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butt3rnugg3t · 20 days ago

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As a bitch that helps run a bookstore. I will never tire of a bookstore reader 🥹🥹

no one's ever had me, not like you

summary: Clark is late for bookclub, and his coworkers beat him there. Meddling ensues wc: 3.5k+ a/n: previous part here!. I don't think that it is strictly necessary to read the first part before diving in, but it might help to see their vibe prior to diving into this one! Please feel free to send any requests my way! warnings: general fluff, reader owns a bookstore, reader has no idea about clark’s powers/secret identity, meddling friends

“Are you sure we shouldn’t give him a quick call dear?” “We wouldn’t want him to be caught in the middle of all this-”

“And he would do the same for us!”

The chatter only increased, with voices overlapping and getting louder by the second. You were leaning against the front door of the shop, watching what seemed to be a giant in deep sea diver gear being lured away from your street by Superman. You hadn’t met the man, but you were grateful that he always managed to minimize as much of the damage to Metropolis as he could. You had a hefty insurance policy for the First Fable, passed down at your grandmother’s insistence after several renovations prior to her passing away. It seemed that in her lifetime, the monster of the week had a habit of thinking the shop was a welcome mat. Somehow, you had gotten lucky since taking over the shop. Superman had managed to lead all of his foes a safe distance away and the phone book with all of the store’s typical repair people was gathering dust in the back office.

“I’m sure he’s alright, ladies. Clark has a talent for keeping out of trouble.” you did your best to sound confident, but you had a bad habit of worrying after him. Despite his spotless track record in terms of gigantic monsters and threats, Clark was a bit clumsy and bumbly in general. You couldn’t blame them for worrying after him. Regardless, Superman was a small speck in the sky at this point, so you made your way back to the circle of mismatched chairs in front of the new releases display. Hopefully, Clark was on his way and far from the threat of being smushed.

The members of the Tender Hearts Book Club had almost adopted him in a way. He adored all of the ladies and did his best to never miss a meeting.You’d started the club hoping to connect with the longtime regulars of the store when you’d taken it over. You were so worried you would end up sitting in the shop alone, Clark had insisted on attending ‘so there’s at least one inaugural member’. You were blessed with several attendees, but now Clark was stuck- not that he’d use that exact verbage. Every month, he came with notes on the chosen book and some kind of midwestern hot dish without fail. You constantly insisted that the food was unnecessary, you had plenty of snacks stocked, but he only ever replied that his mother would be disappointed if he showed up empty handed.

Rhonda, the kind woman who owned the florist’s shop just down the street, had threatened to stop the weekly flower delivery if you so much as hinted the food was unnecessary one more time. Tammy, who always ended up with the leftovers for her twins, had seconded the motion, and your protests died there. It didn’t hurt that Clark always brought a separate container of extras for you, knowing that you’d never take them from the kids- and that you had a nasty habit of forgetting to pack lunch for yourself. The day following book club rivaled the actual event for your favorite time of the month, and you weren’t too proud to admit that Clark’s cooking was the main reason.

Despite his habit to be tardy for work, it was strange for him to be running so late for this. After he’d seen you struggling to pull a particularly heavy armchair into the circle, he was always twenty minutes early and ready to move all of the chairs himself, despite your protests.

Jeanie, a kind woman who distinctly reminded you of your grandmother in a way that made your heart warm, patted the back of your usual seat, a gentle smile on her face. Jeanie had been a staple at First Fable before you were even born. You gave her your best attempt at a smile and sank into the plush blue arm chair.

It was a popular conspiracy theory amongst the rest of the club that Clark was ‘sweet on you’, if anyone else was heading the charge. Rhonda, on the other hand, usually preferred more colorful vocabulary. She looked sweet in her pollen smudged apron, but she was always responsible for choosing the books that had Clark blushing for the full hour the club met. And her quest to make his face turn endearingly red didn’t stop with her literature selections.

“He did help you hang that new shelf, didn’t he, dear?” Dora asked, placing a mug of steaming tea in your hands. Dora and Jeanie both had a habit of caretaking anyone in their sight. You had to imagine that was why they were still desperately in love after forty years.

“Oh excellent, we are getting around to this early!” Tammy laughed, crossing her legs and steepling her fingers together jokingly.

You fought back a groan, nodding into your mug. “We took care of it over the weekend.” You tried to brush it off, but there was more to the story. You’d mentioned offhandedly that you were thinking about creating a new display of local authors, and before you knew it, Clark was volunteering. And if you’d discovered he looks very cute with a crease between his brows and a pencil tucked behind his ear, you were going to keep that to yourself.

“You mean he took care of it.” Rhonda said with a smirk. “We all know that he wouldn’t let you within five feet of a ladder.”

“He’s very protective.” Jeanie added, eyes shining.

“As if she isn’t!” Tammy cackled. You ducked your head low, hoping to avoid further scrutiny while knowing that this would only make it worse. “You stopped stocking that one, author-”

“James Arnold,” Jeanie supplied.

“Right, him! He made one critical observation about Clark’s article, and you haven’t restocked his book since.”

“In all fairness, it hasn’t exactly sold out either.” you muttered into your mug. You all knew it was improperly shelved in the back corner of the store, but they spared you from that reminder.

Their peals of laughter felt warm and kind, thankfully. You were the youngest member of the group by far, everyone else having a good fifteen years on you, but they were among your truest friends, and you knew they meant no harm with their teasing.

You’d started the Tender Hearts Club soon after taking over the shop. You were missing your grandmother dearly, and this felt like a way to keep a part of her in your life. You hadn’t been wrong, they all had countless stories about her. But even more so, you’d found more comfort amongst these women than you could have ever predicted. The jingling of the bell over the door- also installed by Clark- broke you from your thoughts.

“Are we sure this is the right place?” Jimmy Olsen’s hands were shoved deep in his pockets, his gaze assessing the rows of shelves. Your gaze snapped to the front door, where a group of people you had only seen in passing, mostly in photographs scattered around Clark’s apartment, were clustered in the entry way of your bookstore.

“You are the girl from the picture on his desk? Clark’s desk, I mean.” You were almost certain that was Cat Grant, whose gossip column was a guilty pleasure of yours. You offered her a sheepish wave, shoulders hunched slightly.

“You’re all being absolute freaks. You promised me you wouldn’t be freaks if I let you come with me.” Lois grumbled. She glared at them, before her face quickly lit up with a smile as she made her way towards you. “It’s so nice to meet you! Sorry we’re late, there was a bit of a giant gorilla monster situation at 34th and Main.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” you said with a smile, standing and making your way over to the small group. “...I think” you added, mostly to yourself as you noticed Steve and Jimmy horsing around. They were very close to toppling your new releases display.

“Boys!” Lois snapped. They both instantly straightened, and had the decency to look a little ashamed. Cat rolled her eyes, adjusting her hair and shuffling her large tote to the other shoulder.

“Can I, um” you paused, unsure of how to proceed. “Can I help you all with something?”

“We’re here for the club, man!” Steve called, arms raised above his head like his team had just scored a winning goal.

You blinked, doing your best to wrap your head around the situation. “The book club?” you asked, confusion obvious in your voice.

You could hear the ladies behind you laughing softly. Lois’ brow quirked, clearly amused. “Is there another club here on Thursdays?” All you could do was shake your head. “Then yes, the book club.”

You nodded slowly, sure that you were looking positively befuddled. And then, the finer details started to click. Lois had the book of the month tucked under her arm, small post it notes sticking out on all sides. Steve’s mass market paperback looked somehow thoroughly worn, despite the book coming out less than a month ago. Cat dug around in her tote for a moment, before pulling out two copies of the book. The one she handed to Jimmy looked like it’d barely been touched, but Cat’s was dog-eared in a couple of places. You did your best not to cringe over that.

“Right, okay!” you nodded once, and then a few more times as you tried to clear your head. “Great! We love new faces.”

“Or we would if there ever were any,” Rhonda muttered, earning a light round of laughter from the rest of the regulars.

“I’ll just go ahead and grab some more chairs from the basement! There’s coffee and tea on the counter, make yourselves comfortable!” you called, already headed for the door to the stairs.

Jeanie and Dora were already out of their chairs, fixing a few mugs of tea. Cat and Rhonda were surveying the romance shelves with a militant energy about them. Lois was smiling with Jimmy while Tammy showed off pictures of her toddlers, an entry level requirement for admittance to the club. You smiled to yourself, surprised but delighted by how easily the two groups seemed to be meshing already. You nodded once before spinning on your heel and heading downstairs to grab the folding chairs you typically only needed during author events.

The stairs to the basement were rickety and old- and would stay that way if you had anything to say about it. It wasn’t that Clark ever seemed like he was burning out or over exerting himself- how he had endless energy without a crippling caffeine addiction you’ll never know. It was more so that you didn’t want him to think you were only keeping him around to help you with things.

You made sure to avoid the second step from the bottom that tended to wobble and ducked underneath the lightbulb that was dangling from the ceiling in a way that you were sure would be concerning if you knew anything about electrical engineering. You picked your way across the cluttered space, promising yourself for the thousandth time that you would go through things down here next week, and grabbed a few chairs under your arms.

You were about to turn around when a soft “ow” broke your concentration. You turned to see Clark, brows scrunched together and rubbing at a spot in between his eyebrows. Okay, the lightbulb situation was getting moved up the to do list. You were about to ask if he was okay, when the air was knocked from your lungs.

Clark was beaming at you, tension melting from his shoulders as he opened his arms for you. The chairs were quickly forgotten as you slotted yourself against him, standing on your tip toes to be able to place your arms around his neck.

Clark’s arms were tight around your waist, pulling you up against him to the point that your feet were dangling in the air beneath you. “Hey, Wormy.”

From anyone else, the nickname would have grated on your nerves like no other. Clark had come into the store during storytime, back when you barely knew each other. You were still figuring out how you fit into running First Fable, and Saturday Storytime was among the few moments throughout the week that you felt at ease. You’d been reading a book about a family of book worms, complete with voices and a homemade puppet to boot. A few of the younger kids had taken to calling you Miss Worm, and it made everyone giggle.

You’d regretted foregoing a correction when Clark had used the name later at the register. But he had the biggest smile on his face, and he seemed so earnest about it, you’d let it slide. The name had gone through several evolutions, until he landed on just ‘Wormy’. For some reason, it fit.

“I’m sorry I’m late.”

“Seems like you have a pretty good excuse, what with the giant scary monster of it all.” you began to laugh, but it died in your throat when you felt him tense beneath him.

“Could’ve done with a warning about the pack of wolves waiting upstairs.” he said, voice slightly muffled by your hair, distracting you from his weird reaction to the monster mention.

You squeezed him tighter for a moment, before he gently placed you back on the floor. “I thought they were your friends, Clark.”

“They are my friends, but when Lois finds something she deems worth investigating, it’s hard to get her to drop it.” he said sheepishly, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck as he winced.

“Tender Hearts is worth investigating?” you asked, confused.

“I think they’re more interested in you.” The chuckle he let out mid explanation did little to stop your heart starting to pound. You shook your head, as if that would get the thoughts to line up and start making sense. Clark’s hands rested your arms, and his breathing became slightly exaggerated. You did your best to copy him. “It’s not like that, I promise.” You nodded, but it did little to calm you. Clark’s breaths got bigger and slower as he brought one of your hands to rest on his chest.

He didn’t say anything, just nodding encouragingly when your breaths started to slow. You could feel your heart rate evening out along with the slight ringing in your ears that you hadn’t noticed until it faded.

“I dodged their invitations for after work drinks too many times, and Lois got curious. I didn’t think they were going to show up.”

Your head tilted forward to lean against his chest. “If it makes you feel any better, it seems like most of them read the book.”

Clark threw his head back and laughed. “Golly! What a month to start!” Your brow creased for a moment, as you attempted to make sense of what he was implying. And then it hit you, Rhonda had chosen the book this month.

And suddenly, the tears were running down your cheeks and you couldn’t catch your breath for an entirely different reason. “Oh god! They had to read the part-”

“With the cake in the stable?” Clark supplied when the words were swallowed by peals of laughter. You nodded, arm finding his shoulder to support yourself as your legs started to wobble.

You took a few steadying breaths, and Clark followed suit, wiping tears from his eyes. “Talk about trial by fire.” The both of you took steadying breaths, before seemingly remembering that there were, in fact, many people upstairs waiting on you both. Clark ducked around you, scooping up all four chairs and gesturing for you to head upstairs. “I can carry a couple, you know?”

“When have I ever let you carry anything?” Clark asked, not looking back.

You stopped short, hit with the realization that Clark rarely let you carry anything. Whether it was chairs or groceries or frustration with the poorly managed tax recorders your grandmother had left behind. For as long as you could count Clark Kent as a friend, he refused to let you carry things alone. It felt so natural, you hadn’t even noticed until now.

“You comin’ Wormy?” Clark had turned on the stairs, backlit by the light from the first floor. It wasn’t that you were oblivious to Clark’s good looks, but something about that sight knocked the wind right out of you. You could only nod.

Somehow, the meeting had gone shockingly well. Lois had a fully annotated copy of her book and prepared several talking points about the realism of the small town politics that were mentioned maybe twice in the entirety of the four hundred page cowboy romance novel that had Clark blushing every time he squished himself into the reading nook in the back of the store.

Cat enjoyed making quips with Rhonda that had Clark’s face beet red after ten minutes, and even though it was incredibly clear that Jimmy hadn’t read the book, you were delighted to have him there. It was clear that he and Clark were close, and it was so nice to see someone else appreciate Clark the way you did.

Your regulars were delighted to have the team from The Planet. Jeanie and Dora had made them all promise to come back next month five times over. Rhonda had given Steve half a pack of tissues when he was somehow moved to tears by the convoluted third act break up that made little sense to everyone else, but seemed to be a sore spot for him. You made a mental note to try and steer away future picks from romantic strife, at least for the next few months.

Tammy had insisted that Lois choose the book for next month, as a welcome to the family gesture. Lois had tried to refute the offer, but the rest of the ladies had insisted. If you trusted Lois Lane any less, you’d be dreading the 500 page Cronkite biography. You were looking forward to it, but that might have more to do with Clark’s promise to read it to you during your weekly refresh of the shop. He knew that nonfiction had a habit of putting you to sleep, and that you wouldn’t forgive yourself if you showed up to next month’s meeting unprepared. He had a habit of solving problems before they could really bother you.

“I’ll be right back.” Clark’s head snapped up from where he was throwing paper plates into the large garbage bag he was lugging around the shop. His eyebrows were about to disappear into his forehead, and the confused look on his face stopped you dead in your tracks. You set the two chairs you had under each arm down, hand finding its way to your hip. “What?”

“I’ve got it.”

“Clark, don't be silly! It’s fine!” you went to pick up the chairs again, but the sound of your full name from across the room had your heart thundering. You couldn’t remember the last time that he had called you anything besides some variant of Wormy.

He was beside you now, gently easing the chairs from your grip. “The second stair from the bottom is still loose- don’t think I forgot.” You tried to interject, but the look in his eyes made the words die in your throat. “I don’t like you carrying this alone.”

“It’s a few folding chairs,” you shrugged, eyes fixed on your shoes. You were willfully missing the point.

“Hey,” Clark had ducked down, neck craning to make eye contact with you. He was smiling, fully aware of how ridiculous he was being. And you couldn’t help it, you were grinning too. “There she is.” he said, more so to himself than to you. His dimples were on full display, and just like always they made your heart pound in a way that you weren’t ready to fully explore. “You’ll let me take these downstairs?” you nodded, knowing that your face was heating up and there was little you could do to stop it. “Walk you home after?” you nodded again. He leaned up, placing a kiss on your forehead before straightening out and grabbing the chairs.

He smiled to himself, scooping up all the chairs and making quick work of taking them downstairs. Clark decided to take it easy on you for the rest of your night as he listened to your heart pounding away in your chest from the basement. There was time for him to push you on it later, notice the way his smile made it rush, the way him tucking the stubborn front pieces of hair behind your ear made it thud in your chest. There was no need to rush you along, not when something as simple as helping you clean up after bookclub- something he would do for anyone. He decided then and there that tomorrow he would be fixing the second stair from the bottom no matter how much you insisted you could call a handy man for it. And then, he was going to make it clear how devastatingly in love with you he is.

#Clark Kent x reader #superman x reader #mykys fic round up

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