudging your face to the side with the butt of his gun. “What’re we doing with ‘em? Sending them with the others, handing them over to the boss…”  

The other one crossed in front of Jimmy, his face devoid of any tells or give away as he thought with no remorse. “They’re not worth the space…or boss’ time. Just get rid of them, then anything they have on their phones.” 

It wasn’t the first time you stared down the barrel of a gun, fear rushing through your veins as you locked eyes with death again. You could only wonder if you were this prepared for the reaper’s scythe when he swung the first time. 

You awaited it, your eyes only shutting tight at the very last minute when you heard the explosion of your taker. 

But just like before, death never followed through. Only haunting you close. 

You felt the deja vu flooding over you when your eyes opened to see the red cape and s-shaped symbol of hope standing your shield. 

It was as if the light flooded the room as he seized the gun, bending it out of shape and letting it clatter to the ground. He moved faster than you could watch, one moment two men on each of you and Jimmy’s side, the next tied in the corner unconscious but alive. 

Finally, he turned to you, his breath sharp and his face tight, restrained. Angry. “What are you doing here?” 

Night went on long. It felt like years had passed you by when you watched the final ambulance cart away the last of the group of metahumans. 

“Crazy this is the second time you caught a bullet for me,” you laughed lifelessly. 

Looking at him, though, you saw no trace of his smile or the warmth in his blue eyes. 

“Will he be okay,” Superman asked, nodding to Jimmy who talked at the speed of light to the officer you’d just finished with. 

“Yeah,” you whispered, hugging your jacket tighter around you. “I think he managed to convince the officer to give him a ride home.” 

“Good,” he sniffed. “‘Cause I’m taking you home.” 

He didn’t give you much room or time to protest before you were scooped up in his arms and abandoned his place on the ground. 

“Oh my god,” you shrieked, burying your face into the crook of his neck as you held on impossibly tight. 

You felt the wind blow around you widely, whipping your clothes back in the breeze to remind you of the sheer speed you were moving at. 

And then as if it never happened, all air moved normally as your feet were returned to the ground of your concrete balcony. 

When you opened your eyes you faced the usual coolheaded man staring at you with gritted teeth. 

“What the fuck,” you started angrily. “You can’t jus–,” 

“You don’t get to tell me what I can’t do after you acted so stupidly tonight.” 

You blinked. “...excuse me?”

“You walked right into a trafficking ring! No regard for your life or what could possibly happen to you. So yes, what you did was pretty darn stupid.” 

You’d never heard him raise his voice. Never like this. You saw something new in his eyes. Rage, anger, and something else you were too impulsive to see. 

You were stubborn. It was your flaw. Your dying hill. 

“We were chasing a story.” 

“You were risking your life,” he cut. 

“We saved at least a dozen people!”

“You could’ve died,” he screamed, his feet lifting from the ground as his anger acted first. 

His breathing was tight, shallow as he slowly lowered himself back to the ground, gentle steps taken towards you. 

“Why can’t you understand,” he whispered, the silence settling thick between each pause he took. “I can’t lose you…you mean too much to me.” 

10 words. That’s all it took to unravel your heat, anger, your stubbornness. Ten words. You saw it in his eyes now, no more rage. Just fear. Pure unadulterated fear. 

Words failed you, nothing summoned to the fronts of your mind to reassure him. So You stepped forward and threw your arms around his neck in a tight hug. 

Your cheek pressed against his, and his warmth enveloped you, held you tightly. His arms were slack at first, but you soon felt his arms wrap around your waist and hold you too. 

The silence lingered sweetly, a gentle touch to the moment you shared until he finally spoke first. 

“I’m sorry. For calling you stupid.” 

You were quick to shake your head. “Don’t apologize. I deserved it.” 

More silence. He held you still, never parting as the two of you breathed each other in. 

Your final words were just a whisper of everything you wished to speak to him. “I’m sorry too.”

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tysm for the love, comment if you'd like to be added to the taglist or if I forgot to tag you

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credit to @enchanthings for divider

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[whothehellismack]

CINEMATIC ACCIDENTS──CLARK KENT!

2025!clark kent x reader 1.9k fluff

!spoiler-free for superman (2025)!

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You just couldn’t shake it, no matter how hard you attempted to push it from your mind, it managed to float up from the deepest concaves. 

You hadn’t seen Superman since…that moment, yet you still felt that unfamiliar unrest within you. How your stomach churned from a bad stomach ache even though you hadn’t eaten anything all day. Or maybe like a fluttering that never wanted to stop. No matter how much you needed it to. 

A part of you however, a very very small part, leaned toward it. It rested right next to the memory, revelling in it, forcing you to live through it every time you let yourself get distracted. Forcing you to relive the way it felt, his breath mixing with yours, his warmth reaching out for you. The way he looked at you with a sense of freedom; as if his superhero persona melted away as he allowed himself to lose himself in you for the first time. 

Forcing you to wonder about the what if’s. What if you never pulled away like you always do. What if you let him–

“Is anybody home there?” 

It was a fantasy. A spur of the moment. Nothing more than that. 

You looked up to see Lois standing in front of your desk—for how long, you didn’t know. “I’m sorry, repeat that?” 

“Would’ve thought I was talking to one of Jimmy’s girls with the way you’re lost in the clouds,” she laughed. 

You frowned at that.  “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means,” Lois started, leaning on your desk, “I think something’s troubling you or, someone?”

Your eyebrows shot up, throwing your hands up in mock defence. “Wow, invasive much,” you joked. A terrible veiled attempt at diverting the subject. 

Lois saw right through it and you knew she did, but ever so stubborn, you stood your ground. Even though everything in Lois’ face told you she wasn’t believing it. 

“Right, if you insist,” she hummed, rising from your desk and giving it a quick knock. “Don’t forget the meeting in five.” 

You watched as the woman walked away from you, travelling across the room to where Clark stood over the printer. Your gaze lingered on him, sparking a sense of familiarity within you that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. Before you knew it, he was meeting your gaze. He didn’t wave, but he smiled softly. 

You only pursed your lips in a half smile. Not hostile, but maybe glaring down the guy whenever you saw him was harsh. And starting to get a little old. 

It didn’t last long, though. You broke contact first, pushing yourself away from the desk and gathering your things. 

“C’mon,” you spoke to Jimmy, pulling his chair away from the intern perched on his desk. “We don’t need Perry blowing a fuse over you being late. Again.”

He followed in stride with you, blowing a sigh of relief that you pulled him away from a conversation he got himself into for what felt like the fifth time this month. 

“I hear Perry’s looking to pass out a movie review again,” he chuckled.

“Oh god,” you groaned. “I might actually lose it if he chooses me.” 

The boy laughed, holding the meeting room’s door open for you. “Place your bets now.” 

The meeting went slowly as it always did, mostly spent with you and Jimmy passing notes back and forth until your name was mentioned. 

“The mayor was very pleased with the Superman anniversary piece, so good job.” 

“Thank you sir,” you nodded quietly, your face going warm with pride. 

“You worked hard this week, so I’ll let you take it easy. You and Clark will do the movie review…” he stopped to check his notes. “Always...You... Showings on Thursday. 7pm.  If anyone else has questions, my door is open as is my email.” 

Clark did not miss the way your left eye twitched when he looked at you with a very trying smile. 

Everyone has their faults and flaws and you certainly had yours—something your mother consistently reminds you of. What you had wasn’t arrogance, or selfishness—no, you were just plain stubborn. Any hill you had that someone wanted to knock you off of was a hill you wished to die on. Why? Because if you didn’t defend yourself, you found no one else would. 

And of course there were the few times where your stubbornness took reins over small petty things like whether or not you’d consider yourself friends with Clark Kent. 

A few months ago, anyone would’ve noticed your change in demeanor around the man. From your sudden loss of patience to the deadpanned expression you’d never usually give to Lois or Jimmy. But as of lately, there was the slightest change in air that some definitely notice, urging them to push you into being friends with the man now. 

‘Give people an inch and they push you a mile,’ you found yourself saying often. And of course you being you, you instinctively planted your feet to the ground. So no, you didn’t have a legitimate reason for not liking Clark. But you’d never admit that outloud, much less to yourself. 

Thus making tonight, sitting in a theater with him, alone, for at least 2-3 hours your absolute hell. 

The two of you stood outside the theater, the line extending farther back than you’d like. Each of  you sat in a painfully felt silence, either one waiting for the other to say something, but neither actually doing so. (You because you were much too stubborn and Clark because he didn’t know what to even say to someone who didn’t want to be there. 

So you only shuffled forward as the line grew only a tiny bit shorter. 

With a sigh louder than you intended, you threw up your hand, checking the time on your watch. 

From beside you, Clark cleared his throat, his eyebrows dipped down as he searched for his words. “Um, had I known Perry was assigning me to this I would’ve declined…I know this isn’t exactly how you’d like to spend your evening.” 

Looking up at him, you saw how he looked at you with his bright blue eyes, disappointment clear in them. Suddenly the Clark in front of you wasn’t the man who stole your article opportunities with his dumb dopey smile, but the man who gave you credit for his work. The man you offered you a tissue in the break room. The one who walked out with you so late at night. 

Fuck, now you felt bad. 

A small part of you wanted to strangle the man because ‘how dare he look so sad while you’re being so mean’.

You sighed. “No…I’m just being overdramatic…I’m sorry.” 

Clark blinked at you, almost shocked by your unprompted apology. “You’re sorry.” 

“For being rude,” you pushed out, testing the waters even more.

You pursed your lips together as you wrinkled your nose, practically forcing out words as if they burned.“I…don’t hate you…Kent.”  It came out more like a question if anything

When you finally finished, you let your hands plop down at your side, looking up to the man for his response. What you didn’t expect was a grin that slowly spread across his lips. 

“That was um, that was painful to watch, if I’m being honest.” 

“You know what,” with a huff, you turned away and crossed your arms. “I don’t even know wh–,” 

“Wait wait,” he chuckled, grasping onto your forearm before you could fully turn around. “Thank you. I- I should be the one apologizing, for letting my work overshadow yours. Multiple times. It wasn’t fair to you.”

It was like your brain stuttered, unable to process everything at once. You felt his hand touching you first, a wave of what felt like misplaced familiarity washing over you when you felt the soft warmth of his palm. Like reliving a dream you never knew you had, connecting it with a foggy memory. Reminding you of something you couldn’t put your finger on. 

The both of you stilled at Clark’s sudden confidence. But just as quickly as it happened, it ended, Clark dropping your hand and you pulling it away. 

Then his words caught up to you. 

“...thank you. I appreciate it.” 

Clark nodded, but the moment never quite faded, a newfound tension lying between you two. 

The line shuffled forward a little bit more, the pair of you closer to the ticket booth. 

“So,” Clark coughed in an attempt to revive the conversation and save the two of you from the soul killing silence. “Do you know much about this movie?” 

“Not really,” you trailed off. “Honestly it seems more like a cash grab with big actor names to me.” 

Clark hummed, finally approaching the ticket booth. “I guess we’ll see.” 

“Stop laughing at me, you’re so mean!” 

“I mean it’s kinda funny.” 

The chill of the night hit the two of you like a brick wall as you walked out of the dimly lit theater, both of your laughter spilling out into a mostly empty parking lot. 

“What part of me crying at a bittersweet movie is funny Kent?” 

The man grinned, suppressing his own laughter. “The part where you said you wouldn’t like it. Or maybe the fact that it wasn’t even the sad part you were crying at.” 

“It doesn’t have to be sad to cry,” you defended. “She thought she didn’t have anything worth loving. Then he went and listed every single trait he loved about her! That’s worth a few tears, Kent. If you disagree then you’re just heartless.” 

Clark smiled. “Well then who am I to disagree?” 

You realized it grew surprisingly dark as the two of you reached the parking lot. Clark looked to you, the same thought running through his mind. 

“It’s kinda late and dark,” he started, scratching the nape of his neck. “Do you mind if I walk you home? Peace of mind ‘n all.” 

You looked up to him, allowing a slow and rare smile to slip on your face. “I’d like that, yeah.” 

What you thought would’ve been a long and treacherous walk with him, bearable at best. You were unknowingly smiling the whole way through, even when the two of you stopped outside of your apartment building, smiling stupidly at each other. 

“I must admit, Clark, my night wasn’t absolutely terrible.” 

Clark only smiled, a highly pitched hum escaping him as he bit back a laugh. 

Your eyebrows dipped down in confusion. “What?” 

“No no, that’s just the–that’s…you called me Clark.” 

“That’s your name isn’t it?” 

He nodded his head, a rare teasing smile finding him. “It is. You just don’t call me Clark that often. It means you’re warming up to me, finally.” 

“Whatever,” you sighed exaggeratedly. “Don’t get used to it. I can decide not to like you whenever I want.” 

“Mhm,” he hummed, as you began into the building. “Good night.”

The whole way to the elevator you wore the same smile, letting your purse swing back and forth as you waited happily. But when the remnants of your laughter wore off and you were left alone in the silence, you became self aware of everything. Your giggle, your smile, the fluttery feeling in your chest. 

“Oh no,” you groaned, your smile dropping. “No no no.” 

The worst part wasn’t that you realized you liked Clark. 

No, it was that like a 13 year old schoolgirl, you realized you liked Clark. 

“Well fuck me.”

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[whothehellismack]

clark kent imagine——rivals to lovers

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Imagine you and Clark being the last ones to leave the office

He was finishing up on a long overdue assignment and you were overworking yourself like always. The lights were low and all that could be heard was each of your keyboards firing off as quick as they could go.

You’d stand up first. Not to leave, but to get more coffee from the break room. The moment you left your desk, his eyes would follow. 10 seconds after your silhouette disappeared into the room, he’d stand up and trace your movements.

“You know it’s not good to have coffee at night.”

You’d be hovered over the coffee machine, cursing it as it refused to turn back on.

“I wasn’t aware you were a doctor as well, Kent.”

Your words wouldn’t come off as snippy as they used to. Clark would notice a kind of softness formed around them, even if you didn’t notice. Or refused to notice.

“Stupid thing isn’t working anyways.”

He’d take a step towards you, standing next to you as you glared at the machine that was likely older than you. This was the closest you ever let him be next to you.

“Maybe it’s a sign then. It is kinda late.”

You’d look up at him, immediately being stricken with a sense of deja vu.

But for what, you couldn’t place.

“I’m not finished. I still have—“

“Work that’s not due until friday.”

You’d pause, your brain unable to come up with something sarcastic or witty for a millisecond longer than your typical.

“Stalking isn’t cute Kent.”

“It’s not stalking if everybody knows it.”

He got you there.

Didn’t mean you had to like it.

“Fine,” you’d groan, beginning back to your desk. “Whatever.”

You’d probably smack him if you saw the smile he wore as he followed behind you.

Everything would be quiet as you finally headed for the elevators for the night.

“Y’know,” he’d say quietly when the doors would close. “You’re just as apart of the team as any of us…no need to overwork yourself to prove it.”

Silence would fill the elevator, unable to find the right words.

“…I appreciate the sentiment Kent.”

Imagine not hating Clark Kent. Your brain wouldn’t admit it, but your heart knew

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Lil smthn smthn while I work on part 7, hope yall like it :)

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[whothehellismack]

MEDIC IN DENIAL──SUPERMAN!

2025!superman x reader 1.6k fluff-ish

!spoiler-free for superman (2025)!

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It was your day off. A day where you weren’t worried about pushing the next piece, or getting the next bit of evidence for an investigation, or even collecting an interview with the next in a long roster of people.

It was just you, your television, your phone, and an unhealthy amount of ice cream. 

At least until it wasn’t. 

A crashing noise on your balcony, jolted you from your comfort, knocking your ice cream to the ground and sending your spoon somewhere on the floor. However when you saw the red and blue heap from outside your balcony doors, they went ignored as you ran quick to action. 

When you saw him, crumpled into a pile on your balcony, your mind stuttered, unable to process the image of the city’s figure of greatness and immense strength beaten down. 

But when you heard the unmistakable sound of his groaning as he attempted to lift himself up, it was like a piece snapped itself into place, ushering you to rush to his side. 

“Oh my goodness,” you uttered, falling to your knees at his side to assess his damage. “Are you okay?” 

Instinctively, you reached to touch the place in his ribs where you could see he hunched over, hovering his own over. 

“I’m fine,” he winced, gingerly taking the hand that reached out for him as he pulled himself up to rest on the balcony window. “Just…sittin’ down a bit before I go back.” 

Almost on command, you heard the distant screams of what you could only assume was the persistent big bad of the week. The kind that would give Perry material for at least a week. 

Turning back to him, your heart broke at his pained expression. He gripped your hand tightly, but you could tell he was holding back, afraid of ever hurting you. “Isn’t there somewhere you go to heal? A base maybe?” 

“Go all the way back,” he shook his head stubbornly. “I’m fine, I just need a minute to catch my breath.” 

Your eyes tracked across his face, taking in all he endured. 

“Stay right here, okay.” You took his hand in both of yours, letting it ball into a fist as you pressed a chaste kiss to it before rushing back into your apartment. 

When you returned, you held a damp rag, once more falling to your knees and wiping away the blood that trickled down his temple. You could only force yourself to focus on the blood as he stared at you, his bright blue eyes seeming burning a hole into you with such concentrated gaze. 

Of course, almost as stubborn as you were, his first instinct was to lightly push your hand away. “Hey, hey, I’m fine, you don’t need to do this.” 

You only smiled as you pressed the cloth back to his face, most of the blood gone under your care. “Can’t fight with blood in your eyes Superman.” 

As you wiped up the last of the blood, you felt his hand snake up your arm, taking your wrist in his large hands. You knew he could hear your heart pick up pace. 

“Thank you.” 

“If Superman picks us up, who picks up Superman right?” He would’ve laughed harder if it weren’t for his bruised ribs. 

He wasn’t on the ground much longer. With his breath back and blood clear from his eyes, he stood over you once more for a final farewell. 

“Go knock some justice into them,” you smiled. “In one piece preferably.” 

Superman grinned. “Only cause you’re telling me.” 

In a quick movement, before your brain could even process it, he pressed a kiss to your temple. Short and sweet and leaving you dizzy on your feet. 

And he was gone before you even had time to question it. 

You knew you didn’t have any reason to worry. It was Superman afterall, the ever invincible hero of Metropolis with 18 months of undefeated battles now under his belt. There was no worry that he was hurt or injured or not coming back. 

Yet the feeling still settled at the pit of your stomach, making a home like sand at the bottom of the ocean. No matter what you did, watch TV, attempt to eat what was left of your melted ice cream, or even take a nap, you felt too sick to do it. 

All your body would let you do was sit and stare until you received some sign that he was okay. 

So when the recognizable sound of whooshing wind echoed in your ears, you felt that pressure rise into that gravity-defying feeling you’ve become accustomed to over the few months. 

“I’m glad to see you’re alive,” you joked, leaning on the door frame, arms crossed. “Whatcha got there?” 

He cradled a paper bag in his hand, watching you expectantly. “I noticed you spilled your ice cream. Might as well be a thank you.” 

Your smile was coy as you trailed outside, following him as he took a seat at the somehow still standing lawn chairs, facing the steadily arriving sunset. 

He was observant, you eventually came to realize, especially now as he pulled out your favorite flavor in a pint before placing his own sorbet in front of him. 

“Able to withstand a monster 50 times his size and even a metahuman with way too many abilities, yet the one thing Superman can’t stomach isn’t kryptonite, but dairy.” You grinned as you took a bite of your own. “Go figure. The headlines will go insane.” 

He chuckled, dipping his spoon into his own pint. “I’m not lactose intolerant if that’s what you’re implying. I just enjoy a tarter flavor.” 

You hummed, amusement sparkling in your eyes. “That’s what a lactose intolerant person would say.” 

“How can I convince you otherwise?” 

You tapped your spoon on the rim of your container, pretending to think hard over the new decision. “Drink 50 gallons of milk in the middle of the city. Then I’ll believe you.” 

His smile grew wide, tossing his head back to laugh. “Absolutely not.” 

“Okay then,” you sang. “Get ready for Daily Planet headliner: Superman? More like Super-Gassy.” 

He pointed his spoon at you, holding back another stream of laughter from falling past his lips. “I’m so glad you decided on journalism and not comedy. You’d be out of the job in hours.” 

You gasped, feigning offense. “Rude.” 

Superman smiled, enjoying the sight of you truly letting yourself laugh. “Speaking of, how has it been at the great Daily Planet?” 

A smile allowed itself on your lips. “Things are looking up for me for the most part. I’m the lead of this new project. Shockingly thanks to that one guy I told you about.” 

So focused on the beautifully setting sun, you missed the way the man’s spoon faltered over his cup, your words catching his attention. 

“Kent was it?” He didn’t typically take to asking questions about his alter-identity. It usually left him with some gut-eating guilt, like he was invading some sense of privacy. But sometimes his curiosity would beat him to the punch. “Are you finally coming around to him?” 

“No,” you blurted, rather bluntly, then taking to biting the inside of your cheek. 

He could almost read the bright flashing neon sign that screamed ‘LIAR’.

But he only looked away, taking another bite of his sorbet. “You know stubbornness only holds you back a lot of the time.” 

“I am not stubborn!” 

He raised a brow up at you. 

You sighed. “Fine, maybe a little. But not over this, okay. He’s just… less annoying than before.” 

He watched you, taking in the way you crossed your arms. At first as a display of disapproval, but now closing yourself off little by little from the topic. 

“What changed that,” he pushed. 

Silence ate between you two, waiting for the words that balanced on the tip of your tongue. You thought back to the breakroom. The phone call. The state he found you in. A hot ball of embarrassment burned in your chest. “...nothing. Like I said, he’s just less annoying now.” 

Liar. 

Superman said nothing. Only watched as you seemed to shrink in on yourself. Your smile dying as quickly yet as subtle as the dying sun right before you. Before the two of you knew it, you were bathed in nighttime again. 

“Well…I’m glad you have one less thing weighing you down.” 

Looking up at him now made you realize how close you were to the man. His arm brushed against yours and as the two of you locked eyes you felt the world below you abandon its stance steadying your feet. 

It felt unreal, like a dream where you fall with no promise of ever finding ground. The kind that shook you long after you woke up. 

“I think it’s getting late,” you uttered, forcing yourself to look away from him and slide out your chair. 

A breath left his lungs, disappointment clear on his face for just the few existing seconds before you turned back to him. 

“The criminals of Metropolis never sleep,” he joked forcefully, rising from his seat as well, mirroring the way you took a step back from him. “Have a safe night, okay?” 

You smiled, but it didn’t quite meet your eyes. “Okay.”

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tysm for the love, comment if you'd like to be added to the taglist or if I forgot to tag you

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[whothehellismack]

Ugh, I need this man

OPERATION: YOU [ 3 + 1 ]──CLARK KENT!

3 times clark “helped” + the 1 you said thank you

2025!clark kent x reader 2.2k hurt/comfort (?)

!spoiler-free for superman (2025)!

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A new week presented new opportunities and Clark was determined to get in good graces with you. Not because he felt he deserved it, but because a part of him—a large part of him—couldn’t stand only knowing you under the veil and short hours of night. 

Just as Jimmy said, "Forgiveness can be an uphill battle.”

[ 1—the replacement recorder ]

If you weren’t in a consistent state of being annoyed by Clark’s presence before, you definitely were now since Clark ruined your prized possession of a recorder. One that he eventually came to find out was the first one you bought, the moment you started at The Daily Planet. He remembered when Jimmy told him, you were glaring at him from the corner of your eye, pretending to be too busy to care about Steve guffawing in Clark’s face about the whole ordeal. 

Lois said she’d never seen him so red in the face and as much as he wanted to disagree, he knew it was true. 

So he spent the rest of the week hunting down the exact same version you had, even down to the color. And while it was hard, it wasn’t impossible. 

He wrapped it up nicely, folding its box into your favorite colors and held it with the utmost care as he made his way into the Daily Planet, this time standing just a little bit taller and smile shining a little bit brighter. 

But the moment he walked through the elevator doors, he knew something was wrong. Call it a gut feeling. When he rounded your desk, Cat and Lois stood around you, marveling at something you were presenting to them. 

“My sister-in-law just surprised me with it! I guess she heard my cries all the way from back home.” 

Peeking over Cat’s shoulder, he saw the shiny new recorder in your hand, even better than the one you originally had and likely better than the one the man bought you. 

“Oh! Clark,” Cat exclaimed, shocked to see him standing over her. “When’d you get here?” 

With a plastered-on smile, he tucked the gift behind his back. “Just now,” he breathed. “Didn’t mean to startle you.” 

His eyes naturally fell on you, watching as you narrowed your eyes at him ever slightly. “What’s wrong with you Kent?” 

Of course you were somehow the one to immediately pick up on his strange behavior, no matter how well he managed to cloak the disappointment in his eyes. 

But he only shook his head and took a stumbled step back. “Nothing,” he pushed out, his voice rising the octave. “Just curious I guess.” 

[ 2—the flower fiasco ]

Clark’s next attempt on you possibly seeing him in a better light included a flower shop not too far from where he lived. 

“Do you um, do you have any that say ‘I’m sorry” while also saying “Please don’t hate me.” 

The store was filled on every surface with various shades of different flowers and while Clark seemed to tower over the whole store, even when hunching down his height, he moved past each one with a gentle hand, terrified it would wilt at a single touch. 

“Well,” the employee smiled. “My first line of advice is to tell your partner that they’re right. Even if they aren’t, they are now.”

Clark’s eyes widened, quick to come to his own defense and failing as he stumbled over his every word. “What? No, no, it’s not, it’s not like that. It’s more like, it is like a coworker.”

She lifted a brow at the man, nodding in amusement. 

“Right,” she drew out. “ Well if you’re looking for something more in the apologies department then these should deliver the message.” 

Clark’s eyes almost sparkled when he set his eyes on them, wanting to reach out and touch them, but drawing his hand back. 

“Do you do deliveries?” 

When Clark arrived the next day, the flowers were already sitting on your desk, blooming somehow even brighter than they did before. But once again, your desk was empty. 

As he settled down, beginning on his own work, he watched as you made your way from one end of the office to the other and back, all morning long. 

“Jimmy,” you called as you passed your desk, scratching the nape of your neck. “Do you have the transcripts from the recent LutherCorp press conference?”

“Got it,” he called from his space. “Sending it over now!” 

“Actually,” you paused, coughing into the back of your hand. “Can you send it over to the printer? Perry needs it stat.” 

“Gotcha.” 

For the first time that morning, you plopped down at your desk, another cough forcing itself past your chest, making you hunch over as you caught your breath. 

“Woah,” Lois expressed, slowing down at your desk. “That cough doesn’t sound good. Are you coming down with something?” 

You shook your head, once more scratching at your neck. “Not that I know of. I was fine until this morning,” you wheezed.

Lois frowned, reaching for your hand and pulling it away, revealing the irritated rash growing on your neck. “Holy shit, your neck!” 

Your eyes widened wildly, freaked out by the woman’s sudden outburst. “What?! What’s on my neck?” 

With a quick but fumbling hand, Lois pulled out her phone and snapped a picture of it. “Are you allergic to anything,” she asked as she presented it to you, flagging down a nearby assistant. 

“Only–,” you cut yourself off, finally resting eyes on the vase situated on your desk. “When did that get here?” 

A younger boy you’d seen around the office was suddenly at your side. “Delivered to your desk this morning.” 

“That’s what I’m allergic to,” you wheezed out, your eyes watering. 

“Oh my god,” Lois muttered. “Call security to get rid of them.” 

“No need,” the boy said, swooping up the flowers and already walking off with them. “I’ll trash them now.” 

Turning back to you, Lois began to gather your things. “Here, take a break, go get some air.” 

You shook your head, stubborn as ever despite literally struggling to breathe. “I’ll be fine, it clears up fast.” 

But the woman wasn’t taking it. “Nope, go home, take extra time for lunch, whatever I don’t care. Go get some air and don’t come back until it’s cleared up.” 

Clark could only watch as she ushered you out of the building. With a frown, he wandered to the scene that just played out in front of you, seeing a note from the flowers.. 

‘Hope you don’t hate this apology as much as the first’ —Clark.

[ 3—celebrating superman ]

Clark had steered clear of your path since ‘the flower situation’ as he liked to put it. Maybe Jimmy was wrong about his approach to you, after all for every other woman giggling in his wake, there was at least one who hated his guts. After a while Clark tended to notice that as good as Jimmy was at starting bonds with people, mending them was not as easy for him. 

So he gave up. Not everyone liked him and he couldn’t control that. 

That’s what it meant to be human, right?

The end of the day was barralling in fast, most people wrapped up with their tasks for the day and preparing for the next few assignments for the next few weeks. That meant a meeting with all of your favorite people (note the sarcasm). 

“And finally,” Perry wrapped up. “Next week marks 18 months with Superman seemingly serving the people of Metropolis and to the mayor’s request, we’re doing a special piece to commemorate him.” 

From the corner of his eyes, Clark saw how you perked up to attention, excitement clear in your eyes at the new possibility. 

“We’ll need all hands on deck for this,” Perry continued on. “18 months, 18 quotes, 18 interviews. All with witnesses or people Superman saved personally. For the brilliant suggestion, Clark will be leading this project, any questions?” 

On a typical day with so many eyes on him, Clark likely would’ve given that smile that only read as humble and embarrassed, his ears going pink at the tip. But this time, all he saw was you from the corner of his eye. It was subtle, but that excitement in your eyes dissolved; reducing itself to a pursed smile and disappointment in your eyes. 

Clark was very rarely an impulsive person, more often than not thinking through his every action. But at this moment, he abandoned that notion. 

“Actually,” he coughed into his fist. “The idea was all their’s,” he motioned to you, confusion immediately flashing in your eyes. “I only spread the word. All credit should go to them.”

Clark looked to Perry first, measuring his options before speaking. “Very well. y/n? Will you be able to take the reins on this?” 

Your mouth fell open for just a moment before immediately collecting yourself. “Yes. Yes sir.” 

“Good. On that note, you’re all dismissed, details on the meeting for any one who misse…”

Perry’s words faded as Clark looked over to you, shocked to see you already looking at him, so many emotions dancing in your eyes. Confusion, gratefulness, confusion, pride. Confusion. 

Clark only humbly nodded at you, wordlessly telling you ‘don’t mention it.’

[  +1—breakroom breakdowns ]

The next few days had been…cordial. You weren’t having fun conversations with him, whispering instead of working, but you also didn’t seem like you wanted to storm out of a room he was in. It was progress. Ironically enough, accidental progress. 

He hadn’t been thinking of how he could make some great show of making it up to you. He just did. And you seemed all the happier from that last minute decision of his.

“Clark!” 

The man poked his head up, Perry standing above him with impatience rolling off him in waves, just as he always was. 

“Yes sir,” he exclaimed, his voice cracking as he pushed his glasses up his nose. 

“Where are they,” he questioned, motioning to your empty desk. 

He paused, recalling when he saw you leave last, coming up with nothing. “I’m, I’m not too sure.” 

Perry sighed, rubbing at his temple. “Go find them, I need the both of you in my office, preferably five minutes ago.” 

Clark turned to Jimmy once the man walked away. “Did you see where they went?” 

“Ummm,” Jimmy paused, thinking for a moment before his eyes landed on the break room. “I think they got a phone call not too long ago, so probably in there.” 

“Thanks Jimmy.” 

Now, Clark didn’t try to use his super hearing often, especially when he was Clark, but as he neared the breakroom, he couldn’t help but overhear you. First he heard the faintest sound of crying, like someone trying to hold it back desperately but failing. 

Then he heard a particularly loud voice over your phone. She sounded older and upset. 

“You’re selfish,” she shouted. “You always have been and I’m sick of you pretending you are some great hotshot with your fancy job that was handed to you. Your brother actually worked to get where you are. All you did was write until some newspaper decided it was mediocre enough to hire you as an assistant. God,” she scoffed, “You probably found some special way to get to your current position too.”

Clark hadn’t meant to just stand there and listen. He hadn’t even realized he was doing it until your eyes went wide seeing him standing there. 

Like a reflex, you turned away from him, immediately hanging up the phone. “What do you need Kent?” 

Clark bit the inside of his cheek, his words reluctant on his tongue. “Perry….Perry wants us in his office.” 

You sniffled. “I’ll be there in a minute, go without me.” 

Clark had always been stubborn. Without thinking, he approached you, pulling a tissue out of his suit pocket. “Are you okay,” he offered. 

You looked up at him with wide eyes then down to the tissue, tentatively slipping it from the man’s grasp. “Do you always have a perfectly good tissue in your pocket,” you joked. 

You were deflecting, Clark could tell, but it didn’t stop his heart from stuttering, knowing that it was the first time you hadn’t replied to him with some level of sarcasm or formality. 

“As fate has it, only when it’s needed.” 

And you smiled at him. It was short, quickly tucked away by the tissue as you wiped away any sign of your tears. 

“Let’s go,” you ushered, starting for the exit of the breakroom. “Before Perry blows a fuse or something.” 

He followed in step with you. From the corner of his eye as the two of you travelled to your destination, your head hanging lower than it usually did, your shoulders tight and your posture as a whole closed off. 

He’d never seen you make yourself so small. 

Approaching Perry’s office, he let you through first, hearing the quiet words you uttered to him: “Thank you, Clark.” 

He froze, his brain short circuiting as he processed your words. He felt his heart slam against his chest at them. Not because it was the first time you told him thank you, but because it was the first time you didn’t call him Kent.

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is it obvious i don't know how journalism works?

thank you so much for the love and support

don't forget to comment, like, and reblog! lmk if I missed you in the taglist or if you'd like to join!

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[whothehellismack]

I can’t wait until you let me choose another one of the prompts you have.

NIGHTTIME HAPPENINGS──SUPERMAN!

2025!superman x reader 1.4k fluff

!spoiler-free for superman (2025)!

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There was something beautiful about the night that Clark couldn’t help but love. Up above the sleeping city he cut across the cold night sky, his cape leaving a red streak amongst the stars. His world below melted together into a scene of soft twinkling lights, seemingly mimicking the sky above. 

So high above, Clark only felt peace, a final moment of silence as he awaited the next cry for help, but never finding it as the city finally rested.

But that’s not what he loved most about the night. What he liked most about it was you. 

Call them visits, chats, or interviews, ever since that first one he felt some kind of kinship to you. A comforting presence found behind your eagerness that told him he was understood. With you, it was no question of ulterior motives or a fear of turning against the people. 

He wanted to do good. And you understood that. You understood him. 

Even from the first interview. 

──about 18 months ago ──

You weren’t sure how late it was. You lost track of time the moment you came home from work at the cafe, your things abandoned at the door as you ushered to your computer. 

A week ago your blog would’ve looked entirely different, taking on a simple appearance with simple colors and likely filled with inconsistent topics from food recipes to celebrity life hacks. Now however, it took a bold new look, donned with red, blue, and yellow, pictures of the caped man, and filled with features of people recounting their encounter with Metropolis’ new hero: Superman (named by you of course). 

It was a hit, immediately flocking attention all throughout the city and more. It was just missing one more thing: an interview with Superman himself. 

That’s why you sat on your balcony, much later than your usual. You were slumped over in a cheap lawn chair, flashlight in hand as you shone it up straight at the sky. (You’d seen it in a comic book once and prayed your dollar store flashlight would do the trick). 

However, you were losing hope. Nighttime was well set in, the air only seemed to blow colder and harsher, and you were beginning to drift off. 

That’s when you saw it: a bright streak of red and blue splitting up the vast night sky. 

“If you’re calling for S.O.S. then your morse code could use some work.”

You sprung out of your chair as if a fire was set under your seat. “Superman!” 

He floated down gracefully, his boots touching the cold concrete of your balcony as you marveled at his presence once more. 

“Is that what the people are calling me now?” 

You shrugged, fighting back a smile as you feigned a cool composure. “Credit to your very own.” 

The man laughed, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s very…” he thought for a minute, “official.” 

You smiled, tucking your hands behind your back. “Are you? Official I mean or here to stay.” 

You watched as he stood impossibly taller with a sigh, an overwhelming aura of justice radiating from him even as he just stood there with his arms crossed. “So long as the people of Metropolis need help, I’ll be here.” 

The smile on your face somehow burned brighter on your cheeks. “How noble of you Superman. It’s very inspiring. To everyone, not just me.” 

He laughed, then nodded towards the computer seen through your balcony door. “Is that what people are saying on your page?” 

You turned around suddenly, seeing the new notifications illuminating the screen and displaying the latest picture of him you managed to steal before he flew out of sight. “You know about my page?” 

The man shrugged, “I’m not one for social media but I have friends who have mentioned it numerous times.” He gave you a once over, like he was reading you and your poorly hidden enthusiasm. “It’s impressive. I’m shocked you’re not with the Daily Planet the way you work.” 

You laughed, shaking your head. “Me? A reporter? I never really tried to go down that path.” 

He smiled, taking the smallest of steps towards you. “It suits you.” 

For just a moment, you forgot how to speak. Something in his voice, deep and larger than life yet so grounded. You could only imagine what you looked like, your mouth falling open then shut, looking for that next quip that slowly died on your tongue. 

“Well th–well maybe.” You stopped, clearing your throat as your face grew hot, embarrassed by your sudden stammering. “Maybe you can give me a push in the right direction.” 

You stood up straight, mocking a formal setting. “May I possibly get an interview regarding your recent biggest rescue?” 

You could see the amusement stretch across his lips, shining in his eyes at your question. “I’d love to be interviewed by you.” 

“Wait actually?” Your eyes widened, not actually anticipating the man’s response. “Um, give me one minute, I’ll get my phone to record.” 

Superman watched as you slipped past your sliding doors and frantically ran inside. “There should be another chair out there, feel free to sit if that’s your thing.” 

As he sat down, he heard you move around through your apartment—possibly including the sound of you falling. When you returned, you had a phone in one hand and a notebook in the other. 

With a slight shake in your hand, you placed the phone down on a table in between you two, pressing record. 

“Superman.” 

He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees and spoke your name like a declaration. It wasn’t the first time and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. 

It became a kind of routine, at first him stopping by once every few weeks for a few questions or an interview, but eventually it morphed into something more. They grew more frequent and eventually started losing the formality and anxiousness, trading it in with a casual air. The two of you became unlikely friends. 

When nighttime came and he did his rounds through the city, he sought you out, knowing whether or not he’d be with you based on if you sat in that lawn chair, watching the skies. 

Tonight was a little different though. 

Your lights were on and he saw the familiar flowing of curtains breezing out of the doorway—even if he’d told you numerous times to close your balcony door at night. You, however, were nowhere to be seen on that balcony. 

Curiosity reached him before hesitation, his boots softly hitting the concrete and trailing a few steps forward. There he got his answer. 

From his place outside, he could see you at your desk, slumped over your keyboard and completely sound asleep. 

He eyed the frame of your door. He’d been inside maybe once or twice, but never without your permission. After a tentative moment, he slid the door open wider and let himself in, shutting it carefully behind him. 

You were in your pajamas, your desk completely cluttered from pens, markers, to a few cups and a plate with utensils, likely from eating dinner at your desk and overworking yourself as always. 

With a quiet laugh, the man put himself to work, reaching for the dishes first. He delivered them to your kitchen slowly, forgetting his superspeed as he tried to move soundlessly. When he returned back to you, he began collecting everything from your desk, organizing how he remembered from all the other visits. 

Once finally clear, he looked over you. You were a surprisingly heavy sleeper, not budging an inch as he lifted you with ease from his chair to his arms. 

His eyes cast over your sleeping image, taking in how peaceful you were. All the stress washed over you as you quickly became comfortable in his arms. 

He almost immediately began missing the feeling when he placed you down in your bed and pulled the covers up to your shoulders. 

A piece of him only wanted to stay and forget about his duties for just one night. But he didn’t. And he couldn’t. 

Without thinking, he leaned down, pressing the softest kiss to your temple, relishing in the feeling of being around you.

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[whothehellismack]

I have words, but they’ll be sent in a text message

MEETING SUPERMAN──SUPERMAN!

2025!superman x reader 2.1k fluff

!spoiler-free for superman (2025)!

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Maybe today was just the worst day of your life. It started awfully when you realized you left your balcony door open, letting in so much rain water that your fresh laundry was now soaked. Then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, you slept through every single one of your alarms, making you more than late for your opening shift. 

You might’ve left with two left shoes had they not already been left by the door. 

“You’re late,” your boss grunted when you finally came in, quick to pick up the coffee order he was working on. “I had to open for you.” 

Ring ring ring. You see a lady at the counter, impatiently slamming her finger down over the bell for your attention. “Excuse me, I’m ready to order.” 

“Just a minute ma’am.” You plastered a smile on your face as you walked by her, following your boss as he began to gather his own things to leave. 

“I know I’m late,” you sighed. “I slept through my alarm and I accidentally left my bal–,” 

“I didn’t ask for excuses,” he interrupted. “You’re late, it goes on record. If it happens again I will fire you.” 

With that, he pushed past you, ignoring you as you followed sharply on his tail. 

Ring ring ring. “Excuse me! Ma’am! I said I’m ready to order!” 

“Just a minute ma’am, please!” You look to see your boss, nearing the Employee’s Only door, ready to flee. 

“Respectfully sir, I’ve shown up every single day I’ve been scheduled and more. I’m here, on time, every day and I’ve had no complaints from any customer. Is there any way you can give me a pass, just this one time?” 

When he finally stopped, you were rather met with the man’s stone face and a finger being pointed in your face. “You’re not special. You are not immune to the rules. If I need to replace you today, I will. If I need to replace you right this second, I will. See that I don’t have to and do. Your. Job.” 

With a final scathing glare, he grasped the door and slammed it shut, violently enough that the window of the door seemed to shake under the force; leaving you alone with the same woman ringing the bell incessantly. 

“Hello! It’s like I’m not even here,” she snarked when you finally met her at the counter, acting as if you weren’t on the verge of tears right in front of her. 

“I apologize for the wait ma’am ho–,” 

“I hope you’re not expecting some tip after this horrible service. This generation doesn’t know the first thing about treating a customer right.” 

On any other day, you might’ve found a way to ease the woman, offer a discount or crack a joke at your own expense, but instead, you plastered a thin smile on your lips. 

“Of course not ma’am, how may I help you?” 

At this point, you had decided it couldn’t possibly be any worse of a day, so you pushed on and let it move past you, flashing each customer the same smile and infuriatingly friendly ‘customer service’ voice. Maybe the universe would grant you some semblance of mercy. 

Ring ring ring

On goes the smile. 

“What can I do for you today, sir?” 

“All the money in the bag.” 

You froze, all color in your face draining as you looked up at the man. He couldn’t have been much taller than you, dressed in all black and a ski mask. From his hoodie pocket you could see the imprint of his hand gripping his weapon, finger wrapped around the trigger, prepared. 

“Don’t scream, just empty the register. Now.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you tried to recall anything on what to do if the store was to be robbed. 

You couldn’t remember a single detail. 

All you could remember was the one thing that would likely get you shot on the spot. “I can–I can’t.” 

Your hands trembled and you could feel the tears well up in your eyes as the man grew visibly angrier. 

“The fuck do you mean you can’t,” he hissed, grabbing the unwanted attention of some of the nearby customers. “Take the money out the damn register and give it to me!” 

“I can’t open the register without a key.” 

He grit his teeth angrily. “Where’s the key?” 

“In the–in the back.” 

You watched as the gears in his head churned, rationalizing his next few decisions. 

That is if a rational decision to him meant sending the mass of customers into a frantic chaos. 

With a grand show and display, he whipped out the gun, firing a warning shot into the air. But before anyone was quick enough to move from his path, he grabbed hold of a woman, pressing the gun into her side. 

“Get the key. Unlock the drawer and give me the money. Every minute you’re back there is another bullet.” 

You nodded your head frantically, practically tripping on your feet as you rushed into the back. Every second felt agonizing as your brain screamed at you how short a minute really was. 

On any other day in any other circumstances, you wouldn’t have dreamed of leaving the mess you were making, but it didn’t matter. Every inch of the place was flipped over until you finally got your hands on the tiny metal key. 

BANG

You jumped at the sound of the first gunshot, dropping the key on the ground. 

“Five seconds left,” you heard him scream. “The next one’s going through her!” 

In a trembling panic, you fumbled to pick up the key. 

Like a hummingbird trapped in a cage, your heart slammed violently against your chest as you shoved yourself through the doors, hands in the air. 

“I have it! I have it!” 

The man looked deranged as he shakily pointed the gun back at you. 

“Don’t shoot,” you attempted to reason, stepping closer to the register—and by proxy, him. “I’m unlocking the drawer and we can all move on like nothing happened.” 

You opened the register quick, the soft chime of coins being pushed around and the drawer sliding open feeling louder than ever. Your fingers trembled uncontrollably as you went for the big bills first. 

He kept the gun on you, his hold on the woman only tightening as his eyes twitched, flickering between you and the door, the windows, the street. 

Then you heard the wailing sirens. Quiet at first, maybe a couple blocks away, but they grew louder, nearing closer. 

The man stiffened, his eyes narrowing in on you. 

“Did you call them?” His voice, somehow just as threatening, was just a whisper to the thickly tense air. 

You shook your head. “I–I didn’t, someone outsi–,” 

Red and blue flooded into the cafe, painting all the fear on your face as you stared down the barrel of his gun. 

It all moved in slow motion, the noise reaching your ears before everything else caught up to you. BANG!

You saw his finger lay down on the trigger. You saw the anger on his face as his impulses took over. You felt the fear of death drown you in and overwhelm you. But you never felt the bullet. 

One minute your eyes were clamped shut, prepared for the painful impact. The next minute, your eyes peeled open to see a man. Tall, fearless, and dressed in red, blue and yellow. Like something out of a comic book. 

“Don’t worry,” he reassured, his voice deep yet comforting. “You’re safe.” 

In a blink the man was replaced with a large gust of wind, lifting your hair in a wild mess with you. 

When you looked back to the gunman, his hands were behind his back, bound by the man in blue. “No need to fear,” he assured the room, pushing the man towards the exit. “He’ll be in the hands of the police now.” 

Somewhere between then and him turning the man over to the cops, the room burst into applause, praising the mystery man in a cape. But you were completely and utterly stilled, watching as the man spoke with the policemen. 

“No ulterior motives, no prizes,” he explained to the officers. “All I want is truth, justice, and a better tomorrow.” 

You watched as he cut you one last look before disappearing into the sky. 

“All I’m saying dear is if you had a more stable job, an office job, none of this would’ve happened. You certainly wouldn’t have to worry about looking silly on TV.” 

Night came quick and all you wanted to do was collapse into your bed and forget everything that happened. Instead you were reaching into the second hour of a long extended phone call with your mother as you considered the height below you from your balcony railing

“Mom,” you groaned into the phone. “I’m not having this talk with you again.” 

“We’re not having a talk,” she exclaimed in a tone that suggested the two of you were definitely having the talk. “I just think if you went for something more practical like med school, not study how to write for 4 years.” 

“An English Writing degree is practical mom.” 

“Sure,” she hummed. “For a teacher. I don’t see you applying for any teaching jobs anytime soon. All of your time is spent on that silly blog that no one’s reading anymore. Your brother says you’re running out of material.” 

You sighed, hanging your head over the balcony. “I should turn in for the night. Goodbye mom.” 

You could practically hear her shaking her head at you disappointingly. “Good night dear.” 

With a final click, you shoved your phone in your pocket. Somehow, your headache only worsened since you left work. Because of course it wasn’t the cops interviewing you or being robbed or being held at gunpoint that stressed you out the most, but your mother questioning your life choices. 

You groaned loudly, borderlining a scream if it wasn’t for your neighbors as you ran your hands across your tired face. 

“Long day?” 

You gasped, stumbling back and falling onto the ground below you at the sudden sight of the red caped man hovering in front of you. 

“It’s you,” you squeezed out, crawling backwards in shock as he landed softly on your balcony. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you like that.” 

You watched as he held out a hand for you, towering above you. 

This couldn’t be real. You had to be hallucinating. 

“It’s…okay,” you mumbled. You hesitated, scanning his hand as if he’d magically reveal something from it. To your surprise, it was soft, gentle, not what you were expecting from such a grandiose man. 

With little to no effort, he pulled you up to your feet, allowing you to catch yourself on his arm when you stumbled forward. 

“I never got to see if you were okay after today. Imagine to my surprise I see you on your balcony when I fly by.” 

“Fate, perhaps,” you breathed, a part of you still stunned and amazed by the marvel of this man in front of you. “I’m sorry for asking but, who are you?” 

He tilted his head off to the side, measuring his words. “A humble protector of my city. Nothing more.” 

You nodded slowly, taking in his words. “No title, or superhero name? You’ve already got the cape.” 

He smiled. And not a half smile or forced, plastered on smile, but a bright shining smile that only made sense for a man like him. “I haven’t given it much thought. I suppose the people will name me on their own.” 

He was genuine. Something in you could just tell. 

“One more question,” you blurted. 

He lifted his eyebrows, curiosity piquing his interest. 

“Why?” 

You watched as his brows furrowed back down, not quite understanding your question. “Why?” 

“I mean, the world has had its fair share of magically powered people. Not many of them have wanted to do what you’re doing…Why are you doing it?” 

You watched him, studied him as he conjured up some semblance of an answer. “Because I want to see a better tomorrow. And unlike most, I actually have the power to change it. So why not use it?” 

Once again you found yourself nodding slowly, entranced in his every single word, striking you right to the heart. “I for one can’t wait to see it then.” 

The man only smiled, taking his few steps back. “You stay safe.” 

In a gust of wind he was gone, his blue and red losing itself into the night sky. And you watched and waited until his presence faded. 

With an excited grin, you practically threw yourself to your computer, opening the 'silly little blog' your mom couldn’t help but shoot jabs at.

 You thought back to the man, everything you remember about him. Something about his presence just screamed super. Super grand, super humble, super charming. Super handsome. But most of all, a superhero. A real one. 

TRUTH, JUSTICE, AND A BETTER TOMORROW

It was a seemingly normal day at work when a man named Superman saved my life. 

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[whothehellismack]

I love you BUT YOU JUST STARTED THIS

Good job though

CHRONIC WORKAHOLIC ──CLARK KENT!

2025!clark kent x reader 1.2k fluff rivals to lovers

!spoiler-free for the 2025 Superman movie!

You’re not an impatient person, you just hated waiting—at least that’s what you tried to convince anyone who witnessed your impatience. You always had your tells and being around reporters whose job was to pick up the small details, most of your coworkers and colleagues knew when you were getting antsy. 

Your left eye would twitch, you’d start chewing whichever was convenient, your thumb or your pen, you’d begin bouncing your leg or tapping your foot, and most notable, the sighs. 

“Alright,” Lois sighed. “I’ll crack. What’s wrong,” 

You cut her a short glance from your computer and shook your head from where it was propped on your hand. “Just peachy.” 

“You’re a terrible liar.” Lois watched as you did essentially nothing, your cursor floating in circles on your screen. 

You looked up at the woman now leaning on your desk and with a final loud sigh you pushed the mouse away and leaned back in your chair. “Perry has yet to approve the article on Superman and it's been,” you checked a nearby calendar, “three days. Nothing. Goose-egg. Big fat zero.” 

Lois hummed in thought. “Did you finish writing that review for the new movie?” 

“Finished and approved on Thursday.” 

“Interview with the Metropolis cop that caught the Gotham inmate?” 

“Fully transcribed for Jimmy to write his piece," you sighed. 

“Extremely thorough by the way,” the boy piped up, swiveling his chair to face you from across the aisle. 

Lois frowned. “Even the article on the botched scoreboard for the sports section you were complaining about the other day?” 

You looked over to the woman with only a deadpan. “Take a fine guess, Lois.” 

“Overachiever alert,” Steve whistled as he passed by. 

Your frown deepened. “Better an overachiever than an underachiever, Steve. How’s that article on the new high school you were supposed to finish a week ago?” 

You wore a triumphant grin when the man ducked his head behind his coffee mug. 

“Sounds like you’re done for the day then,” Lois hummed. “Why don’t you take it easy then?” 

Jimmy laughed out, wheeling his chair out to sit next to yours. “A world where they’re ‘taking it easy’ is a world that doesn’t exist Lois.” 

“See! Jimmy gets it.” You motioned to the boy, eyes wide. “I was literally hired because I write about Superman, yet I haven’t seen a single streak of red, yellow, or blue across my screen under my name for weeks. Make it make sense Lois.” 

Lois didn’t look like she heard a single word of your rant though. Rather she was on her phone, reading a new notification. “Well,” she trailed. “If you stop your dramatic monologues for one minute, you’d see the latest Superman has been published.”

You sat up quickly, fumbling for the mouse to pull up the newest article. 

“Superman saves dozens in a near plane crash,” you read aloud. “Published by…Clark Kent.” 

You fell back into your seat, letting out a sigh of both defeat and disappointment as you crossed your arms. 

“Yikes,” you heard Steve snicker from his desk. 

Jimmy smacked you lightly with a newspaper. “Better luck next time I guess.” 

You looked up to Lois. “I don’t get it. When did he even write for Superman this week?” 

“Turned it in last night,” a new voice spoke up. The object of all your impatience and annoyance. “Why did I miss something?” 

He scowled at him as he stood there in all his innocence as if he didn’t just steal your article again. 

“Long lunch today, huh Clark,” Lois questioned, pushing herself off your desk and walking towards the printer. 

“Bad traffic today,” he coughed. “Some monster terrorizing the city again, y’know the routine.” 

You frowned and squinted at the man. “Traffic? Since when do you have a car Kent?” 

You watched as he stammered over his words yet again. “Foot–foot traffic, I mean.” 

Before any more questions could be thrown his way, he took place in his seat, directly across from yours. “I didn’t miss anything, did I?” 

“Nothing of importance, Kent,” you hummed tiredly, taking your position back with your chin propped on your head and looking for something else to work on. 

You lived alone and you liked it like that. It meant everything got to move at your own pace and no one could butt in or judge you for how you live. 

It also meant that you didn’t have anyone to force you to stop working. 

“It’s getting awfully late don’t you think?” 

Scratch that, you definitely had one person pestering you about that, but at least he wasn’t a roommate. 

From your personal desk, you swung around in your chair to see a man dressed in red, blue and yellow standing on your 11th floor balcony. You had left the sliding door open, in hopes the super would possibly fly by while taking rounds through the city. 

At first you greeted him with a smile, then it shifted into a half-meaned frown. “I don’t think you’re invited tonight Superman,” you crossed your arms and leaned in the doorway. “I’m kind of upset with you tonight.” 

The grand man grinned, mimicking your crossed arms. “Oh yeah? What for, miss?”

“Favoritism.”

He stepped forward, sizing you up as he shifted his arms from his chest to his hips. “I love each and every single one of Metropolis’ citizens equally.” 

You pushed out a laugh. “But clearly not the reporters. Mister ‘I suddenly love giving interviews to Clark Kent instead of me’.” 

Superman wrinkled his nose and smiled. “Quite a long and unusual name.” 

“I’d kill you if I could,” you deadpanned, only encouraging his amusement. 

“I’m sure you would.” 

Your deadpan didn’t last long of course. You found something about his laugh contagious. If he was smiling, it was hard not to be smiling yourself. 

“So,” he eventually sighed, leaning against the railing of your balcony. “What keeps you up so late?” 

You looked back at your computer, a bright image of Clark’s approved article on your screen. “Finding a way to strike revenge,” you cringed, squeezing your shoulders up with a plastered smile. 

He only flashed you his same amused smile. “Let me guess…the infamous coworker?” 

“Who else,” you groaned, throwing your head back. “He’s just so infuriating, I mean he shows up late, turns in an article he wasn’t assigned to late, and continues on with his stupid dopey smile without a care in the world with his sweet-boy Kansas accent.” 

“He sounds like a pleasure,” Superman teased. 

“You’d wanna punch him, trust me,” you mutter, more to yourself if anything. 

“Actually, I don’t wanna punch anyone.” 

You roll your eyes and smile at the man, clearly getting a sense of enjoyment from your rambling. “It’s okay Superman, you can drop the Good Samaritan act around me. We’re off the record and I’m shockingly good at keeping secrets.” 

You watched as he laughed and pushed himself off the railing. “How about this,” he offered. “For the next week, only getting interviews from you.” 

You grinned, putting your hand forward. “Sounds like a plan.” 

He chuckled and grasped your hand, shaking it just for your own entertainment. 

“Now you should turn in for the night,” he declared, taking an exaggeratedly boisterous voice. The kind he used when he was really trying to lay it on thick. “Someone tells me you’ve been overworking yourself.” 

You smiled as he flew off with a large gust of wind that surely ruined your hair, but you didn’t care to check as you slid the balcony door shut.

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[whothehellismack]

“But you didn’t stay. And he didn’t follow.” Ok, keep stabbing me in the heart ig

let me love you | remus lupin x plussize!reader

content warning: fatphobia comments with language, verbally abusive ex, body image issues, negative mirrors, self-worth issues. IF THESE TOPICS ARE SENSITIVE TO YOU, KEEP SCROLLING AND TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF <3

Includes: heavy denial (on readers end), remus being a major flirt, marlene being a darling roommate, hurt/comfort

credit to @enchanthings for the border

A line was beginning to be blurred between you and Remus. It was unspoken, yet well defined in its beginning. On each side, the two of you sat, best friends since forever without ever crossing that line. 

That’s what made the two of you work. It’s how you stayed friends for so long. Before James, Sirius, and Peter, before Hogwarts, even before the glow of the full moon became something to fear. 

“Pieces of a puzzle.” someone once told you. Puzzle pieces don’t overlap, they stay behind their line where they know they fit perfectly. 

That fine line that existed between you and Remus was beginning to become blurred and it was all his fault. 

You weren’t the risk taker in the friendship. That was him. You preferred to stay within your line where you knew no one would hurt you. 

What luck that did for you. 

“Hullo dove.” His voice was hushed as he sat next to you at your designated study spot, pressing a soft kiss on your cheek. 

It was quick and casual, you might’ve missed it. But you didn’t. Your cheek burned where he touched you as you looked at him, shock and hesitation in your eyes. He however didn’t pay it any mind, as if he kissed all of his friends on their cheek in the same way.  

“What was that for?”  

His brown eyes met yours, seemingly admiring you before tilting his head to the side teasingly. “I’m not allowed to show you any love?” 

Something in the way he stared at you forced your eyes into his, no matter how much you felt the need to look away. “Uhm, no it’s.” 

You paused as you realized he was nearing you, leaning in as his teasing grin only grew on his lips. He was enjoying seeing you stumble over your words. 

“Surprised me,” you finally settled on, your voice pitching up to your dismay.“That’s all.” 

Finally deciding you spent long enough tripping over your every word, you stiffly turned back to your work, flipping through your schoolbook. 

With another taunting laugh—taunting to you at least—you felt as he swiftly reached under your chair and dragged your chair, and by proxy, you closer into his space. 

All you could feel was the sudden flames in your stomach, combust inside of you. You couldn’t even bring yourself to look up at him. If he knew anything about you, he’d be able to suss out your blushing expression quickly. 

“C’mon,” he mumbled, the soft breeze that was his breath brushing against your neck as he peered over your shoulder. “James stole my book, we’re gonna have to share.” 

You could only push out a hum of a response as you inched the book towards him. 

“Hey.” His voice was soft as he lightly grasped your chin between his pointer finger and thumb. You felt your breath still and your lungs somehow felt like they were freezing over and burning at the same time. “Is that okay with you?” 

Every inch of you was burning alive, hyperaware of everywhere he touched you; terrified of any movement you could possibly make. 

You saw the way he stared at you, flickering across your face so quickly that you could’ve dreamt it. Maybe you did. 

“Okay, Romeo,” you scoffed and rolled your eyes, pushing his hand away. “Yeah it’s fine.” 

You pushed the book closer to him, putting more distance between the two of you. You missed the disappointment that flashed in his eyes, stiffly tucking his hands in his lap.  

“Why wouldn’t it be?” 

You prayed he didn’t see the way your hands trembled for the next hour. Remus Lupin was going to be the death of you, you just knew it. 

In each dormitory came one large mirror for each resident to share. It was there you spent much of your time. You had heard one of your roommates mumble about you being self-obsessed and vain with how long you’d spend just inspecting your appearance. 

Vain was the very last word you’d use to describe yourself. 

Clothes were strewn across your bed, your uniform long discarded as you stepped in and out of outfits, not quite content with how you looked. 

As of now, you only stood in a sweater and a thick pair of tights, a glare fixated on the reflection of your thighs. 

“Did a niffler get into the room?” 

You didn’t have to look up to know which roommate of yours it was. 

“Hi Marlene.” 

You watched in the mirror as she threw herself in your bed, watching as you ripped off your sweater and tossed around more clothes. “Hey babes, you got a date or sumthing I don’t know about?” 

You snorted, not even looking up at her. “You’re funny Marls.”

She tilted her head to the side, her eyes quizzically studying you. “I know I’m funny. I didn’t make a joke, though.”

You cut her another glance once you threw another sweater on. “You know what I mean.” 

A knock at the door cut her off before she could push further. “It’s Remus. Just letting you know I’m ready to go when you are, love. No rush.”   

You could practically hear how Marlene whipped her head back over to you. “You’re going out with Remus! Why didn’t you say anything?”

You huffed at her as you shimmied into your skirt. “I’m not going out with Remus. We’re just going to be out. As friends.” 

You could see Marlene throw her head back with the most exaggerated groan. “The dramatics with you two. You both clearly like each other, just make out and call it official already!” 

“Quiet down,” you hissed, terrified of raising your voice loud enough for him to hear. “Remus does not like me.” 

Marlene was kneeling on your bed now, her eyes squinting as she studied you once again. “But you like him…? You didn’t deny that part.” 

Your silence was exceptionally loud to Marlene as you crossed the room, gathering your things.  “So what if I do?” 

“So what if you do,” she repeated, bewildered. “The poor boy clearly likes you too. Why not do anything about it?” 

“Right,” you snapped, “ because the last time I acted on my feelings it went so well.” 

That silence that hovered over you struck the girl; only able to speak your name first, softly to the air before she climbed out the bed and made her way to you. “Remus is not Zacharius. You of all people know that.” 

You frowned, turning away from the girl. “I never said he was. I just…I just think Remus deserves someone who fits him better okay? I’m not that.” 

Marlene couldn’t find anything to say to that. Not because she believed it true, but because she could see how deeply you believed it. 

With a forced smile, you whisked open the door expecting to only see Remus and not the bright bouquet of flowers gripped tightly in his hands. Your mouth fell open as he wordlessly presented them to you, allowing you to carefully grasp them as if they were to wilt at the smallest touch.

“What are these for,” you asked, your brows pinching together in disbelief. 

He shrugged, rocking back and forth on his feet. “I found those in the greenhouse. Reminded me of you.”

Your lips lifted in a hesitant smile, unsure of what to even say. “Well now I feel like I have to get you something in return,” you finally push out with a breathy laugh. 

You were once again rendered frozen as he tucked a piece of your hair behind your hair. “Just keep being you. That’s a gift enough.” 

You might’ve fallen to the ground if you weren’t gripping so tightly onto the doorframe. As cliche as it was, you could feel the butterflies released through your stomach, fluttering about and making you feel dizzy. 

“You’re too sweet Remus.” You pivoted on your feet, placing the flowers carefully onto your bed. But your smile wilted the moment your back was to him, the butterflies with it. You could feel Marlene’s eyes on you as you hesitated, a hand still rested on the flowers before pulling it back.

Marlene only watched as you left with that denial-ridden smile that never quite meet your eyes. 

You knew Remus. You knew his likes and dislikes, what made him laugh and what irked him. You knew that Remus, your Remus, was nothing to fear. 

Despite all this, your hands still trembled when he neared you. Your breath still stopped and stuttered when his warmth reached out for yours. Your brain still went empty when he insisted the two of you walk arm in arm down the icy path through Hogsmeade. 

A year ago this time, this would have come easy to you. Perhaps some conversation passed between the two of you or even some game like I Spy. But now, all thoughts of how to function around this boy that you knew so well, abandoned you. 

You were struck utterly silent as the two of you took to watching third years throw snowballs at each other and run into their unchaperoned freedom. 

At least that’s what you were watching. 

He was watching you. He always was. And he always wondered how you didn’t see it. 

Not just his eyes admiring every aspect of you, but how long they’d shone such admiration. Surely you noticed that newfound gleam in his eyes that the boys complained endlessly about. The involuntary smile that slipped onto his lips whenever he saw you. 

Maybe you never would.

“Broomsticks?” 

He blinked. “Sorry?” 

“Do you want to go into The Three Broomsticks? Warm up some.” 

His smile slipped onto his face easily, shaking away the everlasting thoughts of you that loomed over his head. “Always with you.” 

One look inside the pub you could see that you and Remus weren’t the first ones to think of heading in. It was nearly packed from wall to wall with students and the normal guests, all clamouring for the bartender's attention or ushering for a seat before there were none left. 

“Here love,” he leaned so his breath brushed against your ear. “I’ll get our drinks, you snag a table and I’ll find you, yeah.” 

With a nod and smile, you braved the crowd, trying not to push people to get passed. But the deeper you went into the pub, it proved itself a nearly impossible task. 

Every aisle and table you tried to pass through became what you would deem your worst nightmare with every single chair pulled out as far as possible, leaving you very little to walk through. 

“Excuse me,” you uttered much too quietly as you attempted to squeeze between two louder tables. 

“Keep moving! You’re taking up the path!” 

Heat prickled needles up your neck and all across your face at the person shouting behind you. Your lungs felt like they were burning again, but not like how it did with Remus. It burned with embarrassment as a few of the people from the table turned to your attention. 

You saw the mix of reactions: pity, disturbed, annoyed. 

The feeling only burned louder and brighter when they scootched their chairs closer to their table to make room for you. But you pushed on, rushing out of the aisle and stepping aside to let the man walk ahead of you. 

He didn’t say thank you, he didn’t even apologize. He only pushed past you and with a scoff, “Fatass.”

He hadn’t said it out loud, nor even directly to your face, but it didn’t stop the feeling of the words branding itself onto you for everyone to you. 

Yet you still pushed on. The rest of the time you spent looking for a table went by like a blur, one moment standing in the middle of the pub, drenched in embarrassment, the next sitting at a small table fidgeting with your hands, waiting for Remus. 

He wasn’t far from where you sat; he found you easily. His eyes settled on you from where he was waiting in line, two or three people in front of him. With a broad smile, he waved at you. 

You only smiled back at him, stiff and plastered as you tried to shove away the way your heart wouldn’t calm down. Or how your entire body seemed to betray you, growing hotter and your stomach twisting up painfully. 

But of course the universe wasn’t done with you quite yet. 

Had there been less people you would’ve been wise enough to choose somewhere else to sit, but the only place you could find was right next to a large table of Ravenclaw boys, a certain Zacharius Pritchard seemingly at the center of the table as quiet as he always was. 

Which meant he was likely one of the loudest people in The Three Broomsticks. 

You ducked your head into a menu, praying you could disappear into the background, but you still managed to feel the burning sensations of eyes on your back. 

“Oi mate! Isn’t that your ex?” 

“Merlin,” you heard him groan loudly with a laugh. “Don’t remind me.” 

You refused to turn around. 

“Not the best looker, eh. Looks twice your size, Pritchard.” 

You began to look for the nearest exit route, planning the quickest and quietest way you could possibly bolt out. 

“What made you even go for it in the first place?” 

You heard him laugh as if he was telling some great entertaining story. “Get this, they were the closest I could get to Veronica Corbyn who was desperate enough to think I actually wanted them. Listen, you have to take every single window of opportunity to get what you want, gentlemen, no matter how…well,” he snickered to himself, “large.” 

You sunk deeper into your chair, your jaw grit impossibly shut as you pinched your arm in hopes of preventing the tears from falling. 

You peeked your head up once, looking for Remus, but he was still there, stuck at the bar behind what looked like an argumentative patron. 

“Funny seeing you here.” 

You felt everything in you freeze and your gut drop to the bottom of your stomach. It was, however, the one time your body didn’t feel like it was utterly betraying you. In an instant, all semblance of tears pulled itself back from falling and your lips pursed into an annoyed grimace.

“Pritchard,” you spit out as he pulled a chair up right next to you and threw an arm over your shoulders. “What do you want.”

“Less hostility would be nice,” he snarked. “Did you lose weight? I can’t tell, I forgot my glasses.” 

“Fuck off. That seat’s not yours.” 

He only grinned. “Right, cause you’re on a date? With whom, I’m curious.” 

You could’ve burned a hole into the wall with how fiercely you were glaring at it, avoiding his eyes. 

“Wait,” he laughed. “Don’t tell me…it’s Lupin izzn’t it?” 

You grit your teeth tighter. 

“That is so cute. Merlin knows you’re obsessed with the poor bloke. I’m shocked he hasn’t tried to pry you off already. Must be pity.” 

“What do you want, Pritchard,” you demanded with a final snap. But that didn’t stop the tears that pricked at your eyes. They rimmed red, doing very little to hide the vulnerability from the grinning boy. 

He only pursed his lips and shrugged innocently. “Bored.” 

Any and all thoughts of a swiftly quiet exit flew out the window as you loudly shoved your chair back and began a storm out the door, catching the attention of most of the patrons, including Remus. 

“Woah woah,” he called, abandoning his spot in line to follow behind you. “What’s wrong? Where are you going?” 

“Back to my dorm,” you scoffed. 

The two of you were in the snow when he finally managed to grasp your arm, tugging you to a stop. “Love, talk to me.” 

“Stop it Remus, just stop!” Your cheeks fell freely down your cheeks as you finally turned to face the boy, yanking your arm from his hold. 

The two of you stood in the snow now, isolated from the crowd and exposed to the cold, snow, and nearly deserted street. 

“Stop what?” 

It was rare you saw him like this. Worried, scared, scolded, confused. It wasn’t an emotion usually reserved for you. 

“This! All of this! The kisses and touching my hair and, and the flowers! You’re not my boyfriend Remus so stop acting like you are.” 

Your words stabbed through his chest and you could see it in his eyes. But you didn’t stay. And he didn’t follow. 

It was nearly three in the morning when you finally left your room. Marlene had stayed in your bed that night, holding you as you cried while giving you the courtesy of not asking any questions. 

But eventually she fell asleep and you didn’t, so you slipped out the room and ignited the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room. 

It was peaceful, for once. The soft sound of the fire cackling and finally being alone. Your thoughts roared on despite the momentary peace. Thoughts of words you wouldn’t dream of verbalizing in front of Marlene unless you wanted to be scolded. 

Typically you’d shove it down, ignore it, think of something else. But now you only had the energy to let it sit and weigh you down. 

“The boys really let him have it.” 

Your eyes snapped up, taking in Remus’ sudden presence at the base of the stairs leading towards his own dormitory. 

You frowned. “I didn’t ask you to do that.” 

He rounded the couch slowly, measuring the steps he took to you before he was standing above you. “I know.” 

He sat down, putting a distance between the two of you and facing the fireplace. It was quiet, him studying the fire and you studying him. Gone were the flirtations and charms. He was laying himself out for you to observe in full. 

“I really like you.” 

Your mouth fell open and your breath stuttered over itself, but he continued on. 

“I like you so much. And I don’t want to assume whatever you’re feeling but I thought you liked me even though,” he paused, biting the inside of his cheek, “even though you pull away every time.” 

You could feel the way your throat pained, words, tears, and every single emotion clogged in. “You don’t like me Remus.” 

You watched as he turned to you, brows furrowing downwards. “I didn’t know you were a dictator over my emotions.” 

“I’m not,” you scoffed out in a laugh. 

He was fully facing you now. “That’s what it sounds like to me!” 

“I’m saying it because I know, Remus,” you released with a huff and incredulous laugh. “I’m not what guys like you want. I’m not the kind of person someone spots from across the room and falls in love with. I’ve never been. I’ve gotten hurt trying to convince myself otherwise. Not all of us are made to fall in love and that’s okay. I’ve accepted it.” 

You watched as he slowly shook his head, left to right. That was the reaction you anticipated, but the tears in his eyes were not. The hurt that shone through as if these words were directed at him and not you. 

“That’s not true…” 

“It is Remus…if you don’t realize it now you will eventually and then you’ll regret ever trying…” you shrugged and motioned between the two of you, “this. And our friendship will be ruined. I can’t lose that. I can’t lose you.” 

You hadn’t noticed the single tear that strayed from your cheek. All you could see was him and everything he wasn’t saying. The way his mouth hung open, searching for words and coming up with none. The way it looked like he stopped breathing and someone ripped his heart out of his chest.

“Good night Remus,” you whispered, beginning to push yourself off the floor. “I’d really like it if we just forgot the last 24 hours.”

But you stopped when you felt the warmth of his hand, wrapping around your wrist, anchoring you back down to your spot. 

“I don’t want to do that.” 

“Remus–,” but he cut you off. 

“Look at me.” 

You paused. “I am looking at you.” 

“No,” his voice somehow steady. Not demanding but pleading. “Look at me.” 

He held your hand like it was china, carefully and with a fragile hand as he led it to him. A shuttered breath escaped you as the palm of your hand touched his arm, thumb tracing his first ever permanent scar. 

“Do you remember when I showed you this scar? It was a week after I turned for the first time. I ignored you that entire week and planned to do it until you gave up on me. Do you remember what you told me?” 

Your eyes stayed over the three slashmarks streaking up his bicep. You remained quiet. 

“You told me that being a werewolf doesn’t take away you being my friend.” 

His hand moved yours higher, trailing up to the scar across his chest, peeking out from under the crewneck he wore. “I’ve had these scars for years and they will continue to stay for so many more. Do they make me any less worthy to love?” 

Your eyes abandoned where your hands laid. Your eyes met his, greeting all he had to feel for you. Greeting the honey brown illuminated by the burning fire. 

“To love you?” 

His hands were no longer on yours, rather wiping the tears that fell freely down your face. Your own hands continued its journey, across his chest and brushing lightly against the base of neck, tracing his scars. 

“Do they make you love me less?” 

“No,” you breathed. It was the only word you could muster up. 

His other hand found your face, cupping it like he held the most valuable thing in the world. “Then let me love you. Every inch of you in the way you deserve.” 

Upon the thousands and thousands of words you could think of to tell him what you felt, all of them failed you. All you could do was wordlessly nod. 

And when his lips met yours, there were no fireworks, or confetti, or even butterflies. It was only him. 

please! comment, like, reblog, it means so much to me

@whothehellismack @casp1an-sea @mack-writersblock

you are loved, you matter, you are worthy <3

[whothehellismack]

You’re right

@whothehellismack

[whothehellismack]

I already hate you (I say lovingly)

@whothehellismack

[whothehellismack]

I do know

And I apologize on their behalf

cackling about all the angst I'm gonna write

@whothehellismack knows

[whothehellismack]

Sooo, continue this rn

first times a charm | regulus black x gn!reader

contains: light language, brief moments of harassment, tall heights, jokes about jumping from said height, underaged drinking, mentions of alchol consumption, fluff

credit to @enchanthings-a for border

summary: You never imagined yourself acquainted with the forbidden topic that was your best friend’s brother. You weren't even supposed to have been on the Astronomy Tower that night. But you were. And from there this mess unfurled.

In the middle of a crowded room where the music ran loud, the people pushed for dancing space, and the disgusting heat breathed on every inch of your skin, you stood completely still. 

The first half hour or so was fine for you. You celebrated James and his win for the Gryffindor team with a drink or two, surrounded by all of your friends. But as time passed on, more people pooled into the common room. 

You lost your friends to the crowd and you were nearly drained of your social battery. Unfortunately for you, a certain Ravenclaw boy was still determined to cling to whatever energy you had left. 

“So uh, how d’ya know the boys?” 

His arm was slung around your shoulder, absolutely killing your back because he wouldn’t admit that he was just a few inches shorter than you. 

You pursed your lips in a thin line, attempting to shimmy out of his grasp but failing when he tugged you closer. “I guess I’ve been friends with Sirius since–,” 

“You’re so cute,” he interrupted. 

You didn’t even have the energy to be annoyed by him interrupting you. You just wanted out, but everywhere you looked was just a blocked doorway and another immovable crowd of people. 

The Ravenclaw Boy—you couldn’t even be bothered to remember his name—was still going on about something you didn’t care to listen to, but you stayed searching across the room until you finally found your target. 

Unfortunately, your target was a little busy. 

“Whatcha staring at babe?” 

Nothing could’ve held back the sneer that immediately grew from his question. You didn’t care to answer him, only glaring at Sirius, who would have been saving you but was currently completely and disgustingly engrossed into some random Hufflepuff you’ve never seen him talk to before today. You couldn’t see where he ended and his partner-for-the-night began. 

Unfortunately for you, your personal parasite followed your line of sight. 

“Mm,” he hummed, leaning in so his breath was felt very warmly on your cheek. “That’s hot I won’t lie. If you want to get out of here, we could…recreate that.” 

Maybe it was the absolute audacity behind the statement or maybe it was the way this party was frying your brain—realistically it was probably both—but you had finally reached your wits end. 

With an open palm against the boy’s face, you pushed him away and off of you. “Go wank in fucking sock, McCellan, that might help.” 

You wondered why it took you so long to leave the party, but the moment you stepped out of the room and into the open, colder air, was immediate relief. 

In a typical moment, you would’ve stayed behind and possibly found Remus or James, but the pounding in your head pushed you forward. You didn’t know where you were headed, you simply let your feet lead you to your destination. 

You hadn’t even realized you had a destination until you met the cold breeze of outside air; The Astronomy Tower. 

You hadn’t been up here often, just once or twice for a class. Something about its nighttime appearance made it feel more peaceful than you allowed yourself to imagine. 

You allowed yourself to meet the edge, feeling the cold railing under your sweaty palms. In a careful movement, you sat at the very edge, legs dangling over the impossible height while your arms rested on the railing. 

A part of you could’ve fallen asleep on the spot. 

“Please don’t fall.” 

A yelp escaped you at the sudden new presence behind you. 

He was slender and a little lanky but still slightly taller than some boys his age. His hair was inky black, tousled and out of place and framing over his stunning yet gentle grey eyes. 

“Where the hell did you come from,” you blurted out. 

A confused silence shrouded the boy as he looked off to the side before turning back to you. “...London…?”

“I–no, I mean,” you huffed out a breath. “You scared me.” 

“Well I’m not used to random strangers sitting in my usual spot.” 

“Oh!” A small hint of embarrassment burned in you as you stumbled up from where you sat. “I’m sorry I didn’t know…I was just wandering really, I could go.” 

“No wait, I didn’t mean that,” he coughed, taking a small step forward before rocking back on his heels. “That came off rude, I just didn’t expect you to be here…stay.” 

He didn’t smile much, you realized. He didn’t seem annoyed or bothered, just slightly passive. As if he was constantly observing and reading instead of talking. 

Your words came quietly, slowly taking your place back at the railing but now slightly closer to the wall of the tower. “Thank you.” 

He mirrored your movements, taking a quiet seat a few feet away from you. The silence, however, was excruciatingly loud between you two. 

“Why aren’t you at the party?” 

His voice was quiet at first. You had thought you were hearing things until you had turned to see him with his eyes on you. 

“I–um…” you shook your head once before shrugging. “I dunno, it was loud. Too many people, y’know?” 

He nodded slowly. “Do I not count then?” If you looked close you could see the smallest of smiles sneaking onto his lips, but it was subtle. 

“I guess not,” you shrugged, returning his smile. “You’re different, I guess.” 

“A good different, right?”

You looked at the space between the two of you. It wasn’t much, but somewhere the beginning of the conversation and now, you two had scootched in closer. You were still within arms length, but you couldn’t help but wonder if it was you or him who moved in first. 

“I can’t imagine any other kind so…yeah.” 

to be continued?

taglist: @whothehellismack @casp1an-sea

[whothehellismack]

“A match won’t always light when stricken.” Ok, pack it up. You don’t need to do this to me

bewitched | aaron hotchner x reader

contains: little angst, lotta fluff; bad date; hints at stalking (barely); idiots in love; laufey inspired fic

credit to @enchanthings-a for border

You sat alone on the cold wet bench outside of the restaurant you were supposed to be eating in and all you could do was pull your thin sweater tighter around you. You could hear chattering from inside, taunting and reminding you of your embarrassment. 

Around you, the city continued on with indifference; cars moving by and momentarily illuminating you before forgetting you ever existed. 

Your phone sat in your lap, the last four messages you sent to your date left read, but unanswered. 

Penelope set you up with him, claiming how he was exactly your type: the rugged, brooding, yet charming bad boy. You didn’t have the heart to tell her that wasn’t your type, but you also weren’t in a place to complain. 

So you got excited. Obsessed over what clothes you’d wear, anticipated the conversation that would come, imagined what it would look like dating this guy and the image of him you crafted in your head. 

A dry laugh escaped you at the thought as you threw your head back to blink away the tears. You could only imagine how you looked to the passerbys. 

But somewhere between the cars passing by and the muted chatting from the restaurant, you thought you were hallucinating the sound of a familiar someone calling your name. 

Maybe he was summoned by a strange twist of fate or even a cruel prank played by the universe to amplify your embarrassment, but seeing Hotch, ever put together in his suit and tie while you looked like a hot mess only made you pray a black hole would swallow you on the spot. 

“Hotch!” Your voice naturally pitched itself up and you attempted to wipe away your tears. “What are you doing here?” 

For a profiler you were a terrible actor. 

“I should ask you the same thing.” In a swift movement, he shrugged his jacket off and placed it on your shoulders, sitting next to you on the cold wet bench.

His touch was warm, the back of his fingers trailing across your arm so gently. It burned an imprint in your skin, but as soon as you got used to the feeling of his touch, he pulled away and adjusted his jacket over your shoulders. 

Your eyes lingered on his hands, watching the way they clenched shut. Only for a second. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be on a date?” 

You looked up at him, startled for just a moment before you masked teasing smile over it. “Why are you so curious about my whereabouts Aaron.” 

You’ve called him Aaron so many times before. Late hours, long after everyone had gone home, a chair pulled up to his desk so the two of you would be side by side, bumping shoulders, making jokes. But something in the way you called his name this time and the way he didn’t smile, only stared through your facade, made your heart stutter. 

His response came with an air of hesitation, as if he was measuring, picking and choosing his words before he spoke them. “Because I care about you. And I’m allowed to be worried about you. Especially when I’m driving by and see you alone at night.”

Silence struck you, leaving you unsure of what words to muster up. 

“You don’t have to tell me, but at least let me take y–,” 

“He stood me up,” you let out a watery laugh, one attempting to cover up every other emotion that rushed forward with the burning embarrassment in your chest. “I didn’t even wanna go but Penelope insisted. Then I was stupid enough to get excited and god I just feel so dumb.” 

You hated looking and feeling like this in front of him. You wiped each tear as quickly as they came, but they still fell. 

“Here.” He handed you a tissue, his voice only a whisper on the cold night air.  “Did you drive here yourself?” 

You took the tissue from his hands with a sniff, doing your best to wipe your face clear of tears. “Penelope dropped me off. I guess she assumed he’d take me home or whatever.” 

Hotch sat in silence, thinking. You could see the gears turning in his head. Not in the ways he would when solving a case, trying to get into the head of an unsub. His expression was lighter this time, his brows no longer downturned and furrowed. Even his eyes seemed to be painted a lighter shade of brown. 

“Can I drive you home?” 

There were many truths you could state about Aaron Hotchner. How he has the brownest of eyes or how he has such an expressive face when he allows it, or just that he cares so much about each of his team members. But nothing could have prepared you for the way he pleaded with his eyes without even knowing it. He’d never force you to say yes to anything, so all he could do was hope, but the hope in his eyes was enough to make you go weak in the knees. 

“...yeah.” 

You watched as he rose from the bench and extended his hand to you, making you scoff out an amused laugh. 

“Don’t leave me hanging,” he smiled, shaking his hand for you to grab. With a smile and a roll of your eyes, you let your hand slip into his and let him walk you to his car. 

The car ride was quiet at first. Your eyes were closed, listening to the sound of the radio softly humming in the background and the cars passing by. When the car stopped and you felt the red glow of the streetlight glowing over you, you let your glance shift open to Aaron. 

But his eyes were already on you. 

In a moment of instincts he looked away, but like a force drawing him back, his eyes met yours again. 

“For what it's worth, you look beautiful tonight.” 

You felt your heart again, stumbling stupidly in your chest as he looked at you with this emotion in his eyes you weren’t confident enough to pinpoint. 

A small piece of you knew the truth hidden in his eyes, the part of you that could profile a disorganized serial killer with just a background and a few glances. But the bigger part of you, the part that cried on a bench after being stood up on a date, folded it away and shoved it under the rug. In fear and self-preservation. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Aaron.” 

You saw the green of the street light stretch across Aaron’s face before he could find some response to rival yours. With a half smile, he drove on, missing the turn to your apartment. 

“You went the wrong way,” you pointed, looking back to the street you were supposed to be on. 

“I know,” he smiled. “There’s a stop I wanted to make if that’s okay.” 

“Yeah no, that’s fine.” 

It wasn’t too far from your place, but eventually he pulled into the parking lot of a diner you’d never seen before. 

“You like burgers right?” 

Your lips parted as you looked over to him in disbelief. “Hotch–,” 

“Aaron. Don’t get formal with me now.” 

“Aaron, you don’t need to do all this for me.” 

“You were promised dinner.” His voice was light, a gentle smile on his lips. “It’d be rude if I dropped you off hungry.”

You watched as he stepped out of the car and made his way to your side, opening your door. Once more he offered a hand to you and once more, you accepted it with a laugh and a smile. 

“Wait wait wait, you’re telling me that you, Aaron Hotchner, was once a leather jacket wearing, rule breaking bad boy?” 

Aaron could only laugh coyly as you pointed at him with a french fry and a never ending flow of laughter. 

“It was a rebellious phase,” he chuckled, his cheeks tinged with a subtle hue of embarrassment on his cheeks. “Performative if anything.” 

You squinted at him, barely able to hide the amusement on your lips. “Is that what you tell yourself?” 

You watched as his smile grew bigger, tilting his head at you. “You’re really funny.” 

A broad smile, reading smile adorned your lips. “I know.”

The diner was mostly quiet save for the few chattering at their own individual booths including you and Aaron. It was small and cozy, something you hadn’t expected from him, but sitting in front of him now, seeing him with his rare laugh that only few got to see, you felt safe; a warm feeling spreading through your chest, like a cup of tea on a cold evening. 

Just like Aaron’s laugh, the feeling was rare, but wholly welcomed. 

“Here’s your check.” An older woman smiled warmly at the two of you before placing down a milkshake with two straws. “Milkshake’s on the house. For the lovely couple.” 

“Oh we’re not–” But she was already gone. 

The two of you stared at the milkshake in front of you. Vanilla. 

“Well that's just,” you trailed off, unsure of what to say.  

“Yeah.” Hotch was left just as speechless as you. 

“Well…” you sighed deeply and smiled. “Perfectly good milkshake. S’not like it’ll kill us right?” 

The two of you were adults. You could have taken turns on who takes a sip so no space was invaded but somehow, both of your brains short-circuited as the two of you leaned in, taking a sip at the same time. 

It only lasted but a moment, but every inch of you lingered in his touch. 

His knuckles brushed against yours where you both grasped your own straws; a match meeting the striker of a matchbox. 

Your foreheads bumping softly together; the match striking against the box.

Your knees touch, bumping each other in the same way your shoulders would in those late office hours; spark flying between the match and the box. 

Eyes meet, his brows dipping down and yours pinching in as you each get lost in the unspoken. But you look away, you tuck your foot in, and you sit back in your chair. 

A match won’t always light when stricken. 

You missed the disappointment in his eyes when you pulled away

“You never told me,” you coughed, pulling Aaron’s suit coat closer to your chest absentmindedly. “What were you doing in the area anyways? You live on the other side of town.” 

“I–hm…I was–” It was strange seeing the usually stern and sure man, stammering at a single question. “Garcia might have let it slip where you were supposed to be.” 

An amused smile slipped onto your lips once more, the tension of the moment fizzing out as quickly as it came. “So you were looking for me,” you grinned. “You told me you just happened to find me.” 

Aaron looked away, his own coy smile sneaking his way on his expression. “Okay, maybe I overstepped a line…or two. Like I said, I care about you and I was worried. That doesn’t excuse me go–,” 

“Aaron Aaron, slow down.” You watched as he looked up at you with those brown eyes you’ve grown so accustomed to. “I’m grateful you were there. Really. I would probably still be crying on a park bench.” 

Your smile wasn’t broad or teasing as it was before, just one of genuine admiration. 

“Thank you Aaron.” 

“I hope your night didn’t turn out all too terrible.” 

The night was well broken in—hours past since your now-forgotten bad date. The two of you hung outside of your home, leaning on Aaron’s parked car comfortably. 

“With you? Never.” 

You smiled, looking up to him before nudging his shoulder. You still wore his jacket and even with it being many sizes too big, you wore it like it was your own. 

With a shiver and a yawn, you pulled it tighter against you as the wind picked up.

“Should probably turn in.” His hand was already in yours, tangled together somewhere between getting out of the car and now. Neither of you could remember exactly when. 

“No,” you groaned, as he attempted to pull you from the car. “You’re no fun.” 

Aaron grinned as you fell in stride with him, walking along the sidewalk that led to where you lived. “Weren’t you just telling me how a night with me is never bad?” 

“Hmm,” you hummed in thought, stopping in front of a set of stairs that lead to your home. “You said ‘I hope your night didn’t turn out too terrible’,” you mimicked with an exaggeratedly low voice, making him chuckle. “And I said, ‘With you? Never.’ The word ‘bad’ never left my mouth Mr. Hotchner.” 

“That’s the same thing and you know it.” His words were accusing but his smile and playful tone never wavered. 

“Look at the time,” you exclaimed, climbing up the stairs with a newfound speed. “I think it’s about time I turn in, don’t you.” 

Aaron laughed, watching as you backtracked out of the conversation. “I do think so.” 

With a final wave and smile, you grasped the knob of your door before suddenly turning around.

“Aaron!” 

“Yes?” 

His response was quick, his eyes expectant, as if he was waiting for the moment you’d call him back. Your words died on your tongue, lost in the way he stared at you with such intensity. Just like before, he was pleading with just his eyes. They were wide, his brows raised hopefully in your call.

“I, um…I forgot your jacket.” Your movements were slow at first as you shrugged it off, immediately missing the warmth it gave. 

By the time your arm stretched out to hand it back, he was just a step below you, his hand brushing against yours as you handed it to him. Wordlessly, he took the next step up, his full height comparing itself to yours. 

In a moment of pure impulse, he pressed the softest of kisses to your cheek. “Thank you,” he murmured, taking a final step back. “I had fun tonight.” 

You didn’t know where to settle your eyes as he took another step down the stairs. “Me too.” 

You don’t quite remember turning away or putting in the key to get inside. One moment you were there, once more getting lost in all that was unsaid between the two of you, the next your back was pressed against the closed door inside your darkened apartment. 

You couldn’t even tell if you were breathing. All you could feel was the tingling feeling left from where Aaron’s lips touched your cheek. You felt like a teenager all over again, a broad smile spreading over your lips, a burning at your cheeks, and even butterflies in your stomach.

You were by no means an impulsive person. You couldn’t be in your line of work. Nearly everything you did had to be carefully measured in order for everything to work in the way you needed it to. It was rare you led with your heart and followed where your adrenaline guided you. 

It still existed in you though. A very small part that wanted you to follow your immediate impulses. For the first time in a long time you let that small part of you take charge. 

You surged forward and threw open the door, expecting to see him climbing into his car or driving off down the street. 

What you didn’t expect was to see him, standing right at your doorstep, prepared to knock at your door. 

You weren’t sure what you were supposed to say. Maybe some love confession or great reveal to how you truly feel, but it all died when your eyes fell on him. 

But you didn’t need to say a single word. Not to Aaron. Everything you ever wanted to say was spelled clearly in your eyes for him to read. 

Just like you, Aaron was not an impulsive person. But in the rare moment when he’d run into a building without back up or he’d take charge of a case that wasn’t his to investigate, he’d let his gut lead in front of his brain. 

And so he kissed you. 

You could barely process it, it happened so fast. One moment he was standing there, wordlessly. Helplessly. The next moment his hands were on you, both cupping your face carefully as if he was afraid you’d shatter in his hold. 

But you were holding him tightly. One grasping his wrist and the other finding home on his chest. You held him as if you were afraid he’d be ripped out of your hold. 

But he didn’t.

And neither did you. 

It was only you and him and no one else.

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