#dc x black reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bludovebunny · 14 days ago

Text

. ☽ 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?

29 notes · View notes

paisholotus · 6 months ago

Text

The SmallTown Loving

Love interest: Clark kent x black reader

𝑺𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏: Clark kent struggles with the faces of normality when he knows he doesn't really fit in that category at all. Despite what he's going through, will his love for his childhood best friend survive?

Authors Note: This book is a DC Fantic

®️ this story contains Nudity/Sexual Themes and Strong Language.

Important: Also I am open to constructive criticism but disrespect will not be tolerated. The Ocs are BLACK and if you have a problem with that, by all means do not READ! So don't leave racist and negative comments, because I am the wrong Author to try. But anyways hope y'all enjoy. 😊🤎

#black reader #black writers #black tumblr #self post #tumblelog #poc reader #poc writer #black girls #black representation #black excellence #clark kent #clark kent x black reader #superman #superman x black reader #man of steel #dcu #dc x black reader #new book update #paisholotus

51 notes · View notes

katsumox · 2 years ago

Text

DC MEN AND THE FIRST DANCE.

aka my fav dc boys, their first dance songs at y’all’s wedding, and a lil blurb.

DICK GRAYSON has cried three separate times today, this dance officially making it four. Dean Martin’s “Everybody Loves Somebody” crackles through the speakers, causing your husband to smile again, before tearful kissing your forehead. The two of you sway in silence, letting the music speak for you. “I love you,” Dick breathes, “I love you infinitely.”

JASON TODD has been narrowly avoiding a literal breakdown all night, but this, he decides, is the icing on the cake. As “At Last,” by Etta James begins, Jason tries his damndest to maintain his veneer of suave confidence, finally cracking when you place a kiss to his hand. As a few tears leave his eyes, he kisses you. He tastes of icing, love, and salt. His siblings and father are more of a mess than he is, as they’ve been sobbing and snotting all through the ceremony and reception.

BRUCE WAYNE, as stoic as he is, can’t help but let a few tears escape his eyes as the two of you spin and sway to Nancy Wilson’s “Tonight May Have to Last Me All my Life”. He opens his mouth to speak, but a choked sound leaves his throat as he rubs your wedding ring. His mother’s ring. Years later, he says the day of your union was absolutely perfect, but you know a part of him wishes Thomas and Martha were there to see it.

HAL JORDAN hums as he stares into your eyes, unblinking. “Can’t believe I’m your husband,” he sighs, tracing your jawline. “Can’t believe I’m you’re wife,” you say. Unforgettable, by Nat King Cole rings through the speakers as Hal groans, “And I was doing so well,” he smiles, tears sparkling in his eyes. “‘S alright, love,” you choke, tears welling up in your eyes as well. “Me too.”

BARRY ALLEN had been smiling all night long, but he can’t help the way his smile becomes watery when he hears the honeyed notes of Ella Fitzgerald’s “I’ve Got a Crush on You”. The two of you mouth the lyrics as Barry hums, thinking of the countless nights the two of you spent together, dancing in the moon-bathed kitchen you share. He kisses you, smiling from ear to ear.

CLARK KENT blinks, almost incredulous at the beauty before him. “Kal,” you hum, “you’re staring.” He nods, speechless, not even noticing the tears that begin to leak from his eyes as “Again,” by Doris Day plays. Though there are eyes all over the both of you, you can’t help but feel as if you’re in your own little world. As the song comes to an end, he squeezes your hand, saying all he wishes to say at the moment.

oh i’m finna cry this is so cute….fuck

812 notes · View notes

blackynsupremacy · 4 months ago

Text

ARE WE STILL

FRIENDS?

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

fandom: smallville (2001-2011)

summary: as a junior at smallville high, you’re known as many things: captain of the girl’s basketball team, straight a-student, a bit of a tomboy, and the younger sister of pete ross by three minutes. as twins, you share many things, including your childhood best friend, clark kent. prom is nearing soon and you’re both dateless, so you and clark agree to arrive together as friends. after the view of a yellow dress, a slow dance, and a moment in the photo booth, you start to doubt if you’ll both leave the same way you came.

a/n: you can imagine jeremy as whoever you want.

contains: lots of words. fluff, brother’s best friend trope, reader is pete’s twin sister, reader knows, angst, mild swearing, arguing, friends to lovers, kissing/making out, hurt/comfort, love confession, clana is broken up, jealousy, betrayal.

a/n: finally another clark fic! anybody got ideas for tsay chapter 5? i want it to be action packed fr.

taglist: @afrogirl3005 @rosiestalez @paisholotus @sabrinasopposite @stereotypicalbarbie @ellethespaceunicorn @hnch33rios @xoxoglittergossip @thabiddie23 @sheydnni @tryingtograspctrl @elitesanjisimp @jkr820 @simply-the-best23 @camiesully @supaprettyg

“come on, kent! is that all you got?”

you were taunting him as he tried to guard you from making the winning shot of your one v. one basketball game on kent farm. clark kent may have been six-foot-four with a strapping athletic build, but he wasn’t the captain of smallville high’s lady crows basketball team. due to your skill, leadership, and strategy, your girls have had an undefeated season so far. you continue to dribble and swiftly turn around to catch clark off guard before you jump to shoot the basketball which dove perfectly within the net. clark exasperatedly chuckles while you break down into an enthusiastic shimmy of a victory dance. your twin brother, pete ross, shook his head with a smirk after observing clark’s defeat. you both knew that for an exceptional farm boy that hailed from another planet couldn’t even school you on the court, had to mean something was off. in these playful competitions, you’ve had your fair share of wins with clark, but also definitely some losses. with a slow clap of his hands, pete approached clark to pat him on the back in playful sympathy,

“damn. it looks like you’ve lost your mojo, clark.” he quipped.

you and clark playfully roll your eyes. you sauntered to your brother and flick him in the forehead before you sassily chimed in,

“boy, shut up! you do realize that even clark can lose to me, right?”

“hey—ow! i’m just saying. clark, could’ve super sped around you and easily taken that shot.” he yelped in pain. clark chuckled before contributing to the conversation,

“first of all, pete, that would be cheating. second, my focus has been everywhere with prom coming up this weekend. you’re still going with me, aren’t you, pete?”

clark stretched his arms and you didn’t miss the slight flex of the bulging biceps he possessed. you always thought he was attractive, smart, and overall the perfect candidate for a boyfriend, but there was already so many complications entailed in that. first, there was the principle that he was your friend and your brother’s best friend. you basically grew up together, so you always thought lines like that should never be crossed no matter how much your heart desired for him at times. second, there was lana lang, clark’s first love. lana and clark’s relationship was complicated as well. one minute they’re together in perfect loving bliss, then the next, it’s back to being friends. this time, they were back to friend zone for a long while. lana was a friend of yours along with chloe. it was odd being tight with girls you knew had feelings for the same guy as you, but somehow, you try not to let that cause a rift between you. plus, you’re starting to develop a new crush on this guy named, jeremy ford. he was a senior and the captain of the boy’s basketball team. you’ve had opportunities where you would practice with him one on one after school and hang out at the talon occasionally to share strategies to help out your teams. he was handsome, athletic, funny, popular, and a scholar, so you’ve figured that he would be perfect as your date to the prom. when you get the chance this week, you were finally going to ask him. lastly, there was the fact that you knew clark’s secret along with your brother.

you’ve never forgotten that shift in your friendship with clark after finding that ship in his shed. it all made sense on how he was able to get to places so fast and subdue the people who were powered by those damned green rocks. pete already had to deal with clark having the attention of chloe and him being friends with their long-time family enemy, lex luthor. it was such a shock to you, but unlike those others who had powers and abused them, you knew that clark only wanted to use his abilities for good. to clark’s relief, you were quicker to forgive and swear to secrecy than your brother who eventually came around.

“thanks, y/n. i knew i could count on you to understand.” clark said when you visited him in loft the night after finding out. “at least you can consider yourself the first girl to know—besides my mom, of course!” he’d joke and for some reason that made you feel special.

now, your bond was stronger as you had to show that he was still the boy you called a good friend whose ass you’d occasionally kick in some hoops, but another part of you knew that things could be riskier than before with all of the bizarre occurrences of smallville.

“about that—” pete hesitantly stated, rubbing the back of his neck. “teresa campbell asked me last week, man. i know that ever since you and lana split, we’d make it a stag night, but we can all still go as a group. as far as i know, it could be me, you, teresa, and y/n.” he explained cringing a bit at the look of slight disappointment on clark’s face. you were a bit peeved that pete had sideswiped clark like that and that he assumed you were dateless. well, you were, but just because you were twins didn’t mean he fully knew you and your plans.

“it’s no worries, man. we can all still have a great time. right, y/n?” clark inquired, shifting his blue eyes on figure and he bounced the basketball in your direction.

“yeah, but, whose to say i didn’t already have a date, pete? we may be twins, but i don’t have to tell you everything.” you rebutted with a sharp glare towards your brother, catching the ball and placing it on your hip. pete threw his hands up in surrender,

“now, hold up, n/n. the last time i checked you never mentioned him, okay? look, i’m sorry for assuming. who’d you have in mind?”

your bashfully shift your eyes between the two awaiting males before you answer,

“uh,— jeremy ford.”

you were a bit shocked as there was a pause of silence. like there was something you didn’t know. you sighed ready for whatever was about to come,

“what is it now?”

clark held onto your shoulders and turned you to face him to deliver the news in the most gentle, but direct manner possible.

“y/n, lana is going to prom with jeremy.”

you stood there in silence, trying to register the words that were spoken to you. maybe this was sick prank the guys were playing on you to hurt your already bruised ego.

“what? psh, no way. lana would’ve told me.” you deny, dismissing what you thought was a ludacris claim.

pete shook his head and crossed his arms before serving the explanation of the knowledge. given the fact they lived together, lana had told chloe that jeremy had been hanging around late at the talon after you’d leave. eventually, he and lana got to know each other and before they knew it, lana agreed to jeremy’s proposal of prom. then chloe passed the news on to clark and pete. as an aspiring journalist, chloe was going to get it straight from a reliable source, so it all had to be true.

chloe and lana knew for a fact that you had a crush on him and they’d tease you to just go for it, but you’d always dismiss them with the excuse of focusing on your studies to achieve a full-ride athletic scholarship. plus, you’ve never really had that much dating experience to begin with, so it was all a bit of a mess. pete and clark could see the dark cloud of hurt loom over your face. there was a stabbing, tingling pain within your gut. you thought that you and jeremy would be the perfect match. you both shared the same goals and interests, how could you have missed the signs of lost chances? what else were you expecting? lana had already dated clark, but no human nor alien had control over their feelings. it would’ve hurt a little less if lana gave you a head’s up. possibly she was afraid of how you would’ve react or affected your friendship. you never wanted to be the type of girl to end friendships over a crush anyway.

“n/n, say something. are you oka—” clark began to question, but you sharply cut him off.

“i’m fine, clark. lana and jeremy can do what they want, it’s not like he was my boyfriend or anything. what about you? lana is your ex.” clark watched in silence as you tried to play it off so cool, but it didn’t take his x-ray vision to see that you were crushed on the inside. he believed you didn’t deserve this at all. you’ve always been a great friend to him and lana. sometimes, you’d give him advice or a listening ear whenever there was a conflict weighing on him. you were the type of person that gave their all. you gave your all in your sport, teammates, academics, family, and friends. who was giving something back to you?

without another word, you looked at your watch and turned to your brother,

“it’s about time we head home, pete. mom will be calling if we don’t make it in time for dinner.— see you at school, clark?” you bid him a goodbye with a tight lipped smile and a side hug before placing the basketball back in his arms. you cross your arms and make your way into the passenger seat of pete’s car. the boys give each other a silent knowing glance and a casual dap of farewell before pete follows suit to drive you both back home. during dinner, your parents, abigail and bill ross, noticed that you weren’t your usual talkative self due to your obvious lack of appetite and dry responses to their questions about your day. when your mother mentioned the prom, you promptly asked to be excused to your bedroom, so that you could “study”. you wrapped up your plate, placed it in the fridge, and took your leave. once in your room, you didn’t waste time in plopping yourself into your bed. you bury your face into your pillow to muffle your sobs of agony. romance looked so good in the movies you’ve watched, but why did it have to hurt so bad in reality?

you lay on your side, facing the large, purple stuffed bear that sat on your other pillow. you sat up and smiled at it fondly. you picked it up and gave it a tight squeeze. clark had won it for you at the smallville harvest festival during your freshman year. it was one of those carnival games where you had to get three basketball shots in a row. you were just a rookie on the team and you were struggling because you wanted that bear so badly. clark happened to be there to watch the whole thing and like a superboy, he swooped in and made those three shots. there was a jovial glint within his baby blue eyes as he observed you spinning with the bear in your arms like a little child. you were so happy that you thought you could kiss him that day. clark simply saw you in a jam and was kind enough to help. that was when you started developing feelings. even though he was your brother’s best friend, you’d grown to see him as a prince charming of sorts. he had his flaws, but he always found a way to make it up somehow. your thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice. it was his voice.

“there’s that smile i like to see.” you quickly wiped away your tears and whipped your head in his direction. there was clark kent, casually leaning against your door frame

“clark! uh, hey. what are you doing here? look, if you need to see pete, i think he’s in the den playing that game—” you try to explain, but he interrupted as he took his body away from the door and approached closer to your bed.

“actually, i came by to see you, y/n. may i?” you nod, acknowledging his request to sit on your bed. you nod, scooting over to make room and he proceeds to sit at your side. you gaze at his side profile. his perfectly fine nose, sculpted jawline, and who could miss the subtle pout in his naturally pink lips. now, his eyes met yours. the melanated skin of your cheeks begin to heat up the longer he held eye contact. there was an air of silence in the room. you were both deciding who should be the first to speak amidst this high school prom drama. clark then glanced at the stuffed bear in your arms, he tried not to blush as he was surprised that you kept it all of these years. he noticed how you held onto it with such a tight grip as if someone were to take it away at any moment. how wholesome he found that to be. a lopsided smile played on his lips as he spoke,

“you still kept that bear after all these years?”

you sniffled with a bashful chuckle,

“yeah, it seems so embarrassing. i’m pushing eighteen, but it’s my favorite thing—well, besides my backstreet boys t-shirt.” you both fill the room with soft laughter, enjoying each other’s presence.

“no, no. not embarrassing. it’s humiliating, actually—hey, ahaha!” clark jokes in which that earns him a couple whacks in the head from your pillow. your stomach cramps as you dissolve into laughter again,

“god, you’re such an ass! you just love to ruin the moment.” you giggle, trying to catch your breath. you place the pillow to its original spot. clark flashes his pearly canines and leans back onto your bed.

“as long as i get to see you cry tears of joy instead of sadness, i’d gladly do it again.” he responds, gingerly reaching a hand towards your face to swipe a loose tear with his thumb. your cheeks heat up again as your stomach flips from his touch.

“i know today wasn’t exactly the greatest, but it’s good to hear you laugh, y/n.”

your own lopsided grin graces your features before you shift your gaze to the bear,

“i appreciate it, clark. you’re always swooping in to save the day, whether it’d be meteor freaks or teenage heartbreak.”

there was another beat of silence. before practically speeding to the ross house, clark couldn’t erase the image of your somber expression from his mind. this was everyone’s first prom and even though clark didn’t get the chance to go with lana, he didn’t want to experience it on a sour note. now that you were down in the dumps, he definitely didn’t want you to have that same feeling. he didn’t want you to look back on such a significant event with disdain, so he came over and took his chance.

“y/n, would you go to prom with me—as my date?”

upon hearing his question, you froze for a second before peering at the farm boy beside you. you were in a tough spot, sure, but you didn’t want to be his pity date, no matter how much you liked him.

“what?! clark—i know i seemed pretty tight about the jeremy thing, but i don’t want your pity. we can just go as a group of friends with pete and teresa. just like he planned.” you protested, but clark took ahold of your hands as the expression of sincerity etched on his face.

“y/n, please, just hear me out,” he urged, caressing his thumbs along your hands. “i promise you, it’s not pity. i genuinely want to spend time with you and i want us to enjoy our first prom.” you fell silent as your gaze softened while listening to his plea, “we could make it one of the best nights of our lives, even if it’s just for a little while—besides, who better to go to prom with than the best victory dancer i know?”

yet again, he flashed his contagious smile that you’ve silently adored for years as a twinkle danced within his eyes. you pondered on this impromptu proposal. clark had a point, this was going to be your first prom, an awaited moment in most teenaged girls lives that they would look back on in the future. you wanted to have a good time regardless of the jeremy situation. plus, if you accept, you’d have a date with your longtime crush! your brother’s best friend of all people. you were going as friends of course, but you couldn’t imagine this moment with anyone else. what could possibly go wrong? a smile you couldn’t contain plays on your full lips as your brown eyes matched his gaze before you finally said,

“you know what? i’d love to clark!”

“you would? really?”

“yes. we’ll come in together as friends, let loose, and bust a move or two.” you answer already envisioning the pleasant evening ahead. “why? do you want me to take back my answer?” you jokingly quiz with an arched brow.

“oh, n-no, no! i’m actually really glad you said yes.” he protested with relief washing over his features.

“then it’s a date, kent!” you take one of your hands to rest it on his shoulder before placing a brief kiss upon his cheek before you whisper, “you got super speed, so don’t i expect you to be late.”

clark’s cheeks flushed with the red shade of excitement from your touch. he surely didn’t expect that from you, but he certainly wasn’t going to complain.

“well, in that case, i’ll pick you up at seven, ross.”

clark bids you goodnight and you could hardly sleep with the knowledge of this upcoming weekend. the very next morning at the breakfast table, your parents are ecstatic to learn the news of your plans for prom, especially your mother. you both enthusiastically converse, conjuring up ideas of a dress, shoes, accessories, makeup, and hair. she helps to make the necessary appointments for the days leading up to it. while at school, you decided to stick around to clark, pete, or fly solo rather than you usually did with chloe and lana. you would be cordial when you see them in the hallway, but before they could talk about prom, you’d find a way to promptly excuse yourself. the last thing you wanted to hear was anything about lana and jeremy. you didn’t want to hear the conversation as if they didn’t know that you know.

“i gotta go. i have a meeting with my coach.”

“can’t. i don’t wanna be late for class!”

even when jeremy tried to catch you in the hallway. you’d gave him the same energy,

“i can’t go to the talon today, jere. i have an appointment after school.”

“i think i’ll just practice solo today.”

with each passing day after school, your mother had taken you shopping to find the dress that was perfectly made for you along with getting a well deserved mani-pedi and an eyebrow wax. she would just help with hair and makeup on the day of. your mother doted on you every step of the way. you couldn’t forget how you had to ask the dress shop employee for kleenex because she was going to burst into tears when saw you in the dress you’ve chosen. you were shocked because this was abigail ross, the no nonsense county judge of smallville that fights for justice with an iron fist. you weren’t really big on dresses in general, but for this occasion with clark, you wanted him to see that you were more than pete’s twin.

the early evening of prom makes its presence known. throughout the entire day, your stomach rumbles with an immense amount of anxiety and piquancy. you burst out into a song while taking your shower, a soft muffled hum fills the bathroom when you brush your teeth. as your mother helps you to get ready, she affirms your beauty with each dab and blend of the cosmetics applied to your face. her gifted hands gingerly work through the coiled tresses of your dark hair in the desired style that you’ve seen one of your favorite singers sport in a magazine. as if it were like a cinderella-esque transformation, your final look was completed once you’ve donned your dress, jewelry, and heels. it was finally time for one of the best nights of your life.

clark stands at the front door of the ross house. he’s not sure how many times he’s been fidgeting with his black bow tie or glancing down at the freshly arranged corsage within the plastic container, but he knows one thing for a fact.

he was nervous.

he’s been looking forward to this all week. it was a casual plan set up by two friends, but why did he feel like he was going to mess everything up? were things going to change between you and him like how it did with him and lana? or him and chloe? he was psyching himself out, but he needed to swallow whatever doubt he had and just enjoy this like a somewhat normal teenager would, especially with someone he enjoyed spending time with. with a steady hand, his knuckles raise to knock on the front door to which pete answers within seconds. they perform their casual greeting with a hello and a dap.

“hey, clark! you’re right on time. i see you styling with the corsage.” pete joked to which clark chuckled as he invited clark to step in the living room.

“i’d sure hate to disappoint your sister, so thanks! it’s still cool with you that she’s my date, right?” clark questioned, a trace of timidity within his voice. when he first told pete about being your date, he’d surely thought his friend would tell him off by crossing that boundary. to clark’s surprise, pete took the news well.

“yeah, man! she’s been looking forward to this all week. besides, you’re going as friends, so it’s not anything that i’m worried about. my mom’s up there with her now, so she should be down in a few.” pete replied, standing coolly with his hands tucked in his pockets.

they compliment each other on their respective ensembles before clark’s eyes peruses the room. his sensitive ears pick up on the sound of the bustling, grating voices of the other ross brothers who had came to visit to see the twins off for their first prom. mark, mike, and sam along with your father all hurry to the living room to greet clark with more daps and hugs as if clark were their own. it seemed that every ross had made an appearance, all except for you. abigail hurriedly came down the staircase. she frantically waved her hands to signal for the men to keep their voices down as you were about to make your grand entrance. she turns to clark with an elated expression,

“clark, i’m so glad you’ve made it. she’s all done and ready.” your mother pauses, turning her head up to the staircase to call out your name.

“honey, clark’s here! let’s see you, so you don’t be late!”

after a sixty second beat of silence, the sound of your heels reverberated through the air as you descended from the staircase. every head turned in your direction. clark’s soft blue gaze didn’t dare to pull away as you reached the bottom of the steps. you were front and center. you were the belle of the ball. he stared in awe with his mouth slightly agape as you wore a lemon, satin maxi dress that accentuated the warm toned glow of your brown skin. it had a heavy hearted cut in the front while it exposed the skin of your back like a halter top. the garment complimented your figure perfectly and matched with the golden hoop earrings your mother let you borrow. the soft makeup that was applied to your features made each of them stand out. the sleek mascara, shimmering eyeshadow and the luminous pink gloss painted on your pouty lips made you look like you’ve walked out of a magazine. even though you received the warm gazes and compliments of your parents and brothers, you were still awaiting for what clark had to say. he only stood there staring at you as if he were trying to silently analyze a piece in an art museum. he looked so dashing in the sleek, noir tux that he wore. his physique had grown to be bulkier over the years, so you certainly didn’t miss the toned outline of his body. you gave him your full attention as he softly called out your name. you spectated as he deliberately approached you. his adam’s apple bobbed within his throat and he gulped, so that he didn’t fumble over what he had to say because he meant the next words that escaped from his mouth,

“you’re so beautiful.” he proclaims, to which your family coos. he easily opens the plastic container that withheld the corsage and holds his palm out for you place your wrist in. there was a certain spark that you weren’t sure that both of you felt when his fingers brushed against your skin as he slid the floral accessory on your wrist. his soft grip on your wrist lingered as you know that he can hear your heart racing within your chest, but he’d never call you out because he didn’t want to embarrass you. with the widest smile you reply with a tone of gratitude,

“thank you, clark! you look handsome as always.” his expression matches yours and he thanks you for the compliment before your mother urges you both to pose for some pictures. after some photographs and a wise talk of safety, you all bid your family goodbye. pete had to leave to go pick up teresa in his car, so it was only fair that you’d ride with clark. with your hand wrapped around clark’s bicep, he leads you to the faithful, red pickup truck that you’ve ridden in on several occasions, but now you look at it as your awaiting chariot while clark opens the passenger side for you to sit and safely buckle in.

after a brisk ride of small talk, wise cracking, and car karaoke, he pulls into the student parking lot where students who were dressed to impress were flooding towards the entrance to get into the gym. you sat there hesitantly, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding. at the sound, clark turns his eyes to the glowing profile of your fretting countenance. he can already tell that you’re internally freaking out. you haven’t really talked to lana nor jeremy all week and now what were you going to do if you ran into them? you couldn’t make too many excuses to avoid them in this situation. with a gentle hand, clark reaches over to intertwine your fingers together.

“hey—look at me.” his tenor voice softly urges. you reluctantly look at the signature benevolent, blue gaze of your best friend. you hate how weak it makes you when clark holds such intense eye contact, he means business.

“you’re going to have a great time, y/n. whatever worry is going on in your head right now, forget about it just for tonight. would you do that for me?”

“that’s not fair, clark. you know i’d do anything for you.” you both dissolve into a fit of laughter. when it dies down, you squeeze onto his hand and unbuckle your seatbelt before turning to him again, “what are you waiting for, kent? you said i was gonna have a great time, so show me a great time.”

with a grin of anticipation on his lips, he briefly releases your hand to exit the drivers’ seat and open the passenger in which your hand is instantly reunited with his. you both stroll together through the entrance, down the hallway, and into the wide, dark gym that was illuminated by colorful lights, the pumped up bass of the music playing through the stereo, and the multitude of conversations between your classmates. your brown eyes darted around the area. you see there was some tables, a couple of them were filled with concessions. there was even a line forming for what seemed to be a photo booth, in which you keep a mental note for it because you want a stab at it before you go.

most of their talking is ceased when they saw you two walking arm in arm, their eyes observed you two in awe the further you both stepped in. at first, you were starting to feel awkward under the several pairs of eyes on you. were these looks also varying in curiosity? admiration? envy? they expected clark to clean up well, but as for you, they were stunned to see the tomboyish basketball captain pop out as if she was tyra banks. although he didn’t want to seem too arrogant, clark experienced a mix of satisfaction and jealousy from the attention you were getting, especially from some of the guys. especially from jeremy, who was at first enthusiastically conversing with lana until he saw what all the commotion was about: you. piqued, jeremy peered at you from across the room as you were caught off guard when clark instinctively, yet smoothly snaked an arm around your waist to bring you closer.

“it’s okay. they’re just experiencing true beauty for the first time, it’s a very common reaction.” he wittily said with a cheeky smile. with a heated face, you looked at your friend, still convincing yourself of his status in your life, that just blatantly called you beautiful again. was this real life? he even clung to you as if one of these dudes would sweep you away. you were sure, he would instantly approach lana at the mere sight of her.

within a minute or two, pete and his date, teresa, meet you guys at the side of the dance floor. you instantly hit it off with your brother’s date as you two enthusiastically compliment each other on your dresses and engage in small girl talk. clark felt lucky that he had the prettiest girl on his arm tonight. he wasn’t sure why, but that was all he could he see you as right now. not the athlete, nor his best friend’s sister. he just saw you, y/n ross, in her element. the more he carried on in casual conversation with you, the more drawn in he seemed to be by your presence. it warmed his heart to be called your friend or — so he thought. it was all coming together when the upbeat tempo of the music shifted to something that presented an opportunity for you and clark to know each other better like you haven’t before.

the iconic opening notes of the piano from des’ree’s “kissing you” began to fill the room as couples swiftly gather together to the dance floor. when you listen to the songstress’ soprano voice, the butterflies in your stomach are frolicking when you see clark’s open palm before you. you loved this song. it was from the soundtrack of romeo + juliet, film about a forbidden love, a line crossed. why were you having these thoughts? you were just friends, it would just be a dance. nothing less, nothing more.

“may i have this dance? out of the many abilities i have, two left feet isn’t one of them, so i got you.” he lightly smiles, awaiting for your answer. he attentively watches as you rub your glossed lips together, a habit of your nervousness. you turn to him. in this moment, there was no thought of lana, nor jeremy. there was no thought of heartbreak, and certainly no inhibitions. without hesitation, you grasp his hand before meeting his gaze.

“you may, just don’t step on my toes. this pedicure wasn’t cheap!” you whisper with soft laughter following from you both before he leads you to the dance floor. when you find your place, his eyes don’t leave yours when he takes your hands to rest on his broad shoulders while his rest on your waist. his thumbs barely graze against the exposed skin of your back as his feet lead you both to sway so easily to the orchestral sound of the ballad. the world outside fades, leaving only the warmth of his presence. you find solace as you feel the soft press of his hands on your waist, the comforting weight of his fingers resting just above the curve of your hips. your fingers wrap a little tighter around his neck to the point where your fingertips graze against the nape where part of his dark curls flawlessly cascade. you’re not tripping, there’s an undeniable electricity between you when your bodies absentmindedly draw closer while you continue to engage in this “platonic” dance.

“you sure you can keep up?” clark teases, a playful glint in his eyes, breaking the silence as you sway together. the light catches his pearly smile, his pristine canines illuminating from the way he looks at you—as if you were more than what you’ve always seemed to be in his life. you giggle, feeling the deliberate rhythm pull you even closer.

“boy, please. if i can break your ankles on the court, i can have you twirling like a ballerina on this dance floor, trust.” you saucily yet softly quip, your heartbeat growing as the vocal riffs of des’ree grow more passionate. with each step on the floor, clark guides you effortlessly, his movements confident yet unhurried, as if savoring every moment like it’s the last dance of the night. more like the last night of your lives.

“alright, n/n, just don’t get too dizzy on me,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. you were sure he could feel the goosebumps forming on your skin. you’re so sprung in the sway of his words and the gentle pulse of the music, the outside world completely forgotten. he even takes the opportunity to release one of your hands from his shoulder to smoothly spin you around at the bridge. when you come back, your body is flush against his. you’re basically heart to heart at this point. you don’t even notice the speculating eyes that burned into you. you don’t even notice the look of realization that dawned upon clark, lana, and pete: you were obviously in love with clark kent and it wasn’t just now. it’s been brewing within your heart for years. the weight of reality seems to dissipate, leaving behind only the two of you and this connection beyond friendship that felt so real. his powder blue gaze locked on yours, an unspoken spark flickering between you.

“you know,” he begins, his voice lowers as if he just wanted you to hear what he had to say. like your own little secret, “i’d never thought that finding ourselves dancing like this would feel so—perfect. like out of a movie or something.”

you tilt your head slightly, the air between you shifted as you reply softly, “it really does, doesn’t it? plus, i love this song. it’s from one of my favorite movies.” his thumbs brush against your bare back, igniting a warmth that spreads through your absolute everything. he gulps, getting himself together for what he’s about to say next,

“between you and me—i’d either rewind to this part over and over, or i wouldn’t want the movie to end at all.”

the pale skin of clark’s face paint with a shade of crimson as you lose yourselves in each other’s eyes, the last notes of the song begin to fade. you find yourselves leaning in closer and closer. was this actually happening? in front of lana? in front of your brother? were you both going to—reality creeps back in, the echo of the final chord concludes this ethereal moment. yet, in that fleeting instant, it feels as if time has stood still—if only for a little while. as the final note lingers in the air. you pull back slightly, just enough to read the mixture of emotions in his eyes—surprise, contentment, and something deeper lurking beneath the surface. you clear your throat and join in the applause of the crowd of students when the music instantly reverts back to the vibe of something upbeat to rock with. you clark retire yourselves to sit at one of the empty tables as you were complaining about your feet hurting from the heels you’ve been wearing. being the gentleman that he was, he helps to release your ailing feet from the shoes before venturing off to use the restroom and get some refreshments from the concession table.

while you were occupied massaging your feet, you now feel the presence of two beings sit at each side of you. you just assume it’s your brother coming to rag on you.

“pete, if you’re here to rub in my face about how i shouldn’t have worn heels this high, i will literally bop you with one.” you sass, still looking down until hear familiar feminine chuckles.

“if that’s the case, then i wouldn’t dare to say a word!” you know that quick and precise wit to be none other than your friend, chloe sullivan. you froze and turn your head to see her sitting on your right with lana lang on your left. they both looked radiant in their evening gowns as if they were contestants in a beauty pageant, especially lana. your mood starts to shift once you remembered why you avoided them in the first place. you were praying to god that clark could use his kryptonian speed to rescue you from this awkward situation.

“hey, guys. long time, no see.” you neutrally greet as you place the heels back on.

“long time, no see indeed. it feels like you haven’t had the time to be around us lately—we miss you!” lana mentioned, placing a manicured hand on your knee. what gives her the right to touch you after what she’s done. you were gonna keep your cool because clark should be back any minute now.

“yeah, i’ve just been working to get this full-ride and trying to get ready for tonight. i never knew how much time that would take.” you quip, earning a chuckle from both of the girls.

“well, it looks like it all paid off— you look beautiful!” chloe says flashing her pearly smile, a twinkle within her green eyes as lana nods in agreement. although you were peeved with them, you couldn’t help, but to smile at her compliment.

“i appreciate it, guys. ya’ll look great, too.”

there was a few beats of silence, lana finally removes her hand from your knee and twiddles with her fingers. with the clearing of her throat, she addresses the elephant in the room,

“so—um, it looks like you came with clark tonight. how did your brother take that?” you shoot her a side glance and lean back within your seat, glancing at the corsage on your wrist.

“pete’s cool with it. clark and i just happened to be dateless and he asked me to go with him. we’re just here as friends, of course.” you shrug.

“oh really, now?” she further questioned.

after the slow dance, all three of you found it bit hard to believe when you brought that up. something in lana faltered when she heard that clark had asked you. there was that pressure weighing in her stomach and chest, when she swallowed it felt like there was a lump. her hands gripped onto the fabric of her dress as she was trying to keep her facial expression as normal as possible. you didn’t miss the trace of jealousy within her hazel gaze. if that’s how she wanted to do this, you were about to go in for the kill.

“mhm. sorta like how i’m cool with you going with jeremy ford.”

lana furrowed her brows in confusion at your statement.

“what’s that supposed to mean, y/n?”

“lana, let’s not play games. i’ve told you about my crush on him, you tell me that i should go for him, but then here you are, on his arm here tonight! what’s crazier is that i had to find out from clark and pete.” you comment cutting your gaze over at chloe, letting her know that she wasn’t out of the woods for her role in this disaster.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t know that i had to tell you every single that happens in my life. especially in who i date. besides, he was the only one who asked me and i just went along with it because neither of you never made a move!” lana made a valid point, but the mystery was why didn’t she just give you a head’s up, so you still combatted her claim.

“lana. i don’t give a damn about who you date because obviously you didn’t when you and clark got together, knowing that chloe and i had feelings for him. it hurt us, yes, but you were decent enough to say it to our faces because our friendship mattered. i’m not even sure if that’s true now because this time, you just told chloe. i get that she’s roommate, but why? why couldn’t tell me—

“because i didn’t want you telling clark that i’ve moved on so quickly, okay? i’m not exactly over him and he didn’t ask me, so i felt that i didn’t have a choice.” the word vomit spews after she you cuts off. you all take a beat of silence before she continues,

“i’ve seen how close you two have been getting. i-i don’t know what it is, but suddenly he’s like an open book when he’s around you. even when we were together, on and off, he’d never be that way with me, so i guess i didn’t tell you because i was afraid you’d run off and tell him in a heartbeat. i-i guess i went out with jeremy and didn’t tell you because i was—”

it was now your turn to cut her off.

“jealous?”

conceding, lana silently nodded. it’s amazing how she was so quick to call clark a coward back in the past and pressure him for a truth she wasn’t sure she could even handle, but now look at her. being secretive all because of her obsession with clark exposing himself as who he truly is while they were together.

“wow, so i guess that dance really burned you up. didn’t it, lana? now you see what happens when you’re not completely honest with people who you claim to be their friend.” you sharply retort, venom in your tone.

“y/n, i’m—” she started to speak, but stopped as she did a double take to the male in question heading in your direction. speak of the devil—well, alien in your case. as if his timing weren’t perfect enough, clark had finally appeared with two cups of punch along with two decorated cupcakes. your favorite dessert.

“i hope i didn’t keep you waiting that long, y/n. there was a long line for the both bathroom and the snacks.” he chuckled as his eyes took notice of his friends, but he felt there was something that went down between you. there was a tension and the vibe wasn’t very pleasant.

“lana, chloe hey!” he cordially greets them both while handing you the refreshments. he grins as your facial expression softens in contentment at the sight of the delicacies, you thank him as you take it into your hands. he makes small talk with lana and chloe, asking them if they’re enjoying the event in which they respond with a “yes” and “mhm” as they nod. it was only a matter of time before what you were worrying about came to fruition. although you were glad at his presence, he could see that you were clearly uncomfortable with the girls sitting at your sides. clark kent guaranteed a good night for both of you, so he had to do what he had to do.

“i’d hate to intrude, but you guys mind if i sat with y/n? i believe i owe her some quality time back for being away for so long.” he requests, awaiting for the girls departure. as soon as lana and chloe heard the words, “quality time”, they instantly acknowledged that he wanted to sit with you, alone. after witnessing what happened, chloe saw it in their best interest if they did leave you and clark alone. no matter how much lana wanted to stay, she still had jeremy to entertain for the night.

“that’s no problem! we were actually just leaving.” with that, chloe stood and took lana’s arm, whisking them both to the other side of the gym before lana could say another word. clark took the seat that chloe had sat in, he peered over to see you happily, but silently indulging in the cupcake. although he didn’t want to ruin the vibe, he still had a hunch and questioned you about what happened previously in his absence.

“hey—are you okay? it looked like you wanted to get out of there.” it was sweet of him to check in on you so you just gave it to him straight.

“yeah, i’ll be fine, clark. lana and i had a fight. it was obviously about jeremy and—” you paused, gazing in his direction, “other things, but i don’t wanna talk about it now. i’m still gonna have a good night with you.” you glance over to the area where the photo-booth station is. “it looks like the line at the photo-booth is slowing down. let’s get a picture after i’m done.”

“yeah, sure! i’m up for that it’s gonna be fun.” he enthusiastically nods, agreeing to the next step.

“you gonna eat that?” you question gesturing to the cupcake that was still in his hand. you had this habit where he would have a morsel of food and you would always ask if he would finish it. no matter what, clark would always give it to you and this was no different. with a chuckle, he gave in. you didn’t notice that some icing had spread to the corner of your lip, but he did.

“hey, hold still. you got something right—” he paused, using his hand to guide your chin, so that you could be face to face. with a gentle swipe of his thumb, the icing disappears. “there.” he finishes, “don’t want anything to spoil our photo op, now would we?” you both erupt in giggles. after serving him a thank you, you both refresh with some punch and make your way to the short line of the photo booth. you two carry on in casual conversation as the first two couples go in, do their thing, and come out leaving with one strip of about five photos. it was now your turn to go in the rectangular booth. it was a bit of a squeeze. given clark’s tall stature. there was a bench, but it looked like it could only hold one person once clark sat down. you inwardly thought a “bless his heart” as his body almost took up the whole bench. still standing, you giggle when he’s about to push the “start” button and you both see a ten second countdown presented on the screen.

“clark! how are we supposed to take pictures when i can’t even sit down? now, i only have five seconds.”

he gazed at you and simply patted his leg, suggesting you’d sit there. you frantically shake your head, quickly declining his offer. you weren’t sure if you should cross that line in this tight space with the your brother’s best friend.

“i know it may look weird to you, but we literally don’t have time. i’m good with it, so c’mon!” he urges, laughing.

“clark, no!” you resist not containing your own chuckles. you’re hysterical as he grasps your wrist and pulls your body to his, so that you were sitting upon his leg. you both look at the direction of the screen count to one and then you hear the first click as it captured your giggling faces. another timer starts when you shift to a normal pose of you wrapping an arm around his shoulder and his around your waist. you both promptly smile for the second time. at the third click, he’s gazing at your profile smiling while you stick your tongue out while throwing up a peace sign. at the fourth, you look over at him to match the never ceasing eye contact which the camera captures. as the timer starts for the final photo, your head is spinning as your senses are all over the place. within these last ten seconds, you look down at his rose red lips while his arm pulls you in closer on his lap. you free hand goes on a journey to reach for his jawline where your fingers graze against the sharp edge of the bone before stopping to completely hold his face. clark leans forward, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. your awaiting lips barely ghosting over one another. both of your eyes shut as you pass the point of no return. at the final click, it captures the moment of you and clark kent, tenderly kissing each other for the first time. you’re both lost in the kiss between you lingers for a few more seconds before you open your eyes and the realization of what you’re doing dawns on you.

what the hell just happened?

as if you inherited kryptonian speed, you shoot up from your place on clark’s lap and hastily walk out of the gym towards the back exit. without wasting time, clark called out for you in protest snd was swift enough to collect your photo strip and jog in the direction of where you left. when you pushed open the door, you stood with your back against the brick wall as you let the hot tears cascade down your brown cheeks. you didn’t care if your mascara was running, what were you thinking? you loved the kiss, you loved clark. it was obvious that he was enjoying it as much as you did, but did it hold that same sentiment for him as it did for you? you cross your arms, scolding yourself for being such a hypocrite. you just told lana off for going out with a guy you liked while you, her trusted friend, kissed her ex-boyfriend. you weren’t having a good night and it all seemed so screwed up now.

you sob quietly and stop when you hear the door creak open to reveal clark. he softly calls your name and attempts to reach out to you, but you turn from him and wipe away at your face.

“clark, w-we shouldn’t have done that! we should not have done that.” you reiterate, and start to ramble after you turn to face him again, “clark, what about pete? what’s he gonna say if he finds out? it was already hard enough when you told us about your secret, but i don’t want you to lose him as a friend because of me. i don’t want to lose you because i love you and our friendship too much for that to happen.” silently, he looks down at and you pause, sobbing out your confession.

“you want to know why lana didn’t tell me about jeremy? she’s mad because of how close we’re getting. she’s mad because i know a part of you that she doesn’t, clark— and you know what? i love how close we’ve been getting. i love that you can be honest with me without holding back. i love that you can come to me about the issues with your family. i love that you use your abilities to help and protect others, including me. now i don’t blame her for getting jealous because—” you stop to take his hands within your own and stare straight into his eyes, finally mustering up the courage to say, “i love you, clark. i love you so much. alien or not, it’ll never change how i’ve felt about you. you may think it all you want, but you’re not a monster and you’re not a freak of nature. you’re you. that’s why i’ll always be there for you the best that i can, clark. whether you feel the same way or not.”

clark’s heart raced as he absorbed your words, the weight of your recent confession hanging thick in the air as you wait for an answer, any sign for how he felt. he felt a warmth spread through him, his mind trailing back through memories of late-night conversations, stolen glances, and moments filled with unspoken understanding between you two.

“i-i…don’t know what to say,” he finally uttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“then show me, clark.” you softly urged with a firmness not daring to break eye contact, “you either stay or leave. you make the call.”

deep inside him, something stirred—a realization that had been hiding deep in the shadows of his heart that’s been there all along. as he looked into your brown eyes, the intensity of your gaze opened something within. so gingerly, he stepped closer, his breath hitching as he reached out to cup your face in his hands. “y/n, i—i want to stay. i want to give you the chance that you deserve because you’ve always been there for me and you just get me. you’re the only girl i can truly be myself with and when you said that you don’t see me as a freak, it only confirmed what i’ve been feeling.”

he gulped, his gaze softening upon your figure as his adam’s apple bobs in his throat before concluding his statement,

“what if i showed you—that i believe what we did in the photo-booth wasn’t a mistake?”

“oh, clark.” you sigh out in resolve before placing your hands on his shoulders, promptly leaning in, and finally closing the distance of your lips for the second time. the first time was gentle, magical, and tender. this kiss however, had more desperation and your movements more fervent. he backed himself up against the wall, naturally guiding you closer, so your bodies were connected. he snakes his arms securely around your waist while your lips move in sync with each other. you lean your head back, sighing as he holds your jaw to sensually entrap your full bottom lip within his. if you wanted to know the feeling of being drunk, this, right here, had to be the epitome of it when you took the bold step of swirling your tongue around his. a hum vibrates deep from his chest and into your mouth when he plays along. this was it—no more doubt, no more guarding your hearts against the unknowns of what you could be together.

while you were lost in each other, lana lang had wanted to find you so, she could hopefully talk things out with you after the confrontation. she left jeremy behind and stepped out of the gym, trying seeking you amidst the crowd before going outside and around to the back of the school. ever so stealthily, her steps faltered as she caught sight of you, her friend, and clark, her ex, caught in the rapture of the most passionate of kisses. she didn’t dare to utter a word nor spoil the moment with an outburst. she didn’t want to ruin things than they already were between you. feeling a mixed pang of hurt, anger, jealousy and defeat, the last thread of hope snapped inside her. with the sting of her watering hazel eyes, she turned back to quietly retreat and find chloe, so they could immediately go home. now, she was leaving behind the remnants of what could have been between her and clark, while you and him are unaware of the heartbreak left lingering in the night.

651 notes · View notes

chxrrydrxp · 1 year ago

Text

jason would help you take out your knotless/box braids and faux locs

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #ceri drabbles #jason todd x fem!reader #red hood x reader #dc red hood #jason todd x black!reader #redhood x black reader #black reader #black fem reader #dc x black reader

118 notes · View notes

realhotgirlshiii3 · 4 months ago

Text

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

#dc x black!reader #dc x black reader #dc x reader #bruce wayne x black reader #bruce wayne x black!reader #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader

600 notes · View notes

kkeidawrites · 6 months ago

Text

For You

Day 8 of Blacktober is done!

CW: Little Smut, so turn your brightness down.

Date night went great as usual, Y/n expected to find herself heading back to her flat in uptown Gotham and start on her dress down from the night.

However, the car she rode in passed by the highway that would take her straight to her house and she looked to her left at her boyfriend Dick Grayson.

He normally would tell her where they would be going as Y/n wasn’t too big on surprises.

“Are we taking a detour?” She asks.

Dick places a finger over his lips and shushes her with a playful grin on his face.

“It’s a secret, just sit back and enjoy the ride.” He says and U/n raises a brow at him suspiciously.

45 minutes later, Y/n sees a new scenery it still surprises her at how vibrant the trees looked. The sun was coming down and Y/n awed at the pretty hues that illuminated the sky.

When the car had finally stopped, Y/n didn’t even notice until Dick grabbed her left hand sitting in her lap. Her eyes found Dick’s practically beaming face and tilted her head in confusion.

Dick gets out of the car and walks over to Y/n’a side, opening her door and holding out his hand to help her out. She takes his much larger hand and is helped out of the car.

Y/n looked around the to see what the big surprise was until, her eyes widened in surprise, a gasp leaving her lips.

Their view of the landscape was so vast and beautiful, complete opposite of the dark clouds and shadows that crept in every alley that Gotham was known for.

The night and the day were perfectly in sync with each other, the night sky slowly approaching the horizon and the sun disappearing into the lowered clouds to rest for the next day to come.

“Dick, wow…how is this even possible to time?” Y/n asks and Dick lays out a blanket to cover the hood of his car.

“I had a little help, it’s good to have a little brother that knows how to do math and know his astronomy.” He chuckles.

Y/n sits on the hood of the car bringing her knee up to her chest as Dick sits next to her.

“Thank you Dick. This was a wonderful surprise, and you know I hate surprises.”

“That’s why I made this into a secret and not a surprise.” He says and Y/n pushes his shoulder playfully.

“You and that mouth, it’s going to get you into trouble.” She giggles and Dick smirks at her.

“Good trouble I hope?” He leans in closer and Y/n lowers her eyes to his lips.

“If you can find it.” She smiles slyly and moves in closer to him.

“I think I did.” His lips finds hers and the two interlock in a heated kiss.

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

Clothes have been thrown to the ground, perhaps losing a couple pieces of cloth in the wooden area but that didn’t deter the couple.

Dick was thrusting his lower body on Y/n’s pussy, letting her juices coat his dick as the two wrestled in a tongue match.

Y/n rubbed down his back and pinched his ass making the taller man jump in delight.

Parting from their kiss, Dick kisses down her body until he is at her pelvic area and kneels down.

Dick’s head is between her legs as he feasts away at her pussy. Y/n bites her lip in pleasure and pulls on his hair.

“We can’t just do this, we’re in public Dick!” She says in a breathless voice.

“I don’t hear any complaints from you.” He says and is quick to return to eating her out.

Y/n cries out in pleasure and places a hand over her mouth to avoid any further noise from leaving her.

Dick inserted two fingers inside of her and began thrusting quickly into her. Y/n didn’t want to get any louder than what she was and grabbed his wrist that currently had his fingers inside her.

“You bastard!” She whisper yells and Dick just grins.

“Only for you.”

#fanfiction #my writing #black reader #black!reader #dc x black!reader #dc x black reader #nightwing x black reader #dick grayson x black!reader #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #Batman #dceu fanfiction #dc comics #dc x reader #31 days of blacktober #Blacktober

114 notes · View notes

glorixuspurpose · 1 year ago

Text

Masterlists

MISC.

RESIDENT EVIL

JUJUTSU KAISEN

MORTAL KOMBAT

ARCANE

CHAINSAW MAN

SQUID GAME

#resident evil x reader #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #mortal kombat x reader #dc x black reader #dc x reader #arcane x reader #arcane x black reader #chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man x black reader #squid game x reader #squid game x black reader

6 notes · View notes

bludovebunny · 1 month ago

Text

✧ ☽ ✫. moonlight ✩.

✧ in a quiet garden ♡︎.

. ✧ that is her beauty ☾

pairing ღ Lex Luthor x fem! oc/reader

chapter one . chapter two .

a/n i'm excited to post this story! i been working on this fic since the beginning of january, so here's to hoping you'll enjoy the angsty fluff journey between these two! Warning: Lex is flirty lol Anyone is welcome!

Miles stretched on ahead as the old truck drove down the road, feeling the interior space rumble around her as Niah sat quietly in the passenger seat, window drawn up to prevent the cool morning air from slipping in. The young woman is found not without company, as her grandparents join her on this early quest towards the Farmer Market: Morris sitting at the wheel while Mary sat snuggled between them in the middle seat. During their journey, deep brown eyes observe the occasional sight of cattle that graze along the pasture, basking in the radiance of this chilly morning where wet dew softens the ground beneath their hooves.

Far off in the distance as the sun decorates the sky, painting upon the blue canvas a blend of pink and purple hues with its own rays of golden light. She is reminded there is love in creation, even in cold mornings like these where the wind is absent, and small clouds float scattered far and in-between. For a moment, she catches the ghostly reflection of her face in the glass window, and contemplates the short time she’s been there, arriving merely two months ago to get away from the city to live within the vicinity of this humble town.

Niah felt fortunate for once in her life, that her grandparents allowed her to seek refuge under their wings, like a baby chick quickly huddling beneath the feathers of its mother when its raining on a dreary day. “Stay as long as you need, baby girl. As long as it takes.” Their words of reassurance nestled between the broken cracks of her heart as she steadily settled into their quiet home, especially so once the plush comforter encircled around her tired body that evening in Smallville. And that first night, tears soaked the pillow, and she curled her spine into a fetal position and never left that spot, even past midnight till touches of morning sunlight peeked through the blinds.

It was out of her nature to ask for favors. She initially didn’t wish to impose into their lives so abruptly–they’ve reached the prime of their old age, their energy once abundantly rich as grain in the field, has grown meager as the seasons merged on to the next. But the urgency to separate from the stresses of her environment surmounted that fact, and they in turn bestowed a gift in the form of mercy.

Smallville. A rural town with plenty of space to reset her mind. Nothing but cornfields that stretched far and wide underneath vacant blue skies.

Somewhere fresh and new.

Perhaps the start of a new beginning.

In the tall grass, she spotted a herd of deer prancing wildly. They danced amongst the thick vegetation, hooves kicking up soft dirt in their joy, without care in the world.

The rustic area spoke familiar to the essence of her inner child, reminds her of a childhood friend she visits to see every year in the summer of June. It’s early October, and the air lacks its tender warmth she’s grown accustomed to. But it was fine, no reason to complain. Although not particularly new to her surroundings, there were pleasant memories stashed away that would flicker in her mind’s eye when she recognized a popular landmark. And there were other memories that swam to the surface from something as simple as a scent that carried along in the breeze, or rather, earthy eyes falling upon a certain plant native to the area.

Honeysuckle; oh, how often she desires to suckle upon its sweet nectar when given the chance.

Nostalgia had an inconspicuous way of evoking a river of emotions to burst within her, and the water would often overflow past the shoreline, soaking grains of sand with tears and bringing forth messages in a bottle.

Niah Foxx was always labeled a sensitive person, possessing abundant care toward things, even things of little insignificance, than should be required for her heart to take. At times, she observed how it contributed more affliction to enter her life, the pain of feeling oh, so, intensely, it splinters the fragile heart made of ceramic. And yet, she embraces it for everything it is, for how should she be, rather than be herself?

Suddenly, she was pulled away from her thoughts when she felt her hand being squeezed. But when she turned to look, she realized it was only Mary, and that comforting smile of hers that Niah was so familiar with. “You doin’ alright, sugar plum?” Hand on her lap, another gentle squeeze was offered.

“Yea, I am, thanks.” Voice soft and low, like the small smile she returns in kind, almost poignant. Niah knew the meaning behind Mary’s concern. “Jus kinda wondering how far we are from the market is all.”

“It won’t be too long now.” Morris chimed in. “I’d give it about six minutes till we get there.”

She hummed in response, and returned her gaze back to the passing scenery behind the window. Somewhere high above the sun, a star twinkled brightly.

They eventually reached their destination, the Farmer’s Market finally coming into view before pulling into the parking lot. They searched for an available parking space, but Niah was somewhat distracted by the number of people carrying basketfuls of their own homegrown produce towards their booths. She hadn’t anticipated seeing such a big crowd hustling and bustling this early in the morning already, but she suspects it shouldn’t come as a surprise considering farmers woke every day at the break of dawn to tend to duties around the farmyard. Nonetheless, she could feel a spark of newfound energy surge straight through her, teeming on the brink of excitement. It’s been a long time since she’s attended a Farmer’s Market; she could faintly recall going a few times in her life when she was younger, many of which were fun experiences as she fondly remembers the pony rides.

When Morris switched the gear to park, Niah practically jumped out of the truck with Mary following suit before shutting the door. It wasn’t long before they began unloading a few things from the trunk. While on their way to where the rest of the vendors prepared to get their booths set up, Niah spotted a few familiar faces amongst the crowd, delightfully surprised to see Martha and Jonathan Kent assembling their own Gazebo tent.

The Kent family were dear old friends of her grandparents. They lived five minutes away down the road from their house, so they occasionally ran into each other from time to time–either Mary presenting one of her famous sweet potato pies on the table when Martha visited, and two glasses of sweet wine cradled in their hands while they engaged in their own sophisticated version of girl talk, or Morris and Johnathan cracking a simple beer as they idled on the porch where they discussed topics befitting macho men: Football, basketball, fishing, motorcycles, or typical farm work.

“Pawpaw, look, the Kents are here already.” She angled her head in their direction, catching his attention as he spared them a glance.

“Aw yea,” He smiled. “looks like they gettin’ ready for a big day jus like us. Let’s get on now, we’ll be left in the dust if we don’t catch up.”

“We could probably set up close by.” She suggested, thinking it’ll be nice to be around familiar faces.

Niah, who frequented Smallville a few times a year with her mom as a child, never quite developed a close relationship with the Kents beyond acquaintanceship due to them being, well, full grown adults–possibly in their 40’s at the time-but that didn’t mean Niah dismissed her manners in their presence, behaving politely and cordial in the way her parents raised her. Niah stood fairly younger, older but a bit closer in age to their son, Clark. A shy flower bud of a kid. The little chestnut-haired boy would follow her around as they explored her grandparents’ property, whether playing hide and seek behind one of the old sheds, trees or bushes, and overturning big rocks to discover a slimy world of tiny insects that resided underneath or rescuing helpless worms trapped on cracked cement.

As far as she knew, the Kents were friends of the family, their memories reflecting in bits and pieces of her life.

They ended up assembling their tent two booths away. While her grandparents finished the final arrangements with one of the last pieces, Morris sent Niah off to the truck to start gathering the produce together, and she took off on a light sprint with not much issue. But seemingly in no rush, her feet slowed to a steady pace as she decided to take in her surroundings. More than the typical farmer was setting up to vend on this special day, as she also saw souvenirs and other items that delved into creative artistry being hung on display. Food carts that sold snacks were starting to roll in. And she noticed a section on the far side where people were wrangling farm animals within their own enclosures, setting up for children and adults alike to hitch a short ride on a pony, or pet a docile lamb or an unruly goat. Llamas and alpaca’s were also present.

It seemed like the day was off to a smooth start. She had a feeling it would be a fun day. Maybe during a short break she could check out the farm animals.

“Niah!”

She swiveled her head towards the person in question and smiled as her eyes landed on a tall figure. Clark. He quickly reached her before falling in step next to her.

“Hey sweetpea,” she greeted sweetly. “I was wonderin’ when you was gonna pop up.” Her arm wrapped around his waist for a side hug, and he returned the affection with his much longer arm around her shoulders, giving her a nice tight squeeze. “I saw your parents earlier, but you was missing in action.”

“Oh, I must’ve been at the truck at the time you guys first came in.”

“Ahh makes sense. I thought it odd you was jus gonna let your mom and dad do all the work while you slacked off somewhere.” When the mood strikes her, one of her favorite pastimes was finding a way to tease the hulking teenager.

A breathy scoff left his lips as it curled at the corner, and with a playful roll of his eye, he responded in a sardonic tone. “Funny, funny… says the girl who’s abandoning her poor ole grandparents to fix a tent while you go wander around the market. As if that’s any better.”

That one made her laugh. “I’m actually heading to the lot to start unloading some of our stuff, if you must know. I’m actually doing what my paw told me.”

“Well, I’m here to give a hand.” He shrugged. “My dad said I could help ya’ll out for a bit, you know, make things a bit easier for your grandparents since they’re…you know…uh-“

She craned her neck to look up at him, concern flickering in her gaze as she met his eyes for a moment. She understood the implications of his words, the hint of worry in his green eyes, even if he strained to properly vocalize it. “Getting older? Yea….” It formed in the pit of her stomach, that special type of heaviness to witness the way vitality of ones you hold dear gradually diminish over the years.

Morris and Mary Lewis weren’t getting any younger. The Kents were well aware, which is why they often lent Clark to assist around their homestead and vineyard when it was required to help lighten their load. They needed all the help they could get, even if their pride won’t admit it.

“Thanks, boo. You’re a real hero. I know they appreciate you.”

A blush of red streaked across his face. And always in denial of his noteworthy deeds, he shook his head. “Naaah, I’m no hero.”

She shot him with a look of disbelief, stopping in her tracks as they finally reached the vehicle in the parking lot. “Clark, you not only help out my family when they need it, but, you literally jus saved someone’s life the other day from drowning in the river. What do you think a hero is? What it means?”

The news made the paper in town. Niah couldn’t conceal her astonishment once she got word that her friend rescued a man behind the wheel from drowning in the river. The name of the man slips her mind, again. Some, reckless son of a billionaire coined with the last name: Luthor. It’s a wonder how he even survived the crash, since photos of the incident demonstrate the wrecked condition of the car.

One life could’ve been lost that day, but by some unforeseen miracle, the result didn’t end within the throes of tragedy.

His hand reached for the back of his neck to rub against, bowing his head in a weak attempt to hide the blush on his face that only deepened at her praise. “It was nothing really.” Clark said, lifting his head at the sound of her lowering the lid of the trunk door. “I must’ve been gifted with, um, fast reflexes from my real parents…doesn’t mean I’m some type of hero.”

“Aww,” she tilted her head at him, and smiled wide in a way meant to lightly tease him further, “when did my little pipsqueak get to be so modest?”

Ever the shy farm boy, she observed over the years how Clark would rather downplay certain accomplishments he attained than bask in the overwhelming applause of extolment. To receive attention of any sort wasn’t exactly his forte. And as much as she sometimes poked fun at him, Niah understood the plight of embarrassment that followed after praise was thrown his way. They shared similarities in this regard, as Niah inclined to withdraw away from undue attention herself.

Clark frowned down at her. His suddenly stern expression of disapproval was a comical sight and worth the light teasing. He gripped one of the biggest, longest tables and began dragging it out of the trunk. “Why do you keep calling me that?” He complained, clearly peeved by the term. “I’m like, a foot taller or more than you now.”

As if she needed to be reminded. Two years ago. Niah recalls that late summer day she came into town to discover Clark had turned into Paul Bunyan overnight.

She grabbed a basket filled with big, juicy apples, and spoke absentmindedly. “Don’t know… maybe when you grow a mustache, beard and–oh, chest hair. But don’t worry, I won’t say it in front of your friends.” Of course, she would be kind to preserve his dignity before the judgmental gaze of his adolescent peers. “By the way, will some of them be coming today?”

“Mm, just Chole and Pete. They should be here pretty soon–can’t say I know who else will be here.”

“I think Lana will.” Niah chirped. “She said she’ll swing by to support, the last time I asked.”

Clark quickly turned to look at her for a moment. “Oh–oh really?”

Working as a new employee at Nell’s flower boutique shop, there were many pleasant encounters with the highly esteemed young girl, Lana Lang. Niah suspected Clark harbored feelings of some sort, particularly evident when he’d become extremely attentive at the mere mention of her name in conversation.

She soon realized that even the art of discreetness when it came to his romantic interests was also not his forte.

“Yea, but I’m sure you’ll see a few of your classmates today. I mean – it’s the weekend with nothing to do, to be honest. What else is there to do in town other than go to the Farmers Market?” It was the latest event of the fall season in Smallville. Any other special events that came to mind took place in nearby cities.

“I suppose that’s true.”

Only three hours passed since every vendor set up shop. The sun hitched higher in the sky with each passing lonely cloud. And the entire market continued to frolic with activity, flourishing with local residents of the small town. Niah and her grandparents spent the majority of their time behind the tables, switching between conversing with potential buyers who strolled by their booth or completing the transaction of a successful sale. Easy for the most part.

She was no salesperson by any means, nor did she ever consider herself a fluent talker–to engage in small talk was highly unfavorable. But there exists a small ounce of contentment felt when a genuine connection was established during interactions with people.

On occasion, she would take a breather and observe from a distance to find the Kent’s were just as busy tending to customers. Even Clark’s classmates, Chole and Pete, arrived to offer a hand to the family. It was lovely to see he found friends who showed up for him.

Friends he could rely on. Friends he could depend on.

Niah was never quite as fortunate in that area. Not always. Her heart was an incessant revolving door – people made a habit of exiting her life as quickly as they came. But as far as she could conclude, since moving into the area, to draw a comparison of authenticity between the community of Smallville and the citizens of Metropolis still stood on the line of uncertainty, but she reckons that the harsh reality of experience will surely taunt her once more, remind her that heartfelt connection most desired was unattainable for a reserved woman of her melancholic condition.

Maybe by some stroke of a miracle, some mysterious soul might prove to be different. But she no longer entertains the notion of high hopes anymore.

“Bye, ma’am! Thanks for stopping by.” She waved at an elderly lady who recently bought a container of blueberries. The fruit was one of the most popular choices by far, along with the apples and strawberries.

After watching her walk away, she sucked in a deep breath and blew slowly, trying to relax her muscles as she rolled her shoulders. Admittedly, weariness was beginning to seep into her muscles from standing on her feet for such a long period of time, and chatting with multiple individuals for a few hours only continued to sap at what energy she preserved for the day. She debated on telling her grandad she needed a break, a short one to get through the next two hours before they got ready to pack up shop.

Before a decision could be settled, she startled when two little kids rushed past and bumped against the table, knocking a few apples out of the stacked arrangement she placed them in. A deep groan left her throat with a sink of her shoulders, but it wasn’t a huge mess that couldn’t be amended, thankfully. As she went about rearranging the apples once more, an unknown presence slowly drew close to the booth, moving like a shadow in broad day light.

And a deep, silken voice suddenly penetrated her ears, too close in range to be far away. “These are some nice pickings you got set up here. A lot of variety to go around.”

Now interrupted by a potential customer, her attention drew away from the fruit to focus on the latest person to stop at their booth. Her gaze wandered and fell upon the lean figure of a male. The man stood tall, looming on the opposite side of the table with his hands tucked securely in his pants pockets. His head was slightly tilted to lock eyes with her, noting the soft intensity of his steel blue orbs that, with a mere glance, could send shivers down a person’s bones–cool, in comparison to the warm hue of her own eyes of earthy brown.

The stranger somehow stuck out more than any person she’s encountered thus far. Even amongst the herd of people who wore the typical flannel and steel-toe boots, his choice of wardrobe was to wear a suit, pressed and thoroughly ironed, an outfit more fit for formal affairs than it would be an outdoor market in a rural environment. A tie was missing. She assumes he must be a resident of Metropolis–business related. But what struck the most was his bald head, an interesting alternative that left him distinctly unique from the rest of the crowd. Yet, his baldness only accentuated his angular features and drew attention to the brightness of his eyes–somehow, they seemed to glisten in the shade.

She then saw the man smile softly, lip quirking at the corner at her quietness. The small shift of his expression prompted her to blink, suddenly realizing she must’ve been staring. Supposedly it couldn’t be helped, granted that, at first glance, his appearance as a whole was quite striking, at least to her.

“I'm–I’m sorry, ha,” a quick apology ushered forth, cheeks a tad warm, her hands going back to fixing the formation of the apples into their proper place. “I was bit distracted by these little guys and then you, uh–“ words trail as her gaze slowly lifted to his face.

A shoulder was cocked in a smooth manner, his lips curling up a tad higher. “It’s not a problem. I tend to get that reaction every once in a while–no big deal.” He reassured, a sense of calm permeating his voice like untroubled waters, lulling her worries as she returned a nervous smile. Rather than taking offense of her initial staring, he seemed more amused than anything else. Casually, he removed a hand from his pocket to pick up an apple that had strayed from the rest, laying his eyes on the fruit to inspect it for a moment, before responding. “It’s almost flattering more than anything.” He met her gaze once more and placed the apple on top of the pile, completing the decorative display. His hand slid back into its pocket.

“Oh, um, thank you.” She muttered as she looked down, rubbing at her pant legs as an excuse to escape his stare. The man possessed an air of coolness in the way he stood before her. Calm and laidback. But she could see traces of amusement that pranced across his expression as he looked at her with an interest she couldn’t decipher. The stranger’s presence stirred up shyness within her.

“But um,” her tone uttered soft as she tries to find her voice, remembering she had a job to do, “yes, we’ve got a lot here to choose from. Would you like a sample of anything? Maybe you have a favorite fruit you’d like to try?”

His eyebrows jumped at her offer, a glint in his eye. The stranger barely spared a glance at the fruit in front of him. “Hmm, I’m willing to give anything a fair chance. It wouldn’t do me well to keep my options closed to new experiences in taste. What would you propose I try?”

“Well…” Full lips press together in a second of thought, then she turned to reach for a sampler container and opened the lid. Deciding to play it safe, she offered up a slice of apple on a pick, clenched firmly between her index and thumb. “I’m sure you’ve had apples before, but these ones taste pretty good, at least in my humble opinion.”

He smirks. “Thank you, I’d say your opinion is worth a shot.” When he goes to grab the sample, his fingers brush over her smaller ones, his palm almost enveloping her whole hand as he carefully attempts to slide the pick from her grasp. She couldn’t tell if he did it on purpose or not. But as he drew back, a wave of tingles warmly erupted upon the skin where he made contact. Withdrawing her hand, she massaged it with her other to soothe away the odd feeling.

Whatever feeling his touch inspired.

The sample was gone in one bite as he chewed, and his eyes widened for a split second. Niah felt a sense of pride swelling up in her, as she’s seen the same response all day from people who sampled their produce. “That taste pretty amazing. Exceptional, actually.” The man sounded impressed, as if he hadn’t expected it to actually taste good. “I assume it must be your favorite, then?”

Her smile grew a little wider. Shy. “Oh um…I don’t know, it’s kinda difficult to choose.” Thoughtfully does her head tilt to the side, tip of her finger gently pressed against her cheek. “But I, uh, I kinda maybe lean towards the strawberries and blueberries a bit. Well, I really love watermelon, but they aren’t in season at the moment. They are usually sold in the summer season.”

He acknowledges her words with a small hum of his throat, considering his options of plentiful fruit at his disposal. “Mind if I sample a strawberry?” he asked with a slight drawl. “If it’s not too much trouble, I mean.”

“Oh, of course.” She chirps as she grabbed another sampler. This time she makes sure to let him choose his own pickings.

Big brown eyes watches expectantly as he popped it in his mouth, chewing slowly to savor the sweet flavor. He cleared his throat, swallowed, and licked his lips before shooting her a small, flirtatious smirk, simply said. “It tastes sweet. Like you.”

The compliment was so sudden. She had no clue on how to respond. Her lips parted as warmth flooded her body, her mind immediately scattering in an effort to formulate words. Taken aback and absolutely dumbstruck. She must’ve looked like a fool in front of him. “Th-thank you. I, uh. Ha.” words stumbled forth as she forced a laugh. Bashful. Nerves wrecked. “I grew them myself.”

The man seemed to smile to himself, as if pleased by her reaction. “Ah, well, that makes all the more sense--seems to me you’ve incorporated some your attributes into your produce. Y’know, the quality of the creation is usually contingent upon the cultivation of its nurturer. The labor and love are clearly there. Think I’ll take two containers of strawberries and five apples. I think you’ve quite outdone yourself, miss?”

A hand lifts to touch delicate upon her face. Her cheeks now burned beneath her palm, still warm. “Niah. Just Niah.” She breathed, were the only words she could muster, and her fingers brushes away a dreadlock strand from her face. To receive such commendation had always been overwhelming to bear, especially since this was her first time selling at the market, nor had she expected to gain a positive response from many people in just one day. She immediately began gathering up his order.

“Lex Luthor. Just Lex, though.” He teases lightly, mimicking her choice of words, something almost playful in his sharp eyes. “Who cares about surnames in this small town anyway.”

Her brows softly furrow at that, as the mention of his name causes her to pause and stare at him. Any small trace of bashfulness that once inhabited her demeanor suddenly vanishes once realization sets in of the man standing before her. The accident. Luthor, as in…

“Wait are you…” she starts slowly, “you’re the guy who crashed on Loeb bridge the other day.”

Lex raises his eyebrows, muscles in his shoulders growing tense, as if caught at being found out in an act of wrongdoing. But no implication of accusation could be detected in her words, nor in her voice. Only simple curiosity, her interest piqued. And she sees his tongue wet his lips again before they press together in a fine line, followed by a long exhale that releases through his nose, as if he’s been holding it in all this time.

“You’re close.” Languidly he remarks, and cast his gaze off to the side, seeming to recall the events that took place that day. He looks relaxed, but she can see strain in his neck, the shifting of his jaw. “But I’d say it was more like hurling down into the river, adrenaline high, blood pumping hot, ready to face imminent death, more like.” Self-deprecating the way he smiles and returns his regard back upon her. “Interestingly enough, a bystander–a kid nonetheless, jumped in and saved my life. Ironic sometimes how fate tends to play out differently for all of us.”

She regards him with eyes that had softened considerably, sympathetic in their weight as he holds her stare. “Yea…the kid. Clark, he’s actually a friend of mine.” At his look of surprise, she carries on. “He’s a good kid. I’m glad he was there at the time to be of help. It’s scary to think what would’ve happened if he wasn’t there.”

A dash of redness dappled at his cheeks, the image seeming uncharacteristic of his person by how stiff his movements appeared as he shifted his weight. He quickly cleared his throat. “Forgive me. I didn’t intend to cause so much trouble. It wasn’t exactly part of my schedule to go driving off a bridge that day.” Oh, she realized he must be embarrassed, even remorseful of his actions.

“I know. I know.” She nodded and offered a small smile; one she hoped would be reassuring enough. “Don’t worry. I’m just glad no one got killed. You’re alive… I think that’s what matters more than anything. Anyone would feel the same way.”

His face straightens at that, and for a few seconds, Lex says nothing. And he analyzes her with a quiet, attentive eye, his countenance slipping on an expression that resembles skepticism, as if the concept of anyone imparting some essence of compassion towards him was unheard of. Unthinkable–a stranger whom he just met more or less who speaks gentle of him in earnest, is what she imagines. It wouldn’t have been such a profound of an observation if his silence hadn’t stretched on the way it did as she waited for a response.

“I gotta say,” he finally remarks, curiosity hinted in his tone with a arch of a brow, “you definitely took this in good stride in comparison to most people I’ve come across with in town.”

“Really? What are some things people said to you?”

He shrugged. “Drive slower. And that one was the nicest among them all. The others weren’t soo, I’d say, amicable in nature–is the way I’d lightly put it.”

“Well, I know there’s truth in that.” She agreed, and went about collecting up the produce he ordered. “I wouldn’t want you to get tangled up in another accident and lose your life…or endanger someone else’s.”

“Of course. It would’ve been most unfortunate had I lost my life before coming to my first Smallville Farmers Market. I might’ve missed the chance to pass your booth and sample your amazing apples and strawberries. Suppose you can call me fortunate this day.”

His words elicit a small, dainty laugh to breeze pass her lips–tickled by his charm as the anxiety from earlier melts away. “Oh, I’m sorry. This wasn’t all me. My grandparents own the booth and grew most of the crops here. Some, I’ve helped while others I did on my own. But–y’know, everything is a team effort to get the best results that everyone can enjoy. Hopefully.”

Unbeknownst to her while she rambles, Lex takes his time as he looks her up and down, studying her while she packs two containers in a paper bag. He slightly turns his upper body sideways, a quiet hum leaving his throat as he brings a soft, closed fist on top of the table, lightly taps the surface of it with his finger. “Hmm, she’s not only a sweetheart, but she so happens to have a stroke of modesty. Virtues aren’t always easy to come by where I hail from.” This time, something implicit in his tone hints at a seductive quality lurking beneath the surface, and the notion was emphasized when she caught his eye and held her gaze for a solid moment. Almost transfixed the way she couldn’t look away.

“Had I known they had women like you in a quaint town such as this, I’d probably visit much sooner...”

Deliberate intent that bespeaks of an interest inclining far from the innocence of platonic endeavors.

And her heart starts to beat rapidly. She gulps.

Wait.

It was at this point it dawned on her that he must’ve been flirting with her. Lex Luthor. Throughout their entire conversation. All this time. How did this observation fly over her head? From the intense eye contact. The accidental hand hold–although she couldn’t blame him based on the conditions of the incident–the compliments. Praise. And other little tidbits he threw about in the wind.

But Niah, she should embrace honesty of her conscious, she’d profess it all came down to denial. She had her share of experience to recognize interest and subtle desire that reflected in a man’s gaze. Infatuation: A temporary fascination with the object of the eye. It’s better to not acknowledge it. Any interest he exhibits is merely ephemeral. Fleeting.

Memories filter through her mind then. And there’s a sudden ache in her heart.

The air feels dry when she swallows, again, and a shift occurs in her demeanor when she speaks, the warmth that once inhabited her voice now flows tepidly off her tongue. Quickly, she averts her eyes from his. “Yes, well… I think modesty is a common virtue among honest farmers and the like, y’know? At least the ones I know anyway.” His flirtatious remark goes unacknowledged as she then proceeds to state the cost of the produce.

Lex gives a slight turn of his head, eyelids a tad low, a calculating stare, as he detects something different in the air around between them. And she only hopes he’ll take the hint. But to her surprise, when Niah chances another look at him, the smooth smirk he wore had slithered higher on his face, an expression similar to a snake, as if finding more amusement at her lack of interest, entertained by the difference in their dynamic.

A challenge.

Maybe.

“Ah, I can see that.” Reaching for his wallet in his inner coat pocket, he flips through a couple of bills, the texture fresh and expensive. “Maybe by chance I’ll get the opportunity of coming across more like-minded folks around here. Being in the company of honest-hearted people may do me some good since it seems my circumstances have led me to take up residency in Smallville.” He drops the game, a temporary break–allows it to rest in his resignation.

Lex apparently knew when to take a hint. And she finds herself grateful.

“Oh . . . where you from then?” Curiosity tugged at her for some unknown reason.

“Metropolis.”

“Funny. I actually thought that when I first saw you. The only thing really missing is a bowtie, though.”

His hand lifts to touch his neck where the particle of clothing was meant to be. “Oh, right, I left it at home in the basket along with the rest my dirty laundry.” He joked, offering a lopsided smile, far too charismatic than he needs to be. And again, somehow beyond her control, the sight prompts a demure smile of her own, though she tries to fight against it by looking away. Gosh, she was bad at this.

It was unfair.

Lex smoothly hands her a bill between two fingers – twenty-dollar sharp. He tells her to keep the change before she could protest. Then she remembers he’s a billionaire, of course, and she gives him the paper bag with his order. Another fruitful sale.

He moves slow as he takes a single step back from the booth, his cerulean gaze lingering upon her face for a moment longer. “Well. Niah, it was a pleasure talking to you. ‘Suppose–I’ll see you again sometime.” The way he framed his words doesn’t end with the mark of a question; it sounded like a promise.

A dash of hope that dangles between them.

But her eyes fall low with a gentle shrug of her shoulders, and she turn her attention back towards the apples, hands delicately rearranging them back into presentable order. She’s been messing with them all day, but she relied on the distraction of her hands to ease her nerves. “Who knows? Only time will tell if our paths will cross again.”

Lex Luthor is a playboy billionaire. What should she expect. And she clings onto the belief that the possibility was highly unlikely. “Thanks for stopping by, Mr. Luthor. Have a nice day, okay?” It made things easier.

He offers a quick nod, flashes her one last smile before sauntering off down the lane of other vendors, her gaze following his form until he disappeared within the crowd.

As soon as he left, her lungs released a breath of relief, and her limbs go slack, her hands bracing on the table’s surface as she leans against it. That interaction drained more of her energy than she formerly realized.

46 notes · View notes