#dc x black!reader

[blond3ang3l]

Nightwing is the type to say “that’s my best friend” and then proceeds to make out with you when no one’s looking.

⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱⋰

Now you had known him your entire life. You two went to school together, you knew about him being night wing, you met all million siblings he had, and even the big guy himself Bruce Wayne. You’ve had boyfriends and girlfriends before but it never worked out in the end. Same thing with Dick, no matter what they always broke things off. For the most part they just couldn’t handle his family life like you could. With you knowing his siblings basically since they were born they liked (or in Damian’s case tolerated) you a whole lot. Hell even his stepmom Selina loved you in the short time her and Bruce been together. Everyone else he brought him got weird stares or snickers from his younger brothers. You on the other hand would go to the batcave even without him just to see the rest of them.

You’d accompany him to galas so you two were also seen out in public together many times. The media loved seeing you two together. He introduced you to reporters as “his moon” because the first time you guys met was during a full moon. In reality the only reason you guys weren’t dating yet was because he couldn’t figure out how to ask you. He wasn’t worried about you saying no, he was worried about doing something big enough to your liking and it was taking him months to plan out.

Yet when you two were alone it felt different, more intimate. Just like now as you two were in his bed. He had you on top of his lap, his hands gripping your ass while to two of you kissed. This wasn’t the first time and it damn wouldn’t be the last. He had been gone for three long weeks and damn did he miss you. He texted you but his text was always cut short with him having to fight yet another criminal. Every day spent away from you was pure hell for him, and he made sure you knew that with the picture of his hard leaking dick he sent you just a few days prior. He was painfully hard, his dick so pretty leaking with precum, and in his words “all for you”.

With you perched up in his lap the way you were he was starting to feel the exact same way he did in that picture. His hands moved from your ass to hold your hip, rocking you along his bulge causing you to moan softly. His lips attacked your neck. A trail of dark hickeys going down your chest as he started to slide down the thin pajama shorts you wore.

“Fuck, I missed you baby. Can I show you how much? Let me baby. Please.”

[theobservatory]

There's something about dating Dick that makes you feel so... Pretty.

Sure, other partners have made you feel pretty before, but one quite like Dick has.

It's the little things, really.

It's 12pm. You've over slept by a pretty wide margin. You're in this muumuu that's slightly too big for you, having been handed down to you by your mom after she got new ones. You're bare faced, bonnet on, unpampered. Hell, you haven't even brushed your teeth yet.

But Dick is looking at you. He's dressed for the day, halfway out the door for work. But he's frozen. He's staring.

"Good afternoon, gorgeous." He says so breathlessly it's like you can see the hearts in his eyes. "Breakfast is in the fridge."

He closes the door behind himself, already removing his shoes again in the small entryway.

"You're gonna be late for-"

"Can I kiss you? Fuck sorry, that was uncouth. What were you saying?"

Your heart gives an especially hard beat.

Normally you hate to be interrupted, but this feels weirdly good for some reason...? It's hard not to feel wanted, sexy, when he looks at you like that.

"You're going to be late for work, baby."

Dick smiles, placing your hand in his before you've registered he's even crossing the room.

"This is more important. Kiss me?"

"But I haven't-"

"Don't care. Kiss me, please?"

You lean in, and he pulls you closer, meeting you in the middle. The kiss is deep, eager. His hands are roaming around your back like he can't figure out where to place them. Like every part of you is more perfect than the last, and he just can't choose what he wants to touch the most.

You could almost swear there's a tiny tremor in his fingers. It's hard to feel while he grips the fabric of your nightie.

"Didn't mean to jump you like that." Dick murmurs when he pulls back. "You're just so- fuck- I don't know. Pretty isn't a good enough word."

You pull him back in, swiping your tongue over his lips.

Because really, you can settle for pretty. Pretty is good.

Really good.

Can you believe this blog is run by an aromantic ? It's about the vibes, people, the intimacy.

Anyways, if you're Dick Grayson's true and real partner lemme hear you say HELL YEAH 🗣️🗣️🔥

[blackynsupremacy]

black girls,

make the content you want.

i’m serious.

idc if you think it’s gonna flop.

idc if you think you’re a terrible writer or artist.

idc if you believe that character/celebrity/athlete/whoever likes black girls or not. (who cares what the fandom says anyway!)

idc if you’re the first and only one to start that _____ x black reader tag.

make the content you want to see!

do it for you most importantly! (you will inspire others ofc)

in conclusion, you won’t get it if you won’t make it.

[hoodzgyal]

𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 loves to watch you ride him. something about the way your nose scrunches up and your eyes roll back when his dick hits that squishy part inside you. something about the lazy bounce of your plush brown hips, up and down on his cock. he loves the way you whine, pawing at his chest like you always do, slurring, “s’too big, daddy… gettin’ tired.”

he lets out a breathy chuckle from underneath you, looking up at you through dark lashes.

“you’ve taken it before, haventcha? you can take it, ma,” he lazily smiles, rubbing small circles into your hip.

his pupils are blown wide with the sight of you in front of him, plump brown body bouncing on his cock as your greedy little pussy sucks him dry. your eyes are low and unfocused as your fingers come up to tweak your nipples, feening for stimulation.

“look at you, huh? already cockdrunk and you’ve only been up there for a few minutes,” he teases, big hands coming to rest on your hips to guide your infrequent, lazy bounces toward something quicker. he keeps one hand guiding your pace as the other comes forward to play with your puffy clit. though he’s made you cum twice already, you moan in delight, bouncing with renewed vigor at the idea of cumming again.

“you like that shit, huh, mama,” he taunts, thumb rubbing your clit in tight circles, “you like it when i play with that pretty pussy?”

your two toned lips part, letting out little moans and whines of , “yes, s’ so good, daddy,” and “please, wan’ cum.”

he bucks up into you, letting out quiet groans and growls as his hand continues to play with you. “go ahead, doll,” he hums, “cum f’me.”

idk man jason’s just a whore for seeing you get what you want. total pleasure dom vibes. anyways !

[apocalypse-shuffle]

CLARK KENT | SUPERMAN (generalized fanon)

—

Going to Carnival w/ Clark (Clark Kent x Fem!Reader)

Headcanons

SFW, established relationship, casual Superman shit, fluff, vacation, caribbean setting, civilian shenanigans, dancing, -caribbean!reader

Once more, mind my choppy ass yanking. Pictures used are just for aesthetics and have no contextual meaning to the story. (Pic source — Justice League: Throne of Atlantis & The Death of Superman DCAMU)

The second you start to dance up on him Clark starts to blush.

It’s not like this is the first time you’ve ever wined in his presence, or even bumped up on him either. The fact that you’re in public is what throws him off.

For some reason it hadn’t actually connected in his brain when you first arrived that he should’ve taken all the other people dancing on their partners, and friends and partners alike dancing with each other, as a clue.

100% just trying to be respectful and not look at anyone but you too hard.

When you and whoever you came with start dancing together (cousins, friends, whatever) he gives you guys a small parameter to work with that you actually appreciate because you didn’t want anyone you didn’t know trying to do anything more than dance with you, and some strangers liked to jam-up on you or grope your backside like that was what the fuck you’d come there for.

Anytime he catches someone appreciating you in a way he doesn’t like, though, he does shift in the way of their view of you. And, glasses and oversized linen shirt or not, no one is checking a man as big as Clark when all he’s doing is paying attention to his woman.

Clark pays acute attention to you too, and when you drop low with the instructions of a song and keep eye contact with him as you sing along he can’t help the sound he makes in the back of his throat.

Honestly he’s impressed by your stamina the entire time.

When you finally do dance over to him and take his hand he’s more than eager to have you back up underneath him, letting you drag his hands where you want them on your waist and eagerly falling into the frenetic kiss you pull him into.

Whereas you’d normally keep things on the slower side when dancing with Clark back at either of your places in the States — gradually working yourself into a moderate rhythm as you danced carefully against him and were targeted with wining your waist — in the heat of the setting you don’t give much merit to moving slow.

Clark’s only a little taken aback (and a lot turned on) though so, while he isn’t the type to try to wukup with you unless he’s playing, he does hold securely onto you and eagerly moves wherever you tell him to while you dance.

He wants your ass damn near flush against his hips and, depending on your height difference, even gets distracted by the feel of you enough that he occasionally lifts your feet off the ground for one or two seconds as he’s dancing (moderately; mostly bcs he’s nervous) back into you.

You don’t complain mostly because it’s flattering as fuck and because he doesn’t stop you from dancing for long. He does periodically mess up your groove once you’ve gotten well into it though.

Repeatedly he smooths soft palms down your sides and over your warm brown skin, Clark’s enamored with you and doesn’t really want to help himself when it comes to his urge to touch you any and anywhere you’ll allow.

Despite that midwestern mama’s boy flush he’s sporting the whole time, Clark doesn’t keep his hands anywhere near away from your ass either. Frequently, they wander from your waist to run over or cup your glistening skin as you move, and every time you calm enough to grind into his touch or grip a little more deliberately.

Clark lets you push up his glasses after you take a break in the midst of dancing because when you came up for air he’d been going so hard that they were slipping down the bridge of his nose. He gives you this crooked smile afterwards, baby blues sparkling, and he just looks so cute with his blocky frames and black hair kind of messily framing his face from you running your hands through it that you HAVE to pull him in for another kiss, fuck that you were out of breath.

It’s LOUD, but if he focuses in on your everything enough then all that barrage of noise and input is almost hypnotically bearable. The feeling of you against him, the elated pounding of your heart, the way your sweat smells, everything.

Like clockwork Clark detects whenever you’re close to getting dehydrated and he’ll either stop you verbally or throw you over his shoulder to go find you some water to drink and to make sure you give yourself time to cool down and/or reapply sunscreen (if need be). He’s very clingy during your down time, just running his hands over you as you lightly bounce to the rhythm around you and he occasionally hums along to the more catchy and repetitive songs.

After every time you finish a round of dancing to take a break Clark kisses you on the cheek, or on the forehead, or on the tip of your broader nose and tells you all about how good you did. His voice low and sweet and for your ears only; especially when he's pulled you in close and is feeding you water while making a point of telling you all about how much he loves you and how much he’s enjoying himself, his hold on you delicate.

This man will also suck down a mango, okay? Do not play with him. At one point you leave him bopping (in his white man way, yes, but it’s cute) to the music to go find a bathroom to use and when you finally get back you almost miss him because he’s surrounded by so many older Rasta ladies who’re out selling produce from their gardens trying to feed him more fruit.

He accepted the first offer because he was nice and had no problem paying, the rest he accepts because he thoroughly wants to.

Other members of the League, though Conner is notably the one going out dressed in a suit closer to Superman’s usual red and blues, keep an eye on Metropolis while Clark’s away. Bigger events outside of the States are handled more regularly by the stronger Leaguers since everyone wants Clark to take an actual break for once without zipping around to multitask a date with you and saving lives; he’s got a whole team behind him and they want to help.

Supergirl also helps the most with mitigating the need for Superman to show up to help in other countries or with peripheral villains coming out of the woodwork; she’s just doing a tad bit more than she otherwise would be for the week Clark’s off.

Every time a soca band or song plays that name drops ‘Superman’ Clark chokes. On his spit, fruit, punch, in the middle of ayo making out, anything. You like to catch the name drops just so you can make him more flustered as you sing along and gesture at him like you’re in a music video.

Clark’s fairly fond of flying over the ocean and so at some point will definitely bring up taking a fly over the Caribbean sea. When he’s by himself early in the morning it’s tantamount to a wake up jog; he hears a lot from around the island like this and the journalist in him wants to catalog so much of it. Most of what he hears is either harmless or too petty to need his involvement, but Superman was still more nosey than people gave him credit for and Clark still occasionally tuned in regardless.

For the most part he does manage to keep to himself, however, and just lets his mind go blank as he flies in place with his arm propping up his head from where he’s got his elbow balanced on his thigh, his legs criss-crossed in midair. Like this in the clouds he really only focuses on your heartbeat alone, letting your melody wash over him as his mind wanders and he does his best not to worry about what’s happening in the world beyond him that might need Superman’s assistance.

Clark had people covering for him that were damn good at there jobs and he needed to remember that, if anything came up that really needed him he’d be there anyway — summons and your goodwill and all.

Whenever Clark takes you out to fly it’s more akin to a stroll. He can’t go too high with you, only gliding just over the saltwater far out from the island with mist pattering against his back and you laying on your front held against his chest.

Clark likes being on island with you though. The sun he’s getting notably adding to his good mood and widening the already big smile that stretches across his face every time he looks at you the moment you two get outside.

It’s a good time overall and even has Clark contemplating taking some remote work for the Planet. It’s a five minute long consideration before he shoots the idea down, but him considering staying away from the paper he loves so much is significant enough in and off itself.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!

This isn’t the first Clark thing that I’ve worked on, but this is the first one I’ve posted and I find that funny. I said I wanted to write more of The Trinity (outside of Bruce) though, so I’m trying. More Superman stuff to come, though (🤞🏾).

I wanted to use Young Justice animated for photos in the banners for this series (cause it’s the only other animated series that has every character I’ll be writing about in the same art style), but ultimately I liked the Batman DCAMU pictures I edited more so now everyone has to use the DCAMU animation for their banners even though I think DCAMU Superman looks like a douche bag (it’s the lack of “underwear”, they keep Superman humble and cute and without them he just looks untrustworthy to me).

Mind any typos pls, I will find them later.🫶🏾

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

[realhotgirlshiii3]

𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙧𝙠 𝙠𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙨 𝙥𝙪𝙨𝙨𝙮 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙪𝙥 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙡…. 𝙃𝙀𝘼𝙍 𝙈𝙀 𝙊𝙐𝙏 𝙋𝙇𝙀𝘼𝙎𝙀, 𝙗𝙖𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙧𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙞𝙩 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙢𝙖𝙯𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙖 𝙩𝙤 𝙥𝙪𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙤𝙣 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙛𝙖𝙘𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙞𝙢, 𝙡𝙚𝙜𝙨 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨, 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙨, 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙖𝙞𝙧. 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙚’𝙨 𝙨𝙡𝙤𝙥𝙥𝙮 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙞𝙩 𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙥𝙪𝙨𝙨𝙮, 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚 𝙨𝙤 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙… 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪’𝙧𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪’𝙧𝙚 𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙛𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮 𝙝𝙚’𝙨 𝙜𝙤𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪. 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝 𝙨𝙡𝙪𝙧𝙥 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙤𝙤𝙣 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙪𝙗𝙩 𝙤𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙚𝙡𝙩 (𝘽𝘼𝙍𝙎𝙎𝙎!!!) 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙮 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙠𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙨𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙧𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙧𝙠 𝙩𝙤 𝙬𝙧𝙖𝙥 𝙞𝙩 𝙪𝙥 𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙣’𝙩 𝙠𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙩 𝙤𝙣 ��𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙡. 𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙖𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙨 𝙩𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙜𝙧𝙞𝙥 𝙤𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨, 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙘𝙡𝙞𝙩 𝙨𝙖𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 “𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮”

[browneyedolly]

need this awkward neurodivergent man real bad like y’all don’t understand 🙃he’s so adorably pathetic 😭

[kkeidawrites]

He Watches

Welcome to Day 4 of Blacktober!

The dark hue of Gotham City illuminated the sanctuary of the woman currently in bed. She tossed and turned on the linen, her forehead a perfect line of sweat and curls right under her hairline.

Her face contorted, a tint in her brow as she tossed to her right side, her hand suddenly grip the sheets by her face.

“Quiet tonight are we?” A deep voice taunts.

Y/n gasps at the voice but, tosses again; her head falling back against her pillow as she presses both hands to her crotch, letting out a whimper.

“What have we agreed on?” Soft buzzing could be heard from the chuckling man sitting in the corner of the room where the light of the moon shined through the large balcony window.

It glittered on the white patch of hair that nestled between the red tresses on top of his head. Jason Todd, known as the Red Hood to the Gotham civilians watched from his lounged position holding a red button in his right hand as his left cushioned his chin.

His thumb rolled up on the remote he was holding, a click was heard and the vibrating noise rose in volume and so did Y/n’s moans she could no longer hide away.

Jason smirks as he watches his lover wither on her bed. The white silk sheets that she so often kept clean were now becoming soaked in her essence flowing from between her legs.

Not knowing where to put her hands, Y/n grips her sheets as her legs were now open and Jason could finally see the vibrator peeking from inside of her pussy.

“Jason, oh my god!” She finally cries out and Jason chuckles quietly.

“I thought you just told me to watch? I can’t go back on your request, doll.” He says and Y/n groans in frustration.

To make things more interesting he presses up so the vibrator was on the highest setting on the remote and Y/n screams.

She tussles around in the bed for another 30 seconds until her lower body was thrusted in the air and freezes. Her cum leaks down her legs and the vibrator finally slips out of her pussy.

Y/n then curls up on her bed, knees up to her chest as she pants, her body shivering here and there.

While she collected herself, a shadow loomed over her body and Y/n looks up to see Jason holding the now wet vibrator in his right hand with a large grin on his lips.

“Good job babe. You lasted 45 minutes without coming. Now then,” he holds up a dildo as his grin turns sinister.

“Why don’t we try something more…extreme?”

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Enjoy and make sure you reblog, like, and comment!

Also I’m glad I was able to include Jason having red hair because he is a natural red head that just dyed his hair black.

Happy Blacktober!

[mtcloudsworld]

֒ ୨ৎྀི 𝙅𝙐𝙅𝙐𝙏𝙎𝙐 𝙆𝘼𝙄𝙎𝙀𝙉

֒ ୨ৎྀི 𝘿𝘾 𝙐𝙉𝙄𝙑𝙀𝙍𝙎𝙀

֒ ୨ৎྀི 𝙈𝙄𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙇𝙇𝘼𝙉𝙀𝙊𝙐𝙎

𝑪𝑨𝑵'𝑻 𝑮𝑬𝑻 𝑬𝑵𝑶𝑼𝑮𝑯

𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑬 | nanami kento; ryomen sukuna

𝑹𝑰𝑫𝑬 𝑯𝑰𝑴, 𝑩𝑨𝑩𝒀𝑮𝑰𝑹𝑳 | suguru getou; ryomen sukuna; onyankopon

𝐈'𝐌𝐀 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘 | sukuna ryomen; nanami kento; renji abarai; toji fushiguro; suguru getou

𝐈'𝐋𝐋 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐄𝐌 | aot; dc comics; bleach; lad; jjk; etc.

𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝑭𝑨𝑳𝑳𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑨𝑼𝑻𝑼𝑴𝑵

𝑺𝑻𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑺 𝑭𝑹𝑬𝑬 | bf!onyankopon

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𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃

𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 ©𝐦𝐭𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓

[blond3ang3l]

⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱⋰

Older Cowboy! Jason who absolutely adores taking you to the fields with him. He’s away from everyone and just with his lovely and he finds it the most peaceful thing in the world. You’re happy to have any time with him but this is when you guys can give each other undivided attention. Something he loves to do was watching you gather different flowers around the field so you two could figure out what they were. Something so out of character for the gruff man. He wasn’t known for being the nicest, usually seen as a threat people used to get the young boys to listen to their elders, but here he sat with you letting you put different flowers in his hair. The beard he had spent the last couple years growing tickling the side of your face while you leaned up to secure the flowers. His eyes followed your silhouette until they got to your face. He was so in love with you and could not wait to see what the future held for the two of you. Maybe even bringing your future kids to the same spot their parents loved so much.

⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱♱⋰⋱♱⋰ ⋱✮⋰ ⋱⋰

[hon3ybabe]

you can not convince me clark kent isn’t fucking filthy. the type of filthy to watch you cum and take like a strawberry and cover it in your cum and eat right in front of you.

(jason and bruce would prob do this too)

[blackynsupremacy]

idgaf about what’s canon, if you want to romantically write them to be with a black girl, do it!

[bludovebunny]

. ☽ The heart ♡︎. ✫.

♡︎ . is a ♡︎.

. ♡︎ lonely hunter ✧ ☽ ✫ .

pairing ღ Lex Luthor x fem! oc/reader

chapter one . chapter two .

ღ Summary ღ After suffering through a few personal troubles in the City of Metropolis, Niah Foxx ventures to live with her grandparents at their homestead within the warm, quaint town that is Smallville. Although instinctively a sweet, warm-hearted woman who frolics in the realm of dreams way too often, whisked away between the pages of books and poetry to escape reality, there presents a cynical point of view towards society as a whole as she struggles to find a place of belonging and people to rely on. Her reserved nature is quite apparent, as is the wisdom gained in the quietness of solitude and mere observation. And, unbeknownst to her, catches the attentive eye of the young heir of LuthorCorp with an infamous reputation. It only begs the question: In what way does a dove break loose from the coils of a snake? If it wants to escape at all? ღ Themes ღ emotional vulnerability obsession unrequited feelings slow burn friends to lovers height difference loyalty angst fluff poetry opposites attract romance loneliness survival of the fittest strength vs weakness

ღ words 12.7k . ღ

The rose lay gentle in the softness of her palm, fingers curling over the stem as it slowly twirls between the pad of her thumb and index. The petals were a stark red, vibrant as fresh blood that drips from an open wound and velvet to her touch. Abandoned leaves and thorns laid discarded on the table after using the rose stripper, a focal requirement when processing this particular flower to be used as a center piece in one of the many flower arrangements waiting to be dropped off to local clients. A pile of other roses, stripped bare in similar fashion, rested in a bucket on the side of the table in wait, and after one more look over, she gently sets the one in her hold amongst the rest.

Niah spent most of the day fulfilling certain tasks assigned by Nell Potter, which mainly involved evaluating new plants brought in from the local flower shop. Since receiving the position as a florist assistant, the broom practically became her best friend, based on the number of times she swept the floor on a constant basis every single day. It’s quite a simple job, although the only thing she may consider the most burdensome was cleaning out the buckets and cooler. But the quiet joy she experiences when surrounded by plants, their sweet floral scent a comfort to her soul, tends to outweigh most potential feelings of aversion towards certain responsibilities designated upon her.

Today was as slow as it had flown by easily, mainly due to lack of events as of late that didn’t require a high demand for flower arrangements, but during her observation of the last two months of working there, she ascertains there’s always this perpetual urgency for flowers to be present at a funeral. And as unfortunate as it may sound, they tend to attract more order requests involving burials than they do weddings and anniversaries.

In fact, a few requests were made involving three men who became victims of three different crimes–two were found murdered by electrocution, whereas one was fortunate enough to be lulled into a coma, all recent in the span of a week. Not only that, but a friend of Nell Potter, who was in the same garden club as her, Mrs. Arkin, was found dead in the quietness of her own home, mysteriously strung up on the wall and wrapped in huge webbing, the breath of life drained out of her lifeless corpse. Unfortunately, Niah never got to properly form a relationship before her passing, but she did take the time in her day to accompany Nell in attendance at her funeral in a display of support for the family.

The stories were absolutely bizarre–it was difficult to place one’s belief on the legitimacy of such reports due to how eccentric they appeared on paper. That is, until she pieced together all these incidents with students who once attended Smallville High; the high school Clark Kent attends every day. The conclusion of the matter made her wonder if there was something abnormal that had snuck its way to inhabit within the small pool of residents of Smallville. The concept of these musings was enough to unsettle the young woman, at least a little bit.

Another rose is now in her hand, her lips pressed together as she gently peels away a bruised petal on the head, eyes hardened in concentration. So delicate and fragile, beautiful, in the same way human life is, how easily the skin breaks from the prick of a tiny thorn. And how often is life taken for granted until it’s taken away. The thought of the crash on Loeb Bridge flickers in her mind for a split second, which is once again another odd occurrence where someone almost lost their life, a mere fraction away from the brink death.

“I met your friend by the way.” Sarcasm had lightly dripped from her tone when she spoke to Clark after the event of the Farmers Market had ended, once she and her granddad were loading the truck up with produce left over from the sales.

Clark had given her a quizzical look when he turned to her, his hands gripping the handles of a cooler container. “Friend?” His thick brows furrowed in confusion. “Remind me again who you’re talking about?”

She sighed with a roll of her eyes, watching him place the cooler far back in the trunk. “Y’know, Lex Luthor? The guy you saved the other day.”

He seemed to perk up at the mention of the familiar name, quickly whipping his head towards her where a hint of surprise overwhelmed his boyish features. “Lex? You met him already?” He scratched at the wavy hair atop his head. “When did this happen?”

Her lips pinched with a shrug of her shoulders, and her eyes fell to the ground where her foot absently kicked at a tiny pebble, as if unsure of her own feelings about the personal encounter with the billionaire. “Today. He jus…wanted a few things. I guess.” She muttered. It’s no mistake the way she conveniently left out the flirtatious comments he directed at her, feeling embarrassed enough as it is from the flirting she received. Just going over the interaction between them in her head almost made her blush. “He seems…well…interesting, to say the least.”

Clark had expelled a short burst of air in a half-laugh, and she detected a tinge of irony mingled in his breath when he replied. “Well. Yeah, you don’t know the half of it.” He didn’t even grunt when he hoisted up a heavy box filled with honeydew melon and set it on the edge of the trunk. His movements had paused for a moment, something reeling in his head that he wanted to say. Finally, he spared her a glance, his voice dropping low in tone as if in fear someone was eavesdropping. “Can you believe the guy gave me a new truck?”

The news made her eyes almost bulge out her head, taking a small step back in surprise. “Huh? W–wha–what? A truck?” Clearly, Niah couldn’t have heard him correctly.

“Yeah!” Clark exclaimed as he raised his arms at his sides, still unable to believe it himself. “It was a 250 SUPER DUTY FORD! Brand new too. Can you believe it?”

Astounded, all she could do was blinkingly stare up at him in response, trying to digest what he said. “So…” her words began off slowly, albeit cautiously as her mind reeled to the get the facts straight, “you’re saying, Lex Luthor, jus gave you a free truck,” and she squinted one skeptical eye at him, “a billionaire, out of the good graciousness of his heart. No strings attached. Is what you’re trying to say.”

“Well,” he gulped, and his mouth twisted as he seemed to mull over her words, “apparently, he gave it to me as a gift for saving him. I guess it was his way of saying thank you. And…I don’t get the feeling he was expecting anything back either. I mean–he seems like a cool guy to me.”

Although Clark tried to stay subtle about his excitement, she saw the sparkle in his eyes, the prospect of having his very own vehicle, a Duty Ford in pristine condition that likely would do wonders for his self-esteem and boost the rank of his social status in high school–even possibly catch the glimpse of the starry-eyed Lana Lang for once. In hindsight, any teenager at his age would be ecstatic to have that type of freedom and independence–a token which represents a step closer to adulthood.

Unfortunately, Johnathan Kent didn’t exactly share the same sentiment with such a deluxe gift bestowed upon his son. As head of the household, he refused to let Clark keep it and forced him to return the vehicle that same day, much to the dismay and disappointment of Clark. But in hindsight–in which this single viewpoint remained a secret so as to avoid irritating Clark further–Niah could understand his dad’s reasoning on the matter, considering Clark is still a teenager, a freshman in high school, nonetheless. To be granted an expensive car from a stranger with the status of a celebrity, the heir of Luthorcorp, may seem strange from a parent’s standpoint.

She gets it.

But, even so, when Niah reflected over the circumstances surrounding Lex’s intentions in concern to Clark, she could acknowledge the generosity behind the gesture, to express gratitude in a way a billionaire could convey based on the luxurious environment he grew up in as a wealthy kid, despite how extravagant such gifts may be perceived by ordinary onlookers. And he certainly found no issue in flaunting his wealth, as the majority of billionaires were so often inclined, but in this instance, he dedicated his assets deemed honorable as a way to pay back what could’ve been lost, something much more precious and valuable–his life.

Still, she had no time for playboys nor casanovas.

The last time Niah checked the time, it was 12:56 pm. Now she’s looking at the clock on the wall to find it’s 3:20 pm. Her work shift was nearing its end, and the procession of the last batch of flowers was finished for the day. The bucket was filled with bountiful roses in perfect condition, and she let loose a content sigh, hand rested on her hip as she admired her handiwork. While Niah began cleaning her station, she could hear Nell talking on the phone in the main room. The ringing of the bell that hung over the entrance door signified someone had come into the shop.

Grabbing the bucket with a firm grip, she headed towards the cooler room where many other pre-made plants were stored, one’s either ready to be put to use for another project, or an order already completed and prepared to be transported to a paid customer the following day. She placed the roses on the shelf. She shivered, the low temperature prickling her skin, but not enough to cause intense discomfort that she felt a need to rush out of the room immediately. And after inspecting a few of the other plants, she turned around to leave, only to hesitate as her keen eye locked on a Tulip arrangement with a few ill leaves, their once green color melding into a sickly shade of yellow.

She wonders how that happened. Perhaps the water in the bucket got contaminated by some unknown source. Her eyebrows pinched gently in concern, a surge of emotions rushing through her as she touched the plant with both palms. The effect was immediate; the leaves shifting gently as if a wind had blew into the cool room, the yellow area that tainted the leaves transforming into a lush shade of green, returning back to its original color, from a simple stroke of her fingers.

Satisfied. An echo of a smile hovered over her mouth. The door behind her was still open, and her eyes warily peek over her shoulder to make sure no one witnessed what took place in secrecy, from prying eyes who may question the enigma of the reserved, quiet woman. Niah Foxx.

With all the bizarre reports that have sprung up, she couldn’t nip away the curiosity if there exists a connection between her abilities and Smallville, since this was the same town where her powers first manifested as a child. One can’t be certain with little evidence to back up her conjecture. But it at least proves she’s not the only anomaly of a human to exist in this world.

It was about that time to leave. Niah stepped out of the cooler, sealing the door shut behind her with a solid click. Nell was standing behind the counter when Niah entered the front room, talking with her niece, Lana, who was leaning comfortably against the counter on the opposite side of her. Part of her face was hidden by her long hair.

The image of the brunette-haired girl was always a pleasant sight, her presence always seen more as a welcome than a disturbance in contrast to most teenagers which Niah had unfavorable experiences of encountering with. Lana’s frequent visits to the shop every other day after school offered them the opportunity to interact on most occasions, and their conversations were enjoyable, discovering shared interests as a small friendship steadily formed between the older and younger. Their bond especially bloomed after one night of fun when Nell invited Niah to spend time with them singing a mix of 90’s and 80’s karaoke songs at the Beanery.

She approached the counter, gaining the attention of both aunt and niece. “Hey, how’s it going with you?” Niah smiled fondly at Lana, offering her quick hug.

“Ah, nothing much.” Was her short response, pushing a few strands of hair away from her face after she pulled away, her silky tone as lovely as her smile. “I just needed to drop something off here before the shop closes.” It wouldn’t have been apparent or as noticeable to someone if they heard Lana speak, but Niah could sense a tincture of sobriety behind her teeth, something hidden itself like a face concealed behind a dark veil.

Niah doesn’t pry it out with a question, at least not in the presence of her aunt, nor make known of her observation as of yet, but instead pretends to not notice anything unusual, and simply says. “Oh okay. It’s nice to see you stopped by though.” Niah’s palm stroked her back comfortably, and Lana’s shoulders slump at her gentle touch, sparing her another glance beneath her long lashes that display subtle appreciation. There’s something she wanted to say, but the young girl kept her sentiments in the depths of her throat, unable to verbalize it.

For the moment, Niah then switches to her boss who was watching the two girls interact before her eyes with an expression of approval, seemingly glad that Lana found someone who could be a potential true friend to her. Or maybe adopt the role of an older sister. Her Aunt didn’t appear to notice anything unusual about her niece’s dreary demeanor, though.

It’s a shame. But not everyone was gifted with intuitive feeling and the capability to sense the moods of another soul, even when they lived in the same household and breathed the same air.

Niah propped her arm on top of the counter, leaning in a bit close to Nell as if she were passing on a secret, and the older woman also leaned over the surface in an inquisitive manner. “And Nell, I think something is going on with the Tulip bouquet for order number eleven. Probably something going on in the water or it’s sick? I’m not so sure. I just noticed it just now after I left the cooler.”

Her red hair bounced as her head flinched back slightly, and her brighter red lips turned downward in the shape of a frown. “That’s certainly odd. I know we cleaned the buckets out yesterday.” She stated, obviously confused by this new development. But the worry on her face lifts a bit, and she flaps her hand a couple times in the air at her in a reassuring gesture, shaking her head. “Whatever it is, I’ll take care of it, hon. You go head home and I’ll handle the rest here. You did good work today, as you usually do.”

She blushed, straightening her posture as she nodded. “Thank you ma’am.” And turned to the teenager beside her who also returned her gaze. “Wanna come? We can talk a little while I get my things together.”

Lana’s shoulders lift with a single, quick nod. “Yea, sure thing.” Her smile tensed.

They headed towards the back of the store with Lana following behind Niah as she led the way to a private room that held her personal belongings. Once they reached their destination, Niah reached up to untie the beige bandana wrapped around her thick hair, sighing contently as she felt the freedom of her dark dreadlocks drape over her shoulders. After hours of her hair tightly constricted during work, the airy sensation on her head felt soothing to allow her scalp a chance to breathe.

As she reaches for her leather brown jacket off a hanger, she heard Lana’s voice filter throughout the room. “You seem pretty comfortable here, now. Nell hasn’t been working you very hard, has she?”

She turns towards her and hoists her jacket over her shoulder, an easy grin touching her lips. “Nah, things have been pretty good. I have fun working with plants. I’m used to getting my hands dirty anyway. I like the feel of it, even if I do get poked by thorns sometimes.” A small joke as she lifted and twisted her hand in Lana’s view.

“Ha, I can imagine...” The lightness of her voice faltered slightly, merging on something pensive. Though she tried to conceal it with a tiny smile that couldn’t quite reach her eyes.

It was noticeable enough, as Niah was able to sense the slightest shift in volume and timbre. “So, I heard that there’s a pep rally coming up at your school soon.” Niah lightly initiated, albeit with a touch of care in her tone. “Are you excited about that? The game an all that?”

Lana pressed her back against the wall, her eyes falling to focus on the wooden floor beneath her shoes. “Mmm…” Her lips puckered in response, tongue poking inside her cheek as her arms folded across her chest. From the way the young girl “I probably would’ve been a day ago,” and her head cocks to the side, her dark hair casting half a shadow over her face, “if I didn’t quit cheerleading, anyway.”

Niah almost did a double take, but her mouth falling open indicated her silent surprise. “You quit? Since when?”

Lana’s hand lifts towards her forehead, two of her fingers massaging at the tip of her thin eyebrow, applying pressure upon her temple. “Since today.”

The heaviness under her breath was enough to connote her displeasure, not directed at Niah by any means, but it stemmed from some situation she hasn’t yet disclosed with her. “Wow. This–this is soo surprising.” Was all Niah could say as she noticed Lana moving to close the door, as if afraid someone would listen in on their conversation. Niah dropped her jacket on the desk and stepped forward, and Lana didn’t pull away when Niah took her hands in hers. “What made you wanna leave? I mean…right before the next game in a couple days? That’s kinda close, isn’t?”

Lana’s gaze finally lifted to meet hers, pain and distress reflecting in her hazel eyes. “Do you know about the Torch? The high school paper?” She asked quietly.

The name sounded familiar. “I think Clark mentioned it to me before. His friend–I think it was…uh, Chole who runs it. But I don’t really keep up with high school stuff like that anymore.” Niah actually never did care. After she graduated senior year, she left all traces and residue of the high school experience behind her. In the past. A mere chapter in her book which she had no interest in rereading again. “What about it though?”

“Well, prepared to be surprised.” She rolled her eyes, her mouth curling into a facsimile of a smile meant to resemble satire. “The latest article…well….” her teeth dug into her bottom lip, thinking, “the article showed some guys on the team have been caught cheating on their midterm, just so they can play some–some stupid game.” She looked down at the floor again. Unsure. Embarrassed. “They were my friends and now… I’m not soo sure how to feel about them anymore.”

Oh, no. The poor girl. Niah tightened her hold on Lana’s hands, felt her heart squeeze in her chest, aching on her behalf. “I’m sorry to hear that, Lana. I know how disappointing this must be for you.” Disappointments were a constant presence in her own life, unwanted and uninviting; she was familiar with such feelings Lana must be going through. “Your boyfriend is the lead quarterback on the team, right? Did he also get caught cheating or…?

She didn’t answer right away, her downcast gaze still glued on the floor, but Niah could see her face clearly due to her standing a few inches smaller while she observed uncertainty flash over Lana’s features. She watched her take a deep, steady breath, and blew slowly, responding carefully. “He claims he didn’t cheat, and I want to believe–No. I do believe him. But…he did know his friends were cheating but didn’t speak up about it.” Her eyes met hers then before looking away to the side. “It’s just… I don’t know. I can’t see myself supporting people who would swindle their way through school, or anything just to win a game–anything, really. Without remorse or regret for their actions. What type of person would that make me if I continue to associate with them? That I’m okay with what they did?”

It's odd how Lex Luthor popped up in her mind again. Of all time and circumstances. But she remembers his unease, his look of regret and remorse when he expressed his penance at the market with her, even though he technically didn’t harm anybody in the accident. What does that say about his character? A young billionaire who went into his own pocket to pay for the re-construction of Loeb bridge to get it fixed for his error. He didn’t have to go out of his own resources to do that. But he did it, instead of trying to sweep it under the rug.

She shook the thought out of her head, re-focusing back on the reality of Lana’s dilemma. “Mhm. And how does Whitney feel about his friends…or ones who were involved in that?”

The question caused a different reaction this time. As Lana’s face suddenly became pinched, as if she’d been pricked by a thorn. And she slipped out of Niah’s grasp and proceeded to step around her, folding her arms again. “Like any guy would, apparently.” Her tongue became tainted with mild annoyance, but she was frustrated all the same. “They’re his buddies, his bros. Friends he’s known for years. How do you expect him to feel? All he could say was: ‘People are not perfect. It’s no big deal.’”

Niah could only watch the girl shake her head, probably must be just as disappointed in Whitney’s passive stance as she is with her former friends cheating scandal, if they were even her real friends at all. Possibly this event might initiate some sort of awakening within her, because Niah could feel a strain of tension in the air, its thickness looming over Lana that surrounds her like a cocoon.

For a moment, Niah collects her thoughts together. One by one, drawing inspiration from her own past experiences in school, memories in a glass bottle she didn’t care to remember. But her next set of words are delivered with delicacy, her dulcet voice a house of sympathy towards her friend’s state of agitation.

“I understand, Lana.” She says kindly, soothingly as she walks over, lifting her hand to stroke Lana’s bare forearm. “I’d most likely do the same thing if I found out my friends were being deceitful behind people’s backs, especially if I knew about it. I mean–I’ve done something similar before.” Niah shares this tidbit of her past life with little detail, but it’s enough to draw Lana’s bittersweet gaze upon her again.

“I’d feel like a fake, not being authentic to myself, like you probably feel now. And…I get the feeling you don’t want to enable that type of behavior of your peers, either. I think you quitting the team is a good decision on your part. It shows you have strong values and don’t follow after the crowd, no matter what people says or expects of you.”

Only in Niah’s case, her refusal to follow the path of others led her to be alone. Trapped in the gentle clutches of solitude, lost in the realms of fanciful reveries and romantic books and other similar devices. Unpopular in high school.

Graciously, though, her words of comfort and commendation roused a tiny smile to ease its way on Lana’s face, her visage shyly brightening up. She looked like sunlight breaking through dark clouds after the wake of a thunderstorm, countenance genuine in its sincerity. “I appreciate that, Niah. Really. I do.”

“Of course.” She smiles softly. That’s all she wants. To offer comfort, to whoever may need it.

Lana turned to her fully and clasped her hands together in the form of a small plea. “Just do me a favor and don’t tell my aunt, Nell.” Her eyes were big and wide, similar to the innocence of a doe. “My mom and Nell were both cheerleaders in high school. It’ll be like I broke the cycle or some sacred tradition. She’ll be shocked when she finds out and I’d hate it if she learns about it from someone else.”

Niah listened as she grabbed ahold of her jacket, releasing a light chuckle as she shrugged the garment on, popping the collar straight. “Baby, I don’t share people’s business like that. I have no reason to, especially if you tell me not to.” She rests assured. “You tell her on your own time when you’re ready. You jus do you.”

“Thanks.”

A few minutes later, their shoes met the sidewalk on the main street of town when they exited the shop together. The air was not too cool, not too warm, and the breeze felt gentle as it skims over her cheeks. Niah thought she and Lana would part ways once they arrived outside, but Lana actually ended up joining her on her short walk towards her BMW.

The chiming sound of her keys jiggled in her palm. Niah separated the correct key from the rest before inserting it into the lock of the car. “So, what do you plan on doing now, since you’re no longer interested in shaking pom-poms and cheering for the Crows?” It was a random thought that needed to be inquired, at least to sate her own curiosity.

“I’ll think of something.” Lana sighs evenly, watching Niah climb onto the front seat where she settles behind the wheel. “Probably get a part-time job. Try something new for once.”

“Oh, you wanna do something constructive with your time? That sounds good to me.” As if ready to close the door, Niah gripped the car door handle, but not before taking a moment to pause and meet Lana’s gaze. Niah made a point to hold her stare, hoping to get the message across when she dropped a few more words of wisdom. “Jus make sure that whatever you choose to do, that it makes you happy. There’s little joy to be found in a job or activity that only adds more stress to your life. At least…let it be worth the trouble.”

Lana shares her gratitude with a simple nod, her hair bobbing against the wind. “That’s something I can agree for sure. I’ll try to remember. Thanks again, Niah.” She waved, bidding her farewell as Niah shut the door and started up the vehicle.

They part ways, Niah turning the wheel as she pulled out the parking space to ride down the road towards home.

Two days rush by in a dash.

The newspaper of the Smallville Ledger caught her eye that sunny morning, when she sneaked a glance at one of the articles her grandma was reading at the kitchen table. A car had mysteriously caught on fire, exploding in a violent combustion of flames in a parking lot that was practically empty. The location: Smallville High. The owner of the vehicle, principal Kwan, barely got away unscathed by the burning flames.

If it wasn’t for Clark’s swift rescue at the time of the scene, they would’ve lost an important figure at the school. The cause of the fire was unknown, but inspections on the vehicle suspect possible faulty wiring. Or another case, attempted murder. A mystery no one could explain with real conviction.

Unbeknownst to Niah, these current events in rural Kansas were only the tip of the iceberg.

The Beanery was a comfortable spot to relax with your nose in a book. A delicate mixture of sounds in the café dispersed throughout the low-lit, interior space. The distant tinkling of dishes clattering somewhere in the back and murmuring voices lingering between patrons at their own tables. Spoons softly clinking against the ceramic of their mugs.

The half-filled mug rested on the coffee table in front of her, and she can still taste the spicy, cocoa flavor of the chai tea swirling in her mouth. This fine evening, there was a moderate amount of people that occupied the coffee house. Thank God the place wasn’t crowded. A few high school students intermingled in their own corner, and other regulars sat in their own personal bubble next to an available window, watching life carry on behind the glass where cars drove on pass. The warm glow of the streetlights outside reflected against clear, dark windows where nighttime had washed over town.

Niah sat there on the sofa, alone in her own personal bubble, shoes neatly discarded on the floor so her legs may curl up against her thighs on the padded cushions, and fingers were shifting through pages of one of her favored books she snagged along with her from her former city home. She recently learned of Lana’s new position as a waitress at the Beanery, supposedly taking on the part-time job in an endeavor to gain some level of independence in her teenage life, forge her own path in an attempt to break the cycle of what her aunt or anyone expects her to be. The pep rally for the Crows football team was tonight, but Lana chose to fill people’s cups with coffee, tripping over her feet occasionally as she carried tray after tray, an endless cycle of accidental spills and uttered apologies.

For what it’s worth, as with any humble beginning, it’s a start, and Niah felt a need to offer her support with the use of her own company. She could be doing anything else more productive with her time, such as plucking the strings of her bass guitar at home, learning new singing material for an upcoming gig with her band back in Metropolis, or finishing up the remains of a new art piece. College work. In all honesty, even daydreaming.

Time is precious. A valuable thing. Niah is not the type of woman to give it to anyone for free, unless someone, somehow, struck a chord that resonated in her. Except, of course, when someone presses her under the thumb of obligation to grant it, reluctantly.

Other than the low chatter and delicate tinkling of cups setting upon the surface of several tables, Niah didn’t pay much attention to her surroundings, or the sharp clutter of broken dishes every so often that may sometimes cut her focus on her reading. Her mind was absorbed in the story of the characters, their monologue and dialogue speaking to her in a way that reality fails her. Fails to understand her.

It couldn’t have been more than five feet away when a voice within reach suddenly broke through her focus.

“Unique choice you got there.” They sounded male, their tone deep and melodious. Her shoulders jump before whipping her head to the source of the voice, her brown eyes staring up to meet with a pair of steel-blue ones. “For a town with an excessive fixation on adolescent athleticism, I didn’t quite expect to find ones in this town who fancies the classics of quality literature.”

He was staring down at her. Lex Luthor. With that familiar, unmistakable intensity in his gaze that may so often lock people in a trance, and that slick curl that likes to play on the side of his mouth. Of all places to encounter once again; this fine evening in a little coffee shop. But this time around, the sharpness of his cerulean eyes made her heart skip a beat. Once or twice. How odd.

Stunned by his appearance, Niah was at a loss for words. And he must be humored by her expression because a burst of breath passes his lips where he chuckles lightly, soft and deep. Her mouth parted as if to speak, but his presence was so sudden, it took her a solid moment to gather any words together. She just hadn’t anticipated to see him again so soon, or never at all. Plus, the fact he actually remembered her after only one encounter.

“M–Mr. Luthor.” She uttered, her gaze following his figure as he maneuvered around the small coffee table to sit across from her, inviting himself into her small bubble. He’s dressed in casual attire this time around, black slacks and black T-shirt to match, and a simple grey jacket, as if he finally decided to blend in with the rest of Smallville civilians. But he still seemed untouchable, his disposition emitting a radiance of confidence and boldness. Assertive. Traits in which she envied as well as found…well…piquant of a man of his elite position.

She clutches the book in her hand. She hates to admit it.

Once he was situated in his seat, he stared back, a tiny crease softly pulling at the corner of his mouth with a touch of amusement in his eyes. “Ha, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to alarm you.” He said, observing her silence as a possible indicator of blunt aversion towards his company, a typical reaction of the many people in this town who would rather not be bothered by his very existence. Soon, he planned to change people’s perception of him.

Lex leaned forward to place a few file folders on the table. “I was referring to your choice in reading,” his eye darts to the book in her grasp and back to her, “The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter. Such a fascinating tale, with loneliness and isolation being a focal point of the author’s message behind the characters’ bleak experiences in the book, especially John Singer. It’s just a grim reminder that mankind as a whole can’t truly escape it. As we’ve all suffered from the nuisance of it in one way or another in our lives. Wouldn’t you agree?” He inquired, waiting to hear her response. To see what she’d say. Or do.

Niah blinked twice in a row, finding it difficult to conceal her surprise and disbelief that he was familiar with the book at all. And the way he smoothly initiated a conversation as if they were old friends, associates from the past catching up from lost years over a long span of time. Or colleague. She couldn’t control the scoff that escaped her lips, her eyes shutting briefly in amusement, dazed by his audaciousness. But nonetheless intrigued, just a tiny bit.

This man was the image of debonair incarnate–dangerous if she were a woman weak to the enchanted whims of a diplomatic billionaire as suave as Mr. Luthor.

How unfortunate for him once he eventually realizes she don’t suit the image of his type of woman.

Nevertheless, she shook her head lightly before prying the novel open, back to the page she left off on. She trembled under the weight of his scrutiny. “Ah, yeah–yeah. I do.” Her gaze fell upon a piece of monologue of one of the characters, reading the sentence over and over again like a mantra that imprinted itself in her mind. Lex then observed the way her expression softens, almost pensive in its quality as her lips curl slightly into small, quiet smile. “It’s sad how strong loneliness is felt by man. It’s a universal feeling that’s jus….part of life. There’s no way of getting around it or escaping it, no matter how hard we may try to avoid it…”

Words pause on a lowly note, and her gaze flickers to him, expecting him to have gotten bored by the sound of her voice, become preoccupied with something else more interesting than what she may say.

His eyes were on her, that icy gaze of his unwavering in their focus on her person. It surprised her that she held his attention for this long, that someone was actively listening to one of the things she was passionate about. A stranger of his high caliber in the corporate world, waiting for an ordinary woman to continue any thought she wishes to share. She swallowed, suddenly self-conscious about the sound of her own voice. She never did like her voice; she wondered how she must sound to him. Her gaze averts back down between the pages.

“It, um,” she twirls a dreadlock with her finger, its girth encompassing it like a vine, “it jus reminds me that people go through the same feelings as any other person–some feeling it more strongly than others, even if they may not show or express it. It’s almost instinctive how humans crave companionship...or someone to jus listen and understand. It’s probably why I like this book so much.”

“Because you see yourself in the characters.” He observes in a matter-of-fact fashion. “That seems like a good enough reason to indulge yourself in the storytelling as much as you do.”

She pauses again. Pausing to examine him, to really look at him. Her head tilts with curiosity, her voice containing a little wonder, her expression dubious. Uncertain of his motives. Why he chose to sit and talk to her in the first place. “You’re… familiar with this book, I see…I don’t know too many people who’ve read it…my peers back at home, I mean.”

His brows quirked at that as he granted her a smile, one full of charm with the hope of disarming her walls, and he decided on spot to take this opportunity to connect with her on a subject that pertains to her interests. “Why yes, it’s one of the many novels I’ve read over the years while locked in my own version of solitude.” And with that, he picked up one of the file folders sprawled on the table and leaned back in his chair, crossing a leg over his knee as he settled comfortably into his seat. “But, unlike isolation, being in a state of solitude is not always necessarily a bad thing as people make it out to be. It’s funny how people get the terms mixed up all the time. It all depends on how a person uses it to their advantage, or mold it to suit their benefit, is the way it should be utilized.”

Lex was well aware that his focus should be on the task at hand involving the Smallville Plant workforce, the one forcibly assigned to him by his bastard of a father. The frustration of his dad’s imperativeness after suffering defeat by his hand in a fencing match supplied an exceeding amount of frustration and anger to boil to the surface that he could care to admit.

And yet, this young woman lying half-way across before him, arm propped on the armrest with book in hand, legs curled and folded comfortably on the sofa. Lovely. The gaze she lures him in is a gentle, thoughtful look akin to the warmth of a candle that glows in their dark inner depths. Although gently guarded, a dash of bashfulness sprinkled in those brown eyes of hers, sugar in his coffee. Her visage was all too alluring for tired, weary eyes to think of anything else. He failed to realize how the vexation he felt earlier had considerably dwindled, abated while conversing with this woman who clearly possessed layers he wished to explore.

She wields a beautiful face, as did many women he encountered every so often in his line of business–her attractiveness was not bold that strictly demanded one’s attention, no, but it appeal to him in a way that reminded him of a Dutch renaissance painting hung on display at the Metropolis art museum, during the Dutch golden age era. A natural beauty with round cheeks and soft edges paired with full lips. The artistry of her design and composition of her position on the sofa portrays demureness with a stroke of sensuality. Again, lovely.

Oh, his stomach twists in pleasurable agony.

It caught Lex off guard, especially when he first stepped into the cafe, like any man easily enamored by a woman’s physical beauty. He could write a list in his mind the number of men who observed them inconspicuous, tempted every so often to drag their gaze in their direction, and he knew the mark of where their eyes lingered upon.

It’s the sole reason why he even approached her at the Farmers Market at all; initially, the cause of his interest was based on shallow attraction. He can admit that. But what man or woman haven’t experienced moments of weakness? Hasty decisions built on gluttonous impulse of fleshly desires?

Lex Luthor was no saint.

Lex couldn’t be certain of what he expected other than to gain her attention that day, possibly develop into something more. Only for the girl to reject his advances. A small blow to his ego, cushioned by her kindness he wasn’t entitled to. A rarity in this town that treats him with contempt.

And now, to listen to her low, sultry voice speak thoughts about a renowned book that touches on the perpetual tragedy of the human condition when confronted by the constricting walls of isolation? He concluded she was clearly much more than just a pretty face.

“Well, yeah-” her spine straightens as she shifts in her seat, fascinated by his thought process, reasoning and sense of understanding, “-solitude is a space meant for self–reflection and meditation. It’s either a time to think, gain inspiration, or a moment to breathe when life starts to get overwhelming to handle. But… then… there are some people who get too comfortable in their own solitude that they don’t make much time for anyone else and end up isolating themselves as a result.” It was ironic how once the words left her mouth, visions of the past couples of months rushed to her mind, images of her where she spent the majority of her days in solitude either in her bedroom writing poetry or wandering in her backyard tending to her garden, feeding and watching birds.

The true nature behind her solitary behavior was isolation in its severity. 

“I can agree with that.” He rubbed his index across his bottom lip. This felt natural, this steady flow between them. He fancied it in a way that was different from most women he gave his time to. Suppose it was simply the sincerity in her eyes, sincerity behind her words, a trait farfetched in the world he was born into. “There’s a certain weight to it that requires a scale to maintain the necessary measurement to achieve equilibrium, as does all things in the circle of life demand it. Although solitude lives on a similar spectrum, loneliness and isolation are both different beasts entirely. It’s not exactly something you can always pull yourself out of on your own.”

She shares her agreement with a short nod, but the motion wouldn’t have been as noticeable if not for his keen attention to her body language, as her mind now seemed a tad distracted by something he couldn’t solve with a mere glance. Lex swore he saw an opening, one wall being stripped down, her heart splitting open to reveal a piece of her core.

Then it closed just as quickly. The bud retracting into itself from fully blossoming. 

What had gone wrong.

His mouth opened to speak, but the chance slips away when he catches a figure entering the corner of his vision strolling towards them. Niah followed his gaze in tow, recognizing Lana donning in a complete waitress uniform.

It still boggled Niah’s brain that the younger girl took on the position as a waitress at a coffee shop nonetheless, as cliché as it sounded, but she supposed everybody got to start somewhere. Niah, though, could never succumb to such a job of serving tables.

“Lana.” Lex greeted as his face lit up, amusement saturating his tone as she stood before him wearing a green apron with a tiny notebook and pen in hand. He didn’t miss a beat, giving her a quick look over. “What happened? Did Nell put you out on the street?”

Niah pressed a closed fist against her mouth in an attempt to stifle a chuckle, but she knew Lana heard it because the girl peeked over at her with a closed lipped smile of her own. But she maintained her poise against his tease and only offered a few nods towards him. “Just decided to join the workforce.”

“Good for you. I’m sure you’ll be employee of the month in no time.”

Lana hesitated for a split second, sneaking another peek at Niah again as an ounce of uncertainty flickered across her face, but the smile remained intact, although tense, as she continued in honesty. “Well, right now, it seems I hold the record for most dishes broken in a single day.” Though her admittance was graceful, it did nothing to suppress the absolute shock that creeped upon Niah’s expression at this new development.

“What?” Niah blurted out, sitting up straight in her seat as she turned towards Lana who was now rubbing her temple, slightly embarrassed of her friend’s reaction at the news of her mishaps of the day. “You just started and you’re destroying the dishes already?” Lana was an exceptionally elegant young girl. It was hard to accept she possessed the capacity to lack balance and precision in her movements in any way, shape or form.

“First day on the job aren’t always the easiest, y’know.” Lex interjected as he came to Lana’s defense, but he had to control the muscles around his mouth to avoid a smile born of irony at the poor girl’s misfortune. “It’s new territory. It can take a day or so to find one’s footing in a new environment you’re not familiar with. I assume you’ve experienced something similar to that?”

“Yea but… ” The worry in her voice faltered then, the logic of his words sinking in. The truth of the matter was Niah couldn’t bear the thought of Lana losing her job so soon, knowing how strict and merciless her boss could be on their employees–should any more accidents occur before the end of the week, they won’t hesitate to let her go at the drop of a hat. “– did you at least get some training on how to balance the trays and serve tables? It shouldn’t be that hard.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, albeit bashfully, before responding. “Actually, it’s my second day.” She admitted. “And they did show me the ropes, but I suppose doing the actual work while on the clock is a lot harder than I thought it would be. But I’m sure I’ll get the handle on things soon. It’s only been two days, after all.”

It was a comical sight, practically how in sync Lex and Niah glanced at each other at that exact same moment, almost as if they shared the exact same thought. But what thoughts they may be, they kept it to themselves. One thing was for certain, though, was how Niah could appreciate Lana’s mindset of embracing the optimistic side of things, a positive attitude for being hopeful, which she often struggles to implement into her own life.

“By the way,” Lana tilted her head and clicked her tongue, her eyes darting between the two young adults, something in her gaze gaining an inquisitive glimmer, but it was the hint of mischief in them that made Niah wary, “how… do you two know each other, seeing that Lex just came into town? Or maybe the heir of LuthorCorp is just that good at making friends with everyone who crosses his path?”

Niah winced at the teasing in her voice. Lana probably knew the question would get under her skin, which is why she even bothered inquiring about their relationship at all. And now she had to succumb to being pushed under the spotlight along with him. Lex, however, simply looked at her.

“Farmer’s Market.” He kept his tone casual, the way he said it simple and blunt, unfazed by the question. “I stumbled upon her booth, decided to buy some of her produce because I wanted to show some support for… some of the locals.” His gaze then wandered back to Niah, propping his arms on his thighs as he leaned forward in his seat, a ghost of a smile gracing his lips. “Then imagine my surprise when I stumble upon Ms. Foxx in a local coffee shop. I sat across from her and, here we are, exchanging similar sentiments on a common interest we both share on a renowned, literature classic dated back to the 1940’s. It’s quite simple, really.”

It took Niah a second to process everything that he mentioned, silently impressed by his fanciful narrative of their meeting in the fashion of a renaissance tale between two souls who connected by chance, far from the chains of city borders, but what exactly laid beyond their future remained a mystery in itself. “Yea–yea, that’s, um, pretty much how it went.” The smile on her face is weak, uncertain, unlike Lex who is anything but. “I suppose it’s called ‘Smallville’ for a reason. The town is so small, it’s easier to run into people again than it is in the city.”

“Hm, it’s that simple, huh?” Lana mulled slyly, shooting Niah a skeptical look meant to tease, and she silently wished at that moment she could escape into a nearby field, back into the arms of solitude with only her book to keep her company. “Well, if that’s the case, since I’m here, is there anything you guys want? I better get back to work before my boss start yelling at me.”

Niah decided to pass for the time being, so Lana switched to take Lex’s order. He requested his cappuccino to be served in a Styrofoam cup as a safety measure, prompting Lana to roll her eyes, albeit playfully before she walked away from the pair. They were left alone to their own devices once more, Lex casting Niah a smirk before finally diverting his attention to the file folders on the table. Niah tried to focus her attention on her book, but along with Lex’s obtrude vicinity serving as a major distraction, the familiar voice of young Clark Kent now conversing with Lana also caught her ear, something about him joining the football team.

That couldn’t be right. Clark didn’t seem the type to want to engage in high school sports. Something about it seemed off. And if he did, he never mentioned his interest about it to her before.

“Rumor has it Clark Kent joined the football team.” Lex’s words penetrated her ears as he began talking to Clark who strolled over to them, basically replacing Lana who before stood at the same spot a couple seconds ago, only this time Clark moved to sit down next to Niah on the couch. Since they now shared the same furniture, she shifted up into an upright position to allow him space on her side.

And this is when she quickly deduced that she wouldn’t get any more reading done at all. This was just what Niah needed, more distractions and socialization. Granted, she did choose to visit a public setting in solitary support for Lana’s first job at the Beanery, a hip joint where people came for the purpose of interacting with their peers and developing new relationships.

Perhaps this was a sign from the unknown, a sign to step out of herself and engage with the people around her. But it didn’t mean she was quite ready to open herself up in that way, at least not yet. Clark, she was fine with. But Lex, well…

“Rumors true.” Clark’s response held no hint of enthusiasm whatsoever.

“Congratulations. Your dad must be thrilled.”

“Actually, he freaked out.” Was his alarming claim, and he glimpsed at Niah beside him before allowing his eyes to linger on the floor, his usual bright demeanor now oozing with dejection. “Told me I couldn’t play.”

Niah’s brows pinched together in concern as that familiar force of intuition spurred within her, and she discerned Clark must be seeking some type of support, the type of support and validation which his father wouldn’t afford his own son. She rested a hand on his shoulder and offered a gentle squeeze, a gesture meant to comfort the troubling boy. “I’m surprised Clark. I didn’t know you was interested in football like that. I don’t see why he won’t let you play? Can you think of any reason why he wouldn’t let you?”

They both watched as Clark's lips pressed into a fine line, deep in thought over her query as he searched for an answer. He said nothing as he fiddled with his thumbs. Nonetheless, Niah’s touch did prove to be a bit reassuring as a physical act of comfort, something she knew he needed, evident in the way his shoulders relaxed a tiny bit where her hand lingered.

“That’s the thing.” He shook his head solemnly. “I honestly don’t know. I don’t know what the big deal is…he used to play football around my age, so I don’t know why things are different now. You know, I’m surprised at my dad–I mean, he claims I should make my own decisions, but when I do, he shuts me down.”

“I know– ” Lex proceeded to chime in, granting his own dose of perceptivity into Clark’s unsuccessful predicament with his dad, “–and you’re out late, waiting for him to go to bed so you can avoid the uncomfortable silence that greets you when you get home.”

“Wait, how’d you know?” Clark asked curiously. Niah remained quiet while she listened in silence, harboring a little curiosity of her own.

“Let’s just say that the Luthor’s wrote the book on uncomfortable silences.” And smiled.

It didn’t escape Lex’s notice how comfortable they seemed with another due to their physical nearness; Clark willingness to intrude into her private space, and Niah welcomed him, even offering a consoling hand as she listened to his worries without a moment’s interruption. The sight was endearingly tender, almost maternal in a sense. And he briefly wondered about the length of time it’ll take for him to get into her good graces enough to receive similar affectionate treatment, if it was ever possible. He tried not to feel a certain way about it, nor dwell on it, but it just served as one more (painful) reminder of something he didn’t have.

Something he yearned for. If Luthor’s were even allowed the privilege to yearn for anything sentimentally heartfelt.

Clark seemed satisfied with his answer. He then inquired about the folders scattered on the table. In truth, Niah wondered the same thing when Lex first arrived but refrained from prying into his private business since she knew very little about him. Yet, it turned out Lex didn’t mind sharing the state of affairs concerning his work at the Smallville Plant, and hinted by the soberness that crossed his countenance, she garnered his discontent over the fact that his father assigned a forceful demand on him to cut twenty percent of the Factory’s personnel. Although she won’t personally suffer from the impact of this decision, the news unsettled her, and she could imagine the number of employees who depended on the factory wages to care for the needs of their families.

“Why would he do that? There will be a lot of people who will lose their jobs if that plan goes through. Have he considered the amount of people whose lives will fall into financial ruin by this?”

He blinked away from the files to lock eyes with hers, and the expression reminded her of a man who has accepted defeat to his enemy, like he had no other choice but to obey his father. “My father isn’t exactly, what you would call, a man of the people. He sent me out here to manage a factory that’s barely making ends meet due to low profits, and to top it all off, could care less about how cutting people off not only affects LuthorCorp’s already infamous reputation among the townsfolk, but also the innocent lives of good people who make an honest living here.”

Clark frowned at that. “Geez, that don’t sound too good. Is there any way around it?”

“Once my father’s made his mind up, it’s not easy to turn around.”

“Well…” Niah again chipped in, only to pause to gently nibbled on her bottom lip in a moment of thought before continuing. “There’s gotta be something that could be done about the low profits…” Resolution didn’t always require such a marvelous, grand idea that left people in a state of awe; Niah humbly believed simplicity of an expression can do wonders to stir up inspiration, a fresh new easy outlook on a complicated situation, and she decided to walk that path in mind.

Leaning over, she tapped a finger on one of the folders closest to her. “Mr. Luthor, are you familiar with the saying? ‘For every problem there is a solution?’” Voice low, soft as she spoke in a gentle manner, her gaze never strayed from his, hoping it’ll get her point across. “There might not be a clear answer or a solution for it right now, but you may have to get a bit creative enough to find it. For a shadow to manifest, there’s always a light around the corner. Your dad may have a lot of influence, but don’t let him control you like this. I know you’re smart enough to figure this out, stand up to him, and you’ll be able to help everyone.”

The man sitting across from her turned silent, expression almost unreadable, and it felt surreal how all the noise around her became muffled to her senses. Niah’s heart pounded, thinking she might’ve said something wrong, or the advice failed to achieve its positive purpose. That is, until Lex drew in a deep inhale and cleared his throat, swallowing thickly as he averted his eyes back to one of the files in his hands.

He didn’t speak, at least for a moment, but in total honesty, Lex found himself dumbfounded. In part by someone’s benevolent effort to offer support to a cause he considered unachievable, whereas others only showed fellow feeling which was typically accompanied with awkward stares from the other party, Niah extended more with words of encouragement and moral belief in his ability to do the right thing for both the community and company.

Acquaintances as he and Niah were, it was the first constructive positive thing she said in reference to his character since they met–she meant it with such sincerity, her words of faith, he frankly had no clue on how to respond to it.

The issue didn’t lie with a solution to the problem, he already had a solution in his grasp. Plain and simple, the issue dwelt with rebelling against his father’s instruction, despite the high probability of him retaliating in a trifling way Lex might regret in the unforeseeable future.

Despite the sudden wave of strange emotions he shut away in his heart, the corner of his mouth twitches, producing a wry smile for her. “I appreciate your confidence in me to overthrow my father’s cruel ruling. I’ll be sure to keep your sage advice close in mind.”

She let out a breath and sat back, a rush of relief washing over her in an instant, but before she could say anything else, Lana returned, this time balancing two mugs on a single tray. She set the warm drinks on the table, adding a few words towards their discussion. “If it makes you guys feel any better, you should’ve seen the look on my aunt’s face when I took this job…. not that I was eavesdropping or anything.”

“Guess we’re all on the same boat.” Clark remarked as Lana sat beside him on the armrest.

“No, no, no.” Lex hastily threw in. “You both stood your ground and are doing what you want, and I caved.” He gripped the handle of his tall mug and raised it towards them in a display of gratitude. “You two have inspired me…and you, Niah,” she perked up at the call of her name, realizing he set his regard onto her, “your words of wisdom have enlightened me. I’ll be sure to write them on a note close to my heart, lest I neglect what you’ve shared with me in my hour of need.”

Niah couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or if exaggerated theatrics was part of his personal appeal. Either way, his poetic extolment rose a burst of air out her chest where a small scoff passed her lips. “As long as it helps. I’m…jus a messenger.” She failed to contain the small smile that rested upon her visage which his words elicited in small cheer.

Watching their interaction, Clark squinted an eye, specifically directed at Lex as a suspicious thought crossed his mind. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, deciding to let the thought go for the time being. “Hah, yeah, Niah has sayings way beyond her years. I only joined the football team and… Lana pouring some coffee. We’re a couple of real rebels.”

Lana laughed. “Long live the revolution.”

With all that said and done, Lex finally brought the mug to his lips as everyone watched him take a sip of his beverage. “How is it?” Lana couldn’t help but ask, the young girl more or less anxious about his opinion on the drink.

Lex wiped some whipped cream off his nose, remarking dryly. “It’s perfect.”

“Okay.” Lana smiled wide, content with his reaction, and walked off to take more orders.

Clark’s gaze followed Lana’s retreating figure before glancing down at his own drink and taking a whiff. Niah held in a laugh as she pinched the bridge of her nose. Lana didn’t have the slightest clue. Clark then looked at Lex. “Is that what you ordered?”

Lex tilted his mug to the side, trying to study the contents of his drink, an amused smile touching his lips. “Not even close.”

Well, at least he was nice about it.

Niah decided to stay at the Beanery awhile longer. At least for the company of familiar faces. Observing the duo interact, she found it ironic how the friendship between Clark and Lex seemed to have developed quick without delay, how easy it was to listen to them conversate without her interference.

Lex almost hit her friend with his Porsche, and yet, they were talking as if they were best friends. Best buddies. An unusual outcome.

Once Clark stood up ready to leave, Niah followed suit, hoping to escape any potential awkwardness if she remained alone in Lex’s presence. Funnily enough, when she glanced over at him, he was gathering up his files on the table in a neat pile, preparing to leave at the same time. So much for that.

“I’ll see you guys later.” Clark said as he stepped outside, turning in time to see Lex holding the door open for Niah.

Seeing he was about to leave, her arms opened towards Clark to give a hug goodbye, and he returned it in kind, as any person close to her were used to her need to spread affection, whether it was in a welcome or farewell. Clark smiled and nodded at Lex before separating from the pair, soon disappearing as he went around the corner of a building.

Now it’s the two of them. Alone again. As she rocked on her heels, tries to think of something to say to fill in the quiet space. In a sheepish fashion, her brown eyes peered up at him meekly, finding his deep blue ones already locked on her, his expression calm with a hint of expectancy in his gaze. With Lex now standing in front of her, she realizes that the top of her head barely reached his chin, but rather, she met right below the slope of his shoulder. He’s similar in height to Clark, only shorter by a few inches.

Oh, the irony of it all.

Before an ounce of awkwardness could begin to creep in on her end, Lex broke the silence before it’s given a chance. “I can say I enjoyed your company tonight.” He admits. “Our conversation earlier was rather interesting as well, before the interruption of a new teenage waitress could cut in that is…”

She glimpses down at the book in her hand. Oh, right. When her eyes flit back up to him, he sees a small smile has graced her features, not too wide or too bright, but subdued and mild like beams of moonlight. “Yeah. I liked it too. I-um, I don’t get to talk freely about stuff like that all the time. It was kinda nice to for once.”

“We can pick it up at a more convenient time, unless you have extra time on your hands for me to pick your brain some more.”

She hesitates under his stare, and her hand instinctively rises to tug at a random dreadlock. Nervous. Though the smile on her face turns bashful. “Um, probably another day may be better.”

Lex studies her face, his gaze unabashed and lingering on her. The orange glow of a streetlamp caught in his blue eyes, both warm and bright in this dark setting, as if the ice in his irises have been licked by fire. He then looked away into the distance, watching a car passing on the street. She thought, for a moment, she saw something flicker over his face then, but she’s not sure what it was, only that his eyelids had fallen low as he contemplated something she wouldn’t have known.

His chest rises and falls as he exhales deeply through his nose, tucks his free hand into his slacks pockets, his eyes briefly shut. “I understand. You don’t know me.” His gaze drifts back to her where a frown had settled over his mouth, though he tries to hide it with a small tug at the corner, resulting in a half-hearted look. “A strange, bald billionaire coming into a rusty old town with unknown intentions to its civilians. I get it. You’re a cautious girl…and you have every right to be. I apologize if I might have came on too strong towards you in anyway.”

Niah seemed to have frozen on spot, staring up at him, her dreadlock now pulled taut by her fingers. Niah certainly didn’t anticipate him to address the elephant in the room. That he openly acknowledges her discomfort caused by his forwardness, and the hopeful prospect of correcting it. Whatever pedestal society placed him on, he lowered himself to her level, coming forth with an apology. She wouldn’t have imagined him a man capable of genuine humility and authenticity, particularly at this depth he chooses to express it face to face.

Again, what does that say about his character?

Although he tries to mask it with an air of indifference, she can see it in the way he looked at her. The town has a scornful prejudice against the Luthor’s, such unfavorable biases that centers around his dad, and in turn, reflects people’s view of his son. Perhaps he was just as lonely as her. Who knows. She didn’t know him…really…

But.

Taking a risk and taking a deep breath, she slowly touches her hand against his arm, giving him a gentle pat, and a small squeeze of her palm. Lex doesn’t move or flinch away, but he glances down at where she makes contact with his bicep, and she sees his mouth parting to take a much-needed breath of his own.

The desire to comfort. Reassure. Her compassion overwhelmed her own sense of logic to maintain distance from him.

“I appreciate that.” She breathes out, her hand withdrawing slowly and holds her book with both hands close to her chest, feeling her heart thunder with emotions in conflict with each other. “I–I know I may seem cautious and reserved with others sometimes. It’s how I get to know people depending on the person. But you? You’re bold and speak your mind with tact and ease. I don’t know many people who have that type of skill.”

Niah couldn’t reveal how much Lex intimidated her, with his sharp eyes, sharp tongue and sharp mind at his disposal. His eyes alone could penetrate barriers, able to cut through layers of her supple flesh if he so desired.

Lex responds with a simple hum, his deep voice harboring a lightness to it that wasn’t present a minute ago. “It’s imperative to develop it when you’ve been bred and grew up in the business world like me.” His lips quirked up. Her touch must’ve ignited some energy back into him again. “I wouldn’t exactly call it fun, but, it comes with its advantages when handling vicious sharks during crucial board meetings.”

She shook her head. “I’d stand no chance. I’d probably be eaten alive if I was to go up against them.”

“Be grateful you don’t have to. It’s my job so people like you don’t need to.”

“Well, Mr. Luthor.” She says as she looks him straight in the eye, a bold attempt at playfulness and false confidence. “What type of person am I, then?”

Lex doesn’t blink as he returns her stare, but Niah can see he’s amused by her deliberate attempt to maintain eye contact for once, as well as the inquiry she threw at him in a venturous moment of spontaneity. Although his body had grown still, the only thing that moved were his eyes as they roved over her body. The weight of his stare left her somewhat uneasy, and she shuffles her feet as her heart rate quickens and warmth flows up her neck to the hills of her cheeks, feeling as if he’s undressing her with his eyes alone. Or maybe, she thought, this was one of the eccentric ways he observed people, utilizing the acute focus of a hawk eyeing its prey during those board meetings he mentioned. 

But after what felt like a minute had passed – six seconds max – his eyes finally drift to rest on her countenance once more.

“An idealist–a dreamer with stars pouring out of her eyes.” He speaks his statement with confidence, believing his judgement to be absolute with no hint of uncertainty hinted in his breath. “Also, a woman who looks out for the welfare of others, and–if I were to guess, probably doesn’t receive the same type of reciprocation she offers to the people around her. I’m only on the tip of the iceberg but–tell me, Niah. Did I hit the nail on the coffin with my analysis?” Her stunned silence was all he needed to know, and he smirks at her flustered expression in which his poetic words elicit, the way she bites her lower lip and tries to avert her gaze from his as she scratched her scalp anxiously.

“Man, that was dumb. I really did walk into that one.” Why did she even ask that. How did he get all that from only spending a short amount of time with her? How does he perceive her now? She must sound naïve to him, which isn’t completely implausible considering her inexperience in a few areas in her life but…

The image of her deflated state brought a chuckle out of him, as if reading the thoughts in her head. “You’re not dumb, Niah.” And his assertion sounded most gentle to her ears. Almost sweet, grants her a token of reassurance of his own, hoping it’ll gain her confidence back. “Y’know, earlier, I originally went into that café behind me ready to go along with my father’s evil bidding. But now, I come out here a new man, ready to go to war against him…and sure. Clark and Lana played a small part, but your vote of confidence in me made me change my mind. I can actually see his face now, just thinking about it when he finds out I didn’t go through with it.”

She blushes more at the knowledge that she held any type of influence or bearing on his decision, at all. “Oh, your dad is that tough. Huh.”

He snorts, though there’s no sign of humor on his face as he shrugs. “The man is ruthless. But there’s no need to worry. I know I’m not. I have everything figured out.”

“As long as things will be okay. I hope things will go well.” Interesting. In this moment, her chest felt a little lighter, somehow, as if a heavy boulder had been lifted, allowing her a chance to breathe a bit better. See a bit clearer. See him and the stars overhead. But even she realized they couldn’t stand there forever, all night long on the sidewalk, her soul trapped in his cerulean eyes while he waits as she tried to sort out these odd feelings he manifested.

Pressing the book to her chest. “I suppose… I should get going…” She drawls softly, her words leaving a trail for him to follow.

He licked his lips quickly. “Right. Is your car nearby?” He began to dig out his own set of keys from his jacket. “If it’s not I can walk you–”

“It’s okay. My car is a few spaces down across the street. I, um, thank you though.”

He offered a prompt nod, and dropped his keys back into his pocket before extending his free hand out for her to shake, his other still preoccupied with the files. “By the way, call me Lex. Men decked in suits and white coats call me Luthor, and on rare occasions, even strangers have been known to call me that. But you’re no stranger to me.” Still ever cautious, she eyed his hand for a second as he held it up between them, and he waited as if he had nothing better to do. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite.” He teased lightly, a full-blown smirk sliding across his face. “Not always.”

This man. Oh god...what was she getting herself into.

Her head ducks with a slight shake of her head, but she couldn’t restrain the tiny smile that manages to quirk at the side of her mouth. Okay, he likes to joke. How fun.

“I’ll try to remember that…Lex.” She shook his hand. It’s bigger as she thought, his palm nearly enveloping around her own, but it felt warm, solid, and secure. She tries to ignore the tingling sensation that erupted across her skin where their hands made contact, stimulated by his warmth and low-lidded gaze he caught her in, giving her a sense of déjà vu from the Farmers Market all over again.

“Please do.”

Whatever mishaps will he drag her into?

[apocalypse-shuffle]

DIANA PRINCE | WONDER WOMAN (the flashpoint paradox)

—

“The Messenger Bird Sings” (Diana Prince x Fem!Reader)

| Infiltrating Themyscira to save a resistance member is a disaster. But it leads to unexpected consequences when the Queen captures you.

| SFW, open ending, infatuated!reader, (TW: captured!reader, spoils of war, unfettered murder), -dark!wonder woman

| pics via: Justice League: The Flashpoint Paradox animated movie

| Here’s a link to the scene this is based on. The words/dialogue that are mine are mine and the words that are from the movie are not mine.

| 2k+ words

Sneaking around New Themyscira is a feat you didn’t think you’d ever experience but, lo and behold, here you were.

The island was beautiful in a way that reminded you of what used to be. It’s battle torn, but the skies are still bright blue and the air’s still unnaturally fresh and fizzling with magic.

Even if it’s not the same as you're sure it’d be on the original “Paradise Island”, the residual effect of the Amazon’s whimsy sticks to the place like it was fated to be. Like their magic lays as much claim over this part of what used to be Europe as they do.

It’s a drastic contrast to the wreckage all around you all.

“Alright crew, we meet back at the ship by dusk. This is an evidence gathering retreat and extraction mission so stay out of sight and do not engage.” Steve’s command stays quiet through coms even as he shifts to giving out individual instructions next. His voice a steady balm that you lock onto to distract you enough you don’t have to keep biting back your grin.

─────

It’s hours before anything worthwhile than ducking and hiding takes place.

Initially Steve’s group was primarily tasked with direct extraction of Lois Lane from behind enemy lines but you had run into her, and a small number of other survivors hiding in the nature reclaimed remains of what used to be London, first.

Your branch-off specifically is just meant to be gathering enough tangible evidence that the Amazon’s are taking human hostages to finally push the last remaining world leader to actually let Steve’s task force move in to save them.

Years ago you’d thought politics was hard to navigate. Now it was a literal minefield, one wrong move and someone would take off your head.

You’re hoping at the very least your wrong move doesn’t happen here.

The Amazons were brutal. What little clear footage that still remained showed their killing prowess off well. They didn’t level cities the way the Atlanteans did, but at the beginning of all this they’d conquered their way across the Mediterranean in less than a week and no one had even noticed.

The Atlanteans were too loud, even put up against the Amazons brutality and true disdain for humanity. Especially men. Atlantis had taken over the European Coast with brute force and luck that their extremely obvious assault couldn’t be stopped by any human forces.

If the human world had been anywhere near as technologically advanced and superhuman you’re sure that Atlantis would’ve fallen that day. King Arthur had put all of his forces, after the Amazon’s had near silently ran them off, into conquering Europe’s waters but he’d made a gamble in doing so.

The Amazon’s didn’t gamble.

Call it years of godly military practice coming into play or whatever but the Amazon’s were a strategic power house. They blew through everything they wanted to as if it was parchment paper in a way that the Atlanteans and their ‘throw everything at it until it sticks’ strategy could never.

The Queen didn’t take whatever she wanted, the rumored start of the war in the first place, because she was careless.

“Pilgrim to Mayflower, we’ve been caught in an ambush—”

Your radio crackles to life on your hip. You turn to your team leader but she only shakes her head. She gestures for you all to get closer together. She’s following protocol, if you have to leave team ‘Pilgrim’ behind you have to wait in silence five minutes before doing so, but if you get a response in that period you have to call in for backup.

Beside you Lois’s quiet as she stares at the radio in Boston’s hand, lip between her teeth.

The following crackle three and a half minutes in makes you all jump.

“—it’s The Queen. The Queen’s with them!”

This time it’s not Steve’s voice but a woman from his group. The air rushes from your lungs.

Queen Diana of Themyscira wasn’t careless.

Something presses down on the receiver and the sounds of screaming and gunfire reach your ears. Right behind it cheers of triumph follow.

All distinctly feminine sounding.

The Queen took what she wanted without hesitation because she was self assured in her prowess.

“Dammit to hell,” Boston curses.

Your heart feels tight all of a sudden.

The Queen.

The same one who started a whole world war because she didn’t bow down to such pitiful quirks as apologizing. The Queen who allegedly wore the crown of the woman she killed as a trophy.

When that exact crown, Atlantean in nature, crests over a row of rubble from toppled buildings towards you the sight of that golden headrest becomes an omen.

The Amazon’s are ruthless when they reach you. There’s barely a triumphant yell afterwards the fight was so close to already won once it started. In fact it’d probably be an insult to the Goddess Artemis herself to call it a fight at all.

A mild squabble maybe.

Like a kitten might give a gangly boy throwing her into a box to slowly meet its death. Or the inevitable but hopeless life of a fly when around a flytrap.

The Amazon’s had gained on you too fast for women who were supposed to be on the other side of the island right now.

As you’re thrown into the middle of a circle of stern-faced Amazon’s with your team, knocking right into Steve and his remaining crew, you start to feel a lot like a fly trapped because of its need to further inspect a predator so unequivocally greater than itself.

Your eyes prickle and your breath squeezes past your throat, but as you watch the towering few women around you your heart thuds not with fear but revelation.

In person the Amazon’s were every bit as terrifying as the stories and mission reports made them out to be, then some. Their armor was chinked and dusted with the brutal effects of war and yet they still seemed to glow brighter than the overcast sun as they set their ire upon you.

It was a lesson in skill to be present for the way they fought up close. Every strike and simple step was so clearly packed full with power and yet they moved as one graceful unit, where one woman leaned right two more would work to balance back out the open circle till closed again like feathers in the wind.

They were seamless even as they taunted Steve, held in The Queen’s lasso as he was. The center of everyone’s attention.

Something shamefully akin to envy prods at you incessantly. You do your best to ignore it.

Your fists clench and unclench at your side as you watch the warriors playing with their food. Lois looks like she can’t decide whether to throw up or throw something. For the sake of all your lives you pray she only vomits.

“You’re all Americans,” Queen Diana points out before tightening her hold on the lasso. Steve is forced to rise up on his knees at the movement, hands going to his throat in a fruitless effort to pry off the rope choking him. “But you’re going to tell me a little more about yourself. Who are you and what is your group’s goal?”

For a few seconds you all watch as Steve just…doesn’t answer. Your eyes narrow. Maybe the rumors about The Queen’s lasso were actually just rumors this time around, you’re pretty sure a gift from the gods isn’t supposed to have user defects.

The other Amazon’s seem to think the same thing as five of them huddle closer to their leader and soft murmurs travel around you from the ones that remain vigil.

“He’s resisting the lasso of truth! How is that possible Queen Diana?”

The Queen looks offended, jaw tightening.

“It’s not,” she says before wrapping more of the lasso around her hand and pulling Steve up so they’re face to face, his toes dragging in the dirt. “Who are you and what are you and your people doing in New Themyscira?”

You all gasp. Off to the side Boston starts to struggle, cursing up a storm as Steve truly goes red in the face. You can’t not watch her a bit impassioned, you know what’ll happen next. One Amazon, red haired and incredibly angry looking, kicks her in the face so hard that by the time her body falls to the dirt you can all tell she’s dead. Face crunched to all hell as her lifeless body faces you.

You shiver and look away.

“This is an outrage,” Lois murmurs.

You don’t argue in any direction with her, just turn back to The Queen.

“Thank you for shutting her up, Artemis. Now back to you, I believe I asked you a question.”

Steve can barely put up a token protest, still actively choking, before he starts to spill everything.

“My name is Colonel Steve Trevor of the United States Special Forces. Me and my team, the second of which was headed by the woman you just killed, Colonel Boston Knight, were tasked with gathering information about your base and with the retrieval of Lois Lane.”

The Queen’s brows furrow, “Who is this Lois Lane?”

You close your eyes. You can feel the very woman stiffen where she’s crouched next to you. Your next breath in feels too much like a hiccup.

“Lois Lane is a Politzer prize winning journalist who has been embedded in New Themyscira to gather intel on your Amazons for Cyborg. She’s…she’s also one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met.”

Steve struggles, doing his best to clamp down on his jaw before some invisible force pries it back open and one of his trembling hands flick out to point. “And she’s over there.”

All eyes seem to shift to the woman no less than a foot away from you.

The Queen looks over at her with a haughty air as she takes in the new information.

“‘Most beautiful’ until me, that is,” she states while lowering him.

You're mesmerized as the glow of the lasso fades while she dismisses you all once again. The Queen’s attention quickly shifts to a blonde Amazon who nods and begins speaking immediately.

“Our information was correct, then, My Queen. Cyborg is amassing the outside world’s superhumans in an attempt to interfere in our war.”

“And he will fail,” her voice echoes across their foggy battlefield with surety. Wonder Woman scowls. “Now seize the Lane woman and take her back to our sanctum.”

“Yes, My Queen,” the blonde speaks up again as all the others quickly nod their assent.

Lois puts up a huge struggle, kicking out at a woman and briefly causing her to stumble before three more are on her. It takes a couple seconds before she stops, limbs twisted every which way as she’s held before the Queen’s unforgiving gaze.

She looks distinctly unimpressed as she and Lois stare down one another. The reporter definitely lived up to her reputation at least. Unfortunately so did Queen Diana.

“Go. I will deal with her later.”

They take Lois away and all you can do is watch.

The Queen glances over all of you again as the blonde waves the women off and then turns to Queen Diana with a wave in Steve’s direction.

“May I deal with this prisoner for you?”

She takes barely a second to decide.

“No, Persephone. The Queen of the Amazons is a servant to her people,” she rises then, taking Steve up with her and letting him dangle from the ropes. His gagging makes you curl in on yourself, “nothing is beneath her,” Queen Diana finishes as Steve takes his final struggling breaths.

The blood vessels on his face pop at the relentless pressure put on them as The Queen stares on impassively. The remaining Amazons cheer and the woman seems to bask in their praise.

“You must remember that this is a win for all of us!” Her exclamation is met with more cheers as she dangles Steve’s lifeless body through the air like a marionette.

“May the gods continue to look down favorably upon the daughters of Themyscira!” That cheer, from a dark skinned Amazon with snowy white hair, gets even Queen Diana calling out in excitement.

Their voices thunder around you all and in all your years both as black and as a woman you have never been made to feel so small as you do till now.

Like this, however, that feeling of absolute insignificance was damningly heady.

In the very next moment The Queen’s sharp gaze seems to snap to you and the skant air you’ve managed to gain seems to flee from your lungs in terror.

“Exactly sisters! And for that the fates of the spoils of our hunt today shall be decided by you!” She bows in mid air. “A gift from your ever faithful Queen.”

Seems the celebration won’t be stopping anytime soon then. You glance around at your teammates and see matching fear welling in their eyes.

Some of the people the Amazons choose are killed instantly and with gusto, others tossed between two of them like nothing as they’re tortured, some are even dragged away for who knows what, but you?

You’re left untouched.

Shaking you watch as everyone is picked off one by one around you and how in the rush The Queen's gaze still manages to stay locked on your form.

You’re watching her back with wide, nearly star struck eyes when she finally starts towards you. Your blood goes cold as she descends, carelessly dropping Steve in the process, before that damned lasso gets thrown around your body.

“Now you see that is a face of admiration!” She hoists you up into the air and your stomach drops. “Now tell me your truth, little human.”

“You’re…ethereal,” comes tumbling past your lips before you can hope to stop it.

The woman looks back at you in mild surprise before her laughter fills your ears.

“Of course I am.” She shifts you in her grip while motioning for the Amazons to move, hovering with you above them as they march back to their sanctuary.

You wonder if its location was one of the things Lois was going to share with you.

You were willing to bet it was too late to find out now.

─────

When you get back to the Queen’s new castle you feel like where they were hiding when they weren’t fighting should’ve been pretty obvious.

It was literally the former royal palace.

You walk in and can tell instantly that while some form of a fight must have occurred within the walls, the palace itself looked in otherwise perfect shape.

While most of the other Amazons that came with you disperse, some stay to debrief the Queen as she takes you along to the throne room.

At the entrance you’re met with a set of Amazons. Swiftly, they bow to their leader before opening the doors for her.

As you get a look inside your brows raise.

The throne that sits at the end of the velvet walkway is singular, first of all, and a lot bigger and more ornate than anything the British could’ve ever scrounged up. It makes even you impressed.

Queen Diana sits in it with all the air of a woman who knows without a moment of uncertainty that little can harm her.

In the following seconds she moves you to join her too, and you flush hard enough for a slight red hue to tint the deep brown of your cheeks.

The binding along your arms and midsection is so strong that you don’t even bother attempting to wiggle loose as you’re made to sit on the Amazon’s lap.

She’s completely self assured as she discusses her next steps with her council, and it makes you feel hopeless the way they blow off the US’s push back efforts as nothing. Easily solvable.

And all while you’re sitting on her lap like a trophy.

Eventually she dismisses everyone but the guards at the door and you're as alone as you’ll get.

You swallow thickly, glancing up at her through your lashes.

It’s a last ditch attempt but you try it anyway.

“If you kill me it’ll be all the US needs to join the war and deploy their forces.”

She looks down at you with a subtle raise of a brow.

“It’s adorable that you think you can scare me,” The Queen says. “Your government is so pathetic they jump at their own shadow. What threat could they ever possibly be to me when they can barely handle the problems within their own borders?”

She laughs, a boisterous sound that you feel just as much as you hear, and you’re unintentionally shaken in her hold. You knew it was a long shot but damn. She didn’t just shoot your idea down, she busted a fucking gut at it. You pout.

Yeah, you were screwed.

The Queen looked fucking unreal when she laughed though; you were a little winded.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!! I love dark!WW, and she was too good looking in the Flash Point animation style; fourteen year old me literally couldn’t handle it.

Also— boy, has this one been in the works for a hot ass minute, but at least now it’s finally out.

In general, though, I’m trying to get out fics with more of The Trinity as a focus that aren’t just Batman fics. So yeah.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

[realhotgirlshiii3]

𝙀𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙮 𝙈𝙤𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙎𝙚𝙭 𝙬/ 𝘽𝙧𝙪𝙘𝙚 <3

𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙥𝙖𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙡 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙚𝙛𝙪𝙡𝙡𝙮, 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙨𝙤 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙪𝙡 𝙞𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙨𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪. 𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙗𝙧𝙪𝙘𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨𝙣’𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙨𝙤𝙤…

𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙨𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙨 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙡𝙚𝙜𝙨, 𝙥𝙪𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚 𝙤𝙛𝙛 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙡𝙚𝙜𝙨. 𝙜𝙤𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙨𝙤 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙, 𝙞𝙛 𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝙥𝙤𝙡𝙖𝙧𝙤𝙞𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙝𝙞𝙢 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 (𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨)

𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙪𝙗 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙘𝙡𝙞𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙧𝙢 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙡𝙮 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙚𝙨 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙚. 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧, 𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙮 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙞𝙩. 𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙨𝙡𝙪𝙧𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙙𝙣’𝙩 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙪𝙥

𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙖𝙥𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙞𝙯𝙚𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙬𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨. 𝙨𝙤 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙤 𝙙𝙚𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙝𝙞𝙢? 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙧𝙪𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙖𝙞𝙧, 𝙢𝙤𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙩 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡. 𝙮𝙤𝙪’𝙫𝙚 𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙡𝙚𝙜𝙨

𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪’𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙘𝙪𝙢, 𝙨𝙤 𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙥𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧. 𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙤 𝙤𝙣 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨, 𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙨 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙨 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙤𝙢 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙤𝙥

𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙨𝙡𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙨 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙞𝙣 𝙨𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙡𝙮, 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙨 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙤𝙛𝙛 𝙨𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙛𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙗𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙣𝙚𝙘𝙠. 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙢 𝙬𝙧𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙨𝙤 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙩. 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙜𝙧𝙤𝙖𝙣𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙤𝙖𝙣𝙨 𝙛𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙢 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙥𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙪𝙥 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙖𝙘𝙚

𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙪𝙢 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙝𝙞𝙢 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙝

𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙠𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙨𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙣 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙩

𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙬𝙨 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙘𝙧𝙤𝙨𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙢 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙡𝙖𝙧𝙢 𝙜𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙛𝙛

[kkeidawrites]

The Return

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Chp. 5

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The death of Jason Todd had become a huge news story and the media had created rumors that Bruce Wayne and anyone affiliated with him were involved in his death. Y/n’s parents were the main ones who suspected that Bruce is the only person who may be involved with Jason.

After Bruce wasn’t able to find Jason’s body for a proper burial, it was best to make it private. It was decided that only family and friends were allowed to attend the funeral.

Of course to fit this sad time, it was raining, the church where the funeral was held was warm from the infinite amount of candles that mourners were holding in their hands.

Y/n, 18 at the time, walked up to the closed casket of the missing body of her best friend. She knew there wasn’t a body inside she had weaseled that information out of Alfred.

Y/n places a hand on the casket and kisses the top of it, her eyes blank but tears rolling down her face. A visible representation of a young girl who lost her first love.

“I promise, Jason. I promise I will find you, I’ll never stop trying nor will I stop looking. I won’t.” She swore and lingered at the casket for a couple of minutes before returning to her seat.

That evening, the casket was lowered into the cold wet ground, a tombstone welcoming its new owner with open arms. Y/n was held by her mother’s warm embrace and kisses to her brow. She didn’t know the real truth, no one in her family did. Good.

It was better that way.

Once the funeral was over, both family members and friends made their departure to their respected cars, leaving only Dick, Barbara, Alfred, and Bruce still sobbing over the casket. Y/n felt like she couldn’t breathe.

They knew that Jason wasn’t down there, why were they putting on such a show? They needed to get to work and find Jason’s real body so that they could bury him. Y/n balled her fists in anger and eventually turned away, going to her car and driving home.

“I’ll do what they won’t do. I’ll find Jason myself.” She vows.

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The next two years goes by and the relationships between the Wayne and L/n families had completely changed.

Nobody from the L/n family was allowed to have any contact with Bruce Wayne or work with anyone affiliated with Wayne Industries. Y/n had moved on with her life, graduating from high school with honors, going to college in game design and engineering and graduated early with honors as well.

Working at a great gaming company and creating video games was all she wanted to do when she got older, here she was working on her newest project: The Return of the Red Prince.

Y/n now 21 years old, could work her own hours and it was only Monday through Friday, a plus for her. Yep, a regular working woman now with a great job and living in a nice condo that she had bought for herself in Midtown Gotham. She practically had it all.

But something was missing.

Y/n walked around her condo in her silk robe and a towel on her head, as she carried a large box in her arms.

She found herself sitting on the plush grey couch in her living room and taking out the items inside.

It was all of the memories that she had made with Jason, mangas, old cosplay from previous cons they attended, old phones that she had throughout the years, and letters they had sent when one of their phones were taken away because of punishment.

Each piece of memorabilia she smiled at, good times in such a short time that they had known each other. She picks up a photo frame and a warm smile spreads across her lips.

A picture of the two of them on a building in downtown Gotham, Y/n had pulled him into the photo while he was drinking soda and it had ended up getting it on his shirt. It was a fun night, full of laughs and memories. It was also that same night that he had disappeared. Only 17 years old.

Y/n runs a finger over the glass frame where Jason was and sighed sadly.

“I’m keeping my promise Jason. I’m still looking for you.” She whispers. Y/n hugs the frame close to her chest and closes her eyes.

For years, Y/n has been using every outlet of missing persons agencies to get more information of Jason’s whereabouts, every month providing those agencies with possible leads to where he is located. Her idea of him being at Arkham Island kept coming back in the reports that she would have but as usual, no one would listen to her.

There is a good thing in this long process, Y/n was able to find people who were missing and return them to their families or at least bring closure to them.

Putting the frame on her coffee table, Y/n gets up and goes over to her bedroom. Walking into her bathroom, she takes off the towel on her head and picks up her homemade hair oil. Pouring a large amount of it on her palms, she applies it to her edges and parts her hair to oil her scalp.

Once she’s done, Y/n wraps her hair up in a silk bonnet and walks back into the living room, picking up the knocked over pillows that she doesn’t remember being there before.

“Nice place you got here,” the voice makes Y/n jump and turn around to see someone sitting in her lounge chair. With their feet up and still wearing their shoes.

“Can I help you?” She asks crossing her arms.

Another perk of living in Gotham, randoms always coming up in her space with some mess she ain’t got anything to do with.

They were shrouded in the shadows and the only thing Y/n could make out was the glowing blue eyes that stared at her.

“I don’t know yet. Have a seat won’t you?”

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Have a happy holidays!

Enjoy Part 5! Be sure to like, comment, share, and reblog!