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hannibals-favourite-meal · 1 year ago

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Can you do a Clark Kent, with a mate? Maybe she gets jealous of Lois but doesn’t know why; an to get over him she tries to go out with another guy but Clark is like no. Your mine.

.⋆｡Office Crushes｡⋆.

Alpha!Clark Kent x omega!plus size reader

Little bit of Bruce Wayne x plus size reader

Your best friend has an office crush that seems to be becoming something more, maybe you should get your own office romance but not because you’re jealous- obviously

Warnings: a/b/o, jealousy, mutual pining, idiots in love, little bit of angst, protective!clark, fluff

WC: 3.1k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

It was quite common for any office to have its workers develop a sort of infatuation with each other. A confined space where you spend upwards of 40 hours a week with the same people, feelings are destined to arise, especially when it’s such a large mixture of alphas, betas and omegas. Hormones tend to go wild.

You were proud that you had never developed an office crush, knowing how disastrous it could be if the relationship ended, but you doubted your best friend could say the same. Clark had a big heart that he always wore on his sleeve and tended to attract a lot of romantic interest from practically everyone in the office. And apparently, Lois Lane was the lucky one who finally caught his eye.

A strange churning in your stomach began as you looked over the wall of your cubicle and spotted Clark leaning on the small kitchen counter, head thrown back in laughter as Lois chuckled over her now full cup of coffee. You know you should have seen it from a mile away- they were constantly paired up for articles, their chemistry was unmatched and they were by far the most attractive people in the office. You had even teased Clark on occasion for how often he met up with her after hours for some new lead, calling them dates.

Evidently, you were right. And for some reason, it was really bothering you. You felt physical disgust as Clark bent down to whisper something into the smaller omega’s ear and down right nausea as she placed a hand onto his broad chest to steady herself.

You swallowed down the bitter emotions and forced yourself to return to editing your article though a sour taste remained on your tongue. Maybe it was finally time to get your own office crush and the perfect opportunity had just landed in your inbox.

‘Bruce Wayne Interview- I trust you’ll get this done professionally’. You bit your lip at the offer, not only would an interview with Gotham’s golden boy boost your career, but whenever you had encountered the alpha before, he had always asked you out and you had always brushed him off. It was a win-win for you, and maybe it would stop the inexplicable rage you felt when you looked up and saw the goofy grin on Clark’s face as he sat back down at his desk.

Your nose wrinkled as you caught Lois’s scent clinging to him. Your fingers flew across the keyboard as you quickly sent a response back to your boss, accepting the offer.

You just needed a distraction and then everything would go back to normal.

——————

The tension in the conference room at the top of Wayne Enterprise was so thick you swore you could cut it with a butter knife. You cleared your throat and tugged down your pencil skirt, over-aware of just how high it sat on your plump thighs as you reclined in one of the many expensive seats in the room.

Bruce’s eyes flicked down to where your hands were curled into the material of the skirt and then back to your eyes but not before stopping very briefly at your lips. “Mr Wayne-“ You began again, glancing at your notepad. The small talk had gone well as did the customary chit chat about any new scandal he happened to have instigated and the photos of the both of you for the article.

“Bruce please, I think we’re far beyond that now.” He winked and you swore that his tone held a bit of a teasing purr. Your stomach flipped at the blatant attention from the alpha but it quickly dropped as yet another wave of thick, bitter scent filled the room making you cringe away from the other man standing to the side.

Through a series of several unfortunate events, your usual photographer had fallen ill and his stand-in got hired from right under the company and left so the only person that even had the slightest bit of talent with a camera in the office was forced to come with you today for shots of the billionaire. And in the worst stroke of luck, that person happened to be the very man that ‘inspired’ you to take the job in the first place.

Clark shifted on his feet and you barely repressed an eye roll. He had been very vocal in his disapproval of the whole thing given how often the mogul had put the moves on you but none of his arguments had done anything to deter you, instead they only fuelled the fire.

Bruce’s jaw clenched and you watched in fascination as the muscles beneath his skin moved, although they were not nearly as impressive as Clark’s (you would never admit that out loud). “Well Bruce,” He beamed at you, “Wayne Enterprises has just introduced a new product line that promises to ease the severe heats often experienced by omegas, my question for you is, what about this product is so different from all others on the market that promise the same things yet all others have failed?”

The alpha leaned back in his seat, his muscular thighs spreading slightly, instantly drawing your gaze to the thick bulge that was perfectly hugged by the material of his pants. Your eyes immediately flicked back up to him but given the smirk on his lips, Bruce knew exactly what he was doing.

“I’m actually quite proud of my team for this, they’ve worked tirelessly on development for years and I believe that it really shows. While other products are usually prescribed by doctors in the forms of ointments and perfumes that mimic the scent of an alpha, which almost never work by the way, we have gone in a totally new direction. Instead, omegas can buy these pouches at any pharmacy and when heated, they give off the scent of a pup.” Bruce gestured to the small bags that were barely the size of your palm that sat on the table next to him. They gave the appearance of a miniature version of a microwavable heat pack but he was right, if you concentrated hard enough, you could smell the mixture of milk and flowers that all babies had.

“It is common knowledge that the presence of pups actually help to lessen the effects of a heat whereas the scent of an alpha is far more complex to manufacture and can actually make an omega’s heat worse if they don’t have any other-“ he paused then, his smirk growing as the room seemed to grow smaller, “-tools to help them through it.” You barely suppressed a squeak and quickly ducked your head as if you were checking your notes once more.

You gathered yourself for a moment then spoke again, missing the way that Clark was glaring at the other alpha over your shoulder. “And how affordable are these products?”

“Wayne Enterprises are donating 2 million to women’s shelters throughout Gotham and we plan to sell them for less than $10.” As if anticipating your next question, Bruce licked his lips and continued. “While it is not feasible to gain a profit from such a low price, I would rather give them away to the people that need it but I do have a board that I have to listen to… sometimes.” He winked at you.

Heat crawled up your neck and settled onto your full cheeks. You squeezed your thighs together though you weren’t quite sure if it was because you were attempting to feign arousal or keep him from looking up your skirt. You laid a hand onto your notebook, shutting off your recorder, as you leaned forwards and offered him your other one. “Thank you for being so open to this interview, you have been a hard man to pin down.”

You could feel the way Clark’s body seized as Bruce’s smirk grew and his eyes twinkled deviously. “If it’s by you miss Y/L/N, I would gladly be pinned down any time.” He shook your hand with a firm grip, letting the tips of his fingers brush against your wrist. “For an interview that is.”

He rose to his feet and politely helped you to yours, steadying you with a hand on your waist as you wobbled on your heels. Once he was sure that you were steady, he ducked down and grabbed one of the unopened boxes of Heat Helpers (quite the cheesy name in your opinion) and gave it to you, along with a small piece of cardstock. “Why don’t you take this, a thank you for a great conversation.”

You flipped over the piece of paper to reveal a phone number scrawled on in pen. You gave him a questioning look to which he chuckled. “My number, if you ever want to have a one-on-one with me, with or without the tape recorder.”

You swallowed thickly and stuttered out some kind of polite response before Clark ushered you out of the room, muttering under his breath about being in a time crunch. You were barely able to catch one last, “Anytime miss Y/L/N” before the heavy door slammed shut and you were quite literally pushed into the awaiting elevator by your friend.

As soon as the doors were shut, you were on him. “What was that all about?” You crossed your arms over your chest and gave him a scrutinising look. Clark refused to make eye contact with you, instead he stared at the elevator doors like he was willing them to open.

“He was flirting with you.” You rolled your eyes and looked away from the tall alpha. “And you let him.”

“So what? He’s attractive and available, as am I. It was only natural.” Clark’s shoulders tensed, his grip on his camera tightening until his knuckles turned white. The confined space was now filled with a bitter scent that made your stomach drop and your omega howl in displeasure.

“Why are you so concerned about this, Clark?”

The elevator doors opened with a ping and he quickly walked out. “It’s nothing.” He said and you knew you weren’t going to get anything else out of him until he decided he was done throwing a tantrum.

——————

“So have you called him?” Lois was leaning against the bar next to you, her drink half empty but the flush on her cheeks told you that it wasn’t the first one of the night.

“Called who?” She rolled her eyes like it was obvious.

“Bruce Wayne! He obviously wants you too, I saw the photos Clark took. He’s fucking—what’s the word— enamoured!” You scoff behind your tumbler of whiskey which you had been nursing since Perry gave it to you an hour ago. The whole office had gathered at the bar down the road for an end-of-workweek drink and against your better judgement, you had decided to join.

Clark had been convinced into joining a game of pool, leaving you without anyone to talk to but it’s not like he would anyway. For some stupid reason, the alpha had been giving you the silent treatment for days and it was really starting to piss you off. You regarded Lois with a look but she was far too tipsy to get it.

“He was just flirting, he does it with everybody.” You dismissed it but she scoffed.

“Then why did he ask Perry for your personal number?” Your head snapped up, your eyes wide. “Clark didn’t tell you?” Evidently, your wide open mouth and lack of a verbal response told her everything she needed to know. Suddenly, Lois was very sober, a serious expression on her face.

“We were in a meeting with Perry the day after the interview and Wayne just strolled in like he fucking owned the place. He said how great you were and that he was hoping to get your number for a follow-up interview sometime soon. Clark said he would handle it, I assumed that he would have talked to you.” Her gaze travelled over to said man. “Shit I guess he didn’t.”

You slammed back the rest of your drink and without any sort of conscious thought, stormed over to the group of men huddled around the pool table. “Where the fuck do you get off Kent?” You snarled. Immediately all of the men seemed to find their phones incredibly interesting.

“I’m sorry?” He asked in that way too polite way he did that really meant ‘what the fuck is the matter with you’ but you were having none of it.

“Why didn’t you tell me Bruce asked for my number?”

“There’s a lot of Bruces in the world, you’ll have to be more specific.” He dismissed.

Anger flared in your gut. “You know exactly what I’m fucking talking about.” You snarled, making Clark stand up straight and meet your eyes. In the dim light of the bar, his expression was far darker than you had ever seen before as aggravation rolled off of his powerful body in waves. “You had no right to keep something like that from me!”

“I had every right! He was just going to use you and then never talk to you again! I was protecting you!”

“I didn’t ask you to!” The bar went completely silent as Clark visibly flinched but you were far too upset to care. “You know what, I’m done.” You raised your hands in surrender as you turned and pushed through the stunned crowd, your anger slowly trickling away into sadness.

The night air was like a punch in the gut but it also eased the tenseness in your shoulders. Taking a deep breath, you willed yourself not to cry. It wasn’t like you were in love with Bruce, but even if you were, Clark’s blatant disapproval of him and his distrust in your decisions made you feel incredibly small. And it was breaking your heart.

He was your best friend, he was supposed to be supportive if not a little teasing about your choice in men. He was supposed to console you when things went wrong, not say ‘I told you so’. Why did he get to control your love life while you could only sit back and watch him fall in love with someone else?

Your feet carried you further and further from the bar as the urge to sob was quickly becoming overwhelming. “Y/N!” You turned in time to see Clark throw open the door, the light from inside spilling out onto the street as he endeavoured to chase you.

“Leave me alone!” You cried or at least tried to, but then suddenly, the air was knocked from your lungs and you were looking up at the stars.

The shrill screech of a speeding car came from somewhere on your left as bright headlights illuminated the mass of a man above you before the sound was in the distance and darkness folded over you both. His weight kept you pinned to the slightly damp grass and you had the vague thought that you must be in a park of some kind, even though just a second ago you were standing on a sidewalk- or was it the street?

“Are you okay?” That was Clark’s voice but he had been so far away from you. “Omega?” He sounded distressed and for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why.

“Say something!” His huge hands were planted by your head and it was only when one of them cupped your cheek did you find your voice again.

“Clark?” His whole body sagged with relief and he let his forehead rest against yours.

“Thank god. I thought I didn’t get to you in time. The car came out of nowhere and you were so close.” You turned your head away from him, your eyes focusing on the bar… that was across the street… a block away. The glint of something in the grass catches your attention, Clark’s glasses.

He looked so different without them and all your confused mind could think was just how blue his eyes were when they were unobscured by the glass.

His button up shirt which was normally so perfectly done up was unbuttoned, exposing the tight material of something navy beneath. “What?” But you couldn’t get out anymore, not when he shifted his weight, exposing even more of what was covered by his shirt and you were stunned into silence.

The red ’S’ practically glowed as realisation dawned into you. His brows scrunched in confusion, following your gaze. “I- I can explain.” Your head spun as he yanked you to your feet, though his hands never left your skin like he needed the reassurance that you were still there.

“I was going to tell you but then I realised how much danger it would put you in and if you were hurt in any way because of me, I couldn’t even stand the thought. And then we had known each other for months and Lois said you would feel betrayed so I kept it a secret-“ You placed an open palm onto his chest, stopping him in his tracks. His mouth snapped shut with a click.

“Is this why you were acting so weird about Bruce? You thought he would hurt me because of you?” Your voice wobbled with emotions as your nails dug into his warm peck.

Clark’s growl was shocking in its intensity. The vibrations shot up your arm as the ground shook beneath your feet with its power. “No, he would never even dare to fucking touch you. He knows who you belong to.” Your heart skipped a beat, this possessiveness was nothing you had ever seen from the soft-spoken reporter before. You knew that you should find it disgusting considering how he had been treating you but instead your veins filled with warmth.

“And who is it that I belong to? There’s no claiming mark on my neck.” His grip on your hips tightened which should have been a warning but the anger was quickly returning now that the foggy haze of danger had passed. “If I can remember correctly, you’ve been courting Lois, not me.”

“I’ve been asking her for advice on how to ask you out!” He said, exasperated. “I just couldn't find the perfect time to do it.”

“You’re an idiot.” You retorted before grabbing his black curls in a tight grip and yanking his mouth to yours. His body tensed but then quickly melted into you, groaning against your lips.

Maybe you did have an office crush but it’s not like you’d actually admit it.

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svnriseblvdd · 27 days ago

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neighbour! clark kent x new girl! reader

the highly requested expansion on this post, in which your neighbour clark kent is so helpful, and so adorably awkward that you can't help but tease him.

mildly suggestive, mdni

part one! part two!

Your parents decided to move out of the city to this small, unknown farming town for whatever reason. You're in a new place, no friends, nothing to do. Then your mother sends you to pick up a food order from a nearby farm. Thinking about Mrs Kent calling for her son Clark to come help you with all these heavy boxes and bags and this gorgeous 6-foot-something boy comes out all tall and muscular with the sweetest smile. He's in that tight white t-shirt and jeans with a belt combo, tied together with that boyish charm that has you nearly swooning as he comes over.

“Hey, mom.”

“Can you help carry all of this? I don't want her struggling all the way home.”

You think that a long walk like that with someone as pretty as Clark Kent might kill you. “Oh really, Mrs Kent-” Mrs Kent gives you a look “- Martha, it's not a problem. I don't live that far, I think I can do it.”

“No, no, I insist. Clark will help you.”

You look to Clark and offer a smile which he returns. Oh, he's far too cute. You're pretty sure your heart is close to bursting out of your chest. Damn the Kents and their hot-as-hell farmboy son. Damn Smallville for thrusting this man upon you. Damn the powers that be for dangling him in front of you, teasing you with his existence.

“Thank you, Martha,” you say, and she nods with a smile before heading back inside with a goodbye and a well-wish.

Clark bends down to grab the crates, which he stacks on top of each other, ladening his arms with bags as well, leaving a very small percentage of the order to be carried by you. “Uh, I can take some of that if you-”

“No, totally fine. It’s not that heavy.”

Your eyebrows raise, eyes briefly flitting down to look at his biceps, now flexed and really pressing against the confines of his sleeves. Then you blink back to reality and bend down to pick up the other bags, beginning the walk with Clark at your side.

“I’m Clark, by the way,” he introduces himself, and you give him your name. “Right, you guys just moved here from Central City?”

“Yeah, how did you-”

“Not much really passes for gossip around here. So, how are you liking Smallville?”

“Oh, it’s great. Real party town. Cream corn capital of the world, I hear,” you remark sarcastically, and Clark chuckles, shaking his head. “No, it’s definitely a change of pace. Not exactly a totally welcome one, but I don’t think it can get much worse.”

“Are you not settling in?”

“Oh, I’m settled. Totally. Just that it’s not really easy being in a new place and knowing nobody.”

“Well, now you’ve got me.”

“Oh, do I now?”

“Yeah.”

“I could be a horrible person, Clark. You can’t just go around letting total strangers into your life like this.”

He shrugs. “You know, I think it’d be a little more obvious if you were evil.”

You hold up a finger. “I didn’t say evil, just horrible.”

“Well, I don’t think you’re horrible either. I’d like to think I have a pretty good sense for these things.”

“Yeah, well. You can never be too careful around complete strangers.”

“I’m pretty sure I could handle myself if you turned out to be a serial killer or a bandit or something,” Clark says.

You eye his physique again. “Yeah, probably. I mean, what do you bench, a tractor?” Clark laughs a little awkwardly, and you feel yourself turning hot with embarrassment. “Sorry. I wasn’t - I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, and I wasn’t checking you out or anything. It’s just that you’re very noticeably strong.”

He gives another one of those charming smiles. “Don’t worry, you’re okay.”

Somehow, it seems Clark is more embarrassed by the situation than you are.

And when you finally reach your house, and Clark helps carry everything inside, you decide to test something.

You’re putting away something in a low cupboard, bending at the waist, ass right in front of him, and when you stand straight and turn around, Clark has turned a bright shade of red and avoids eye contact as best as possible.

And before he leaves, you voice your gratitude, going above and beyond to tell him that you’re so grateful for him being there to help. “Thank you so much, Clark. You were so helpful. Just let me know how I can return the favour, I’ll help any way I can.”

And then you’re giving him a hug, a kiss on the cheek, and a happy goodbye, watching him leave with empty crates and a blush on his cheeks. He’s far too cute.

You like Clark Kent. Not just because of his smile or his biceps or eyes or hair. Because he’s kind, funny, and oh so helpful. It doesn’t hurt that you also like how he turns red.

#muse: clark #smalllville clark kent x reader #smallville clark kent #clark kent x reader #clark kent imagine #clark kent smut

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blackynsupremacy · 1 month ago

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SO INTO YOU

pairing: older!smallville!clark kent x black!fem!reader

fandom: smallville (2001-2011)

summary: you and clark forget about the world as you indulge in each other on your honeymoon.

contains: 18+ content (mdni), smut, fluff, established relationship, reader and clark are newlyweds, l bombs, romance, oral (f receiving), praise kink, slight size kink, vanilla, missionary, implied unprotected lovemaking, squirting, i love welling clark but reader can imagine any clark they like!

taglist: @greengoblinswifey @thabiddie23 @miguelspvssy @hopefully-saturn @jkr820 @hoffmansgirl @austeenbootler @niteskysx @sabrinasopposite @thabiddie23 @hnch33rios @xoxoglittergossip @supaprettyg @afrogirl3005 @afrowrites @motherismotheringggg @oscarisaackissmykitty @simply-lovley44 @elitesanjisimp @gxuxhdjdu @venic-bxtch @stargirl-mayaa @ellethespaceunicorn

a/n: i swear imma get in requests! whenever i’m on pinterest i get a blurb i gotta write before i forget.

“hah, finally.”

clark kent sighed in content. your soft giggles were music to his ears as he carefully stepped over the threshold while holding you like precious cargo into the luxury italian suite that was graciously gifted to you both by lex luthor for your nuptials. the happiness you were both feeling was beyond words as you were just officially pronounced as husband and wife before your loved ones within the metropolis chapel. after a few hours of dancing and merriment at the reception, you and clark flew off to start your happily ever after in the beautiful city of venice. he smoothly kicked the door closed with one foot, never taking his eyes off of you when he placed you down to the stand on the ground. it was around seven in the evening when you landed, making the dim lit glow of the ivory and gold decor in the suite irresistible to pull your eyes from. you definitely weren’t in smallville, kansas anymore. you take clark’s hand within yours, slightly dragging him to peruse the area. you saw lex like a fairy godmother of sorts as he had exquisite tastes and boy, did it feel like you stepped in a fairy tale.

“oh, clark. can you believe this is ours? this is just—beautiful.” you confessed in pure awe. clark silently agreed, his blue eyes darting briefly around the room, but they can’t help to gravitate towards your figure. your ivory white corset dress that beautifully contrasted the melanated shade of your skin fit your body so perfectly that clark couldn’t wait another moment to remove the garment. he deliberately sauntered towards you, his large hands take ahold of your waist to press you closer to him. given his tall six foot stature, he leans down, so that his rose lips could press a kiss to the soft skin of your earlobe.

“that’s true, but it doesn’t compare to the beauty of my wife.” he whispered in a low voice and gripped tight tighter to your waist. clark felt a rush of joy course through his veins when he mentioned your new title. he couldn’t have been luckier to be with you in this moment. with the exception of a green rock, you were his true weakness. a sigh of his name escapes from your lips when his meet the warm, brown skin of your jawline to leave a trail of kisses against the bone before they descend to your neck. each kiss causes your skin to be ridden with goosebumps. he pulls his lips away momentarily and one of his large hands ascend from your waist, trailing smoothly over your chest for his palm to lay flat against your neck. the cold medal of his wedding band on your skin increases your excitement as clark pushes your neck backwards slowly for your head to lean. his face comes closer to yours for both of your lips to finally lock within each other. as they move in sync, you hold yourself together by bringing your hands up behind you, tangling your fingers in the plush, dark jungle of his hair. without breaking your lips from his, he swiftly turns you around and picks you up within his arms again, so that he could properly locate you to the master bedroom. clark lays your body down on cream, satin duvet where he temporarily pulls his mouth away from yours to just silently take in every part of what’s before him.

ever since your adolescence, you’d always held a deep respect for each other. as time passed, that respect slowly turned to admiration, transforming into the deep, true love you found in each other to this day. clark couldn’t count on his fingers the time that you’ve been there for him at his lowest. you never turned away from him when he revealed his powers or the time that he ran away from home. it had always been—you. the mere thought of you makes him almost grateful that he crashed down to earth on that fateful day in the fall of eighty-nine. you’d notice that clark had been silent for far too long, you’ve always been used to his lingering, blue eyes, but now you were starting to feel awkward as the desire for your new husband grew hungrier with each passing second,

“clark, baby, are you okay?” you softly inquire, your hands cupping the sides of his jaw as your fingers glide along his sculpted, blushing face. you beam with a small smile, you knew now that the feeling was indeed mutual.

“i don’t know if you know this, but i love what you do to me.” he pauses to press your lips in a searing kiss to pull away and resume speaking, “i love you—all of you.” you whine, pulling him down to take his lips to yours again, this time you let your tongue intrude into his mouth in which he graciously accepts by sensually intertwining the two together. you moan, bucking your hips into his direction, letting him know that your patience was running thin. you take your lips away from his, pushing any disheveled hair from his forehead to clearly peer into his eyes.

“i need you, clark—make love to me, please.” clark observed as you squirm, propping your legs up on each side of his hips, your thighs spread wider to signify of you both taking your relationship to a whole new level. clark’s breath hitched at your words, the urgency in your voice igniting a fire within him. he responded by leaning down and capturing your lips in another slow, passionate kiss that sent shivers down your spine. as he deepened the kiss, his hands roamed your body, exploring every curve and contour. he doesn’t forget sneak his hands down to your ass to reward it with a tight squeeze. the more he touched, the more you felt the white lacy underwear you had on seep in your arousal. you melted into him, feeling the strength of his muscles beneath your fingertips as you traced the outline of his shoulders beneath the fabric of the pristine button up, where your fingers succeed in their search to find and unravel each button.

“are you ready?” he murmured against your lips, his voice a mix of tenderness, hunger, and longing. “because once i start, i don’t think i’ll want to stop.” his blue eyes searched yours, wanting to ensure that this was what you truly wanted, but god, he’s practically waited years for this moment to come. your body was practically screaming “hell yes!”, but being the gentleman that jonathan and martha raised, your consent mattered, whether you’re his wife or not.

you nodded, your heart racing with anticipation, knowing that he can hear it clearly. “yes, clark, that’s the point—i don’t want you to stop. give it to me, baby.” you hastily replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

“whatever you want—mrs. kent.” you bite your lip as your new name rolls off of his tongue so smoothly. he sits up to finish the job of unbuttoning his shirt before shrugging it off his shoulders to reveal the beautifully sculpted body that you swear gets more muscular. those long days of farm work over the years had seriously worked in his favor. clark sits you up, so that he could finally unzip your dress. you allow him to swiftly pull it away from your body before you take turns to discard the rest of your clothing until you’re completely bare before each other. clark is instantly mesmerized by your true form and he lays you back down again on the bed, his eyes never ceasing to inspect of what he thought was the most beautiful body in the entire galaxy.

“you are—breathtaking.” he proclaimed, the heat of embarrassment rises on your face. clark’s large body loomed over yours and he shifted his weight, at last positioning himself between your legs. you could feel the heat of your dripping arousal intensify at the sight of him, and it made your heart race even faster. he marveled at you as one of his hands palmed against one of your breasts. you moan out his name, encouraging him to go further with his touch. he took his time, savoring every moment as he ghosted his mouth around the other, trailing soft kisses along your dark erected nipple before enclosing it in his warm mouth. the kryptonian hummed against the skin to create a sensual vibration, igniting every nerve in your body. he didn’t forget to alternate between the two to give them equal attention.

“mmm—clark, baby, that’s so good, but i need more.” you request, bucking up your hips. clark chuckled at your impatience, he knew exactly what you needed. he wanted this to be a perfect experience for you, but he still wanted to tease you just a little.

“where do you need me, sweetheart?” he questioned before trailing kisses along your stomach. clark’s dick grew larger when he heard you whining. “c’mon, beautiful. use your words.” he went just a little lower to your navel, swirling his tongue around the perimeter of your belly button. despite the electricity he was sending through your body, you managed to articulate your need,

“clark…” you breathed, the sound laced with desire. “need your mouth—ngh, on my pussy.”

he looked up at you, a playful glint in his eyes. “you deserve nothing less.” he said, his voice low and husky. as his head moved lower, he spread your thighs wider, spreading kisses within that area. he even lapped up a bit of overflowing arousal that stuck to your skin. clark was about to go crazy knowing that you were this wet for him and him only. he had finally reached to where you needed him, your scent of your desire drives him to cop a taste by dragging tongue in a deliver lick along your entrance to which you whimper in approval. clark immediately gets to work by swirling his tongue on your sensitive pleasure point like its a delectable piece of candy. you arch your back off the bed and your hands promptly find their way to grip onto his hair for leverage as his tongue starts to prod at your wet hole. the pad of his thumb takes care of your clit while his tongue explores deep into your pussy.

“oh, s-shit, clark. just like that, baby.” you want to clench your legs around his head to bring him closer, but he uses the strength of his elbows to keep your thighs separated, so that you could get all of what he was working with without you running away. you practically clench around his tongue, encouraging him to taste every single inch of you until you completely unravel beneath him. he brings his tongue back around your clit, giving the sloppiest of licks as if he were indulging in a melting ice cream cone, attempting to catch every drop. he drives you mad as you were still firmly planted on the bed, thighs wide open when you observe his head shaking side to side to bury himself deeper. with the little strength you have, you attempt to grind your hips. your thighs are trembling when you feel that ball of fire inside of you ready to erupt at any minute. the final straw when he takes your clit between his lips to firmly suckle on it.

“clark, m’gonna cum!”

at hearing your words, one of his hands grasps to yours, tightly intertwining your fingers.

“let go. cum for me, pretty girl. i got you.”

the movements of his tongue become more relentless as the other hand rapidly rubs on your nub to finally get you to the first of many highs for the evening. you cry out his name, arching your back and rocking your hips as you gush your liquids onto clark’s heavenly face.

“atta girl. you did so good.” he hums in appreciation by lapping up every single drop, never getting tired of the taste. he slides up to plant your lips on yours, slipping his tongue in so smoothly, so that you could enjoy the taste of yourself as he did previously. he takes your legs to wrap themselves around his waist before using his arms to prop himself up above you. as he finally aligned himself at your entrance, you gaze down and gasped at his impressive girth. he was well endowed as this wasn’t just some regular earth dick. clark paused, his gaze locked onto yours, ensuring that you were ready for this next step.

“i hope you’re ready, sweetheart. i’ll be gentle, but just let me know if it’s too much, okay? i love you.”

you nod, placing one last searing kiss to his lips.

“i trust you, clark. i love you so much more.” you say with sincerity, now gazing down again as he began to finally put your bodies together like two long lost puzzle pieces awaiting to complete the final picture.

you both shudder and sigh out in ecstasy once the tip was inside. you were made for each other. as he filled you up inch by inch, the world around you simply disappeared only leaving the rhythm of your breaths and the sound of your bodies moving in sync. every movement was a dance and every lewd vocalization was a song of celebration of your everlasting love. as husband and wife, you lost yourselves in the moment, surrendering to the bliss that enveloped you both for the rest of the night.

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maspers · 7 months ago

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Okay but can you IMAGINE if the earrings had gone to Alya like Marinette wanted them to?

Instead of having a "designated responsible hero", Scarabella and Chat Noir would just be a pair of gremlins high on life because THEY'RE SUPERHEROES OMGOSH they would spend half their time geeking out and basically exuding chaotic sibling energy the entire time.

They would reveal their identities to each other right off the bat because neither was paying attention when they were told not to, and Tikki just groans. Alya and Adrien quickly bond over being new kids at school who have superpowers, and everyone else is baffled.

Alya decides to try Clark Kenting and run the Scarablog, and Adrien is like "that's an amazing idea I'll help!" and shenanigans ensue. Marinette (who knows Alya is Scarabella since she snuck the earrings to Alya before any of this started) has befriended Alya as in canon but HASN'T told her that she knows her identity, so she gets dragged into the Scarablog staff and ends up doing most of the fieldwork and vlogging, desperately trying to do anything to cover up Scarabella's and Chat's identities (she knows Scarabella's, but doesn't know Chat's) while trying to avoid getting distracted by Adrien, who she's crushing on big time like in canon.

For his part, Adrien gets totally enamored with Marinette because Ladybug isn't there to distract him and because Scarabella is already more sibling material than lover material, but he thinks Marinette dislikes him and his brand so instead tries to woo her as Chat Noir and more shenanigans happen.

Nino, however, is low key crushing on Scarabella, and joins the Scarablog staff to try and learn more about her. Alya finds this amusing and kind of adorable, but doesn't really reciprocate for a while because she and Nino don't get locked in the zoo. She does let him investigate on his own, because she thinks pursuing the truth is a noble endeavor and in the meantime the blog can use his skills. Marinette starts silently screaming because GOSH DARNIT the identities are supposed to stay secret!

Chloe is a huge fan of Scarabella and Chat Noir. She keeps trying to force herself onto the Scarablog team… But Alya is having none of it and throws her out. Chloe engages in spying shenanigans and tries to force Sabrina onto the team in her stead, but that just results in Sabrina getting character development.

Lila shows up. Nino, desperately trying to learn more about Scarabella, falls for her lies hook line and sinker (sorry Nino, someone has to) but since Alya and Adrien both know each other's identities they see through her lies and (with Marinette) burst her bubble almost immediately. However, since Marinette actually has free time she can do her job as Class Pres and calm Lila down (a la zoe-oneesama's Scarlet Lady AU), and soon Lila shows up on the Scarablog's door offering to investigate Hawkmoth. Her main goal is fame and fortune, but eh Alya knows a good tool when she sees one. Chloe is fuming, and soon Lila gleefully engages in Spy vs Spy shenanigans with her.

Fu is like "WHOMST IS SCARABELLA" and tells Adrien that Scarabella isn't supposed to be the Ladybug wielder and Adrien briefly angsts about it but is like "who cares have you met her she's literally a great hero and that's what matters"

Fu is undeterred and keeps trying to give Marinette more miraculouses and she just keeps them in her room and doesn't use them

#alya cesaire #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #nino lahiffe #chloe bourgeois #lila rossi #wang fu #miraculous ladybug #scarabella #chat noir

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youngirlfrom · 15 days ago

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THE WICKED DIE ALONE

ɞ Someone like Y/N Kent has to find her true self, not just with the strength of a hero, but by walking the fine line between the light and darkness within. Because at the end of the day the wicked die alone. And for Y/N to die alone means all of humanity dies with her.

| Richard Grayson x Fem!Reader | chapter 1

Warnings: bl!!d, k!lling, mental health, slightly jason todd x reader, smut, english is not my first language.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 Chapter 3

This night was not a night with bright city lights illuminating the sky as usual. Metropolis was experiencing a night when Toyman attacked the city and chaos spread to every corner. Huge robots flying in the sky, deadly machines roaming the ground and buildings lost in the light of explosions… The screams of people, the sound of concrete collapsing and the metallic growls of machines echoed in the city. This chaos was, as always, time for Superman to take action.

He was the Man of Tomorrow.

He would move faster than a bullet, but he would touch people's hearts more than a hot chocolate.

It was the symbol of truth and justice.

Superman was the hero that all children in the world met in their dreams.

And as always, he defeated his enemy and stood tall on the damaged pavements. He was a ray of hope for people, no matter how difficult their situation was, they believed that everything would be okay when they saw him. Tonight was no different.

“Thank you, Superman!” Mothers crying, fathers hugging their children tightly, people just happy to be alive… Applause and cheers were rising from every corner of the city. The sky was no longer echoing with the sounds of bombs, but with the hopeful voices of people.

But amidst the chaos, Superman heard a faint cry coming from the debris of a collapsed building. He felt his heart tighten. The sound emanating from the rubble was a sign of life beyond the concrete piles. Superman carefully moved through the debris and saw a small light. He noticed that a baby was lying under the piles of concrete, surrounded by an energy shield. The shield was a bright purple color and gave off a calming yet powerful aura around it.

Superman didn't know what to do at first. This energy was of a type unfamiliar to him. He had never encountered such a unique power before. It was as if this force was somehow alive, responding to him. The shield slowly disappeared after a while, and Superman took the baby into his arms, the baby had calmed down. A weak smile appeared on her tiny lips, and this instantly erasing Superman's dark thoughts.

Superman decided to take the baby to safety. The chaos and dangers of Metropolis were no place for such an existence. Looking at the baby sleeping quietly in his arms, he set out towards Smallville, towards his mother, Martha Kent. The fact that she looked so delicate and defenseless strengthened his protective instinct even more. But he needed to understand what this power was. Who or what was it a product of?

When he arrived in Smallville, Martha Kent had a mixture of surprise and affection on her face when she saw the baby. Clark briefly told the story to his mother and talked about the energy shield that protected the baby.

"Look at those eyes," Martha said, admiring the baby's beautiful eyes. "I've never seen such beautiful color in my life. There's something about those eyes, Clark."

"Yes," Clark replied. "There is a secret behind these eyes. What exists within them is very powerful, but I do not know what it is. I cannot leave it. If this power falls into the hands of others, the consequences could be disastrous."

Martha looked at Clark with a loving smile. "This is a big responsibility, Clark. But caring for this child is important not only for her safety, but also to shape who she will become."

Clark took a deep breath as he looked at the baby's tiny face. "I know, mom. This baby is a mystery, but it's also a miracle. I'll keep an eye on her. I'll be with her every step of the her way."

Clark took the baby in his arms and gently rocked her.

"Did you give her a name?" she asked.

Clark thought for a while. He didn't even know about her existence a few hours ago, but now this little being had taken a big place in his life. "Y/N," he said finally. "Y/N Kent."

Martha nodded in agreement. "Y/N… A beautiful name. Strong and elegant."

His smile grew a little bigger as the baby snuggled up to him like a stuffed bear. He would protect her forever. He would be with her as she took her first steps. He would hold her hand when she started school. He would stand behind her when she went on her first date. He would proudly watch her at her graduation. When she started work, he would always keep one hand on her back so that her daughter would never feel insecure. He would make her the happiest daughter in the world.

She would be the hope the world needed after him.

When little Y/N grew up, she would be faster than a flowing river and strong enough to stop a great typhoon.

Even though she was as mysterious as the dark side of the moon with her eyes, Clark Kent would make her grow up with the light inside her.

English is not my first language! So please do not hesitate to politely point out if I make a mistake.

I won't be reporting any physical characteristics for Y/N in the story, it's just as it should be. But just decided to make the color of her power purple, which is one of my favorite colors. But you can imagine any color you want, of course.

This and the next chapter will be about Y/N and her power, and later the story will begin immediately. And I will write the story in first person.

When I was little I saw my own father as Superman, I still do. I hope this story brings some happiness to those who cannot have a father like Clark, like Superman.

I love you all, see you next chapter 🩵🩵🩵

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tiger-in-the-flightdeck · 1 year ago

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For all your Conner Kent fic writing needs!

He was never created to be SuperBOY. He was just let out of his clone tube early. Chronologically, his development stopped at about age 16. He's a year older than Bart Allen, and two years older than Tim Drake.

The Kid spent his first year as a superhero in Hawaii. He was also mostly a publicity stunt.

He is tiny, compared to Clark. In fact, he's only an inch taller than Tim (but about 25 pounds heavier)

One of his aliases for his secret identity is Carl Grummet (based on the writer and artist for his original comic)

His signature leather jacket has been replaced dozens of times because it gets destroyed in most of his fights.

Kyle Rayner taught him how to draw, and he sculpted the statues of the Young Justice members that stand in their display room.

His powers sometimes get away from him and act out his subconscious desires- they once destroyed every handgun in the city when he was upset, and while getting frustrated trying to give a baby a bottle, it blew up.

He sleeps with a teddy bear.

Fellow DNAlien Dubbilex was his tutor, and Kon considered him his dad. He also considered his agent's daughter Roxy to be his big sister.

He. Is. A. Geek. He is a rabid Wendy The Werewolf Stalker fanboy, quotes Star Trek from memory, and collects rare Magic the Gathering cards.

He briefly had a crush on Cassandra Cain and was even her first kiss, but they both realised that what they both wanted was to be friends.

The piercing in his left ear is actually from the Project 13 identity tag that he had in his clone tube.

After Project Cadmus shut down, he was homeless and living in the bathtub at Young Justice HQ. Because he doesn't have a firm grasp on how the world works, when he tried to get an apartment of his own, he tried to pay his rent with a bag of toys and snacks. Eventually he ended up as a superintendent at a slum building.

Before he was adopted by the Kents, he used to visit them from time to time, hoping to get affection from Ma Kent.

The Justice League once strapped his ass to a nuke and blasted him into the multiverse. There, he met dozens of other versions of himself. One of those versions was a Robin who took the role after that world's Tim was killed.

And of course, for your shipping needs:

He can pinpoint Tim's voice out of everyone in Gotham, as well as track him across the globe.

He knows that Tim tried to clone him after he died.

After their first mission together, he thinks that he and Tim are going to end up as Bart's parents.

Tim's 'Robin voice' seems to turn him on.

He has dreams about Bart as a Playboy Bunny version of the White Rabbit.

#conner kent #kon el #superboy #timkon #konbart

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lyricwritesprose · 1 month ago

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Me versus a fanfic idea, trying to cohere

Having been watching some of "My Adventures With Superman" lately, and I have become kind of obsessed with a crack idea that came to me last night at fuck o'clock in the morning, that being: what if (in the MAWS continuity or any one in which the Kents are both alive) Jonathan and Martha got roped into briefly housing or fostering a teen after Clark was out on his own?

I mean. Like. Imagine you're this kid. You are staying with the most tragically uncool individuals on this planet, but they're honestly nice, they aren't bothered by all the stuff that got you labeled A Troubled Youth or the gender stuff you may have going on or any of that, they just seem fundamentally Able To Roll With It, and, okay, this is going to be fine. It's temporary anyway. Just keep out of trouble.

And they have an adult son who comes around sometimes? He's kind of nice too. Maybe twenty-one, twenty-two, he's built like a moose and you'd think he'd be imposing but he's kind of shy and awkward and somehow just fundamentally Not Like the people who beat you up before, so you're pretty chill with him. He knows all the good places on the farm to sit and think, or sit and draw. One time when he comes around he shows you the creek and you learn all about the frogs and the crawdads and the snakes. Tells you about the corn snake he rescued once. Stuff like that.

Only some things really don't add up.

Like, there's never a car in the driveway when he shows up. And it's not on weekends or anything like that, it's weird times.

And there's a note on the fridge that says, "If you drink all the milk please replace it THIS MEANS YOU," and before long you figure out it's gotta be meant for him, because he will take a gallon and finish it a glass at a time and who can even do that without throwing up? Wasn't there some kind of ghastly TikTok challenge about that?

And when you joked to his Dad and Mom that he seems to have a real superpower for figuring out whether there is going to be pie, you got such weird, almost nervous looks that you quickly dropped the subject.

And one time you swear he appeared out of absolutely nowhere to walk you back to the house because Mr. Peterson's bull broke the fence and is wandering this way. (He was the first one to realize this. How did he realize this? He's sort of guiltily evasive on the subject.)

And he reassures you one time that you don't actually need to fear the Kansas Mothman because he accidentally started that legend. How? He really doesn't want to talk about it.

What with one thing and another, you start wondering…

Maybe he's a ghost.

Maybe something awful happened and he can't move on. You don't want to suspect the Kents, they are honestly pretty top-notch for parental types (especially after some of the ones you've known) but other people in the town? You know personally how ghastly a small town can be to That Weird Kid. Maybe something really bad happened.

(Maybe it could happen to you too.)

So you've got to figure out what's going on so you can get justice for your friend. You start to investigate. Smallville does have rather more than its fair share of Weird Shit—like possibly a lot more—but you're not really getting anywhere. And it occurs to you that you don't really have the wherewithal to go and try to find—well, let's not put too fine a point on it, to find an unmarked grave—that could be anywhere.

Meanwhile the world has at this point in time started to see some Seriously Weird Shit, although at this point it's largely In Other Places because that's where everything in the world happens, there is absolutely Nothing Significant In Kansas and probably never will be, but it gives you an idea. Slightly insane and scary idea, but you've hit so many dead ends that it might be worth it.

You're going to try to contact Superman and see if he can use his rumored X-ray vision to figure out what happened to Clark.

…

Just to be clear, I have no idea what the ultimate punchline is for this piece of ridiculous meandering is, and it's the sort of thing that does require a pretty good punchline. So I don't know if it's ever actually going to get written. On the other hand, it is one of my favorite dishes, which is Canon Characters Helping Queer Kid, with a heavy helping of Following Logic-like Structures To Wrong Conclusions sauce.

So I thought I might post the idea, because I have this lovely optimistic belief that sometimes, I am in fact extremely funny, and tumblr is a place that often eggs me on.

#maws #my adventures with superman #superman

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writerbugg · 6 months ago

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Good Luck

Chapter # 6 Foggy Fears

Platonic Yandere Dc x reincarnated Reader

Wattpad

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6 (You are here)

I realized at that moment that there are some whose dread of human beings is so morbid they yearn to see monsters of ever more horrible shapes.

- Junji Ito

(Once again, this chapter was changed quite a bit.)

!!TW!! Death, Blood, Car accident, Sudden switch from first person to second person.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

'Dinner was too quiet.' Louis thought as she picked up the plates from the table, slowly bringing them to the sink.

'How could I have missed it?' She thought as she began to scrub the plate in her hand. 'She's my daughter. How could I have not seen it?'

Her grip tightened on the plate, her acrylic nails painfully dug into the plate. 'Am I such a horrible mother that I couldn't even notice my daughter ███ █████ ██?'

Snap

Louis looks down at her broken nail, a stinging pain accompanying the sudden loss of her red nail.

"Mom?"

Louis jumps, quickly turning her head and letting out a sigh of relief when she sees Jon. Placing a hand on her chest, she gives Jon a shaky smile, "Oh, Jon, be careful you almost gave your mother a heart attack."

Jon simply nods, as if not hearing his mother, "Um, Conner is... here." He muttered.

Louis's smile drops briefly before returning with a strained one, "Oh? Really? Well invite him in, it's been forever since he's come to visit."

Giving his mother a concerned look, Jon makes his way back out of the kitchen.

Louis sighs as soon as Jon leaves, running a hand through her hair.

"It's all my fault," She whispered, "It's all my fault..."

──●◎●──

The movie had ended, though Y/n barely noticed. All she could think about was how... ѳЧҭ ѳf ҁћӓГӓҁҭЭГ Clark had acted during the car ride. This wasn't the calm, happy-go-lucky superhero Y/n grew up with in the comics, he seemed so different. More stressed and less stable the Clark Kent from the comics. It all led to one thought;

If he's like this, how would he react if he found out about her reincarnation?

'I just want to go home.' Y/n ran a hand through her hair, her thoughts made her feel guilty, was she being ungrateful? Was Y/n even really Y/n? What if she just took over this Y/n's body? Was it her fault Clark's 'daughter' was gone?

What if he found out-

"Y/n? Are you ok? The credits ended a while ago." Clark's hand on Y/n's shoulder felt like fire. "Let's get going, okay?" Clark said softly, dipping his head down to look into Y/n's eyes. "I'm sure Bruce (the prick) is anxious to have you back at the manor."

With a hesitant nod, Y/n stands up slowly. "Yeah... You're right, we should go." Clark smiles warmly, complete 180 from earlier. "Before that, I was hoping we could stop by the store on our way back." Clark rubs the back of his neck bashfully, "I might have promised your mother to get groceries while I was out, and the market is on the way to Bruces Mansion." His eyes seem to light up, "Oh! They might even have that snack you like so much! We can pick it up as well."

Y/n nods, "Yeah, I don't mind,"

Clark's smile widens, "Great! Let's get going then!"

Sighing, Y/n follows Clark to his car,

'DC has Walmarts?' Y/n thought as she followed Clark into the supermarket.

The Walmart looked normal for the most part, there didn't seem to be too many people (probably because it was relatively late and this was still Gotham). Clark grabs a cart before heading into the supermarket, Y/n following closely behind, immediately he heads over to the dairy section browsing the milk and cream aisle.

"What's your favorite creamer?"

Looking over to Clark, Y/n raises a bow "Hmm?" she hums confused. Clark smiles, "I figured I could get some while we're here for when you go back to Bruce."

An 'ooh' escapes Y/n's mouth before turning to get a better look at the creamers. In Y/n old life, she honestly preferred sweet things and would often put way too much creamer in her coffee, but as of late she's been enjoying less sweet things.

"Mmm, I think I'm good for now," Y/n responded, not missing the way Clark frowned.

"Oh."

Clark grabs a few things before leaving, and you awkwardly follow behind him.

The rest of the shopping trip continues like this, Y/n felt like tearing her hair out, it was just so awkward and uncomfortable. Eventually, the pair ended up in the electronic section of the store.

"- game you really like!" Clark's voice bleeds into existence, breaking Y/n's train of thought. Glancing over, Y/n sees Clark holding a bootleg version of Minecraft. "Y/n? Did you hear me?" Clark frowns a bit, his eye's losing that spark again. "Y/n. I know you have a lot on your mind, but you-"

"AAHHHHHHH!!!"

You and Clark jump at the sudden scream, Clark's eyes quickly scan the store for the source of the screaming.

"OH GOD-"

"GET AWAY FROM ME!"

"THEY'RE IN MY HEAD, MAKE THEM STOP!"

More and more screams start popping up, Clark quickly pulls you close to him and you can feel your heart pounding. What was going on??

"MY SKIN IS BURNING, I'M BURNING ALIVE!"

"I'M FALLING, I CAN'T STOP FALLING!"

"SPIDERS!"

A mist seems to slowly cover the ground, screams of desperation continue to fill the air, only growing more and more unsettling.

"Shit," Clark mutters, he grips your shoulders and swiftly turns you around to face him.

"Y/n. You need you listen to me." His voice was serious, "No matter what you see, it's not real. Do you understand? It's. Not. Real."

Y/n's eyes widen, Fear Gas, the mist was fear gas! This was bad! Very very bad! Unlike Clark, Y/n wasn't immune which meant Y/n was about to experience the full effect of the gas.

"Y/n! Y/n just remember! It's not real- it- ot- rea-"

The world seems to blur as a burning sensation enters Y/n's lungs.

You sigh tiredly as you walk along the worn-down sidewalk, comic book in hand. It had been a long day, and all you wanted to do was go home and rest. Stopping at the crosswalk, you take a few glances from side to side, you never know when a truck could just barrel through you because you didn't look.

You step onto the asphalt road.

Your heart was pounding for some strange reason, it suddenly became really hard to breathe. A loud honk rings in the air. Looking to your left, you see a dark blue truck heading towards you, its headlights illuminating a path where you were dead center.

The vehicle's driving was so erratic, you didn't know which way to run. Ultimately, whichever direction you chose didn't matter. The result would undoubtedly have been the same.

The impact was fast, you didn't feel anything at first.

It didn't last very long, though.

You lay on the asphalt road, gasping for air, trying to gain back all the air knocked out of you. That didn't do so well for your broken ribs, of course. The taste of blood indicates that some of your teeth might be missing, based on your guess.

You can't see much of your surroundings either. Aside from that dark blue truck's headlights blinding you, your vision was growing dark.

For a brief moment, you could see the man step out of his truck and go over to you. Then, everything in the world went dark.

"-waking up! She's waking up!" a boyish voice rings in Y/n's ear. A pounding headache seems to accompany her as she slowly sits up in her bed.

A few seconds after Clark enters her room. He looked around until he spotted the suitcase next to her closet, he went over and started to put her belongings in it.

"We are leaving." Clark states firmly, "And tomorrow you and I will be having a talk about what you saw." He seemed upset, extremely upset.

Clark... where are we going?" Y/n asked, though she already knew his answer.

"It's dad, not Clark, Y/n." That was all Clark said as he dragged you downstairs towards the manor's doors.

Bruce was standing by the door with a perplexed look on his face. He seemed stressed and a bit frustrated. Looking over, Bruce glared at Clark, quickly walking in front of him as if to intercept him, but Clark just pushed him aside.

"Clark put her down, we need to talk about this! Her condition could get worse!" Clark ignored him and walked out the door to his car, Bruce hot on his tail.

"I don't need a man who puts his children through hell and back to lecture me or tell me how to parent my kid Bruce." Clark and put you in the car with the suitcase. Then he got in himself and started the car.

"How about you start focusing on how not to kill your own kids before you start worrying about mine"

──●◎●──

Jon gasps. This... this couldn't be right. It was... no it was impossible! But... it was, it was here and it was possible. This changes everything...

──●◎●──

𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚁𝚎𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚜 𝙴𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝙸𝚗𝚌. 𝚆𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍.

𝚂𝙾𝙼𝙴 𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆𝚂!!!

█████ 𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆𝚂!

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

TagList - @blublock404 @no-sleep-for-insomniacs @rosecentury

#batfam #platonic yandere #yandere batman #yandere bruce wayne #yandere clark kent #yandere damian wayne #yandere dc #yandere dick grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere justice league #yandere tim drake #jon kent #platonic yandere batfam

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fxckn-sxck-fr · 1 month ago

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lowk FUCKED up, butttttttttttttt would any of the comic book yanderes lobotomize their darling? we always talkin about willingness and shit saur... ya know!! just a lil off the top if ykwim

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐂 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐒…

!!! GN reader, take a wild guess (lobotomies), neurological terms used, basic delusional behaviors, unethical uses of superpowers, unethical practices in general, mentions of brain dead/vegetative/mentally handicapped reader, Hal’s part briefly describes actual lobotomy procedures, Joker jumpscare in Harvey’s, gaslighting, a small history lesson here and there, themes of forced drug abuse, Tim Drake being a good candidate for the Saw franchise.

GRRRRAAAAAAAARRRRGGGHGHHHRRR. Anon, come over here so I can give you a lil forehead smooch. I’ve always wanted to write a yan lobotomy blurb, but… I didn’t really know what direction I wanted to go. Or who to write about. The idea is was legit, “hee hee, wouldn’t it be silly if there was a yandere lobotomy fic” and that’s about it. So I guess this is my chance to get some feelings out about that, yay!!

A few of these are a bit longer than usual cuz this type of shit is my jam. I also didn’t know if you wanted me to rank them on least to most likely, so shoot me a follow up ask if that’s what you wanted. Mwah!!

Bruce Wayne: Definitely not off the table. I’m willing to bet Thomas Wayne had at least one book on lobotomies; just an antique hardback that makes for an interesting read. I can see young Bruce sitting on his father’s lap in the study, tiny hands tracing over the book’s old diagrams as Thomas lovingly describes all of the morbid things they’d do to people (you know, classic father/son bonding activities). Who knew it would actually come in handy one day? Moral repercussions be damned, my man can pull off a sick lobotomy. There are of course factors he has no control over — such as your own brain plasticity and cognitive function — but that’s not exactly his fault, now is it? What your brain decides to do post-lobotomy has nothing to do with him (jokes aside, he’d be devastated if you were totally fucked up afterwards… though he’d easily adapt).

Bucky Barnes: I think he’s had enough mind-meddling of his own to give this a hard pass. It doesn’t matter how bad you are; he’s not doing anything to your brain. You’ll learn to behave on your own accord. And thank god, cuz bro would NOT make a good brain surgeon. He’d brick you so fast. Also, fun fact, the Soviets were actually the first to ban lobotomies (if memory serves correct; Google is backing me up, so… do with that what you will). I don’t know if this carries over to the KGB and their little secret evil organization side shenanigans, but yeah. Let it be known that the chances of lobotomized Bucky went down by… like… 3%.

Clark Kent: At first, I was about to say no, but then I remembered the Justice Lords from the JL cartoon, and… you know what? Maybe. It would be a very low chance, but if it’s gotten to the point where you’re a danger to yourself, Clark would have no other choice. What else can he do? Your safety always comes first and foremost. While the two dots singed into your forehead would raise a few brows, it’s not like he lets you out much anyway. He’d spend a long time trying to cope with the guilt. He did this to save you… he just had to save you from yourself. At least his heat vision is precise enough that he wouldn’t fuck it up. Now all that’s left to do is hope that you turn out okay. He’ll consider it a job well done if you can at least still smile at him.

Dick Grayson: He really isn’t that much different from Bruce, is he? Yeah, he’d do it. Maybe with a few more reservations, but he’d still do it. I think it’s in your best interest if you don’t let him spiral this far, because he’s not against the idea of you being in a completely vegetative state. Yeah, it would suck that you aren’t as active of a participant as he’d want you to be, but having complete control over your care is good enough for him. He’ll easily let his own delusions fill that void. Honestly, a part of him might even hope you turn out with a mental capacity of a toddler. It’s the best of both worlds; while you can still respond to your environment, you also rely heavily on his care. Perfectly pliable in his hands… a dream come true! Yay!

Hal Jordan: Nah. He’s good. Last he checked, he’s not the most qualified person in the world to quite literally poke around in someone’s brain. Hell, even the thought of it makes him sick. No drilling holes into skulls, no skewering needles through eye sockets, no thanks! He’ll leave that up to the people who can stomach the grosser shit. Now, is the thought of a quick operation that theoretically fixes your bratty behavior tempting? Sure. But Hal’s not an idiot; he knows the risks, and those risks just don’t seem worth it. There’s a reason lobotomies are unethical nowadays. Unless the topic comes up in some sort of show or movie, the thought wouldn’t even cross his mind.

Harvey Dent: Neither Harvey nor Two Face are all that keen on the idea. They might’ve done some fucked up shit to you (definitely Two Face more than Harvey), but a lobotomy? That’s just a new level of fucked up. A Joker level of fucked up, even (and the thought of being compared to that piece of shit makes both sides of Dent want to light up an entire room). Besides, there’s no one on the entire planet he’d trust to pull off a procedure like that on you. While he might know a guy or two who would totally do it in this day and age, he’d sooner put a bullet in their brain than let them fuck around with yours. That being said, don’t think you’re totally out of the woods. At the end of the day, it’s all up to the coin, remember?

Jaime Reyes: Would Jaime? No. Absolutely not. It’s unethical, it’s fucked, and it’s also just gross. Anything to do with surgery makes him feel extremely squeamish, and he might actually pass out if he thinks about it too hard. But would Khaji Da? Yeah. Probably. Though it would have to be an extreme scenario, where you’re just completely beyond controlling. Khaji Da knows the risks, and while he’ll execute the technical aspects flawlessly, the results are naturally unpredictable. It would be unfortunate if the scarab lost its host’s mate. Your poor little noggin is at the mercy of Jaime’s resolve. Is he in full control? Then don’t worry, his incoherent mutterings about severing connections in your prefrontal cortex are nothing but his weird intrusive thoughts. But… if he isn’t… uh-oh.

Peter Parker: Nope. No lobotomies here. He’s quite aware of the repercussions, both morally and practically. Honestly, he doesn’t even see most of your behaviors as something in need of correcting in the first place. Maybe if you were causing yourself any sort of harm, but other than that, he can put up with a lot of your bullshit. Talking back? Name calling? Hitting and kicking? Straight-up just being abusive? As long as you don’t leave him, he’ll work with it! Peter is the exact definition of a pushover yandere. You can get away with a lot, and that includes not getting lobotomy!

Reed Richards: I can see him pulling one off. Is it the most desirable outcome? Definitely not. But there’s only so much he can put up with before he finally puts his foot down. If you’re the insubordinate type, you’ve probably given him at least 17 heart attacks by now, and it’s only natural he’d come up with a way to curb those behaviors. See, me personally, if I were to get a lobotomy from any of these men, I’m calling up Reed. He’s no neurologist, but I’m sure he can whip up something to study your brain waves and accurately predict the outcome of a lobotomy. Plus, he’d probably have the safest environment and instruments for the operation. You won’t feel a thing, trust. Now let’s hope months of collecting data and trial runs on some less-than-willing test subjects pay off!

Remy LeBeau: Yeah, no… probably not. Thanks to Sinister, he knows first hand how invasive a lobotomy is. You’d have to be really unstable for him to even consider that idea. He definitely has the means to do it — all he has to do is put a finger up to your forehead and burn through your frontal lobe — but having the resolve to do it is a different story. While he might’ve turned out semi-okay post-lobotomy, there’s no telling what would happen after yours. Way too risky. Only something to consider as a totally nuclear option. So don’t make him do something he’d rather not, okay? It’d be better for you, better for him, better for everyone.

Scott Summers: Like Gambit, he’s a victim of Sinister’s fuckery but 10 times worse. I don’t think he’d be able to stomach the thought of doing anything surgical to you no matter how disobedient you are. But… maybe we can make this a little interesting. Scott’s attracted some hella weird attention over the years… who’s to say someone like Sinister wouldn’t get his hands on you and do a little fucking around? Maybe Goblin Queen? A particularly pissed off Phoenix? While Scott himself wouldn’t dare lobotomize you, I think there’s some people out there who would. Or, hear me out: mind controlled Cyclops almost crushing your skull with an optic blast. It would be more blunt force than an actual lobotomy, but I’m willing to bet it would fuck up your cognitive function all the same. Despite the immense horror and guilt he’d feel afterwards, a small part of him can see it as a blessing in disguise (depending on how you turn out, that is).

Steve Rogers: Honestly, Cap was frozen at the funniest point in history ever. The amount of lobotomies increased exponentially from the 40s to 50s (mind you, WWII ended in 1945), and then antipsychotics were introduced as a more ethical way to treat mental illness, which Steve wouldn’t know shit about. Unfortunately for all of my fellow sickos out there, lobotomies were probably never a thing Steve liked about the 40s, but allow me to offer an alternative. Steve thinks there’s clearly something wrong with your mental health; why else would you act like you hate him? Luckily for him, this is the 21st century, where people know much more about mental illnesses and disorders. He could easily pull some strings as Captain America and get you the help you so obviously need. So, I guess the question is, how many different prescriptions of antipsychotics can one take at once? Guess you’ll find out!

Tim Drake: So… uh… y’all better pray that he doesn’t get any intrusive thoughts about this shit. And if he does, PRAY that he snaps out of his weird fit before it’s too late. DO NOT LET BRO COOK. I don’t think he’d totally fuck it up or anything, but the chances of him spiraling and performing more than one are dangerously high. You might find the out hard way just how much poking and prodding a brain can take before it shuts down. Depending on how manic he is, he might actually lobotomize you while you’re conscious. No anesthesia, no painkillers, just him pouncing on you with a hammer and pick. You will be rawdogging this lobotomy like god intended. That’s when he’d fuck your shit up. Unless you want him to brick your brain, you better fight him off and wrestle those tools out of his hands. The post-manic episode clarity would be insane. “Uh… sorry I tried to give you a lobotomy.” Cool, man. Okay.

Wally West: Wally “if you need to give someone a lobotomy, that’s honestly a skill issue” West. Who needs that shit when you’re THE master manipulator? It would take some god-tier perception (or paranoia) to see through a fraction of his act, and even so, what good will any of that do when he’s got everyone else wrapped around his finger? Fighting against him is a dangerous game. If need be, he’ll play the loving caretaker while you’re the loony one. Poor Wally… he’s trying to help you through your issues, and this is the thanks he gets? Wow. Now, for the sake of a little exploration, I think it’s important to note that Wally could theoretically go through with it (by phasing his hand through your skull and solidifying at the right angle), but that sounds way too unstable to pull off. It would probably run the risk of turning your brain into a soup, and I’m pretty sure that kills people.

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 7 months ago

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Caught at the last second with Clark Kent?

.⋆｡The Fall｡⋆.

Clark Kent x plus size reader

Faced with a choice between you and Lois, Clark has to decide who lives and who dies

Warnings: angst, fear of heights, literally a life and death situation guys, unrequited love (maybe), vivid imagery of drowning, kind of ambiguous but happy ending (you’ll see) WC: 1.1k

6k Follower Celebration Bingo

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

“Isn’t this a predicament Superman? Your ex-lover and your best friend in such precarious situations, across the globe from each other. You’ll only have time to save one of them.” The LEDs of the monitors behind Luther seared into Clarks eyes but he refused to look away. Already his muscles were tensed, ready to dart away at any moment. “I wonder which one you will choose, I know which one I would.”

Luther smirked, eyeing the monitor that clearly displayed your panicked face as you struggled against the chains wrapped tightly around your soft body. “She is quite the fighter, isn’t she?”

“Why are you doing this Luther?” The man rolled his eyes, finally turning to look at Clark.

“Why wouldn’t I? You are a nuisance, self-righteous, and aggravatingly nosy. If I kill one of them, and I will, I think you’ll learn your lesson. So, here we are. Lois Lane, the only woman you have ever loved, suspended over a cliff somewhere in Europe,” Luther gestured to the image of Lois, her head raising as his voice repeated over the feed and Clark realised that they could both hear what was happening, “and your best friend. The woman who has never stopped supporting you, somewhere in the Pacific with an anchor attached to her, I’m sure you can imagine what her fate is.” The man had the audacity to laugh then, as your expression fell and you stopped struggling.

“You don’t have to do this Luther. Just let them go and I’ll spare you.”

Lex hummed. “You know, you’re right. This is quite boring by my standards, let’s shake it up.” Suddenly, a ground of masked men surrounded you, briefly blocking the camera before there was a scuffle and the feed cut off. Before Clark could react, another camera turned on, showing the criss-crossing metal beams of a crane as cables in the background shifted in the high winds. “Give them a minute, would you? Not all of us can move so quickly.”

“I’m going to rip you apart, molecule by molecule.” Red creeped into Clark’s vision, slowly casting a haze of rage over everything.

“Now, if you kill me, you won’t get a hint as to where your women are. So be a good boy and watch. Ah, there she is.” Two men had you by your arms as they dragged you through the crane’s walkway, your eyes squeezed shut. Clark knew how badly you hated heights, descending into panic attacks if he even mentioned taking you out on a flight. His chest burned with fear. “And now, we have a level playing field. So, who are we picking?”

Your chains were thrown onto the edge of the structure, almost out of the camera’s line of sight, the huge iron anchor balancing treacherously by your feet.

“Kal!” His eyes darted over to the second monitor where Lois was now fighting against a pulley that was quickly tugging her towards a sheer cliff face. Only her hands were bound by thick rope but he knew that as soon as her full body weight pulled on it, the rope would snap.

“What’s the hint?” He snarled, ripping his gaze back to Lex Luther who was now beaming.

——————

The cold wind was like knives against your exposed skin, cutting into every nerve on your body. You desperately prayed that you would go numb soon, not wanting your last moments on this Earth to be ones full of pain. Your nails bit into the palms of your hands as another gust of wind made the crane groan and sway. It was all you could do not to scream.

Yet you kept your mouth firmly shut because you knew that if you said or did anything now, it would only feed into Clark’s guilt. He was going to pick Lois and you wanted to give him peace of mind. You forced your eyes open to watch the sunset. Your death would not be quick, even with the dizzying height, it would not be enough to kill you. Instead, you would be dragged to the depths as salt water filled your lungs and your screams forcefully ripped from you.

You wouldn’t blame Clark as you sank, you hope that you could instead think about his smile as the dim light above you disappeared into the blue.

You would not tell him that you loved him, refused to leave that weight on his soul when he already carried so much pain within him. But you would imagine a life with him, a kid, maybe two in a small townhouse somewhere quiet, as the pressure and cold consumed you.

Lois’s voice crackled through the intercom by your head, distorted and warped. A band of fear wrapped tightly around your chest, pressing down harder than the metal chain keeping your arms pinned to your sides. You forced yourself to breathe in the salty air, knowing that it could be your last.

“I’ll be ok Clark, don’t worry about me. Just be happy, that’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.” And as the sun dipped below the horizon, you let your eyes shut again, your entire body relaxed. “I’ll be ok.”

Metal scrapped against metal. You were pulled forwards.

The wind screamed.

You could see the vivid blue of his eyes.

You were weightless.

You could hear his laughter.

The chains rattled.

You saw the moment you met him; the rain around you, a single umbrella between you.

The sound of waves crashing was getting closer.

He was always so kind, so warm. You never knew a man better than him.

Gravity slammed into you, knocking a pained cry from your lips. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” Warmth enveloped you as something crashed into the ocean, droplets of water splashing against your ankles. Your cheek was pressed against something hard as a loud, frantic beating filled your ears. “You’re safe.”

Soft fabric wrapped around you, soothing the burn of your skin. Shakily, you reached up, your limbs stiff and aching. “Clark?” With all the strength you had left, you opened your eyes.

You were barely 5 feet up front the ocean swell, a hazy ring of bubbles below you was the only indication that something had been dragging you down at all. Clark was indeed there, holding you tightly to his chest as a huge abandoned oil rig loomed behind him, half of it on fire. His eyes were wide, fearfully examining every inch of your body before his shoulders drooped and he sighed in relief.

“No broken bones or internal bleeding. Thank god.” His lips descended onto your forehead, pressing kiss after kiss to your cold skin.

“You picked me?” He pulled away only enough to look into your eyes.

“I always will.” A hand cupped the back of your neck, drawing your face upwards. Your lips parted as he glanced at them. “I will do anything to keep you safe.”

And as the fires behind him, Clark finally kissed you, washing away the smell of blood and screams of pain that he had inflicted upon those who took you from him. No one would ever hurt you again.

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okasuka · 1 month ago

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Conner kent x batfam!reader - patrol partners.

ps. sorry about the random part labeling part i messed it up and couldn’t fully get rid of it……..

Behind her, the sound of a boot scuffing against the rooftop grated on her nerves.

“You always this dramatic, or is this just for show?” Conner Kent’s smug voice broke the silence.

Y/N didn’t bother to turn around. “Some of us actually focus on the mission,” she said coolly.

Conner leaned casually against the antenna at the center of the rooftop, his leather jacket slung open over his S-shield shirt, the red and black colors popping against the dark backdrop of the city. The sunglasses perched on his nose, even at night, gave him the infuriating aura of someone who didn’t take anything seriously.

“Relax, Bat-lite,” he said with a lazy grin. “Clark’s golden boy is here to save the day. No need to brood yourself into an early grave.”

Her jaw tightened. “Don’t call me that.”

“What? Bat-lite? Fine. Broody McPunch-a-Lot, then?”

Y/N finally turned to glare at him. “You’re not funny.”

“Debatable,” he replied, tilting his sunglasses down to meet her eyes. “But we’re partners tonight, so maybe try to enjoy my company for once. I’m a delight.”

She snorted softly, turning back to the streets. “Bruce thinks I can learn to ‘lighten up’ from you. That’s laughable.”

“Guessing that means you’re here to teach me how to scowl harder?”

“Something like that.”

The radio crackled in their earpieces before Conner could fire back. Clark’s calm voice came through.

“Y/N, Conner. Report of a break-in on Fifth and Pine. Two suspects. Armed. Proceed with caution.”

“On it,” Y/N said crisply, already stepping off the ledge and firing a grappling hook toward the neighboring building. She moved with practiced ease, her cape trailing behind her like a shadow.

“Wait up!” Conner called, hovering briefly before zipping after her. He caught up quickly, his flight speed more than compensating for her head start.

“Show-off,” she muttered as he floated beside her mid-swing.

“Just keeping up,” he said with a cocky smirk.

They landed on the roof of a pawn shop overlooking the intersection. Below, two masked figures were shoving what looked like jewelry and cash into a duffel bag.

“Stay here,” Y/N whispered, already angling for the fire escape.

Conner raised an eyebrow. “You’re kidding, right?”

“This requires stealth. Something you know nothing about,” she snapped.

“Hey, I can be stealthy,” he insisted, crossing his arms.

She shot him a pointed look. “You’re wearing a bright red ‘S’ on your chest and sunglasses at night.”

“Touché.”

Ignoring him, Y/N crept silently down the fire escape, her footsteps light and calculated. Conner, to his credit, stayed behind—though he leaned casually over the edge of the roof, watching her with obvious amusement.

One of the suspects turned just as Y/N landed softly behind them. Before he could react, she delivered a swift kick to his knee, sending him crashing to the ground. His partner spun around, pulling a gun from his waistband—only to have it yanked out of his hands by an unseen force.

“Uh-uh,” Conner said from above, the gun floating into his hand. He crushed it effortlessly, his grin widening. “Let’s not make this harder than it has to be.”

The second suspect tried to run, but Y/N cut him off, twisting his arm behind his back and forcing him to the ground.

“You’re welcome,” Conner said as he floated down to her level.

“I had it under control,” she replied, her voice icy.

“Sure you did,” he said, tossing the remains of the gun to the side. “I’m just here to make your life easier.”

Part 2

Y/N didn’t bother responding. She zip-tied the second suspect’s wrists with practiced precision before standing and looking up at Conner. He stood there like a statue, hands on his hips and that smug smirk plastered across his face.

“You’re in my way,” she said, stepping past him to retrieve the duffel bag.

Conner didn’t move. “I think you mean, ‘Thanks, Conner, for being awesome and saving my life.’”

She froze mid-step, her head turning slowly toward him. “I didn’t need saving.”

He gave a low whistle, holding his hands up. “Wow, you’re fun. You always this warm, or do I bring it out in you?”

“Are you always this insufferable, or is tonight special?” she shot back, hoisting the duffel over her shoulder.

“Depends on who you ask,” he replied with a wink, trailing after her as she moved toward the street.

By the time the cops arrived to take the suspects into custody, Y/N was already giving a report to Clark over comms. Conner leaned casually against a lamppost nearby, occasionally tossing glances her way as she talked.

“She’s a bundle of sunshine, isn’t she?” he muttered to himself.

“I heard that,” Y/N said without looking up.

Conner chuckled, pushing off the lamppost and stepping closer. “So, what’s next, boss? Or do you need a break to recharge all that brooding energy?”

Her hands clenched into fists, but she forced herself to stay calm. “There’s another report on Tenth and Broadway. If you’re done standing around, maybe you can actually do something useful.”

“Lead the way,” he said with a sweeping gesture, sunglasses flashing under the streetlights.

They moved in silence this time, Y/N swinging between buildings with her grappling hook while Conner soared above her like an overconfident hawk. Every so often, she’d catch him glancing at her from the corner of her eye, and it only irritated her more.

When they reached the next scene—a group of gang members looting a storefront—Y/N landed on the roof first, crouching low as she surveyed the area.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Here’s the plan—”

“No need for a plan,” Conner interrupted, cracking his knuckles. “I’ve got this.”

“Wait—” she started, but it was too late.

Conner shot toward the gang like a bullet, landing right in the middle of them with a loud thud. Glass crunched under his boots as he straightened up, grinning.

“Hey, guys,” he said, his tone casual. “Mind putting that stuff back?”

The gang members froze for a moment, their eyes widening at the sight of him. Then, as if on cue, one of them pulled a knife and lunged.

Conner didn’t even flinch. The blade snapped against his chest, and he raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Before the guy could react, Conner grabbed him by the back of his jacket and tossed him into a dumpster a few feet away.

The rest of the gang scattered, but Y/N was already in motion, intercepting two of them before they could escape. She took them down with a series of swift, calculated strikes, her movements efficient and precise.

By the time she was done, Conner had rounded up the rest, piling them together like a heap of laundry.

“You’re welcome,” he said again, brushing his hands off as he floated back toward her.

Y/N’s glare could’ve melted steel. “You didn’t follow the plan.”

“What plan?” he said, genuinely confused. “Your plan was probably ‘brood and punch,’ anyway.”

Her jaw tightened. “You’re reckless. You could’ve gotten someone hurt.”

“Relax,” he said, holding his hands up. “They’re fine. You’re fine. Everyone’s fine.”

“That’s not the point,” she snapped, stepping closer. “If you keep rushing in without thinking, someone will get hurt. And I won’t let that happen on my watch.”

Conner stared at her for a moment, his cocky grin fading slightly. “Wow,” he said softly. “You’re serious about this, huh?”

She crossed her arms. “Unlike you, I take this job seriously.”

“Hey,” he said, frowning. “I take it seriously too. I just don’t let it turn me into… you.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning you’re so focused on the mission, you forget there’s more to life than crime-fighting. You ever hear of fun?”

She turned away, shaking her head. “This isn’t about fun. It’s about doing what needs to be done.”

“Spoken like a true Bat,” Conner muttered under his breath.

Y/N ignored him, her attention already back on her comms as she reported the situation. But his words lingered in her mind longer than she cared to admit.

Part 3

The night stretched on, with crime reports coming in one after another. As the duo tackled each incident, the tension between them grew. Y/N’s sharp commands and meticulous strategies clashed with Conner’s impulsive, devil-may-care approach at every turn.

At a small electronics store on Twelfth Street, Y/N disarmed a group of tech thieves with precision, while Conner smashed through the back wall to corner their getaway vehicle. The crash startled the remaining culprits, giving Y/N the upper hand but drawing her ire.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” she snapped as the last thief was cuffed.

“I call it improvisation,” Conner replied, dusting brick fragments off his jacket.

“I call it reckless,” she shot back.

“Recklessly awesome, maybe,” he said with a grin.

By the time they reached their final stop—a warehouse filled with suspected smuggled weapons—Y/N’s patience was threadbare. She crouched on a high beam inside, mapping out their approach as Conner hovered beside her, arms crossed.

“This one’s serious,” she whispered. “We go in quietly, disable the security systems, and—”

“Or,” Conner interrupted, “I can just smash the guns and call it a night.”

Her glare could’ve pierced his invulnerability. “This isn’t a joke. If these are high-tech weapons, one wrong move could trigger an explosion.”

“Got it,” he said with mock seriousness. “No smashing. Light tapping only.”

“Do you ever stop talking?”

“Nope,” he said, popping the “p.” “Pretty sure it’s part of my charm.”

Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering under her breath. “Why me, Bruce? Why me?”

“What was that?” Conner asked, leaning closer with a teasing smile.

“Nothing,” she hissed, dropping silently to the ground below.

Conner followed, his boots hitting the floor with significantly less stealth. Y/N winced at the sound but pressed on, her focus sharp.

Inside, they found rows of crates stacked high, each marked with the logo of a prominent defense contractor. Y/N pulled out a small device to scan for hidden traps while Conner wandered over to one of the crates, giving it a curious knock.

“What are you doing?” she whispered harshly.

“Checking for bad guys,” he whispered back, tapping his ear. “Super-hearing, remember?”

“Could you at least pretend to take this seriously?”

“I am serious,” he said, straightening up. “There’s no one here except us.”

Before she could reply, the lights suddenly flickered on, and the sound of guns cocking filled the room. Y/N spun around to see a dozen armed men stepping out from the shadows, their weapons trained on her and Conner.

“Nice going,” she muttered.

“Hey,” he said, holding his hands up as if surrendering. “At least we don’t have to look for them now.”

Y/N glared at him before turning her attention back to the gunmen. “I’ll take the left,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Cool. I’ll take the other eleven,” Conner said with a smirk, cracking his knuckles.

Before she could stop him, he was already moving. Bullets ricocheted harmlessly off his chest as he plowed through the gunmen, disarming them with almost comical ease. Meanwhile, Y/N darted between crates, using shadows and cover to take out her targets one by one.

As the last man hit the ground, Conner dusted his hands off and turned to Y/N. “And that’s how you clear a room.”

“You’re impossible,” she muttered, scanning the crates for any signs of a self-destruct mechanism.

“And you’re welcome,” he replied, leaning casually against a crate. “You know, if you’d just let yourself have a little fun, you might not hate me so much.”

“I don’t hate you,” she said without looking up.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

She sighed, closing the scanner. “You’re just… distracting.”

He grinned. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me all night.”

Y/N shook her head, already heading for the exit. “Let’s just finish this and go home.”

As they stepped out into the cool night air, Conner fell into step beside her, his sunglasses tilted back onto his forehead.

“You know,” he said after a moment, “we actually make a pretty good team.”

She glanced at him, her expression unreadable. “Don’t push it.”

He chuckled, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “Whatever you say, Bat-lite.”

“Conner,” she warned.

“Fine, fine. Y/N,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “But admit it—you had some fun tonight.”

She didn’t answer, her gaze fixed ahead. But for the first time all night, the corners of her mouth twitched—just barely—into something resembling a smile.

Part 4

The ride back to the Watchtower was quiet—at least for a moment. Y/N sat rigid in the passenger seat of the sleek transport pod, arms crossed, her gaze fixed on the distant stars through the window. Conner sat beside her, tapping his fingers on the console with a rhythm she suspected was deliberately designed to annoy her.

“Can you stop?” she snapped, glaring at him.

“Stop what?” he asked, clearly feigning innocence.

“That,” she said, gesturing to his tapping hand.

He grinned. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize my natural charisma was so distracting.”

She let out a slow, measured breath and turned away. “I’m trying to debrief in my head. You should try it sometime.”

“Why bother?” he said, leaning back in his chair. “We stopped a bunch of crimes, caught the bad guys, and no one got hurt. That’s a win in my book.”

“You’re so cavalier about everything,” she muttered.

“And you’re so intense about everything,” he shot back, his grin softening into something more sincere. “It’s okay to ease up, you know. You’re allowed to breathe.”

Y/N didn’t reply. Her mind was already cycling through every moment of the night, analyzing what could have gone better, what she could have done differently.

Conner watched her for a moment, his usual cockiness giving way to a flicker of curiosity. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” she asked without looking at him.

“Beat yourself up over stuff that went fine,” he said, his voice less teasing and more genuine.

“Because it’s my job to make sure it always goes fine,” she replied. “If I don’t analyze every detail, someone could get hurt next time.”

“You know you can’t control everything, right?” he said, leaning forward slightly. “You’re good—great, even—but you’re not perfect. None of us are.”

She stiffened at his words, her jaw tightening. “I don’t have the luxury of failure.”

Conner raised an eyebrow. “And who put that kind of pressure on you? Bruce?”

She didn’t answer, but her silence spoke volumes.

“Figures,” he muttered. “Look, I get it. I do. Clark can be a bit of a perfectionist, too, but he doesn’t expect me to kill myself trying to live up to some impossible standard.”

“That’s because you don’t take it seriously,” she said, turning to face him fully for the first time.

“That’s not true,” he said, his tone sharper now. “I care just as much as you do. I just don’t let it crush me.”

“Maybe you should,” she shot back. “Maybe then you’d understand what’s at stake.”

He leaned closer, his blue eyes meeting hers with unexpected intensity. “And maybe you should realize that you’re allowed to be human, Y/N. You’re not some machine built to fix the world all by yourself.”

Her breath caught for a moment, his words hitting closer to home than she wanted to admit.

Before she could respond, the pod docked at the Watchtower, and the hatch hissed open. Y/N was the first to step out, her boots echoing against the metallic floor as she headed for the debriefing room.

Conner followed a few steps behind, watching her with a mix of admiration and exasperation. “You’re a tough nut to crack, you know that?”

“I don’t need cracking,” she replied curtly, not breaking stride.

“Right,” he said, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. “Because you’ve got it all figured out.”

Part 5

She paused at the door to the debriefing room and glanced back at him, her expression unreadable. “You don’t know anything about me, Conner.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly. “Maybe not. But I know what it’s like to feel like the weight of the world’s on your shoulders.”

She hesitated, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. Before she could respond, the door slid open, and the familiar figures of Bruce and Clark stood waiting inside.

“Report,” Bruce said, his voice low and firm.

Y/N straightened immediately, slipping into the role of soldier. “We stopped multiple crimes across Metropolis, dismantled a weapons-smuggling operation, and secured all suspects without casualties.”

“Efficient,” Bruce said with a curt nod. “Any challenges?”

“No,” she replied quickly, though her jaw tightened.

Conner tilted his head, his sunglasses now hanging from his jacket collar. “Well, unless you count her trying to control everything and me saving the day when she overthought it.”

Y/N’s glare shot to him instantly. “That’s not what happened.”

“Pretty sure it is,” Conner said, leaning against the wall with a smirk.

Bruce’s sharp gaze darted between them. “Is there a problem I need to be aware of?”

“No,” Y/N said firmly.

“Not unless you consider her being allergic to fun a problem,” Conner quipped.

“Conner,” Clark said, his tone a mix of warning and exasperation.

Y/N folded her arms, her glare locked on Conner. “Maybe if he took anything seriously, we’d actually be a functional team.”

“We stopped every bad guy we ran into,” Conner countered, his smirk fading slightly. “Sounds functional to me.”

Bruce stepped forward, his imposing presence silencing both of them. “The point of pairing you was to address these exact flaws. Y/N, your tendency to overanalyze can lead to delays in decision-making. Conner’s impulsiveness creates unnecessary risks. You’re supposed to balance each other.”

“Great. Mission accomplished,” Conner said, raising his hands in mock celebration. “We survived without killing each other.”

“For now,” Y/N muttered under her breath.

Clark stepped in, his voice gentler. “What Bruce is saying is that you both have something to learn from this partnership. Y/N, Conner’s right that not every situation can be controlled. And, Conner, Y/N’s discipline and planning are qualities you could stand to adopt.”

Conner crossed his arms, glancing at Y/N. “Fine. I’ll try to plan a little more.”

Y/N sighed. “And I’ll… try to adapt on the fly.”

“Good,” Bruce said, his tone final. “Because you’re not done yet.”

Y/N blinked. “We’re not?”

“You’re being assigned another week of joint patrols,” Clark said, though his smile was more apologetic.

“A week?” she repeated, her frustration bubbling to the surface.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Conner said with a grin, nudging her shoulder. “You’ll get to spend more quality time with me.”

Y/N stared at him, her expression a mix of exhaustion and irritation. “I’d rather patrol Gotham during a Joker breakout.”

“Ouch,” Conner said, clutching his chest dramatically. “That hurt, Bat-lite. Really.”

Bruce and Clark exchanged a glance, the smallest flicker of amusement passing between them.

“Dismissed,” Bruce said, turning back to the console.

Y/N turned on her heel and stalked out of the room, her cape billowing behind her. Conner followed a moment later, still grinning.

“So,” he said as they walked down the corridor, “what’s the plan for tomorrow, partner?”

“Don’t call me that,” she muttered.

“You’re gonna miss me when this week’s over,” he teased.

“Doubtful,” she shot back.

As they reached the elevator, Conner pressed the button and leaned casually against the wall. “You know, I think this could be good for us.”

She raised an eyebrow. “How?”

“Because by the end of this, I’ll teach you how to have fun, and you’ll teach me how to stop annoying you.”

Part 6

“That’s impossible,” she said, stepping into the elevator and crossing her arms.

“Nothing’s impossible,” Conner replied, following her inside. “You’re stuck with me for a week. Plenty of time for miracles.”

The doors slid shut, and the elevator hummed softly as it began its ascent. Y/N fixed her gaze on the glowing floor numbers, pretending not to notice Conner’s lopsided grin as he leaned casually against the wall.

“Do you always have to talk?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“It’s one of my best qualities,” he said.

“Debatable.”

He chuckled, watching her out of the corner of his eye. “You know, I’ve never met anyone who can brood as much as Bruce. Congrats on being his heir apparent.”

She shot him a sharp look. “And I’ve never met anyone who can be this obnoxious without even trying.”

“See?” he said, pointing at her. “That was almost a joke. You’re learning.”

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened to reveal the living quarters. Y/N stepped out first, eager to escape the conversation.

“Where are you going?” Conner called after her.

“To my room,” she said without turning around.

“Cool, I’ll walk you there,” he said, falling into step beside her.

She stopped abruptly, fixing him with a glare. “Why?”

“Because I’m a gentleman,” he said, flashing his signature grin.

“More like a menace,” she muttered, continuing down the corridor.

They reached her door, and she placed her hand on the biometric scanner. The panel beeped, and the door slid open.

“Goodnight, Conner,” she said firmly, stepping inside and starting to close the door.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N,” he replied, his grin widening.

Before she could retort, the door slid shut, leaving her alone in the quiet of her quarters. She let out a long breath, running a hand through her hair as she moved to her desk.

Sitting down, she opened her laptop and began reviewing the night’s patrol log. But her focus kept slipping, her mind wandering back to Conner’s words.

“Maybe you should realize that you’re allowed to be human.”

She shook her head, closing the laptop with more force than necessary. “He doesn’t get it,” she muttered to herself.

But deep down, a small, annoying voice whispered that maybe—just maybe—he did.

The next night came all too quickly.

Y/N stood on the roof of a high-rise building in Gotham, the cool wind tugging at her cape. Conner hovered a few feet away, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets as he surveyed the city below.

“Gotham, huh?” he said, breaking the silence. “Didn’t think you’d want me here.”

“I don’t,” she replied flatly.

“Then why bring me along?”

“Because Bruce assigned us to work together,” she said, adjusting her gauntlet. “And unlike you, I follow orders.”

“Fair enough,” he said with a shrug.

She glanced at him, surprised by his lack of a snarky comeback. “What? No witty retort?”

“Not in the mood,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically serious.

She frowned, studying him for a moment. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, but the tension in his jaw said otherwise.

“Conner,” she said, her voice softening just slightly. “What is it?”

He hesitated, then sighed. “It’s just… this place. It’s heavier than Metropolis, you know? Like the city’s carrying all this darkness, and it’s seeping into everyone who lives here.”

“That’s Gotham,” she said quietly.

“Yeah,” he said, his gaze distant. “Guess I’m just not used to it.”

She studied him for a moment, her gaze softened.

Later that night, Y/N sat at her desk in her sleeping quarters, her room dimly lit by the soft glow of the desk lamp. She’d intended to review the patrol routes for tomorrow, but her mind refused to focus. Instead, her pen moved aimlessly across the edge of a scrap of paper, creating a swirling pattern of lines and shapes.

She leaned back in her chair, rubbing her eyes. It was late, but sleep felt impossible. The events of the day replayed in her mind—Conner’s comments, his sudden seriousness in Gotham, and the way he managed to both infuriate and intrigue her in equal measure.

A faint noise broke her thoughts—a barely perceptible shift in the air behind her.

Her instincts kicked in immediately. She dropped the pen and spun out of the chair in one fluid motion, grabbing the intruder’s arm and twisting it behind their back. Using her weight for leverage, she slammed them against the wall.

“Who are you, and what do you—” she stopped mid-sentence as her eyes landed on the grinning face of Conner Kent.

“Hey,” he said casually, despite being pinned. “Nice reflexes.”

She released him instantly, stepping back with a scowl. “What are you doing in my room?”

“Relax,” he said, straightening his jacket. “I knocked. You didn’t answer.”

“That doesn’t mean you can break in!” she snapped.

He held up his hands. “Technically, I didn’t break anything. Your door doesn’t exactly stop someone with super strength.”

She crossed her arms, glaring at him. “Why are you here?”

“I was bored,” he said simply, leaning casually against the wall as if this were perfectly normal.

“So you decided to sneak up on me in the middle of the night?”

“Well,” he said, tilting his head, “I wasn’t sneaking. I just didn’t want to startle you.”

“You failed,” she said dryly, sitting back down at her desk and picking up her pen again.

He stepped closer, peering at the paper. “What’s that?”

“Nothing,” she said, quickly turning it over.

“Looked like doodles,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“It’s nothing,” she repeated firmly.

“Come on, let me see,” he said, reaching for the paper.

She swatted his hand away. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

“Not really,” he said, pulling up the spare chair and plopping into it.

Y/N sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here we are,” he said with a grin, leaning back in the chair. “So, what’s keeping you up?”

“Work,” she said curtly, gesturing vaguely to her desk.

“Liar,” he said, his grin softening. “You’re doodling. That’s not work.”

She shot him a look but didn’t argue.

“See?” he said, sitting forward. “Even you need a break sometimes.”

“This isn’t a break,” she said defensively. “It’s just… something to clear my head.”

“Exactly,” he said, leaning on the desk. “So why not do more of that instead of stressing yourself out all the time?”

She stared at him, caught off guard by the earnestness in his voice. “Why do you care?”

He shrugged, his usual cocky demeanor replaced by something softer. “Because I know what it’s like to feel like you’ve got to prove something all the time. And trust me, it sucks.”

For a moment, she didn’t reply, the weight of his words settling over the room.

Finally, she sighed, picking up the pen again. “You’re not as dumb as you look, you know that?”

“Thanks,” he said with a lopsided grin. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She shook her head, but this time, there was the faintest hint of a smile on her lips.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, the tension between them easing just a little. And for the first time in a long time, Y/N didn’t feel entirely alone.

part 7

The next morning, Y/N woke up early, as always. The Watchtower was quiet at this hour, and she relished the stillness. After a quick routine workout, she returned to her quarters, showered, and sat at her desk with her headphones on. Music had always been one of the few things that helped her center herself before the day started.

She leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes as the soft, melancholic notes of “Don’t Dream It’s Over” by Crowded House filled her ears.

The moment was short-lived.

The sharp knock at her door made her sigh. She ignored it, hoping whoever it was would leave. Instead, the door slid open, and Conner strolled in, looking entirely too awake and chipper.

“Morning, sunshine,” he said with a grin.

Y/N pulled off her headphones, glaring at him. “Do you not understand boundaries?”

“Not when it comes to my favorite patrol buddy,” he replied, flopping onto the couch in her room like he owned the place. “What are you listening to?”

“None of your business,” she said, putting the headphones back on.

“Oh, come on,” he said, leaning forward. “Let me hear. I bet it’s something intense and broody, like symphonic metal or darkwave.”

She ignored him, turning the volume up.

“Please?” he said, dragging out the word like a child begging for candy.

She finally yanked the headphones off and glared at him. “Why do you care so much?”

“Because music says a lot about a person,” he said, grinning. “It’s like a window into your soul. I mean, if you have one.”

She rolled her eyes but picked up her phone, scrolling to the track. “Fine. If it’ll shut you up.”

She tapped play, and “Don’t Dream It’s Over” began to play through the room’s speakers. Conner blinked in surprise at the opening notes.

“No way,” he said, sitting up straighter.

“What?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“I love this song,” he said, his grin widening. “And this band. I didn’t think you’d be into music from the ’80s.”

“I didn’t say I was,” she replied quickly, though the faintest hint of color touched her cheeks. “I just like this song.”

“Sure,” he said, smirking. “You’re secretly an ’80s music fan. Admit it.”

“I’m not,” she said firmly, though her lips twitched.

“Come on,” he teased, leaning forward. “Crowded House is a classic. The lyrics, the melody—this is the kind of song you play when you’re driving with the windows down, just vibing with life.”

“Not everyone’s life is a constant road trip, Conner,” she said dryly, but her tone lacked its usual edge.

He leaned back, putting his hands behind his head. “Still, you’ve got taste. I respect that.”

For a moment, they sat in silence, the music filling the room. Y/N watched him out of the corner of her eye. He was completely at ease, nodding along to the beat with a contented smile on his face.

“It’s a good song,” she admitted quietly.

Conner turned to her, his grin softening into something more genuine. “Yeah. It is.”

She looked away, but not before he caught the faintest smile tugging at her lips.

For once, she didn’t mind his presence so much.

Later that morning, Y/N and Conner met in the Watchtower’s training room for a scheduled sparring session. Y/N was already stretching when Conner sauntered in, still wearing his leather jacket and sunglasses despite being indoors.

“Are you seriously going to spar in that?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He grinned and shrugged off the jacket, tossing it onto a bench. “What? Didn’t want to make you feel underdressed.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, finishing her stretches. “I hope you’re ready to get knocked on your ass.”

“Big words,” he said, stepping into the ring. “Let’s see if you can back them up, Bat-lite.”

The sparring started with Y/N darting forward, quick and calculated. She aimed a kick at his ribs, which he blocked effortlessly, grinning the whole time.

“You’re fast,” he said, dodging her next attack.

“And you’re predictable,” she shot back, sweeping his legs out from under him.

Conner hit the mat but rolled back onto his feet almost instantly. “Okay, okay. That was good.”

Y/N smirked, her confidence building. “Want me to slow down for you?”

“Oh, you’re gonna regret that,” he said, lunging at her.

The fight escalated quickly, with Conner clearly holding back his full strength but still using enough power to keep her on edge. Y/N was agile, landing sharp punches and kicks, but every time she thought she had him, Conner countered with almost lazy ease.

Finally, he decided to use his powers to tip the scales. He feigned a stumble, then surged forward with super speed, grabbing her wrist and spinning her into a pin. In less than a second, Y/N found herself on the mat, her arms pinned above her head by one of his hands while he crouched over her, smirking down at her.

“Gotcha,” he said, clearly pleased with himself.

Her face flushed with a mix of frustration and embarrassment. “You cheated.”

“I used my resources,” he corrected, his grin widening.

“Get off me,” she snapped, squirming under his grip.

“Not until you admit I won.”

“Never,” she hissed, her glare sharp enough to cut steel.

“Suit yourself,” he said, settling in like he was perfectly comfortable. “I can stay here all day.”

Before she could retort—or flip him off the mat, which was her next plan—a voice interrupted.

“What’s going on here?”

Both of their heads whipped toward the door, where Bruce and Clark stood side by side, their expressions varying degrees of disapproval and surprise.

Conner immediately let go and scrambled to his feet, his usual confidence faltering. “Uh, sparring. Just sparring.”

Y/N sat up, brushing herself off and avoiding Bruce’s scrutinizing gaze. “He was cheating,” she muttered.

Clark raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “Using your powers in a sparring match, Conner?”

Conner rubbed the back of his neck, trying to play it cool. “Hey, I wasn’t using all of them. Just a little speed. For fun.”

Bruce’s gaze shifted to Y/N, who was still glaring daggers at Conner. “You let him pin you?”

Her face turned an even deeper shade of red. “I didn’t let him. He cheated.”

“Cheated is a strong word,” Conner said, holding up his hands defensively. “I’d call it improvising.”

Bruce’s expression remained unreadable as he turned to Clark. “They’re making progress, at least.”

Clark chuckled softly. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

Meanwhile, Y/N and Conner exchanged a quick, flustered glance before looking away in opposite directions, both pretending not to notice the faint blush on each other’s cheeks.

Bruce’s voice cut through the tension. “Since you’re both so eager to test your skills, why don’t you suit up? You’re patrolling together tonight.”

Y/N groaned inwardly, while Conner perked up. “Sweet. Team Bat-Kent rides again.”

“Don’t call it that,” Y/N muttered, her embarrassment quickly replaced by annoyance.

Clark clapped Conner on the shoulder as they walked out. “Try not to annoy her too much tonight.”

“No promises,” Conner replied with a grin, earning another glare from Y/N as they headed to the locker rooms.

After their sparring session, Y/N decided to cool off—both literally and figuratively—with a shower in the Watchtower’s communal facilities. The shower room was empty, and she relished the rare solitude as she stood under the warm water, letting it wash away the tension from the match (and her residual irritation with Conner).

She sighed, running her fingers through her wet hair. “Cheater,” she muttered under her breath, her thoughts drifting back to the smug grin on Conner’s face when he had her pinned.

The sound of the shower drowned out the faint click of the door opening.

Conner strolled in, rubbing the back of his neck. He’d taken his jacket off again and was grumbling to himself. “Where’s the stupid—oh, here we go,” he muttered, stepping further into the room.

Y/N froze, her ears catching the familiar voice even over the rush of water. She peered around the edge of the shower stall, her eyes widening in disbelief.

“Conner?!”

He stopped mid-step, his eyes darting to where her voice came from. For a moment, he looked genuinely confused—then realization hit him like a freight train.

“Oh, crap.”

“What are you doing in here?!” Y/N snapped, ducking further behind the frosted glass of the stall.

“I thought—this is the men’s, isn’t it?” he stammered, his face turning red as he shielded his eyes with his hand.

“No, it’s not! Get out!”

“Right, okay, I’m going—sorry!” Conner said quickly, spinning on his heel. But in his haste, he tripped over the edge of the tile, stumbling before catching himself on the wall.

“Are you kidding me?” Y/N groaned, her voice somewhere between exasperation and mortification.

“I’m leaving, I swear!” he called, fumbling for the door. “Didn’t see anything—didn’t want to see anything!”

“Good!”

Finally, he managed to escape, the door sliding shut behind him with an audible whoosh.

Y/N pressed her hands to her face, her cheeks burning. “Unbelievable,” she muttered, shaking her head as she tried to calm the swirl of embarrassment and frustration.

Meanwhile, outside, Conner leaned against the hallway wall, still red-faced and muttering to himself.

“Smooth, Kent. Real smooth.”

He glanced back at the door, half expecting Y/N to storm out and throttle him. When she didn’t, he exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Great. Now she’s going to murder me before the next patrol.”

And for once, he couldn’t even blame her.

A few minutes later, Y/N stepped out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, still feeling the sting of embarrassment from the unfortunate incident. She quickly dried her hair and dressed in her usual tight-fitting combat gear, taking extra care to avoid thinking too much about the awkwardness that still lingered from her encounter with Conner.

As she stepped out into the main area of the Watchtower, she spotted Diana—Wonder Woman—talking with Bruce, their voices low but animated. Diana’s presence always had a way of calming Y/N, and she appreciated the brief moment of peace as she made her way over to the conversation.

“Morning,” Y/N greeted, joining them with a slight smile.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Diana said warmly, her gaze friendly and inviting. “How’s the day going?”

“Could be better,” Y/N muttered, rolling her eyes.

“Trouble with the sparring session?” Bruce asked, his tone more neutral than curious.

Y/N didn’t answer immediately, choosing instead to take a seat at one of the nearby workstations. She didn’t feel like elaborating on the situation—especially since she was still trying to shake off the awkwardness.

Meanwhile, across the room, Conner was talking animatedly to Bruce, his words flying in a frantic stream of consciousness. He was pacing in front of Bruce and Diana, eyes wide as he babbled.

“You wouldn’t believe it, Bruce! I was just trying to go into the men’s shower, right? And then I—I walked in on her! Y/N! She was in there, and I didn’t even notice until—”

“Conner,” Bruce interrupted, his voice dangerously calm. “Can we keep it down? You’re not exactly helping your case here.”

Conner blinked, finally noticing how loudly he was speaking. He turned to Diana for reassurance. “I mean, I didn’t see anything, but I definitely scared her. You know, she was probably already mad about the sparring and—”

Y/N’s eyes flicked to him, catching his expression in the middle of his rambling.

And then, as their eyes met across the room, she gave him the coldest, most unimpressed stare she could muster.

Conner froze mid-sentence, the reality of the situation hitting him like a ton of bricks. He gave her an awkward, half-hearted wave, but Y/N didn’t flinch. Instead, she took a slow, deliberate sip from her water bottle, as if she had all the time in the world to watch him squirm.

For a long moment, there was an eerie silence, broken only by the sound of Conner shifting uncomfortably in place. He knew what was coming.

Bruce, who had been watching the exchange quietly, finally cracked a small smile, clearly enjoying Conner’s discomfort. Diana, too, looked at Bruce, her lips curling into a knowing smirk.

“Looks like someone’s in trouble,” Diana teased, her voice light with amusement.

Bruce raised an eyebrow, the faintest of smiles playing at the corners of his lips. “Couldn’t have happened to a more deserving guy.”

Diana smirked back at him, her eyes gleaming with playful insight. “Is it just me, or do you two always end up in situations like this?”

Bruce didn’t answer, but the subtle tension in his expression was enough to suggest that the idea wasn’t entirely unwelcome.

Meanwhile, Conner was still trying to figure out how to get himself out of the mess he’d made. “I—look, I’m sorry, okay?” he said to Y/N, his voice much softer now that they were face-to-face. “It was an honest mistake. I didn’t mean to walk in on you. Really.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, staring him down with that same unimpressed expression. “You better hope I’m not stuck patrolling with you tonight.”

“I—I promise, I won’t do it again,” he said quickly, though his sincerity was laced with a bit of nervousness.

Diana glanced at Bruce, catching his subtle shift in demeanor. She leaned closer, lowering her voice so only he could hear. “What do you think, Bruce? Are we witnessing a different kind of training session here?”

Bruce didn’t respond at first, but his smile lingered, just long enough for Diana to catch the glint of amusement in his eyes.

“It’s complicated,” Bruce said in his usual gruff tone, though it lacked its typical edge.

Diana leaned back, raising her eyebrows as she caught his eye. “Complicated… or maybe just interesting?”

Bruce’s smirk deepened, though he remained silent. He glanced at Conner, who was still trying to salvage the situation. “You’re lucky she’s not in the mood to throw you off the Watchtower, Conner.”

Conner shot a nervous glance at Y/N. “Right. Got it. Noted.”

“Good,” she replied flatly, her tone dropping into a comfortable finality.

Conner sighed in relief. It wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been—at least she wasn’t about to choke him out. But he knew one thing for sure: he was going to have to earn back a lot of good will if he didn’t want to spend the entire patrol in the doghouse.

Y/N stood up then, looking between Diana and Bruce with a brief smile. “Well, I’ll leave you two to continue your little chat. I’m going to go grab my gear.”

As she turned to leave, she shot one final, pointed glance at Conner. “And just so you know, I’m not forgetting this.”

Conner gulped, watching her walk away, before looking back at Bruce and Diana.

Bruce’s smile turned into a small, knowing smirk. “You’re in trouble, kid.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Conner said, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

Diana chuckled lightly, her eyes glinting with amusement. “I’d say she’s got a fire in her, Conner. You should be careful.”

Conner just groaned, rubbing his face in frustration. “I’ve got no chance, do I?”

“No,” Bruce answered, deadpan. “Not really.”

Diana grinned, her gaze flicking to Bruce again before meeting Conner’s eyes. “Looks like you’re both in for a very interesting patrol.”

And with that, the tension in the room lightened just enough for them all to know that something was simmering beneath the surface.

Later that evening, Y/N and Conner set out on their patrol across a quieter part of Metropolis. The streets were busier now, filled with people heading home after work or out to enjoy the night. Conner, in his usual black leather jacket, had his hands shoved into his pockets as they perched atop a building, looking out over the city. Y/N, ever the stoic one, stood next to him, scanning the area below for any signs of trouble.

The night was still, but they both knew better than to think it would stay that way.

“Keep your eyes peeled,” Y/N said, her voice low but steady.

“Always,” Conner replied, though his eyes were more distracted than focused. “So, uh, you’re still mad at me?”

Y/N glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “For walking in on me in the shower?”

He winced at the reminder. “Yeah. That.”

Y/N shrugged, still scanning the area. “I’m not mad, just… annoyed. It was an accident. You don’t need to keep apologizing.”

“Yeah, but I feel like I need to make up for it,” Conner said, his voice dropping in a rare moment of awkwardness. He shifted uncomfortably, his gaze lingering on the dark skyline. “I didn’t mean to make it weird. It’s just… you know… I didn’t think anyone was in there.”

She turned to look at him now, her face unreadable, but there was a faint smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “It’s fine, Conner,” she said with a casual wave of her hand, as if it were no big deal.

“I—I know, but it’s just…” Conner trailed off, unsure how to finish the thought. He was so used to joking around, to being the guy who could easily brush things off, but Y/N wasn’t like everyone else. She didn’t let things slide that easily, and now he found himself stumbling over his words.

Y/N could sense his discomfort, but she wasn’t about to make it easy for him. “You’re really making a big deal out of this, aren’t you?”

He sighed, hanging his head. “I just don’t want you to think I’m some kind of jerk. You know I respect you, right?”

She paused, considering him for a long moment before a flicker of amusement crossed her face. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”

Conner blinked, clearly caught off guard by her lack of a sharp retort. For once, she wasn’t being cold or distant. There was something almost… warm in the way she said it.

“Good,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Anyway, I’ll stop bringing it up. I’ll just focus on keeping Metropolis safe. No more… accidental walk-ins.”

Y/N smirked, clearly enjoying his awkwardness. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best.”

They both turned back to the streets below, their conversation drifting into comfortable silence as they resumed their watch.

The night passed uneventfully at first. They stopped a few petty crimes—some muggings, a car break-in, and a couple of minor robberies. Each time, Conner’s usual swagger returned as he easily handled the culprits, using his powers with ease and tossing criminals around like ragdolls. Y/N, ever the tactician, made quick work of the situations, apprehending the criminals with precision. Despite their contrasting styles, they were a solid team in action.

By the time they found themselves on top of another building, the adrenaline from the previous encounters had begun to settle, and they were once again standing side by side, the quiet hum of the city below the only sound.

Y/N crossed her arms and glanced at Conner, her tone light but her gaze serious. “You know, I’ve got to admit… you’re not terrible at this hero thing.”

Conner grinned at her, the compliment clearly hitting the mark. “You too, Bat-lite. I mean, it’s not like I ever doubted you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Well, I’m glad to know you didn’t.”

“Yeah, well,” Conner started, his voice turning a little more serious again, “I just wanted to say… thanks. For, you know… not making a bigger deal out of earlier. I was just trying to be a good teammate, but I didn’t think you’d be so… I don’t know, forgiving about it.”

Y/N paused, glancing at him as if she were weighing her words carefully. “You think I’m mad about a mistake?” she asked, her voice almost teasing. “I’ve got bigger things to worry about than your accidental shower incident, Conner.”

Conner opened his mouth, then closed it again, unsure how to respond to that. “Right, sure. Gotcha.”

“Good,” Y/N said with a small smirk. She let the silence stretch on before speaking again. “Now, let’s finish up here. I don’t feel like staying on this rooftop all night.”

Conner nodded eagerly, clearly relieved that the tension had finally broken. “Agreed. But hey, at least we’re getting the job done.”

Y/N just nodded, her focus shifting to the next area they had to cover. As the night wore on, they patrolled side by side, each of them comfortable with the presence of the other, the earlier awkwardness slipping away as they worked together to keep Metropolis safe.

The quiet banter between them, the shared understanding of the mission, and the sense of unspoken camaraderie made it clear that, despite their differences, they made a pretty good team.

And, maybe—just maybe—they were starting to understand each other a little better too.

Later that evening, after a long and eventful patrol, Y/N and Conner made their way back to the Watchtower. The quiet hum of the station seemed to contrast sharply with the intensity of their patrol, but there was a certain sense of satisfaction in the air. Both of them had been working well together, and despite their earlier tension, the night had gone smoother than either expected.

As they entered the locker room to change out of their gear, Conner tossed his leather jacket onto the bench, feeling the weight of the night lift off his shoulders. He was still trying to process everything from their patrol and the little moments that had been a bit… different. Y/N had been more relaxed with him, less guarded than she usually was. But he wasn’t about to get ahead of himself.

Y/N was already in the middle of taking off her utility belt, her expression neutral as always. The awkwardness from earlier seemed to be fading with each passing second, and for once, Conner wasn’t sure what to say to her. He hadn’t exactly expected the patrol to go the way it had.

“Hey,” Conner finally spoke, breaking the silence. “Can I ask you something?”

Y/N glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow, but she didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she finished unzipping her jacket and shrugged it off. “You’re going to ask me about the shower incident again, aren’t you?”

“No, no!” Conner immediately shot down the idea, his face flushing slightly. “Not that. I mean, maybe a little, but… no, that’s not the point.” He hesitated for a second, trying to find the right words. “I just—uh, I’m kind of… I don’t know, in over my head here.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes slightly, sensing his unease. “In over your head?”

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Look, I’ve been thinking. I know we’ve been kind of… at odds, and you’ve got your walls up, and I get it. But, uh…”

Y/N gave him an unreadable look. “But what?”

Conner hesitated again, his mind racing with everything he wanted to say, but it all felt so complicated. Finally, he just blurted out, “I want to ask you out. Like, on a date. But I have no idea how to get past those walls you keep up.”

There was a long silence between them. Y/N stopped mid-motion, her fingers stilling as she stared at him. Her face remained carefully neutral, but Conner could feel the tension in the air.

He started rambling, clearly flustered. “I mean, not that I’m expecting you to say yes, it’s just—well, I wanted to ask. I’ve never really… done this before, and you’re always so… you know.” He waved his hand vaguely in her direction. “Distant, cold, stoic—”

“I’m not cold,” she interrupted, her tone sharper than usual.

“Right, not cold,” Conner mumbled, his face turning even redder. “But, you know, I’m trying to figure out how to, I don’t know, get through to you. And I thought—maybe a date? I mean, it’s just a thought. But I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

Y/N stood there, still processing his words. She didn’t answer immediately, and Conner’s nerves started to get the better of him. He let out a long breath, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything. I just thought—”

But Y/N’s voice cut through his rambling. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

Conner blinked, taken aback by her calm tone. “Well, yeah. I’m not messing around.”

For a long, drawn-out second, Y/N just stared at him. But then, much to his surprise, her lips curled into a small, amused smirk. “Alright, fine. I’ll go with you.”

Conner froze. “Wait—what?”

She smirked a little more, crossing her arms. “You asked. I said yes. How hard can it be?”

Conner’s heart nearly skipped a beat. “You’re saying yes?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Did you expect me to say no?”

“Uh… yeah, kind of,” Conner admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re not exactly the type to go out for a casual dinner.”

“I’m not that much of a robot, Conner,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “I can go out for food.”

He stood there for a moment, still processing what she’d just said. His voice was a little incredulous. “Wait, are you sure about this? Because you’re not exactly the… dating type, either.”

Y/N gave a small shrug. “I’m not. But I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

Conner’s grin spread across his face. “Alright, alright! We’re going to get food. And it’s not going to be weird. It’s just… food.” He said that last part like he was convincing himself just as much as he was trying to convince her.

Y/N didn’t respond immediately, but her expression softened just slightly. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Conner. I said yes, but I didn’t say I’m going to make this easy for you.”

He laughed nervously, the excitement of her agreement mixing with the familiar anxiety he always seemed to feel around her. “I can handle that. No problem.”

She gave him a sharp, pointed look. “Just so we’re clear—I’m not one of those girls who gets swept off her feet easily. Don’t expect any grand romantic gestures.”

Conner nodded eagerly. “Totally. I’m not into that either. Just… dinner. That’s it.”

“Well, you’d better make sure the food’s good,” Y/N added with a smirk, before turning back to finish removing her gear.

Conner stood there for a moment, stunned but thrilled. “You actually said yes.”

“Don’t get too excited,” she muttered without turning around. “You haven’t earned anything yet.”

Conner grinned to himself, his heart racing. He wasn’t sure what to expect from their date, but if tonight was any indication, maybe—just maybe—he was finally starting to crack through the walls Y/N had built around herself.

The diner was small but cozy, tucked into a quieter corner of Metropolis, far enough from the hustle and bustle of the city center to offer a bit of peace. The neon lights buzzed softly outside, casting a gentle glow on the interior. The hum of conversation and the clink of dishes filled the air, but it was calm—a far cry from the intensity of their usual patrols.

Y/N sat at the booth across from Conner, savoring the first bite of her burger. The thick, juicy patty, the crisp lettuce, the melted cheese—it was simple but satisfying, exactly what she needed after a long night of action. She’d been anticipating the meal all evening, and now that she had it in front of her, she dug in with gusto, enjoying every bite.

Conner, on the other hand, sat back a little, watching her with a subtle, almost awestruck look on his face. He couldn’t help it. She was so focused on the burger, her brow furrowing slightly as she took each bite, and the satisfaction on her face was… honestly, kind of adorable. The way she fully immersed herself in the experience was something he hadn’t quite expected.

It wasn’t like he’d never seen someone eat before, but there was something different about the way she did it. It was as if the world around her faded away for a moment, and all that mattered was the food.

He couldn’t tear his gaze away, and before he knew it, he was openly admiring the way she devoured her meal, oblivious to the fact that he was staring.

After a few moments, Y/N suddenly paused mid-bite, her eyes locking with his across the table. Conner froze, caught in the act, and for a split second, he wasn’t sure how to respond.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her expression amused but knowing. “What?” she asked dryly.

Conner blinked rapidly, his face flushing instantly. “Uh, nothing. Just… nothing.”

She smirked, leaning back slightly and crossing her arms as she took another bite of her burger, clearly enjoying the way he was fidgeting. “You’re staring at me, Conner.”

He sputtered, trying to brush it off. “I wasn’t—well, I mean, I guess I was. But not in a weird way! I was just… uh… admiring how you, uh, eat?”

Y/N’s smirk deepened, clearly enjoying the effect she had on him. “You’re really bad at this whole not staring thing, aren’t you?”

“I’m just trying to, uh, make sure you’re enjoying your food!” he said, flustered but determined.

“I’m definitely enjoying it,” Y/N replied, her tone dripping with mild sarcasm as she chewed another bite. “But it’s not like I need someone to watch me eat.”

Conner shifted uncomfortably, his face a deep shade of red. “Right, sorry. I’ll, uh… look away now.” He turned his gaze toward the window, trying to act casual, but the warm glow of the diner seemed to highlight just how flustered he was.

Y/N chuckled quietly to herself before taking another satisfying bite of her burger, her eyes flicking back to him. “It’s fine, Conner. I’m just messing with you.”

He couldn’t help but glance back at her, his expression sheepish but unable to hide the lingering admiration. “You’re just… you’re really into your food, huh?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow again, this time taking a sip of her soda. “What can I say? I don’t waste time on anything I don’t enjoy.” She pointed her straw at him playfully. “But if you want to watch me eat, I’m not going to stop you.”

Conner’s eyes widened in surprise, and his face turned a few shades redder. “I—uh—no, no! I’m good, I’m good.” He cleared his throat, trying to regain some composure. “Just… you’re… you’re really focused. I respect that.”

Y/N’s smirk softened into a small smile, and for the briefest moment, the walls she usually kept up around her seemed to fall just a little. “Well, you might as well learn something from me, then.”

Conner couldn’t help but grin, despite his nervousness. “I’m trying. I really am.”

The conversation shifted as Y/N finished off her burger and turned her attention to the two large orders of fries sitting in front of her. She wasn’t sure how long they had been sitting there, but as soon as she noticed them, it was as if they were the only thing that mattered. Without a second thought, she reached for a handful and dipped them into the ketchup, savoring the taste.

Conner watched her again, though he tried to keep his focus on his own meal this time. It was hard, though—especially when Y/N was so unapologetically comfortable in her own skin, doing something as simple as eating fries.

“Are you always like this?” Conner finally asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Y/N paused mid-dip, glancing up at him with a raised eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Like… not caring about what anyone thinks? You’re just, like, fully yourself.”

She shrugged nonchalantly, as if it were no big deal. “I don’t have time for pretense, Conner. Life’s too short. You might as well enjoy the things you actually like.”

Conner smiled a little, clearly impressed by her no-nonsense attitude. “I think I could learn something from you.”

“You probably could,” she said with a faint, almost imperceptible smile of her own. “But don’t get any ideas. I’m not here to be your role model.”

He laughed, the sound more genuine than before. “I don’t need a role model, but… yeah, I could definitely use some of your confidence.”

Y/N took another bite of her fries, a small smile still tugging at the corners of her lips. “Confidence doesn’t come easy. But it does come. Eventually.”

Conner nodded, his admiration for her growing in ways he wasn’t sure how to articulate. This wasn’t the person he had expected when they first met—she was sharper, stronger, and far more intriguing than he had ever imagined. And even though he knew she wasn’t the type to wear her heart on her sleeve, he couldn’t help but feel like she was showing him a side of herself that not many people got to see.

Y/N caught him staring again, but this time, she didn’t comment. Instead, she gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod, as if silently acknowledging the shift in their dynamic.

And as the night wore on, with the laughter and conversation flowing more freely between them, Conner realized something—this wasn’t just a date. This was a glimpse into a side of Y/N he had never thought he’d get to see, and it felt like the beginning of something… unexpected.

Something real.

After their meal, Conner and Y/N decided to take a walk around Metropolis. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm orange glow across the skyline. The city was alive with the sounds of the evening rush, but there was a quiet intimacy to the moment as they walked side by side, the distance between them shrinking with each step.

Conner couldn’t help but notice how comfortable the silence felt between them. It wasn’t awkward or forced—just… easy. But that didn’t stop his brain from working overtime. He was still trying to figure out what was going on between them. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around the way Y/N had agreed to go out with him in the first place, or how she didn’t seem to mind the fact that he was obviously getting way too flustered by everything she did.

But he didn’t want to overthink it. He wanted to be honest, even if it made him sound like an idiot.

“So…” Conner started, breaking the silence. “I know you probably think I’m annoying, and you probably hate being around me, but… I’m gonna be real with you.”

Y/N glanced at him sideways, an eyebrow quirking up at his sudden admission. She kept walking but didn’t respond immediately.

“I like you, Y/N,” he continued, rambling. “I mean, I’ve liked you for a while now, but, you know, you’re all… brooding and intense, and I didn’t think you’d ever even—well, I didn’t think you’d go out with me, honestly. But you did, and now I’m just trying to figure out if this is real or if it’s just some weird… what do you call it? ‘Hero bonding’ thing. You know?”

Y/N’s steps slowed slightly, and she glanced over at him, her expression unreadable. “What are you saying, Conner?”

He took a breath, realizing just how ridiculous he must sound. “I don’t know, it’s just… I think you might despise me sometimes, but I really, really like you. Like, really like you, and I don’t know what to do with that. It’s, like, the most frustrating thing in the world because you keep pushing me away and… God, I sound like an idiot.” He ran a hand through his hair, feeling embarrassed.

Y/N stopped walking entirely and turned to face him, her gaze softer than usual. She looked at him for a long moment, as if deciding whether to say something or let him keep rambling.

Conner, still flustered, took a step back, running his hand through his hair again. “I just thought… maybe I should be honest with you for once. You know, instead of trying to play it all cool and detached.”

Before he could finish, Y/N moved. In one smooth motion, she grabbed him by the collar of his leather jacket, pulling him toward her. Conner didn’t have time to react before her lips crashed into his.

It was sudden, surprising, and completely out of nowhere, but as soon as it happened, Conner’s entire body froze. He was barely able to process what was going on, but his mind went completely blank as he kissed her back, not caring about anything else in the world. The whole city seemed to fade away around them.

When they finally pulled away, both of them were breathless, and Conner’s heart was racing. He blinked a few times, his hands still gripping the edges of her jacket, completely stunned.

Y/N just stood there, a small smirk playing at the corners of her lips. “That better be the last time you ramble on about how much you like me,” she said, her voice calm but with a hint of amusement.

Conner, still recovering from the shock, blinked a few more times, trying to gather his thoughts. “I—I didn’t know… I didn’t expect—”

Y/N tilted her head slightly, her smirk widening. “Well, you’ve been talking about it long enough. Thought I’d make you shut up.”

Conner finally found his voice. “You—you really kissed me.”

“I did,” she said matter-of-factly, as if it were no big deal. “And now you know. You’re welcome.”

Conner stood there for a moment, unable to wipe the goofy grin off his face. He was absolutely floored by what had just happened.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to them, high up on a nearby skyscraper, two very familiar figures were watching the whole scene unfold.

Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne stood side by side, observing the couple below with a sort of knowing amusement.

“I told you they’d kiss,” Clark said with a grin, crossing his arms over his chest.

Bruce didn’t look at him but gave a small nod. “I’m surprised you didn’t bet more. You should have bet ten.”

Clark chuckled, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a crumpled five-dollar bill. He handed it to Bruce. “Five bucks is good enough for me. I figured it would happen sooner or later.”

stoic demeanor. “This is going to be interesting, isn’t it?”

Clark raised an eyebrow, a knowing look on his face. “You could say that. I think they might actually work.”

Bruce just grunted in response, looking back down at Conner and Y/N. “We’ll see how long it lasts. But I’ve seen enough to know that they’re… different.”

“Different is good,” Clark said with a smile. “Sometimes, it’s exactly what they need.”

Bruce didn’t respond immediately, but there was a subtle shift in his posture, as if something had occurred to him. He watched as Conner and Y/N continued walking down the street, the tension between them melting away. Maybe Clark was right. Maybe the two of them did have something special.

After a few moments, Bruce turned to leave. “You’re still paying for dinner next time,” he muttered.

Clark just grinned. “Deal.”

#dc #dc comics #dcu #conner kent #conner kent x reader #conner kent x yn #kon el kent #kon el x reader #batman #superman

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