#kal fic

[mel-kusanagi]

they just met btw

[imheretoreadafic]

Hear me out: Batfam Au, where Bruce is a bird hybrid. Almost nothing changes. Bruce is still the usual angsty, mentally unstable, justice loving guy. The bird features add next to nothing, so he still very heavily relies on his intellect and has that charm of being one of the only humans in the Justice League.

BUT

He now has the instinct to pull his kids under his wings. He tries to hold it back. But sometimes, he just can't help himself and attempts to pull his very dangerous children ranging from ages 10 to 27 under his wings despite only half of them fitting under there comfortably.

This results in Dick awkwardly bending over or going on his knees so his bird father can properly brood him and calm his anxiety after someone almost dies.

This results in Jason having to be extra brutal for a few weeks so that everyone forgets about Batman pulling the injured crime lord onto his lap and wrapping his wings around him while they waited for the others to come help with his stab wound. (And so they forget about Jason playing with his wings to calm himself)

This results in Tim, after spending multiple days awake, being suddenly picked up and surrounded by black feathers.

This results in Bruce’s wings faintly glowing because Duke is hiding in them to take a nap.

This results in Damian stabbing his wing the first time he did this because it scared him and Bruce barely noticing because he was too busy making soft chirps to the boy.

This results in Cass designating his wings as her safe space when things get too bright or too loud.

This results in Bruce having to figure out how to contort his body enough to semi wrap his wings around Barbara in her wheelchair.

This results in Steph putting bows and hair clips in his feathers.

This also, at one point, results in Clark being very confused as his friend wraps his wings around him after a krypotonite incident almost killing him.

[ky-landfill]

[secretidentie]

Superman and batman have been dating for years. Bruce knows Clark's identity(obv) but since Clark said he likes how down to earth he is, Bruce decides he can't just say he's a billionaire playboy and holds off on revealing his.

At some point Bruce (after immense brooding) decides to just tell Clark but at the last minute backs out and makes himself out to be a normal middle class guy who just works at WE.

Sure he kinda looks like Bruce Wayne but Clark just assumes "celebrity look alike ig" and he's never seen Wayne up close anyway so he doesn't even really consider it. Since Bruce already knows everything about him, Clark decides to take a week off work to visit Bruce's family and get to know them better.

Obviously this sets Bruce into panic mode. He somehow convinces Alfred and the kids to go along with operation-perfect-family and crams them into a middle class home and forbids visits to the manor unless it's an emergency. So Bruce has to keep up this everyman relatable ficade while making sure none of his kids snitch, Clark is trying to get to know his boyfriend better while trying to leave a good impression on his family and the whole batfam learns what it's like to have to share as a family by living in close proximity to each other and they learn more about the lives of the average githamites they protect.

[ladybirdswritings]

INVISIBLE STRING, AU — clark kent x reader.

DESCRIPTION: you lock eyes with a charming stranger at a party you’d rather not be at. NOTES - leave me all your thoughts and opinions. i love them <33 | next part

one…

What am I doing here? The words echoed in your head like a pulsing poison, eating away at your brain like ants to honeycomb.

Your brother was off sitting in a circle, fawning over cars, football, and all else that fueled testosterone and silly male enjoyment.

And then there was you, hugging the corner like an old lover, its shadows mirroring your open embrace.

“We should go over there,” declared Kate, a ringlet of her curl dancing with the springtime breeze. “You know, to see what the boys are talking about.”

No. No no no no no no—

“Yeah, we should!” Oh, if people wouldn’t see it as odd for you to slam a hand against your cheek…

There was a glaze over your pretty, fretting eyes and restless mind, a honeyed glaze slick with doubt and dissociation. You’d pushed yourself enough by coming here, and now you were being led like lamb to cleaver—ready to face your slaughter at the hands of—oh.

So busy was your mind that you might have kept your head bowed if not for subconscious pleasure.

His boots were shiny, and his denim tailored—and it’s all you paid attention to before your gaze shifted upward to find two remarkable blue-gray eyes peering in curiosity.

“Clark!” he blurted, offering a strong hand, and if you had half a mind, you would have realized it wasn’t politeness but interest.

You, always so caught up in doubts and hyperfocusing on imperfections. So caught up that you never quite saw what mirrored in men’s eyes when they gazed hungry at you: intimidation. You were strong, intelligent—and God—so pretty. Yet you could only breathe in your lack.

So no, when the handsome flannel boy with glasses far too big for his chiseled face and unruly raven hair—when his southern-kissed greeting met your ears, you had no idea it was a game.

A game between the men.

First to catch her interest would be first to have her.

But Clark was different. He wasn’t interested in feeding off the competition, he wanted to beat them to it. To offer you what they could not. But you knew none of this. You only knew that he greeted women as if a fire was forcing his hand.

“Y/N,” you warmed with a smile, shaking his hand in turn. He pulled back, gazing at his palm for a moment before a pinch settled between his brows.

“This is my sister, everyone. And this is my girlfriend, Kate.” Your brother strung Kate to him like a fly to spiderweb. She became smiley again, saying, “We got bored and decided to eavesdrop.”

“Be our guest,” Clark offered, the southern tang to his voice so soft you had to drown out the world to catch it. His eyes were on you, but your head was too bowed to realize.

Your gaze flickered to Kate sitting atop your brother’s lap. You shifted on your feet.

Vance, your brother’s friend, whom you had an insufferable crush on, stood in unison with Clark.

Their gazes locked in a silent contest you were too innocent to realize before Vance, frustrated, laughed breathily and sat back down.

“Oh no, it’s fine—” you began, but Clark shook his head, stepped aside, and motioned to the armchair. His gaze was so severe you had no choice but to comply.

You shuffled over awkwardly, finding your seat—only Clark stood beside you. He smelled of honeyed whiskey, chai, old books, and firewood. You stared at his veined hand on the arm of your seat, your mind wandering for a moment… What might that hand feel like against your skin?

“Surprised you guys aren’t over there yapping about books,” Vance began, his coal-colored eyes blanketing your face like a sinful dare.

It would never work. He was the moon, and you were the sun, warm and bright opposed to cold encased by darkness. But for months, his subtle flirtations evoked a lonesome part of your heart. Perhaps it was the lesser part of you, used to unhealthy men, that made you bend toward his attention like a starved flower. Regardless, you did, and it never made you feel less awful after parting.

When your gaze broke from his, you giggled shyly in unison with Kate, but that strong voice sliced through, commanding your attention again.

“You like to read?” he asked.

You flicked upward to Kate, only to find her chocolate stare upon you.

Oh… he was asking you.

“Um—” you began, nervous to have attention on your voice. “Well, yeah, sort of.”

“Sort of?” he tested with the lazy beginnings of a smile. You realized then how silly you sounded.

“Do you read?” you asked Clark, allowing your curiosity to bring your eyes back to him. As if he were a marionette, and you his new puppet, being pulled by an invisible string so he might study your pretty eyes. Were they always so warm and doe-like? Or had the wine made them more gentle? He wondered as you turned the question onto him.

“I do,” he replied, but when you grew shy and quiet again, he winced at himself. His icy gaze stuttered toward Vance, and he knew then that he’d have to open his mouth if he wanted your attention. He’d just have to work a little harder, and that was okay.

Usually, pretty girls like you would flock to him with no effort needed. Something about him looking like a Pinterest boyfriend, and all he had to do was sit and attract. But you… something about you told him you weren’t like the rest.

“I uh— I do.” He continued, breaking the stretched silence. “Sally Rooney—” he began, but you cut him off immediately.

“You read romance?” Your eyes widened, and your body turned toward him, and for a moment, you were completely lost in his words.

He didn’t pause or flicker with annoyance at your enthusiasm but instead gave you a lopsided grin.

“I do,” he confirmed. Though not a lie, he found himself a fisherman who’d hooked you with the most irresistible bait. Pretty, mysterious, shy girl you were—now he’d get you to talk. “Do you?”

Kate cut in, “We read about fairies and dragon riders.” You flushed a pretty pink with an embarrassed laugh. He peered down at you, giving Kate only a ghostly laugh of acknowledgment.

“You like fantasy, then?” he said so low it was as if the conversation was reserved for only the two of you.

As if fate were aiding his hand, the others fell into comfortable conversation. Not you, though. You were pinned under his grayed gaze.

“I read anything with a good love story,” you answered, so honestly, it surprised you.

“I like that,” he said simply, as if he were talking to himself. When he realized it, a pinch snaked between his brows, and you couldn’t help but softly laugh. He mirrored you. “What?”

“You’re likely the only man alive who does, if you’re telling the truth.”

“Well I—” he began, but your brother cut in.

“Ready to head out, Y/N?” You noticed just how entranced you’d been in this handsome stranger, not for his pretty face or interests, but for his words. The rest never mattered—not for you anyway. You often found it hard to capture any man’s attention, let alone the handsome ones. Even so, a lick of disappointment thrummed in your heart.

You dared to wonder what might happen if you offered your social media so he could contact you again. But the idea sped your heart and widened your eyes, so you stood with a nod.

Vance offered you a warm hug, and you merely waved at the others before turning to Clark—well, Clark’s chest. He towered over you, his honeyed whiskey scent licking your senses as he pulled you into a warm embrace. Gentle, curious, as if testing the feel of your body against his. Stranger to stranger—but he was so warm, so confusingly familiar.

“It was nice to meet you, Y/N,” he spoke first, pulling away. Swayed by his warmth, you could only nod.

Now was your chance. Your once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to ask for a way to keep in contact with this mysterious stranger. But you cowered when you glanced up at his pretty face.

Fate wasn’t kind, and in your mind, you decided there was a model waiting for his warmth at home—and you were only allowed to entangle with him for a moment, never again.

“You too, Clark…”

Then you were off, never to see the mysterious stranger ever again.

[blackynsupremacy]

CLARK KENT HELPING

YOU TAKE OUT YOUR

BRAIDS HEADCANONS

pairing: henry cavill!clark x blackfem!reader

fandom: DC

this was brewing in my head while actually taking out my braids today. plus, i wanted to give my baby henry a shot at this.

summary: it’s that time again! time to take down those 1-2 month old braids to prepare for your next fresh set. the only problem is, it’s raining, you’re tired, and you know it’s gonna take forever. yeah even getting your hair taken down, washed, detangled, and dried can be a hassle. fortunately, your fiancé, clark kent, is always happy to help with the process.

contains: lots of words, some things are based on true events, self insert, fluff, romance, established relationship, you and clark are simps, you and clark being fine, nudity but no smut, clark being a green flag, cuddling, kissing.

taglist: @rosiestalez @afrowrites @afrogirl3005 @simply-the-best23 @jkr820 @zombiehe4rt @elitesanjisimp @sabrinasopposite @gxuxhdjdu @tryingtograspctrl @ellethespaceunicorn

(i know i didn’t ask if ya’ll wanted to be tagged, but y’all are mutuals that consistently interact with my posts, so this is how i’m showing my appreciation! thank you! let me know if any of yall want to be tagged in my next blurb. again thank yall and i love my mutes)

• work was work today.

• it’s raining like hell.

• but good news, you’re getting your hair done this weekend! ain’t nothing like a fresh set of braids.

• the bad news, you gotta take out the old braids, wash/condition/detangle, and blow dry your hair all before your appointment. (yk how these new hair stylists be)

• girl, you’re dead tired, but you know you need to start asap!

• good news again though! your man clark kent is already home and you know he’s always down to help with your hair.

• ya’ll have been dating for 4 years before he popped the question a month ago on your anniversary.

• one thing about clark kent, he’s gonna hype up your hair no matter what style.

• he believes you’re stunning whether you have braids, twists, a lace front, locs, a slick back ponytail, a silk press or, your natural. he loves it!!

• he loves to watch you style it on your own or if you’re following along to a youtube tutorial.

• you’ve taught him a thing or two like taking down braids, detangling, applying edge control, and even helping you to wash and condition it!

• he catches on pretty fast and follows your instructions to a tee.

• his love language is acts of service and when it comes to your hair, he wants to make sure he does it properly.

• he told you he wants to continue learning because he can see himself helping out with your future daughter’s hair, so why not start with his future wife?

• this man is going to be the death of you.

• you see clark sitting on the couch with his laptop. as soon as he hears the door shut followed by your sigh of exhaustion, he’s already putting that to the side and zooming in your direction to take your bag, umbrella, and jacket off your hands.

• this man is teeth rotting sweet. how’d you get so blessed?

• he greets you with a warm embrace and plants a kiss atop of your head. he peeps that new growth, but he won’t mention it until you do.

• you both take a seat on the couch and have a brief conversation about each other’s day. you sigh again and run a hand through your hair one last time.

• “it’s about that time, clark. i’m getting my hair done soon and i need to start taking my braids down, but i’m so tired!”

• you whine and lean your head on his broad shoulder before you peer your “please help me” doe eyes into his blue ones that were hiding behind his glasses. he doesn’t hesitate to keep that eye contact either. it’s so intense yet intimate. you almost look away because even after 4 years, clark can still get you a bit flustered from time to time.

• “baby, would you like to help me out again? i promise you’re not gonna have to do all the work. i just need some assistance to get this done faster.”

• you playfully pout and bat your lashes. you already know the answer, but this brought you joy. you knew he was waiting for an opportunity to help with your hair again.

• he shows off those pearly whites before he enthusiastically responds, “i’d never thought you’d ask. you go change into something more comfortable, i’ll handle the rest, and we can get started.”

• he lays a chaste kiss to your lips and pats your behind to signal for you to handle your business and you don’t hesitate to do so.

• by “handling the rest”, clark gathers the necessities: 2 pairs of scissors, a detangling comb, 4 hair ties for sectioning, a plastic bag from that one drawer in the kitchen, your satin bonnet, and an order of chinese takeout placed on doordash.

• clark was waiting on the couch and he gleamed when he saw you come back clad in a white tank, no bra, grey cotton shorts, and one of his oversized, plaid flannels.

• as soon as you found yourself comfortable on the couch, clark handed you a pair of scissors and ya’ll got to work at cutting the braids shorter before you both section off your hair into 4 parts and start unbraiding from the front.

• you started on the right side, while clark took over for the left.

• you obviously know of clark’s abilities, his extraterrestrial heritage, and his intense duties as superman. he makes sure his powers can be of help in the most important areas of his life, one of them being your relationship.

• he’s had some practice with unbraiding and his fingers moves like clockwork. he moves at a delicate, quick pace and uses his keen eye to make sure your hair doesn’t get tangled or pulled, so there’s no unnecessary breakage. braid by braid, each one is removed out of your head and into the empty, plastic grocery bag that’s placed between you two.

• he’s seen you sometimes get it tangled and you would be quick to just cut it off, but with his aid, you’ve been doing that less frequently.

• after about 30 minutes, clark can already hear the doorbell ring and footsteps walking away. the food’s here.

• he opted for contactless delivery this time because he knew he just had one more braid….and done!

• he urges you to give your hands a break from unbraiding your side and to wash them because your dinner has arrived. he chuckled as you perked up hearing that because you were hon-grey!!

• he also takes it upon himself to gently place your satin, royal blue bonnet on your head.

• it’s his absolute favorite because it’s patterned with his iconic red and gold family crest!

• you have a friend who owns a small business of designing bonnets, durags, and head scarves with the cutest patterns imaginable for black nerds like you.

• they got some with superheroes, anime characters, hogwart house symbols, disney, you name it!!

• 2 years ago, you asked them to commission a bonnet to match his heroic attire.

• this was to show him that you’re proud of his kryptonian roots and that you 100% support him being one of the world’s most selfless heroes along with the other members of the justice league.

• you sometimes worry for his life, but he always tries his best to make it back to you in one piece.

• but girl, that bonnet had him geeking when you showed it to him!! his face heated with a bright hue of pink before he plants a billion kisses all over your face. his voice never ceasing his appreciation and eternal love for you.

• you both chill for a few minutes to eat and watch some tv.

• you stretch your hands, placed your bonnet on the coffee table and resumed to unbraiding the last strand on the front before sectioning it off with a hair tie and starting on the back of the right side. it seems that time moves slower (or faster) as your fingers meticulously unravel each braided strand.

• clark is half way done with his entire side. his brows raise at the sound of your soft groan of what seemed to be pain and exhaustion.

• “babe, my fingers are starting to cramp and so are my arms.” you gripe and pause your movements to massage out the stiffness in your fingers.

• clark also pauses what he’s doing. he delicately grasps your hands into his, sprinkling tiny pecks on each aching knuckle. his pink lips lingers on the rock that adorns the fourth knuckle of your left hand before those baby blues gaze into your own eyes.

• you could clearly see your worn reflection in his pupils, but you lovingly smile as you know what he’s about to say.

• “c’mere, beautiful. let me take care of the rest while you sit and relax. it’s just a few more and it’s nothing i can’t handle, so it’ll be my pleasure.”

• that’s true. clark’s an invincible kryptonian. unless your hair was laced with some green k, a cramp within the joints of his digits wouldn’t be possible. if you ask, he would one day take out your braids all by himself without you having to lift a finger and he’d be in pure bliss of taking that burden off your plate.

• he spreads his thighs apart. the large palms of his hands encircle around your waist to shift your body in between his legs before his fingers get back to tenderly remove the last remaining braids.

• as he does so, you simply enjoy each other’s presence. ya’ll would be cracking jokes, planning suggestions for the wedding, your jobs, and a myriad of other topics to kill time.

• about 30 more minutes pass by and your braids are finally out! he leans back feeling accomplished and marvels at how much your hair has grown over the month.

• “may i?” he politely asks. his expectant eyes glancing into yours for approval.

• “of course, kal.” you grin. it’s like seeing a child light up in a candy store, he’s so elated.

• you feel more at ease and lean into his touch as his fingers lovingly caress through your natural hair and scalp.

• you know that he just wants to feel your hair in it’s natural state. it’s not out of a fetish, but out of pure fascination, so you let him!

• you love that even though you’ve been together for 4 years and he’s helped you with your hair on multiple occasions, the curious kryptonian wonders why he always has to ask you before touching your hair.

• as a journalist, he’s gonna conduct his own research.

• he educates himself and he understands the history of that one boundary in your community, so he always asks you before touching your hair or he waits for you to offer.

• he’s not even human and he understands the basic human decency of not to reach out and touch someone’s hair out of nowhere.

• you sigh in relief and thank clark with a kiss before you go to dispose the plastic bag of worn out braids to the kitchen and into the large garbage can. you turn around and lean up against the sink.

• now it’s time to wash, condition, detangle, and dry.

• clark already knows the next step. he stands from his position on the couch and stretches his back muscles. he moderately saunters to the arched threshold that separates the kitchen and living room. his tall stature works in his favor as he casually raises his arms with his hands gripping the arch that’s a few inches above his head.

• you know exactly what pose i’m trying to poorly describe to the best of my ability. it happens to be one of those non-sexual turn ons that men do without them realizing.

• you go into a bit of a hypnotic state as you stare at his bulging biceps. you also take notice of how his white t-shirt raises up to expose a small section of his sculpted abdomen. the raven tresses on his skin that perfectly matches the messy curls on his head form a trail straight down to his—

• the trance is broken by the baritone voice of your fiancé.

• “my eyes are up here, angel. were you even listening to me?” he flirtatiously quips and tilts his head with a playful smirk curving on his lips, lowering his arms to cross them over his chest.

• like some suave lady killer, he approaches you and places his index under your chin to shift your gaze to his.

• girl, not you getting caught in 4K! you know that man is fine, but you got to finish off your hair. there’s no time to waste when it comes to that, so you must stay focused.

• you can’t help, but feel the heat of embarrassment rush on your melanated cheeks and giggle nervously before you confess.

• “i’m sorry, clark! after all of these years, you still get me sprung. now, what were you saying, boo? ”

• “it’s no worries, (n/n). don’t doubt that you’ve got the same effect on me too.” he blushes himself, beaming at the compliment and pecks your forehead, nose, and lips before he resumes his question.

• “would you like to wash in the sink or shower?”

• he bursts into a joyous laugh as you don’t hesitate to choose the shower.

• of course he was hoping you’d say that, but you shut down the idea because you just want to kill two birds with one stone, wrap this up, and cuddle in bed.

• he understands where you’re coming from and it’s no pressure at all. you both love when you two get down in the bedroom, but you share a common belief that spending quality time is the key to true intimacy.

• he takes your hand and leads you both to your shared bathroom.

• he puts his glasses on the sink, switches on the shower and checks for the perfect temperature that��s not too hot for your scalp, but not too cool for your body.

• you go to obtain large drying towels, african net wash cloths, and disposable shower caps. you then seek out the shampoo, conditioner, and detangling cream to nourish and clean your hair.

• you return to the bathroom with the items and clark gets your second opinion on the water temperature. you get a feel and let him know that it’s just right before you both strip of your clothes until you’re both completely naked. you make sure your engagement ring is placed in the velvet box it came in and set it on your drawer before you both step under the running water.

• clark reaches up to detach the shower head. before making a move, he asks if you need any further assistance in this step and you gladly accept, closing your eyes as he handles the shower head to pre-rinse both of your heads for a well deserved cleaning.

• as he puts the shower head back where it belongs, you let him know that you want to do the shampooing for both you and him.

• yep, clark uses your products on his hair!

• one time after your fifth date, he hugged you and his sensitive nose stealthily picked up on the natural, sweet, and intoxicating scent of the hair lotion that seeped into your scalp. he thought at first it was your perfume, which he loves too, but he was mistaken!

• “my god, you smell amazing.”

• clark takes you out to dinner and feeds your ego! okay, kal-el!

• he couldn’t get enough of it!

• this aroma— it was like something fresh and made from natural ingredients without any harsh chemicals.

• it reminds him of the homegrown warmth and love that his parents, jonathan and martha raised him up in back in smallville.

• if it wasn’t so soon (or the fact that he hasn’t told you his secret then), he would literally fly you out there in 10 minutes.

• when you moved in together, he would sometimes sneak a bit of your shampoo and conditioner in his hair routine once or twice a week until you finally caught up to him!

• you scolded clark a bit for using your products without permission because you would’ve let him use a little if he’d ask and plus, that stuff was expensive!

• he looked genuinely remorseful and apologized. “i’m sorry, (f/n). it was wrong of me to sneak like that, but i just wanted to use it because it’s like i’m taking a part of you with me everywhere i go. that way even though we’re apart, i don’t feel so alone in this universe anymore.”

• that almost had you crying and throwing up. he’s as big a simp for you as you are for him, so you couldn’t stay mad at him!

• you had an agreement to share or double up as long as you both are putting in for it.

• it was definitely no problem for clark because besides it’s sentimental value, it does wonders for his hair! it looks healthier, shinier and it feels softer compared to those 2-in-1 shampoo/conditioner concoctions that he’s been using since high school.

• he loves your weekly beauty supply store excursions. he doesn’t care if the 6 items in your cart is $35, he’s paying for it all!

• clark’s aqua pupils observes from behind as you pour a generous amount of shampoo into your palm, rubbing the other against it, and massaging the bubbly, white substance through your scalp. your fingers work to make sure every single hair on your head is lathered in the coconut scented liquid and he notices that you’re careful not to tangle it.

• his own trance is broken by a “your turn! now lean down a bit, my love.” you’re now waiting for him to follow through, leaning his head down and forward to make his now drenched, dark hair right in your view and in your reach.

• he exhales at the contact of the cold shampoo descending on his scalp. as your fingers massage through his hair, his eyes close and a smile of ecstasy plays on his lips.

• your touch, the scent of the product, and the fact that if he opened his eyes again at this very moment, your breasts would be right in his face is clark’s idea of his personal heaven.

• you both take turns to rinse your own hair and each others to double check that all of the suds of the shampoo are gone.

• you repeat the process again, but this time it’s with conditioner. once that’s applied, you both put on the shower caps to let it rest and do its thing.

• you both use that time to talk some more and thoroughly clean your bodies of the filth of the work day using the african net wash clothes and aromatherapy body wash.

• after one last rinse of ya’lls hair, you cut the water off and grab the towels set out to wrap around your soaked bodies and dripping hair before walking to your shared bedroom.

• fortunately, you and clark have your own respective hair dryers, so that step doesn’t take too long before you take on the final boss: detangling.

• still clad in your towels, you and clark apply the detangling cream through your scalps. as he uses his comb to effortlessly rake through his noir mop, you just kind of stand and stare at the detangling brush in your hand.

• if you’re tender headed, you’ve probably lived the nightmare over and over with your heavy handed mother tugging the comb through the knotted ends, jolting your head and neck forward as you whined in pain. of course she got mad at you for that and said that it didn’t even hurt.

• you’re grown now! with your own bills, home, car, job, and man. there’s way more stressful things in the world than getting some knots out.

• you start the teeth of the comb from the root of your hair and hear the wet stickiness of the detangling cream as it glides to the end.

• okay, we’re getting somewhere! no pain or the pulling of knots for the next few strands near the front. now let’s start on the back. comb one, comb two, comb three—

• “ow, ugh!” you yelp. cringing as you hit a knot at the end.

“ woah! sweetheart, are you alright?”

• clark immediately halts his actions and puts his comb down. he takes one step behind you to examine the situation.

“please, lord, don’t tell me it’s tangled that bad.”

• you attempt to comb without breaking your hair out and the more you try, the more painful it gets. your arms and hands started to stiffen again.

• you lowkey wanted to cry because you just want this to be done and sleep peacefully in clark’s arms for the rest of the night.

• you immediately ask clark for help and he once again, comes to the rescue. he was gentle and comforting, but straightforward when it came to getting those knots.

• he talks you through it to make this a little easier.

• “i’m so sorry, honey. this is gonna hurt a bit, but we’re gonna knock these out and go straight to bed in no time, okay? i love you.” he kisses your temple before he proceeds with the task.

• several minutes of detangling are over! clark gets a second shower of kisses all over his face as you thank him again.

• you discard your towels and replace them with your nightclothes. clark’s shirtless with his sweats and you’re comfortable in another one of clark’s shirts with a fresh pair of cotton shorts.

• you put your hair in an afro puff ponytail and as always, you let your fiancé do the honors of placing your superman patterned bonnet on over your hair like a king crowning his queen.

• he looks at you with such pride and joy. seeing you happy feels so good it hurts. it makes him feel as weak as when he’s around green k. maybe even more.

• clark wouldn’t feel too comfortable to wrap his hair up just yet, so you suggested he uses a satin pillowcase instead.

• speaking of pillows, you look at the clock and realize it’s gotten late. you and clark shut off the lights and retire your exhausted bodies into your bed.

• you lay in a fetal position and turn to face him. kryptonians don’t usually need that much sleep as humans do, so you weren’t surprised that he was still awake.

• you both gaze and admire each other in comfortable silence. your hand reaching to his jaw. your brown toned fingertips caress the pale yet angelic face of the man you love. he closes his eyelids and leans into your warm touch.

• like a magnet, you drew closer to his face until your, full yearning lips rested on his. it doesn’t take him a second to melt into it, his hands clinging to your waist to rest your figure on top of his. your palms find themselves to rest on each side of his jawline.

• between each kiss, the moonlight illuminates the wide smiles you exchange to each other.

• after you two get your fill of each other’s affection, you lay your head on clark’s chest with his arms still acting as a shield around your back. he pecks your temple and is pulled in by the music of your steady heartbeat. he looks down to see your eyes pointed toward his and your hands folded flat on his chest.

• “thank you, clark. thank you so much for your help, your patience, your kindness, your love, and your compassion. not to mention that you are so fine, you still get me giggling like a schoolgirl at my big age! whether you’re superman, clark kent, or kal-el, i just thank you for being you. i love you, clark kent and that’ll never change.” your lips curve with a beaming smile.

• “(f/n), you need to know that everything i do, i do it for you and i’d do it again. you’re the most beautiful person and i’m not just talking about your stunning beauty. your heart is golden. despite everything that we’ve been through, it’s always been you. you understand me, you give me grace and hold me accountable, you still believe in me when i don’t even believe in myself. that’s how i knew i had to ask you to marry me, so i love you more, (f/n) kent and that’ll never change.”

• “look at us! we’ve only been engaged for a month and it sounds like we’re exchanging vows already.”

• “that sounds like a great start to me.”

• you both laugh and he gives you one last lingering kiss on your lips. your heads drop and your eyelids close before you take your peaceful slumber in each other’s presence.

[girlkisser13]

being married to clark kent would include

• at first, he doesn’t want to reveal his identity to you, even though he feels he can trust you. however, he’s concerned that knowing who he really is might put you in danger.

• once you convince him that you’re willing to accept the risks and show him how much you care, the last of his walls come down. you’re stuck with him forever now, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

• your wedding ceremony was lovely. there was a special moment when he used his heat vision to create a heart-shaped firework display in the sky as a surprise for you.

• becoming one of the few people who sees him for who he wants to be, not just who the world needs him to be.

• clark is incredibly gentle with you, always careful with his strength. he holds you close, gives you soft kisses, and makes sure you always feel safe in his arms.

• life with clark is never boring. whether he's saving the world or just helping out around the house, there's always a sense of excitement and adventure in your relationship.

• when it’s a quiet summer afternoon he’ll take you flying just before sunset, he’ll go right above the clouds so you can see what he gets to see.

• he loves the simple things in life— like spending a quiet evening with you at home, enjoying a homemade meal, or taking walks around metropolis.

• clark’s abilities come in handy for everyday tasks. whether it’s lifting heavy furniture, flying you to a special date, or simply speeding through chores, he always makes life a little easier.

• he likes to be touching you when you’re near— whether it’s a hand on your waist, his pinky brushing against yours, or his knee pressed next to yours when you’re sitting together.

• his love languages are acts of service, words of affirmation, and physical touch. he loves doing things for the people close to him. this includes taking out your trash, watering your plants, making your bed, putting on a pot of coffee in the morning, and fixing any holes in your clothes.

• finding out that clark was superman was not that surprising, but you were taken back when you learned his dog was also an alien. not that it stopped you from spoiling him with toys and treats and anything else his k-9 heart desired.

• there’s always a part of you that worries about him when he’s out saving the world. but he’s always reassuring you that he’ll always come back to you.

• despite his busy life, clark always makes time for quiet moments with you. whether it's reading together, watching the stars, or just enjoying each other's company, he cherishes these moments when it’s just the two of you.

• clark loves surprising you with spontaneous date nights. sometimes he’ll whisk you away to a remote, beautiful location for a romantic evening, using his super speed to make it feel like you’re the only two people in the world.

• TRACING HIS FAMILY CREST ON HIS CHEST WHEN YOU’RE LAYING ON HIS CHEST>>>

• you’ve had to adapt to living with someone who has super senses. you’ve learned how to whisper secrets to him, even in a crowded room, and you appreciate how he’s always attuned to your needs, often before you even realize them yourself.

• sometimes when the two of you are late for work he’ll fly you both there.

• seeing something solar powered and never missing the opportunity to say, "oh look, it gets its power from a yellow sun just like you, honey!"

• he rolls his eyes, but secretly he loves it.

• you love both sides of him— the farm boy from smallville and the alien hero who saves the world. he never has to pretend or hide who he is with you, and that freedom to be himself is why he’s so enamored by you. <33

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Don't Kill My Vibe

Title: Don’t Kill My Vibe

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Clark Kent x BestFriend!Black!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.7K

Summary: You help Clark ease the pain of his broken heart.

Warnings: mention of a breakup, recreational drug use (marijuana), friends-to-lovers trope, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, mention of bodily fluids

A/N: This is an AU where Clark Kent is not superpowered and Superman does not exist. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

It wasn’t the first time Clark asked to try some bud, but it was the most pathetic. His gorgeous blue eyes were puffy from crying over that woman. As much as you wanted to say, “I told you so," you didn’t want him to feel any worse about the failed relationship with his reporter beau, Lois Lane.

And yet again, you think to yourself, ‘Fuck Lois Lane’.

When he showed up at your place an hour ago in sweatpants, sneakers, and a button-up pullover, you were surprised to see he opted for something other than his normal flannel and jeans. His hair was mussed, and he avoided eye contact with you. Something was wrong.

You dragged him into your apartment, turning down your Spotify playlist on the Bluetooth speakers so you could talk over the mellow tunes. While you flopped down on your couch, Clark sat down slowly and sighed.

You were already elevated, having taken a couple of puffs from your blue and red glass bowl earlier, so you were struggling to pay attention to everything he was saying. You tried to put on your “I’m not high” face and nod enough, saying “Oh wow” occasionally. But, in actuality, your eyes were as red as the Devil’s dick, and Clark wasn’t stupid.

His eyes looked from yours to the tray on the coffee table that held your various assortments of smoking apparatus, grinder, lighter, and stash box. Leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees, he motioned his chin toward everything and said, “I know you’ve said no a million times, but I could use an escape. And before you say no again, know I’ve tried all the tricks in the book to get over somebody, and nothing is working.” 

“I have a feeling there’s another thing you haven’t tried either, but whatever,” you rattled on, waving off his confused expression. “Fine. It should be illegal for you to use those puppy eyes when asking me for something, by the way.”

So here you are, preparing a strawberry cone for you and Clark to share. You were always weird about people using your favorite bowl. You also figure that for a first-timer, it would be the easiest for him to start with. Twisting the end after filling the cone, you reach for the lighter and ashtray.

“First things first,” you purr, using your phone to turn the music up. “Now, watch what I do. I’m going to draw the smoke into my mouth and then hold it for a few seconds, or as long as I can, before blowing it back out. Ready?”

Clark nods as he turns toward you, tucking one leg under the other. Now that you have his full attention, you suddenly feel flustered. Casting your eyes downward, you take the cone into your mouth and light the end. You inhale deeply and take it out of your mouth. Savoring the citrus flavor of the strain, your tongue licks your lips, and you exhale. 

You close your eyes and take a few breaths. After a moment, you hear Clark’s voice breaking through your haze: “Everything good?”

Your eyes pop open, and just like nothing happened, you perk up. Handing him the cone, you blink as he holds it like someone who has never smoked. You’ve known Clark long enough that you have a suspicion that is probably true for him. 

He’s polite, almost to a fault. He screams Boy Scout, altar boy, and ‘promise ring’ all at the same time. What can you say? Clark was a good boy. And you were getting him high. You little devil! 

Clark takes a short pull from the pink-colored joint and manages to hold it for about two seconds, then attempts to exhale. A small plume escapes his mouth, he inhales sharply and has a coughing fit. You take the joint back before he drops it and sit it in the ashtray.

Rubbing his back, you try to talk him through catching his breath. You grab your water bottle and hold the straw to his mouth when he nods his thanks. He sips the water, then clears his throat loudly, burping up a bit of smoke. He laughs quickly as he sees it exit his mouth, reminding you of a little surprised dragon.

“That was fun,” he sputters, his voice deeper than usual.

“It gets easier, Clark. Trust me, coughing is normal. And most of the time, coughing gets you higher,” you laugh, picking up the joint to take another hit.

You inhale, exhaling into the air, and hold it out for Clark to take again. He sips from your water bottle and gives it to you in exchange for the joint.

Holding it between two fingers, he brings it to his lips. You watch his mouth curl around the tip, and your brain conjures up the vision of what else that boy’s mouth can do. He takes the joint out of his mouth, holding his breath for a few seconds, then blows it out slowly. He gives it back to you and leans back against the couch.

“I don’t think I feel any different yet. How long does it take to kick in?” he asks, crossing his arms and pouting.

It being his first time, he is completely unaware that he is already high. His body language is different; Clark Kent doesn’t slouch even a little. He also certainly doesn’t fidget; his hands suddenly become very interested in the material of his pullover.

“You’ll feel it sooner than you think,” you mumble, the joint between your lips as you speak.

Twenty minutes later, Clark tells you exactly what the last straw was that ended his relationship with Lois. He pauses to take a hit, handing it back to you as he exhales. “But it was always whatever she wanted. I treat her like a queen. And she goes and blows Jimmy-fucking-Olsen. Then she lies about it after Jimmy comes clean to me. I…,” he trails off, looking over at you and shaking his head as he laughs.

“What?” you question when you realize he stops talking.

“Nothing. I just… I think I’m high,” he giggles, the corners of his eyes wrinkling when he smiles at you.

“Besides being high, can you describe how you feel?” You press, wanting to know just how high he is.

“I feel lighter. Clear…er? Is it clearer or more clear? Whatever. I think I also just figured out how I want to finish that article on The Wayne Foundation,” he explains, leaning back so he is lying on his back with his head on your lap. “Is this ok? Your lap looked so comfortable,” he wonders aloud, looking up at you.

That’s when you realize three fundamental truths at the same time. 

1. Clark is single. 

2. Clark is literally in your lap.

3. The crush you have on Clark is swiftly turning into lustful infatuation.

Bringing yourself back to the present, you smile at him and say, “Yeah, of course it’s ok.” You focus on the heat radiating from your best friend as he makes himself comfortable so close to your thirsty pussy. 

“You are the best,” he replies, closing his eyes as your hand finds its way into his curls.

“This cool?” you dare, hoping that you can continue to push the boundary between friendship and something more.

As if the groan from the back of his throat wasn’t enough, he voices his satisfaction. “More than cool. I love having my hair played with. Feel free to go to town on me.”

Oh, the importance of phrasing.

This man is not going to make it easy on you.

You’re explaining to Clark about that episode of Bob’s Burgers where Bob and Linda accidentally get high after eating cookies laced with marijuana at their accountant’s office. “So, anyway. Bob, Linda, and the accountant build a pillow fort from the cushions on his couch, and somehow it makes them feel safer which I get because pillow forts were the height of safety when we were kids. And sometimes, people feel safer thinking about the simplicity of their childhood,” you rattle on, leaning forward to grab your water bottle and forgetting about Clark’s head, which is still very much in your lap.

An oomph is spoken into your boobs, and you shoot straight up to a standing position and knock Clark off your lap and onto the floor. 

“Shit!” he cries from his spot on the floor.

“Fuck, Clark! I’m so sorry! Are you ok?” You cringe, your hand touching your forehead as you watch him pull himself up.

“Hey, hey. It’s cool, I’m fine,” he reassures, his hand grabbing yours to take it away from your face. With the other hand, he grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger. Tilting your head up, he smiles and counters, “Are you ok?”

Yeah. Fine. My tits were just thrust into your face for a bit there. Oh, and you have no idea that I like you. And that pesky curl is falling into your pretty eyes again. And your handsome face is close enough to-

One second, you’re staring at his smile; the next second, you’re attacking his mouth with yours. His lips are just as pillowy and soft as they look. At first, the kiss is timid. Surprise gives way to need as he deepens the kiss. His tongue seeks solace as it slides against the seam of your lips. Granting him entry, he licks into your mouth like an explorer discovering new lands. 

His hands find their way to your hips, bringing you impossibly close. He feasts on every whimper that leaves you, peppering in some moans of his own. This is the kiss of a man waiting for a moment like this. At least, that’s how it feels.

Begrudgingly, you slowly break away from Clark. His kiss-swollen pink lips beg to be reunited with yours, but you must prove this is real. You look up into his dilated eyes, noting how blue is almost completely taken over by black. 

You open your mouth to speak, but Clark beats you to it.

“Unless you are about to tell me you don’t want this, please just kiss me again,” he breathes, resting his forehead against yours. “I don’t know what’s more intoxicating. This drug or having you so close to me.”

Instead of worrying about what this means, you throw caution to the wind. Tilting your head, you slot your lips with his, devouring the subtle whimper that escapes him. From nervous to commanding, you feel Clark’s demeanor change as his hands wander over your body.

He picks you up by the waist, your legs instinctually wrapping around him. With you in his arms, he walks blindly to your bedroom. Once he lays you down, he covers your body with his. The hard length against your mound gives you pause, but you quickly recover as you angle your hips to meet his.

Clark breaks the kiss to sit up and remove his pullover and shirt. A pink hue dusts his cheeks as he watches you scan his torso while you bite your lip. Leaning down, he tugs at the hem of your shirt, wanting you to get rid of it. 

You oblige, now topless in front of your best friend for the first time. You don’t have time to freak out over that information because Clark hooks his fingers in your leggings, his eyes begging for permission. You raise your hips, and he pulls them down your legs along with your underwear. 

You sit up as he chucks his sweatpants, his heavy erection now visible. Your first thought is, “Now that is a pretty dick.”

“Thank you,” he says, a smirk playing on his lips.

“I said that out loud, didn’t I?” You wonder aloud, already knowing the answer.

Clark smiles, nodding at you before coaxing you to lay back. He sinks between your legs, holding them open to kiss your thighs. He teases you a bit, licking and nipping at your mound and outer labia until you wiggle your hips and whine. 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Patience, please,” he cautions, shaking his head at you. He winks at you, diving fully into your snatch and sucking your clit between his lips. 

You throw your head back in ecstasy as his tongue slides over your swollen button. Humming while sucking on your nub is a fucking power move, and your hands tangle in his hair. You dig your heels into his back as he laps up the juices that accumulate at your entrance. Looking down at him as he worships at the altar of your body, you are taken aback as he peeks up at you over your mound.

With your eyes locked on each other, he watches as he tips you right over the edge. He groans into your pussy, his mouth and chin soaked, as your walls contract around nothing. The euphoria of being high mixes with the joy of being with someone new for the first time.

But this isn’t just anybody; this was your best friend. Warmth and comfort exist between you, allowing you to feel safe enough to fall and that Clark will catch you.

You come down as he plants a kiss on your mound, grazing his lips up your tummy. When he is back above your face, he runs the tip of his dick across your wet folds. He maintains eye contact while he slides in for the first time. 

Once he is fully seated inside you, he lets you adjust to his size before he withdraws slightly and thrusts forward. The wet squelch of your pussy and the smack of your bodies against one another are music to your ears. Clark’s grunts as he fucks into you only fuel your impending second climax.

“Fuck, you feel so good. Too good. Not going to last long,” he warns, sitting up on his knees as his hands go to your waist. Throwing his head back, he growls and picks up the pace, using your body like his personal fucktoy.

Your back arches as he repeatedly hits that hidden bundle of nerves. A searing fire erupts in your belly as your cunt clamps down on his dick, spasming and coating it with your cream.

“Good girl! That’s it. Fucking come for me, just like that,” he encourages. “Oh, shit. I’m right fucking behind you. Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuuck.”

You lock your legs around his waist, keeping him right where he is as his dick spasms and fills you to the brim. Your hands smooth down his big chest, feeling the muscles ripple as he comes down from what is probably the most intense orgasm he has ever felt. He stills soon enough, breathing back to normal as his softening length slips from you.

Flopping down next to you, Clark wraps an arm around you. You curl into his side, an arm across his stomach, and a leg thrown over his. Contented silence fills the room as you both take in this unforeseen turn of events.

Clark’s hand makes idle patterns on your back as you lay on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. You close your eyes for only a moment, missing Clark smiling at you. He gives you a quick peck on the top of your head, causing you to tilt your head to meet his eyes.

“You hungry?” you guess, feeling a bit peckish yourself.

“Yes!” he exclaims.

“Good. I know a great place down the street that makes the best samosas. Does Indian food sound good?” you ask, already tasting the rich spices of the food.

“Sounds perfect,” he says, picking up his arm to let you get up from the bed to grab your phone, watching your hips sway as you walk out to the other room.

Once back in bed, you order various dishes for the both of you. While you wait for the food, you pass a joint back and forth and steal a kiss or two. You decide there is plenty of time for you and Clark to talk. There is no use in killing the vibe for heavy stuff.

With the way Clark is looking at you, there’s not much to talk about anyway. 

🍃The End🍃

A/N: I would love to know what you think!!! Feedback is appreciated!

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[ilona2nerrie]

Part two of Jonathan and the Wayne’s!

Dick rushed into the room, slamming open the door and startling a Jon who was about to try fix his fan. Hon knew there was no superpowers in the house so he had gotten a ladder and was holding rope attached to said ladder to steady himself. 

When dick burst in he promptly fell off the ladder hitting his head on the bed. Probably damaging the bed more than he did himself.

“Ah- you idiot, what is it dickhead?”

Dick, who still looked panicked, flung out his hand and held Jon’s shoulder.

“No jonathan! Don’t do it!”

Jon paused, mind blanking.

“Ok.” He said, tilting his head.

“Do what?”

“I got your text message!” Dick gasped out, trying to catch his breath.

“ ‘thanks for everything?!?!’ “

“Yes.” Jon said, not getting the point.

“I just felt like thanking you. For, well, everything.” He shrugged.

“Wait so you’re good?” Dick paused.

“Yes, why?”

“Well I might have misinterpreted your actions-“ dick started before Tim burst in.

“Take him down, semper fi!”

“Agh-“

Dick clasped his hands in his lap and looked to the sideways nervously.

“And told the family group chat .”

“Live Jonathan!” Tim yelled, doing some real shitty cpr onto the hybrids chest.

“Live! Jonathan, you are loved!”

“Why does ‘love’ feel like fucking kryptonite?” Jon said, voice warbling as he was thrust back and forth.

Dick grabbed his shoulders pulling Tim back.

“No, timcicle, it’s fine, he’s good.” Dick sighed, as Tim got off a heaving Jon who rolled to his side and onto his arms. Pushing himself up.

Tim, looked over at dick, offended. Then back to Jonathan.

“You mean I touched him for nothing? Give me five dollars.”

Jon paused, an annoyed expression flitting his face before he handed it over.

“Here.”

Tim grabbed it, despite being stinking rich clutching it like it was a comfort.

“Capitalism had softened the blow.”

Stephanie burst in next, holding some of Alfred’s cookies, looking genuinely worried. Shoving the other two men past she thrust the jar in Jonathan’s face.

“Here, comfort foods! Your ok!”

“Wha- so many baked goods?” Jon said, tilting his head.

Cassandra who was standing at the door yelled.

“It’s not working! Somebody ruin his dad’s day! The petty revenge will make him feel better!”

“No guys, it’s ok!” Dick yelled, looking around.

“No it’s not, dick!” Stephanie gasped, looking at Jon.

“lol at him! He looks terrible!”

“But this is not of my better days?” Jon whispers to himself.

Damian walked into the room, already talking before surveying the carnage.

“Jonathan, I have revived a disturbing text message so I am willing to let you-“ he said before stoping and seeing his siblings.

“We’ll come back to this later.” Damian said abruptly thinking of something else he could do instead of his planned thought.

Jonathan looked at Damian, trying o adjust his yellow beanie.

“I’m confused on what’s happening- ow! Why’d you slap me?” He asked, looking up at Damian.

Damian was gonna offer him a hug, but his siblings were here. So no affection must be showed.

“Because you tried to hurt me cr- friend.”

“What? But I’m your friend- I’m your friend?”

Jon said the last part looking at Damian with hopeful eyes. 

“It was a false alarm Damian.”

“Oh.” Damian turned back to Jon.

“Go fuck your self then, never mind.”

He said, about to walk out.

“Ignore that.” Dick said, shooting Damian a look. “We’re happy you’re ok Jonathan.”

“Thanks but,” Jon started, looking up.

“Am I really so fragile that you think even the slightest provocation will send me hurtling into taking my own life?”

“Considering the circumstances of how you came to live with us, yes.”

Jon paused, then frowned.

“Oh.” He said softly, then Damian yanked his beanie down.

“Hey!”

“That’s for making my friend sad!”

“This cycle is vicious!”

part one: Jon the weed dealer.

Part three: stinging Jason todd

[frownyalfred]

Why should eldritch Gotham and fortress Ai fight ? Can't they just kiss

Good point. The Fortress AI goes in to try and make Bruce stronger, quasi-immortal, more Kryptonian, etc, only to discover that Gotham has laid half of the scaffolding for those changes already. They make an immediate, if tenuous, deal to continue their efforts in tandem. Because Gotham needs Batman, and Kal-El needs Bruce Wayne, and -- by some great stroke of cosmic luck -- those two are the same person. At least, they are right now.

[wellwatersurprise]

He nearly flinched as the bat-doppleganger caught his arm. "We need to talk," "Bruce" said. "In private." Wolfish eyes cast a triumphant look at Wonder Woman. "Success!" he mouthed, flashing a thumbs-up as he steered the dazed couple toward the door. "Put it on my tab," he announced breezily to the maitre d', then hustled them to the elevators. "I've got a suite in this hotel, right?" he muttered.

"Fiftieth floor," said Bruce, not looking at Superman.

From “Kiss and Tell” by Mithen on AO3. One of the best superbat fics out there i really can’t recommend it enough.

Not an official collab or anything, but I love this fic deeply so I illustrated a scene from it! crossposted on ao3 x

[donkoogrr]

Hey, I want to share my brainrot.

Broke: Superman is actually a bad person who doesn't love his bi son Kon because he thinks the kid is going to be a future villain.

Woke: Superman is understandably standoffish to his nonconsensually created clone made to replace him when he was dead. Superman didn't step up when and how he should have - that doesn't mean he didn't have character growth and learn to love Kon, even if he have the kids a name that is a Kryptonian slur.

Bespoke: Superman would LOVE to get to know and mentor this new guy, but whenever he looks at the kid his lizard hindbrain registers DANGER and it freaks him out. He doesn't know why, there's just something intensely Uncanny Valley about Kon. Clark has never understood humans talking about creepy dolls or being afraid of mannequins until now and he doesn't know how to process it? He doesn't even know how to explain it because everyone around him is acting like Kon is perfectly normal and fine and safe and Superman's the asshole for never engaging with him.

Human scientists fucking around with alien DNA made it so that Kon is permanently sending out Aggression in subtle, Kryptonian-only ways. By scent or sub-vocalizations, or posture, or some other alien subconscious way, Kon is both peacefully hanging out with his friends and at the same time indicating that he's about to murder them. Neither Kon or Clark know this! Clark unlearned most of these instincts when he was being raised as human and is used to the people around him not hearing/seeing/tasting/smelling quite right. Until there's this guy here, serving these VIBES.

(about the slur name. Consider that Nightwing is Superman's dear friend and nephew. Consider that he calls himself Dick. Imagine if Clark named Kon "Kon" as a way to honor Dick and like, it's his genuine belief that future Kryptonian speakers will think of Kon as a name first and a slur second, because this person is going to be so amazing)

[bones4918]

So basically, after some very helpful person on twitter sent me more details about the Star Wars in universe calendar, I recalculated my clone wars timeline a little. Very little has been moved around, but now you can look at the war through the lens of a 10 or 12 month calendar, and multiple galactic holidays are timelined too!

[verpine-art]

im obsessed with Repcomm Costuming Club Au

[ladybirdswritings]

INVISIBLE STRING, AU — clark kent x reader.

DESCRIPTION: you lock eyes with a charming stranger at a party you’d rather not be at, and now he’s paying you a visit. NOTES - leave me all your thoughts and opinions. i love them <33 | prev part ; next part

two;

People pleaser. Those were the words meant to be scribbled upon your cobbled grave. That thought echoed like a fallen mic as you scurried around your backyard to rearrange the chairs until you deemed them perfect.

“Let’s do a fire pit at your place like old times!” he’d said. Your brother, always so painfully—social. Now sure, a part of you was excited. You’d bought far too many sugared pastries and spiced crackers to count, along with moscato and cheese to pair with it all. Even so, the thought of actually sitting with everyone and opening your pretty mouth was already exhausting you.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you grabbed it quick. Your brother’s name mirrored in your eyes.

“What’s up, Axel?” Christ, you sounded cheery.

“Hey, uh—everything is set up, right?”

The tone of his voice coiled around your nerves like a snake.

“No. Why.” You were exasperated, because you could suspect his next words before he even uttered them.

“Well, I told everyone to start heading over, so—”

Your eyes widened to saucers, skin heated to a powdered pink. You shook your head in fervor, as if he could see you through the screen.

“Axel, I’m not ready! I’m still in my pajamas, my hair isn’t done, and—”

“Well, the sun already set, and it’s fine. You can just change real quick.”

Frustration settled into your bones like an icy chill. This was not the first time he’d done this. You had pimple patches on your face, your hair in an unruly bun, your brows untamed, and your lips unlined.

Vance would be coming over, that you knew. And you could NOT face him in this state, let alone anyone else.

“Look, traffic is bad anyway, so it may take them a minute. Go change and finish setting up later. It’s fine.”

You could only offer him a frustrated huff before slamming your finger against the red ‘end call’ button, far more aggressively than necessary.

“Fuck.” You breathed into the fresh January chill, rushing inside and whipping your head from side to side to figure out where to even start.

With haste, you tugged the patches from your clammy skin and rushed to the restroom to scrub at your face.

Your hair looked horrendous, so you’d have to slick it back. You slathered on moisturizer and dotted concealer over your skin, pinching bobby pins between your teeth as you tamed your thick waves into a ballerina-like bun.

Your quaint house hummed as the doorbell rang, and your heart plummeted to the pit of your stomach.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You cursed, hiding bobby pins between your silken locks. Seconds passed far too quickly, but you selfishly stole more time as you curled your lashes and glossed your pale lips. It wasn’t enough, you thought, but it would do.

A quick spray of your perfume, and you rushed to the door—stealing a shaky breath before your hand wrapped around the handle and pulled it open to find…

Him.

Hand raised midway to a knock, eyes wide and curious behind his lenses, hair unruly and skin chilled.

“Hi,” he breathed, and your gaze followed Clark’s eyes as they sipped on the sight of you.

It hit you then, as his eyes trailed down your years-old grad tee, your pink hedgehog pajama pants, and your awfully fluffy Snoopy slippers.

You forgot to change.

Red blossomed like wildflowers, the chill from the door not enough to ice your heated skin and wide eyes. And there it was again, that lazy, lopsided grin.

You had half a mind to glance behind him, wondering what girl he’d undoubtedly brought along—but he was alone.

You’d kill your brother later, for not telling you he’d be attending. An entire stranger.

“Hi,” you breathed back, exasperated, laughing in coy embarrassment at yourself before stepping aside and motioning for him to come in.

His hair brushed against the top of the doorframe as he gently stepped inside, severe blue-gray eyes scanning over your home, which was still very much under construction. Still very much a mess.

He grasped strawberries and dark chocolate in his veined hands, and your stomach threatened to demand some—you covered it with a cough.

“Your home is beautiful,” he offered, soft, turning to you as you shut the door and stood awkwardly against it.

“Thanks,” you murmured, wishing the floor would part and tug you away.

He peered at you for a moment, mouth set in a thin line before his lip twitched. That pinch, which now seemed familiar to you, settled between his brows as invisible gears turned in his head.

“I interrupted you, didn’t I?”

You winced, ready to lie to be polite. You couldn’t find the energy.

“It’s fine,” you began, but he shook his head. “No, see—I think those fluffy hedgehog pajamas are perfect bonfire attire. But please, I can manage for a little bit. Is the fire started?”

Something about the way he spoke. So smooth and contemplative, his eyes seeming to scan over you and your words as if truly considering them… it blossomed a warmth in your tummy.

You simmered it as soon as it burned. He was definitely spoken for and simply being polite. That was what you decided. No man that pretty, that perfect, could be interested in someone like… you. Soft, shy, you.

With an exasperated sigh, you shook your head, pinching the space between your brows.

“My brother was supposed to be here early to help, but he… yeah.”

You let your hand fall to your side to find that lopsided grin on full display. Cautiously, he placed the strawberries and chocolate atop the cardboard box holding your new side table inside. He motioned to them,

“For the bonfire. Let me? I can get it started for you while you… yeah.” He finished similarly to you, huffing a laugh at himself, which you mirrored.

You gazed on at him, wondering for a moment if you were an utter fool to allow a stranger to play with fire in your backyard as you tore the hedgehog pajamas from your clammy skin.

No intuitive warning came.

“That would help me a lot,” you whispered, shifting from the door as you led him to the backyard.

Immediately as you stepped through the doorway, the chill licked at your skin. Your breaths were clouds pushing past your teeth, hands wrapped around yourself immediately.

“T-the—oh,” you paused, feeling brown suede blanket your goose-kissed skin.

“Is this all the wood?” He didn’t so much as offer you any acknowledgment that he’d laid his jacket over your shoulders—changing the subject before it could even be visited. Your next inhale was laced with honeyed whiskey and chai.

You could only nod, hugging the suede closer as he lifted the bag of wood. His muscles flexed beneath his knit long sleeve, and you knew then that you were staring simply because you noticed.

The pinch in his brows returned as he pushed his glasses up with his wrist and turned the bag in his veined hands.

“This is more than enough,” he spoke, shifting his eyes to you with that same lazy grin. “Go get warm, I’ll get it started.”

You were eager to comply…

By the time you’d finished properly combing and braiding your hair, lathering sparkled amber upon your skin and vanilla on your neck, you were shaky. Though he eased your nerves, you felt every bit impolite as you swiped through your sweaters—settling on a cream one with navy lacings.

The doorbell didn’t ring once, and your brother was still yet to arrive. So either fate was bored or luck was handsy. You winced as you scanned your impression. Pretty, warm but pretty.

Despite not wanting to face him, you made your way outside to find him seated by a scorching fire, legs outstretched and a book pinned in his hand. His glasses fell lazily on the bridge of his nose, and his attention snapped up once you approached.

You could tell by the bookmark scattered in pink bows that it was your copy of Belladonna he held in his hand. You flushed a rich scarlet.

“I’m sorry,” he offered, pulling it to a close and setting it aside. “You left it out here, and I got curious.”

You shook your head, gently sitting in the chair vacant beside him. His jacket settled in your lap like a fragrant blanket.

“Don’t apologize, I love that book.”

You spoke so low, the breeze nearly stole it. You sniffled as you outstretched your hands toward the flickering flames, sighing contentedly as the fire warmed your skin.

“We never finished our conversation,” he declared, and you glanced over to find that curious blue-gray gaze already peering at you. His lip twitched, “It’ll probably be easier now that there’s no more football talk in the background, hmm?”

You grinned, soft but prominent. “You don’t like football?”

He outstretched a hand of his own, waggling his fingers against the smoke. “I love football, but I love books more.”

You hummed at that, nodding your pretty head as you considered his words. “That makes no sense,” you decided, more to yourself than anything, but… he huffed a hearty laugh.

“No? How come? Do my boots and flannels give me away? Or maybe it’s the glasses, I look like an imposter, don’t I?”

Suddenly, like the fire, he was alive. Comfortable and burning with low embers. It extended to you, perhaps rubbed off of his very jacket. Perhaps it was the lack of others that made you relax your tense shoulders. Perhaps there was a spell in his laugh.

“No—god no. I just mean… well, in my experience, men that look like they’ve torn themselves from a Pinterest board don’t often act like they’ve torn themselves from a Pinterest board.”

You were both complimenting his looks, which he was very much used to, and undermining his character, which he was not at all used to.

His lip twitched.

He liked it.

“Tell me your favorite book, Y/N,” he decided, his voice a soft lick of seduction you couldn’t quite understand, with your pretty eyes fluttering to anywhere else but his own.

His voice settled deep in your tummy, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to be selfish. If there was a model waiting for him at home, you’d mourn the heartbreak of the revelation later. Now?

“That’s an awful question to ask an avid reader.”

His grin was a slice of the moon in a sea of darkness, and you found yourself admiring it for a stolen moment.

“You’re right. Maybe I was testing you.”

You could only purse your pretty lips at that, “Did I pass?”

A moment of silence fell between you both as he glazed his blue-gray eyes over your flushed face. Slowly, oh so slowly, drinking you in like warm honey. When he was satisfied, his lazed grin appeared once more.

“Yeah,” he whispered simply, a ringlet of his unruly waves falling to a swirl upon his forehead. You itched to trace it, to push it back.

You were no expert in the slightest. Flirtations always flew right over your busy head. But now, with only the lick of fire reminding you that the world was indeed moving, you found his eyes locked upon your glossed lips. Or were you mad?

“Do you want a strawberry?” he whispered, eyes still considering what colors were scattered in sparkles on your pout.

“Yes,” you squeaked, and it was enough to break him from whatever spell your sparkled gloss had him under. He blinked, clearing his throat as he reached over and pulled a plump berry from its Tupperware, handing it to you.

Your fingers brushed, but opposed to pulling away, you both remained there. As if frozen in time, tips of your fingers grazing one another around the berry, your eyes locked where they met, and his locked where you stared.

“Let me take you on a date,” he blurted after far too long a moment, voice deep and laced with an air of nervousness. You froze, wide eyes fluttering up to his own to find mirth or humor. Neither were present.

After a long moment of your silence, your processing, the pinch between his brows returned, and he wrapped a warm palm around your slender fingers. He huffed a laugh at himself, shaking his head. Humor did kiss his gaze then as he found your eyes once more.

“Please.” He corrected.

The berry was trapped between your palms, the only barrier between your hand being held by the handsome stranger. Clark.

And he wanted to take you on a date.

You heard the ring of the doorbell, the approach of the car, and your shoulders tensed once more. His waiting gaze flickered toward the doors in anticipation, and as your silence stretched, he unraveled his fingers from your palm.

“I’m sorry—“ he began, but you quickly interrupted.

“Just say when…”

[blackynsupremacy]

red k!clark the type of fuckboy you be otp with and tries to throw some game, but playing hard to get is not working in your favor.

y/n: i gotta call you back because i need to take a shower.

him: without me? 😏

(we all know this corny ass line)

y/n: …yes. 🙄

him:

y/n: … ykw 😶🙄

him: *already outside your house* 😈

weak in the knees… girl, STAND UP!

note: i imagine y/n as meagan but this is just my hc! ☺️