#man of steel fanfic

[lainiespicewrites]

Okay so I have this WIP from MONTHS ago literally maybe even a year ago!

And the premise is this girl that works on the police force…I know our immediate thought is for this character to be Walter! (It was going to be all oc’s BUT I think it would make a great fic.) The main idea is that the characters end up having to go undercover as husband and wife to infiltrate and take down an organized crime mob. I see the characters having a kind of snarky bitter relationship behind the scenes but play super love newly weds when they’re in the act. Eventually one or both catches real feelings (obviously 😂)

My problem is the more I throw this back and forth I can make up my mind which of Henry’s characters SHOULD play this part sure! Walter’s a cop but can he act? August can act but …would he ever work for the good guys??? No I could Really see this being a modern day Napoleon solo! And for some reason it’s got giving Clark vibes!

So I’m taking to a vote for your opinions!

Adding my tag list for best results 😂

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[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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[freesketchgo]

Bruce as Matches Malone and Clark Illustration for @susiecarter - Poker Face (AO3) When it comes to DC shipping, I'm an absolute forever fan of wonderbat and I love to make fanart on that theme, but I found susiecarter's DCEU fanfics really fascinating and I wanted to do an illustration for one of her works one day, so here it is.

If you haven't read Poker Face yet and you are interested in the backstory of the picture I drew, please read susiecarter’s story here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34980352

Share this with other fans if you think they would like it. 😊

[multifandomworldsposts]

Day 24 of Kinktober: Saved By Superman

pairing: Clark Kent x fem!reader

warning: abduction, eating out, oral sex, unprotected sex

10 YEARS AGO (Y/N’s POV)

I’m in American History 1 and hell, the questions on our assignment is soo confusing like, when did JFK got assassinated and when did Nixon resign, like I don’t know these questions and our teacher makes no sense on what we’re learning about. Clark is in the same class and he would help me on what the questions are about and what our tests are going to have.

At some point Clark and I were study partners and thanks to him, I passed American History! Ever since then Clark and I have been friends and we would tell each other about anything about our personal lives and we would do anything together, but a lot of people from school would say that we’re dating but we’re not.

Eventually, we separate because I go to Kansas University for a photography degree, which is far away from Smallville and we lost contact with each other.

PRESENT TIME

I begin to wash my dishes and I see on my TV that there’s another unusual event happened today, of course, but I see a hero saving the person from the building, why does he looks familiar? They show the hero and it’s Clark? I never knew that he’s, Superman? What’s going on?

I drive back to my hometown, Smallville, and what’s happening? I see this figure approaching my car but it’s flying? The hell? I blackout.

I wake up at some room that I’ve never seen or been into before. I hear something or someone walking towards me, I look where I hear the noise and it’s someone in a costume.

“Who are you?” I question.

“I can ask you the same thing.” The voice said back.

I try to move around but I’m tied up with chains? I want to get the hell out of here.

“Can I at least get a name from you?” I said to the voice.

“Zod.” The voice answered.

Zod? I don’t know who that is. He walked up and I immediately realized that he went to the same high school as Clark and me, I remember he was a little weird and many kids made fun of him.

“You know who I am now?” He says.

“Now I do. Why do you want me here?” I asked.

“To get answers.” His voice changed.

“Okay? What?”

“Who is Superman?” He says.

“I don’t know, I really don’t.” I answer.

“You know! You used to be buddies with him.” He said.

“What?” I ask.

“Don’t lie to me!” He approaches to my face.

“I’m not lying.” I confess.

He backs up to give me some space. I can tell he thinks I’m still lying. He eventually went upstairs and I hear the door locking, I want to leave so fucking bad!

One day, I hear noises upstairs and I hear the door opening. Someone running downstairs and it’s Clark, he looks different than the last time I ever saw him. He releases me from the chains and I hold on to him until he flies away from the room I was in.

We arrive at some house I never seen before, it’s Clark’s house, god he changed.

He lays me down on his couch.

“Thank you for saving me.” I say.

“Anytime for a friend.” He smiles.

He gets some medicine to help the swelling and wounds on my wrists to heal.

“I never knew that you’re Superman, Clark.” I said looking at him.

“I’ve been my whole life.” He said wrapping elastic bandage on my wrists.

“You never told me that ever in high school Clark.” I say holding my hands still.

“I thought you would tell people.” He said softly.

“You know me, I would never do that in the history of our friendship Clark, you know I wouldn’t.” I confess.

He knows I’m telling the truth.

Eventually, we talked about what’s been going on in our lives recently.

“How’s your mom?” I ask.

“She talks about you still.” He says.

“She misses you.” He smiled.

“Really? I haven’t seen her in so long.” That’s so sweet.

After that conversation, we talked about other things, such as, who we dated when we separated.

“Did you ever dated anyone while I was gone?” I question.

“Never.” He replied.

“I highly doubt that Clark. A bunch of girls threw themselves at you and gave me death threats.” I said.

“I never dated anyone Y/N and I remember those death threats, I know some of them are married or still dating someone.” He smirks.

“You know I, actually had a crush on someone in high school.” I look down and look up at Clark.

“Who? Come on Y/N/N, I can see you blushing.” He says egging me on.

“You.” I gulped.

“Me? Why’s that?” He says.

“Ever since you helped me with homework and all.” I confess.

“Really? I kinda did as well." He confesses.

I blush. I can't believe this. we both had crushes on each other since we met.

He leans into kiss me, and I kiss him back. I tug on his hair but I wince by my wrists. Clark picks me up to take us to his bathroom, he sets me on the counter and starts the water from the tub, I try to take my clothes off but Clark stops me to take my clothes off instead, he picks me up again to put me in tub. The water felt so good. Clark takes his shirt off, he’s definitely changed. He comes in the tub with me and makes me get closer to him and kisses me again.

After us in the tub Clark washed me off but the blood and the dirt off my body, he takes us to his bed and lays me down on it, which is really comfortable.

“Try to get some sleep Y/N.” He says about to leave.

“Can you stay in here with me?” I say looking at where Clark is.

“If you want me to.” He asks.

“Please?” I say.

He lays down with me and I sleep instantly.

2 HOURS LATER

I wake up with a feeling in my clit, I look down to see Clark eating me out, I moan, when I did that Clark kept on eating me out but a little bit deeper, I gasp and I tug on his hair. He stops eating me out and starts to give me love bites near my clit, I scream again. I never imagined he’s this good.

After Clark eating me out, he comes up to face me and begins to fuck me, I scream again, he goes in and out of me but he goes faster. Our moans and grunts fills up in the room and skin slapping against each other. I’m so glad he saved me.

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Imagine # 1,039

Gif NOT mine.

If this gif is yours (or you know who's it is) please let me, so I can give you/them credit.

Gif credit goes to - @shrivinglust (Unless told otherwise.)

Year posted - 2023

The nights had been particularly cold the past few days, snow falling from the sky lazily, and covering the city in an icy blanket. To add on top of it all the furnace within (Y/n)'s home was admittedly weak, only just barely keeping the home warm enough to prevent anyone from seeing their breath.

The guys had all come over either in the day to have a few beers, and just bullshit. Something they always did when they needed a good break from their work. But as the snow progressed throughout the day, everyone decided it would be safest to just stay at (Y/n)'s house until morning at least.

Everyone was gathered in the spacious living room, chatting away while some cheesy horror film played on the TV. Josh and Kenny sat beside eachother on the loveseat, while Johnny and Peter sat on the couch. (Y/n) on the other hand lay stretched out on the futon, three of her largest blankets encasing her to the point where you could only see her face, a sight that made each of the guys smile in endearment.

"Comfortable?" Peter asked with an amused grin, the sight making (Y/n) smile. "Very." She hummed as she snuggled deeper into the blankets. "I don't know how you're not being crushed under all that weight." Josh teased with a chuckle. "Hey I'm freezing I'd let an elephant lay on me right now if it meant I'd be warm." (Y/n) sassed playfully.

"Well we don't have an elephant, but we do have one Peter Steele." Kenny joked, prodding at Pete subtlety for his "secret" crush on (Y/n). "You'd crush me Petey?" She asked with great big puppy dog eyes. "Eh I wouldn't wanna hurt you." He responded casually, trying to ignore his racing heart. "But I'll let you lay on me so you can warm up." He added after sipping his drink, his hands shaking a tiny bit from his sudden nervousness.

"Please!" She flung her arms out from beneath the blankets, reaching out with grabby hands. The sight made the guys chuckle, and making it impossible for Peter to ever think about denying her. "Alright." He muttered before rising from his spot by Johnny.

(Y/n) peered up at him with almost bashful eyes, a blush dusting her cheeks when he hoisted her up into his arms, blankets and all. Quickly he made himself comfortable on the futon and pulled (Y/n) to lay against his chest.

"Thanks Pete." She mumbled shyly as he tugged at the sides of her blankets, smoothing them out so she would remain warm. "You're welcome sweetheart." He whispered as he bumped his nose against the side of her head, the sight of the two making the guys all grin.

"What the hell happened to your furnace anyways?" Kenny asked, breaking the endearing moment. "It's always sucked." (Y/n) shrugged casually, finding herself relaxing against Peter, his body heat warming her better than her blankets. "We'll take a look at it tomorrow, maybe we can fix it." Peter offered, the guys all nodding in agreement. "Thanks guys." (Y/n) beamed at her friend's, beyond grateful of them.

*Short and sweet.

[cardierreh15]

“Jump!”

**I do not give anyone permission to copy or repost my work!!!

Warning 18+: Mentions Of Sex but , Clark being the man we always wanted . ✨ amazing ✨

Pairing: Clark/Kal-El x Lois Lane (Black!Plus Size female)

Description: Clark doesn’t exactly know how to explain to Lois that he is Kal-El, Superman.

Word Count: 2.0K

Song: Magic by Coldplay

One Shot

‘Clark, this has to be the dumbest idea you’ve ever come up with!’ Lois squeaked through her teeth as he managed to push her forward. She was on her heels, backing her weight against him but somehow, he was not budging. He just kept on pushing.

Clark chuckled as they finally came to a stop at what had seemed to be the edge of the world. ‘Trust me… I’ve thought of dumber things.”

Lois was still far enough to see the cliff but not what was beneath it. Her knees were practically buckling and her teeth were damn near chattering. ‘N-no! I’m convinced, this is the dumbest!’

He’d walked ahead of her and placed his hand on his hip before turning around to face her, ‘Y-know, for you to have been pushed off of the globe of the Daily Planet, you’d think you’d grasp the idea of heights.’

Offended, Lois raised a brow and popped out her hip, ‘Excuse me?!’ Her face began to grow hot with irritation. That had to be the most insensitive thing he had ever said. Leave it to a man to say something stupid.

‘Before you get mad… Let me finish.’ He sighed for a moment, ‘The only way one has truly ever fallen from something high like this is because they were either pushed, or they jumped.’ He then turned to walk towards the edge of the cliff.

‘CLARK! BE CAREFUL!’ She yelped.

He turned halfway and lended his hand out towards her.

Lois stared at her boyfriend for a moment. His deep blue eyes were so gentle, and so sure. They offered her a place she had only felt with him: safety. She knew that whenever he was around, she would be safe. It was a strange feeling… but it was blissful and comfortable too.

So, Lois sighed and rolled her eyes. ‘Fine. But if I fall off this cliff Clark, I will haunt you for the rest of your life!’ She said as she walked over and placed her hand in his.

‘Haha, sure— sure. Look,— look at this view.’

Ahead, was the melancholy vastness of the ocean. The sun shone brightly down on the crystal blue waters. Waves sparkling and shimmering as if it was a sea of jewels. A few tiny yachts and sailboats floated on the horizon; only adding to the breathtaking sight.

‘Wow— Clark… this is…’ she scoffed as she just held his hand a little tighter than before. She just needed clarification if he was real or not. All of it just felt like a dream. Her being on a much deserved vacation with the love of her life. Life felt too good right now. But somehow, it was going to get a lot better.

Clark stared down at her with a gentle smile cracked on his face, ‘I know.’ He then wrapped his heavy arms around her waist, giving her a soft squeeze before kissing her cheek. Then, he rested his chin on her shoulder gently, loving the sound of her now calmed down heart beat. A rhythm that had put him to sleep on multiple occasions.

Placing a kiss on her shoulder and savoring the moment, he let out a gentle sigh, ‘Lois, I have to tell you something.’

Lois then looked over her shoulder at him with concern, ‘What is it, Clark? Is everything alright?’ She then turned around to face him, her small manicured hands on his sturdy chest.

He grabbed her small hands in both of his large palms, ‘Yes— … sort of. I—‘ he looked off to the side and then took a deep breath.

You have to tell her, Clark. She’s important to you. You plan on asking her to be your wife one day. She must know.

Letting out another huff that seemed to come from his soul, he closed his eyes as he asked, ‘Do you trust me?’

She raised a brow in confusion, a skeptical half smirk curled on her lips, ‘Uh… we’ve been dating for 6 months. I would like to hope so.’

The couple let out a short litter of laughter before Clark pressed his lips together.

‘Then there’s something I have to tell you… well, showing is better than telling.’ He then grabbed her hand and placed a kiss on her knuckles. ‘Just… give me a few minutes. I left something down in the rental. Wait for me?’

Now she was curious. What could be so important that he just couldn’t share with her now? Or, why did he leave it in the car? Was it on purpose? Oh my god! Is it a ring?! Shit! Was he going to ask her to marry him?!

Her mind raced with these ideas! All of these what ifs! Her heart began to pick up pace again. ‘Well—‘ she swallowed her spit, ‘O-of course, Clark! I mean— I ain’t goin’ nowhere.’ She giggled nervously, her cheeks burning with excitement and her ever growing smile unwavering.

Clark chuckled and gave her a gentle nod. He could hear her heart begin to pick up its pace again, but he just kept it cool. She was as nervous as he was. That was evident in the way she smiled.

‘Alright then. Just hold tight. I’ll be right back!’ He then placed another kiss on her cheek and jogged his way back towards the marble staircase that led them here.

She spent what had felt like an hour up on that cliff. She picked out a pretty pink flower and stuffed it in her big poofy ponytail. Then, she took some selfies and made sure she looked good for the special occasion. Adding on a little bit of gloss on her full lips.

Then, she heard her name being called.

‘LOIS! LOIS!’

Closing her mini makeup mirror, her eyebrows tugged into one. ‘What the hell? CLARK?!’ She then shoved it in her purse and walked back towards the edge of the cliff.

Catching herself, a few small rocks fell off of the edge. Damn, that was such a far fall. Letting out a shudder of a deep breath, she felt like she could only hear her own heart hammering in her ears.

Him calling out to her didn’t bring her out of her own head until she saw a familiar bright red cape.

‘LOIS! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?!’

‘I’M FINE, CLARK IT’S JUST—‘ then it occurred to her. ‘CLARK WHAT ARE YOU DOING DOWN THERE!?’

He was standing at the large rocks down below where the waves crashed and eroded the cliff.

‘SEE I KNEW YOU’D ASK THAT! LISTEN, I’VE BEEN THINKING A LOT LATELY! AND I'M READY TO TELL YOU THE TRUTH ABOUT WHO I AM!’

Lois made a face, getting down on her hands and knees to lean a little further over the ledge to see and hear him better.

‘CLARK?! WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?! WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU WEARING?!’ He was just so far down below, her eyes couldn’t make him out. Only the bright red cape that blew in the wind.

‘LOIS! DO YOU TRUST ME?!’

The same question from earlier, she sighed out before slapping her forehead, ‘YES! CLARK! I TRUST YOU! BUT YOU’RE NOT EXPLAINING TO ME HOW AND WHY YOU ARE DOWN THERE AND NOT HERE!’

‘I WILL IN A MINUTE! THIS IS GOING TO SOUND COMPLETELY ABSURD! BUT I NEED A FAVOR FROM YOU!’

Her eyebrows tugged into one. Now she was more worried than she was curious. Whatever plan Clark had rolled up his sleeve, she was not feeling it. But she’d allow herself to hear him out. She was in love with him after all.

‘WHAT DO YOU NEED?!’

Clark paused for a second, knowing how she reacted just standing up there was just the beginning, but he was about to ask a lot of her. But he had to try.

‘I NEED YOU TO JUMP!’

Lois’ eyebrows pulled into one, ‘YOU NEED ME TO WHAT?!’

‘I NEED YOU TO—‘

‘I HEARD YOU THE FIRST TIME CLARK! ARE YOU NUTS?!’

He sighed out and pressed his lips together, ‘LOIS! I THOUGHT YOU SAID YOU TRUSTED ME!’

‘I DO BUT—‘

‘IF YOU DO … I PROMISE IT’LL BE WORTH IT!’ He reached out towards her.

She stared down at him, her eyebrows tugging into one as her eyes were finally able to make out a bit of his attire. A bright burgundy “S” carved into his chest. ‘Oh my god…’ she whispered to herself, covering her lips with her fingers.

‘I—I KNOW, LOIS! I KNOW I HAVEN’T BEEN TRUTHFUL AND I HID A LOT OF THINGS FROM YOU. BUT I WANT TO MAKE THIS RIGHT! FROM NOW ON, I WILL TELL YOU EVERYTHING… BUT YOU HAVE TO TRUST ME… YOU HAVE TO JUMP!’

Lois felt her heart pounding in her chest, her head grew dizzy and her palms shook.

‘LOIS?!’

She thought her brain was going to shut down on her. But she had to face this! This was her boyfriend! And her coworker! It’s not like she could avoid him, hell, they came here on this trip together! So she let out a deep breath.

‘w—what if I can’t?’

‘I KNOW YOU CAN. BECAUSE YOU’RE MY GIRL! YOU'RE THE BRAVEST PERSON I KNOW, LOIS!’

When she heard those words, it was like her adrenaline had kicked in. She needed that reassurance, she needed that reminder of who she was! And from her sights, it looked like she was up here and her boyfriend, better known as Superman, was waiting down below to catch her.

So she stood up and walked towards the edge and took another deep breath. ‘Alright… “you’re either pushed… or you fall…”.’ she repeated his words from earlier, ‘Who are you going to be Lo? The person who gets pushed? Or the one that takes that leap?’

Lois closed her eyes, ‘OK.’ And she opened her arms out and just pushed her body forward. ‘AHH!’ She let out a short scream as she began to free fall.

In the beginning of her fall, the moments seemed so serene and peaceful. Like nothing really mattered! She didn’t fear what would happen if she didn’t land in Clark’s arms. It was as if she was embracing death with open arms. But the longer she was in the air, the more anxious she became. She was starting to doubt him and even began to count. ‘One… two… threeee— CLAAARRRR—Oof!’

Abruptly, she felt herself being hit with the reverse of gravity. Landing right in his arms, Lois felt like she was floating! One of her eyes popped open to look all around, and then the other one popped open to look up at her lover.

‘Clark.’ Lois shuddered out as she stared up at him in awe.

Clark smiled down at her, one arm tucked beneath her knees and the other around her back.

Lois looked from his face to peak down below. They had to be at least 50 more feet off the ground.

‘I told you all you had to was trust me…I will always catch you, Lois.’

She smiled before looking up at him, ‘I know… I’m sorry I doubted you.’ She said, smoothing out the back of her fingers on his clean shaven jaw. ‘I love you, Clark.’ she said softly as her finger tips traced along the intricate detailing of the embroidered “S” on his chest. It wasn’t like any kind of fabric she had seen on Earth. It was so full of pigment and color. Remarkable!

‘I love you too, Lois.’

Clark then leaned down as Lois stretched up her neck to meet him in an Earth shattering kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he held her body flush against his. Their tongues fought one another for dominance and want.

Lois had broken the kiss but her eyes remained closed as her forehead rested against his. ‘Wait!’ She stirred out of her thoughts for a second and looked up at him, ‘Is that why we haven’t slept together? Because you were Superman the whole time?’ She held back her giggles.

A bright red hue grew on his face and he started to laugh, ‘Partly,’ he said before pressing his lips together, ‘But now that the cats out of the bag… I plan on indulging you… any way my mind sees fit.’ He said with a bit of Once we make it back to the hotel.’

‘Well, I like the sound of that!’ Lois squeaked as she clasped her hands together.

[synthetic-sadness]

Brooklyn Baby

photo credits to owners on pinterest (mine is green filter edition)

Pairing: Peter Steele x Lana Del Rey

Word Count: 13k

Warnings: 18+, Slight Angst, Self-Esteem issues, Slight NSFW, Slight OOC (really tried not to), Alcohol Issues, Developing Relationship, 90s setting;

I saw that well-known photoshop of them both and couldn’t help myself. I’m a creep, writing about pairings that one person like (me 👈) is my fetish 👹 English is not my native language, this is my first work so it may contain some mistakes. Enjoy ✨🧚‍♀️

NSFW under the next cut 💚

They broke her heart every time when she decided that one of these men is the only one for her, special. She was so naive, even after all of these nasty heartbreaks she somehow stayed pure.

Sad hazel eyes, but there's the light still seen in.

He had a big heart, that had been stitched, almost torn by many of long red nails of gothic and ordinary long-haired «succubuses». He'd been tricked countless times that he didn't even remember correctly the lies they'd been saying to him. And he almost gave up, almost decided to not to fall in with anyone, but still wanted to love and be loved one day.

Big sad green eyes, but there's a hope still seen in.

They met each other at the festival. She had just dropped her new album and a good respected label noticed her and offered a contract. At first she didn't trust them because of her previous record which flopped almost immediately, but in the end decided to say yes. And, after all, Elizabeth got a real jackpot.

He, at the same time, had been promoting Type O's album "Bloody kisses" in tours for two years. Meanwhile, the new material for a next release had been accumulating gradually, but there was no time for a proper work. Moreover, guys felt rather tired not only to write new songs, but to give concerts. Sometimes they couldn't decide what to do: to kill each other, because of living on a bus for a few years together and having enough, or to kill themselves.

And Lizzy, on the other hand, was excited to perform in front of a large number of people. Finally, these years of being in "underground scene" had paid off and she could present her music to various listeners.

But beside a thrill there was a huge fear. Not paralysing, but still.

She used to give concerts in bars and small clubs and the last one also were new to her. Girl was just getting used to its surroundings, to crowd of more than twenty people, when a manager said that she'll attend a festival in Europe. It was huge and she was completely terrified by the thought of many people would be there but tried not think about it a lot.

And the day came.

Her hotel room was comfortable but felt blank because of its colour — white. Not this cold hospital white one which make you feel anxiety, but soothing empty white. There were only a few colourful pieces of furniture: round mirror framed with brown wood, grey carpet and her black suitcase. Nothing special.

There was an odd feeling inside Lizzy's chest when she was looking around her surroundings while preparing clothes and make up for the show. It was that moment, when nothing special is happening, but you know that this scene will imprint in your mind as something meaningful.

It was a feeling. Probably it would be a great concert for her.

The hotel was close to the festival's field so it didn't take too long to reach their destination. And when Elizabeth saw a crowd of people she was not only shocked by the number of them but also by their looks. They were all different, but there were so many metalheads that girl immediately wanted to scream at her manager "What am I going to do here?!"

"Take it easy, it's a mixed crowd," said her tech-guy. "There are enjoyers of indie too. They just decided to bring together alternative sub-genres."

"Oh," was all that she could say.

One hour left before the show and their team chose to have a look around. Elizabeth was examining people, listening to their conversations and small talks, looking at other's bands merch tents and just trying to get use to the festival in general. When she got tired of it, which happened pretty quickly, she went to a backstage for preparing.

And there, turning her head and searching for the right direction, Lizzy happened to bump into someone pretty damn harshly.

A strong and massive hand on her left shoulder stopped her from collapsing onto floor but she still stumbled little bit.

"I'm sorry, I'm just huge for this world and you're kinda petite for mine," said a very tall man in extremely deep voice which impressed Elizabeth and even scared a little bit.

"Oh, that's okay, I'm really clumsy today," she chuckled lightly and fixed her hair reflectively because she had spent a few hours by making the vintage hair-dress and didn't want to ruin it.

"Stay safe," the big man nodded shortly but politely and went into the depths of the backstage area which consisted of black boxes with equipment, many sound-tech and light-tech guys, bands with their groupies (there were few of that girls, but still they were), just people who worked at the festival and all of these folk were hidden from view of audience by many metal bars and tent roof.

"Wow..." Lizzy chuckled again being impressed with his height and voice. What a man, really. He looked like a living example of testosterone.

This short encounter cheered her but the girl still couldn't get rid of this creeping anxious feeling in her lower stomach.

Rest of the time of waiting Elizabeth was watching other bands play. Tried to watch their show attentively and understand their art but after every few minutes she was returning to the only one thought: "Fuck, there is gonna be my turn soon! What am i going to do?!". Even if she liked music the fear of failure was so strong that it almost made her choke and cry.

But the girl pulled herself together and when the time had come and violinists started playing the heartbreaking tune she gladly took a hand of one of her tech-guys, who helped her got on stage because of her high wedge shoes and shaking knees it was so easy to twist an ankle and emabarras oneself.

It was daytime. The sun was shining high in the sky but hidden behind some kind of milky haze, there was no a single cloud and no reminding that it could be blue. Just this milky silk with rare golden sun rays.

And because of it the crowd was clearly seen. Many musicians say that doing shows in an afternoon is hard task and Lizzie was not exception.

All of these tiny people dressed in different clothes and looking like scattered skittles on the floor were clearly visible. But it's no more funny when you start gaze in to their faces and see how they were impatiently waiting to see and hear something good.

Elizabeth let out a great breath, opened her mouth and it all happened by itself. So naturally and so right.

Peter was irritated and tired because they had to perform late in the evening and it was only 3 p.m. He had already done everything that the man usually did when he was bored to death and paralyzed by stage fright: firstly, drank a bottle of wine, then got into small argument with Josh but it wasn't a big deal because they both knew that they all were tired of touring, met some fans, signed their CD's and merch t-shirts and also had a good chat with them.

The only thing that Peter liked in touring was communication with their fans. These people literally were giving away their money that they had earned just to see these "four dead trees" standing on stage. Because of fans and due to the fact that they were buying Type O's albums the group members could live on this money and pay taxes. So, Mr. Steele was so grateful to them, loved them for supporting his art and treated with unlimited respect. Also, the musicians and their fan base had something in general; especially it were sense of humour and music taste.

After spending some time chatting with other bands that guys knew before and getting acquainted with new people, Kenny, Johnny and Peter decided to come closer to the stage and look at the next perfoming person while Josh was somewhere else trying to ease an awful headache.

"Oh, that's something different that we've heard here," said Kenny when violins sounded and then a guitar.

"Yeah, I think it's some kind of an experimental artist or I don't know," the drummer also was interested in the current song.

That's the girl that I had almost crashed today, thought Peter and watched how this particular girl untangled a microphone's wire.

And when she started to sing... Well, Kenny was right: that was something that they hadn't heard before.

The audience was hypnotized and so was the gigantic gothic frontman. People, who were close to him, knew that Peter liked not only hardcore music but something sensual, slow and calm; that's why he had admiration for bands such as Cocteau Twins, Portishead and Dead Can Dance. And this particalr perfomance caught his attention instantly... but not only by music.

She looked like she might glow against the beige sky: in that white lace dress with golden cross on her chest, old-fashioned makeup, red long nails and red hair made into the Priscilla Presley's hairstyle it seemed like the girl came straight from the past. And her tunes also were somewhere between present and the times when people used to worship no God but Hollywood and its platinum blondies in golden dresses. This was particularly noticable in the "National Anthem" song. It was a strange mix, audience didn't understand it fully but they liked the whole experience.

She just came and dragged everyone into her weird but magical portal while tearing apart space and time. And Peter was the first who willingly let her take him away.

"Well, I can say this oficially. She's cool," said Johnny and blew smoke while Kenny was listening carefully to the melody and Peter... well, Peter was smitten and even confounded because the man didn't remember the last time when he was so captivated by music which always had been something intimate to Steele.

He was stunned by her sadness and ethereal melancholia that was running through all of her songs and the set, but what amazed him the most it's "Without You". It was like a painful love letter put into a heartbreaking cry and all of these was sang to the accompaniment of a piano and a violin. The girl was so fragile and feminine at that moment, looking like that "China doll" she sang about that Peter and others wanted to know about whom it was. And he felt desire to be... that man?

Well, yes, she had gotten him charmed by her music, so it was no surpise that the big frontman was impressed by her genuine and shy stage persona, not to mention that she was really beautiful.

The girl looked languid but at the same time her behaviour on stage was adorable: she slowly strolled, smoked from time to time, couldn't keep a cool facade and smiled and giggled when people were cheering and giving other positive reactions. Such a cutie.

"Fuck, this weed doesn't make any sense to my migraine," tired and gloomy Silver finally decided to join them backstage but slowly stopped. "Tell me, am I got so stoned or is there Priscilla Presley on stage?"

"No, it's just some retro girl doing her set," snickered Peter.

"Yeah, and she's kicking asses," the drummer exclaimed. It was always so hilarious to hear him talk and do interviews while other members were around, because unlike them he sounded cheerfully and looked like a golden retriever all the time.

"But slowly," added Hickey.

"Deeply and harder," Steele joked referencing their first album and all of them shared small laugh. It wasn't a joke in general, he really thought that the singer put her heart into the art. And the man was not the only one who came to such conclusion; everyone noticed that as well.

When the set came to the end she blew a kiss and waved under the sound of cheering crowd, looking absolutely happy and terrified at the same time. And there, offstage, people also were clapping for her which immediately made her cheeks burn with heat. She did it, but her body was still shivering uncontrollably.

After a while this blood-sucking feeling was no longer gone and was replaced by a pleasent numbness. There, before the show, everything felt like an eternal nightmare, and now Lizzie was almost floating.

In recording studio she felt at home, but in front of audince it was quite opposite. A disgusting feeling, like someone is peeling your skin, however Lizzie thought that life is short. Once she said that It's important to show yourself in the light that you'd like to be shown and the light she'd like to be shown in is not necessarily in a spotlight in front of everyone else. She loved to introduce herself to people through her lyrics and the way that she thought because she liked it. The way that she looked on stage in front of thousands of people wasn't really her thing but she tried to do her best. But only her closest ones knew that.

And that night, after the stressful but successful perfomance, she decided that examining other musicians may help her learn from them some tiny tips. But the girl stayed not only because of "studying process" — she wanted to find a new music and have a great time because the main difference between gigs and festivals is that that they give you more energy and emotions.

Rock and metal wasn't really her thing but Elizabeth was shocked by an attitude of bands because some of them did a really crazy shit on stage.

And how high was level of her curiosity when she saw that tall guy in a green t-shirt with his band. Of course Lizzie understood that he was some kind of musician when she ran into him but she expected him to play a batshit crazy metal and scream his head off (well, actually he did it few times) but not a slow, dark and extremely sensual heavy tunes. What was more surprising that his persona and deep low voice were created for this type of music which the girl started to enjoy sincerely.

She had a great opportunity to see the man from head to toe: huge, pale and muscular, with long wavy black hair, tattoos on each biceps and beautiful manly vocal which amazed with its sensuality and low tones at once. His sharp, almost sculptured face features with sullen look on them were seen from a distance and after all it was no surprise that women who were backstage decided to watch the show. Other guys in the band were no less cool, they even complemented each other which was amazing, but all of the focus was on the gigantic frontman-vampire with bass guitar on chain strap and a bottle of wine on a box case next to a mic stand, who rolled letter "R" and was making sarcastic jokes with crowd. And what about the instrument Lizzie couldn't keep her giggles when she noticed how small it looked in his hands. What an insane view.

But what was more insane that in the end of the set he just tore the guitar strings with bare hands and silently walked away from the stage with band members. That was a sight that Elizabeth would remember for a long time.

The night was in a full swing, only few bands were about to perform but most of people and musicians were partying hard and enjoying themselves. Type O's were not exception. Some guys decided to throw a party in their bus and it was full of drunk folk dancing, drinking and rocking it from side to side with their actions. When Josh saw this shit he rolled his eyes and decided to have a walk at least untill there would be ten strangers and calm his aching head.

His dear childhood friend was also an introverted soul but sometimes touring routine had been killing him and Peter had no choice but to surrender. And when after few glasses of red wine he felt that he was gonna to throw up because of blaring loud music and flirtatious laugh of women who were trying to hook up with him or other members, the man stood up and walked out of the hellish tour bus.

Chilly night air was like a blessing after that stinky transport that he was sick and tired of being in for two years. Why did he quit his job at the Park Department? Why was he such an idiot? He constantly reaproached himself — especially after drinking his favourite drink.

Peter slowly strolled looking at cheerful and drunk people illuminated with colorful spotlights, feeling how the ground was shaking under his legs with every beat of drums on stage. He loved music with all of his heart but sometimes such atmosphere annoyed him and because of it he decided to go somewhere quieter and less crowded.

And there she was. Standing leg-crossed with a cigarette between delicate long fingers, looking thoughtfully somewhere to the left while many colorful rays of spotlights were flashing behind her back. In that white lace dress she looked like a vision, a ghost, an angel. Completely didn't fit into the surroundings.

Peter really was stunned by her (and her bad habit that he had a fetish for) and even though he wasn't a confident man he thought that he would be a total fool if he wouldn't say few words to her. And he approached her.

"Hi, I'm that guy who almost killed you today," said Peter with a little smirk on his face.

"And I'm the dwarf from your world," she smiled. She had such a cute voice in everyday life, he thought.

"Just wanted to say that your perfomance was great, same with your music," his words were really genuine.

"Oooh, thanks..." the girl instantly turned color and added, "You guys were cool as well."

"Nah, we suck but it's not blood," he brushed off and she started laughing and her giggling sounded light and gentle like a crystal bell.

"Well, I can't agree with you," the fragile singer playfully shaked her head.

"Then you definitely didn't see us,"

"I may be blind but definitely not deaf," she said and sucked in the smoke again.

"Well, I can't agree with you," Peter flashed her a toothy grin and even though she laughed he noticed that his fangs caught her out off guard for a second.

But the moment was interrupted unexpectedly by a man, who seemed to be disturbed by something. He ran up to them quickly and made both worry.

"Gosh, I had been looking for you everywhere!" Marc, who was Type O's bus driver in his late forties, exclaimed wearily to the gigantic frontman while being completely out of breath.

"What happened?"

"Kenny, this bloody asshole, got so hammered that decided to smash some guy's face!" the man with funny mustache and round belly had been visibly irritated. "Only you can help us to pull him away from this poor man."

Everyone knew that Kenny Hickey was a nice fellow but sometimes his demons were making people doubt this statement.

Peter suddenly felt embarrassed because their guitarist turned a complete prick mode on and because he had to leave this lovely stranger in order to save friend's ass.

"Can he deal with his mess himself?" he grumbled but tried not to show how really annoyed he was. "I'm tired of being his bodyguard."

"You know that i don't want to disturb you, Pete, but you're the only one here who can break them up," Marc was right; Steele had enough strength to hold some furious fighter like it was an angry small chihuahua. "This motherfucker is short but very prehensile!"

And that also was true.

"It's okay, you shall go and help your friend," the girl assured him that everything was fine. But in reality he didn't want to leave her, not like that.

"Yeah, you are right. I'm sorry. Thank you for a short but nice chat," Peter nodded to her politely and Marc did the same but more eagerly. "See you."

"Bye," she waved them goodbye knowing well that she and this guy Pete would hardly meet again. And when the big and the small silhouettes gradually had faded from sight over the deep blue sky and moist chilly night air Elizabeth dropped a finished cigarette to the ground, stomped it and felt how her body and mind were drained after a festival's debut.

The girl turned and walked away with one wish: to fall asleep under hotel's soft blankets.

Five months had passed and label's bosses decided that it was enough for Type O Negative to be on tour. After all they still needed to record a new album which of course shall become a commercial success in the end. That's funny how many people think that being well-known musician or other type of artist is so easy: you do what you like, you get paid for it. It certainly gives some privileges but in reality creation of a product of art contains of endless pressure from the record label, self-doubting in your abilities, creative crisis, deadlines, disagreement with your ideas of band members, hours and hours of recording sessions where one single mistake or a badly played note make you return to the begininng, and neverending stress makes you lose it. And you can't leave this game so easily because you had signed a contract for a few music albums.

Peter quickly disappointed when he found out about the music industry when he was 24. Now, being a 32-year-old man he got used to it but still didn't fully accept its rules and didn't wanted to be led. Their work in a studio usually wasn't going well; everytime Pete cursed the day when he left his job but repeatedly admitted that he was a masochist.

Because of their common love of misery guys from Type O's were making the new album but after a month of continuous work they started to take few a days off. And you can only imagine how "happy" was Peter when he found out that his whole weekend he had to spend under the hood of his car which the man affectionately called "The Beast": a huge black machine with no bumpers but large wooden planks, big bright lights on the top of it and a truck horn. This "monster" had been both repainted and repaired many times by Peter himself and many repairings were done for the purpose of upgrading. Unfortunately that time it needed a a real repairing.

But even though being an excellent handyman that he was, that time Mr. Steele was too exhausted to do fixing himself. And a solution was simple: to visit a good friend in a car service in Brooklyn.

The fellow of his was a good man, they chatted for a little bit, caught each other up their latest news, had a good laugh but Peter didn't want to disturb him and then went to a record store nearby the car service.

There in a small room full of stands with CD's and vinyls and a silent salesman behind the cash desk with a magazine in his hands the frontman was studying range of music products. He came there just to kill some time but had been looking at new music with interest before his gaze fell upon one special record in best-selling section.

He felt how his eyes glued themselves to the image of an red-haired girl dressed in a white shirt. The colors and the idea were pretty simple: a mid-shot of girl's face and upper body to show audience beautiful features with serious expression of the artist, blue sky, pale wooden barrier and probably an old-fashioned car. Blue font on white read "Born to Die" and white one on blue was typed in big letters "Lana Del Rey".

Luxurious and vintage as I had thought, Peter thought to himself.

That was what he had been looking for since their short encounter that night at the festival. It was so brief and blurred that the man had no time at least to ask for her name. The next day he'd spent looking for her merch tent to buy her music but it turned out to be that she had no one. Moreover the idea to look for someone when you don't even know their name itself was stupid and doomed to failure from the beginning.

And at that moment Peter felt that a missing puzzle piece went up in its place. It was an exact feeling when you finally learn about what you have been trying to find out for so long. Some kind of bliss may be said. Plus he really wanted to listen to the records of this melancholic songstress because he saw the same mood in her music that he had in his own.

But what Peter didn't expect is to see her at the same record store, slowly shuffling through vinyls.

His heart dropped for a second and the next was slight panic and the urge to grab her so she wouldn't disappear. It was so sudden that he didn't know what to say to her and not look like an idiot. Although Peter couldn't miss the chance.

He had decided that it would be better if he'd just leave the CD on the self to not look like some creep in her eyes and went straight to her while slightly waping his sweating palms on dark blue jeans.

"Hello," a familiar deep voice came above her head.

Lizzie quickly looked up and jumped a little, the height of the gothic bassist gave her a slight jumpscare. He couldn't help but chuckle at that.

"Oh, hi," she immeaditely became flustered. "What a surprise. I didn't expect to see you here."

"Me too actually," and then he frowned a little. "I'm sorry that I disappeared so quickly last time."

"That's okay," the girl simply waved her hand. "I hope your friend is doing fine."

"Yeah, he is much better now," Peter slightly snored at the memory of Kenny kicking and screaming threating nonsense and being completely pale with greenish shade the day after he had spent hugging a toilet.

The man took his large hand out for a handshake "I'm Peter."

Lizzie accepted the gesture, her elegant small hand was swallowed by his very gentle touch.

"I'm Elizabeth, nice to meet you officially."

Peter felt a slight pang in his chest.

His "favourite" name. Again.

But he didn't show her sadness hidden behind green eyes. She was not "that" Elizabeth, she was more humane and warm person without a single doubt.

"The pleasure is mine. I've been looking for your records at the festival but found it here" Peter pointed at the best-selling section "I can say that you're doing great".

"Yeah and I still can't believe it..." looking at her own image with grateful expression Elizabeth shooked her head and the gigantic rocker believed the sincerity of her words. And when a dreamy glint in eyes of hers was gone she turned to him with crossed arms. "What brought you here?"

"Firstly, I live here. And secondly, my car is getting fixed down the street," Peter explained in his velvet low voice.

The girl smiled when she understood which accent he got.

"I'm here to see my uncle. I used to live in Brooklyn too with him and my aunt."

"You did?" he slightly raised his eyebrows in surprise. When Peter first saw her onstage he had a strong feeling that she was somewhere from West Coast. Now she looked like a typical city girl: her wavy red hair was loose, same vintage makeup but not so catchy that was at performance, dressed in tight jeans and racing Ferrari red bomber jacket.

Brooklyn was not a glamorous place to live in and Peter knew it well and wondered how living there had affected her or even had inspired in work.

"Yes, but then I had moved to Bronx, after that to New Jersey, lived in a trailer, then returned back so... Well, actually a list of my relocations turned to be a little bit longer than that," she felt a bit awkward because of oversharing and the thought that she was boasting off which was not true.

"You have an interesting life as i see," a small smile was curving the frontman's lips. But the next moment he got slightly tensed, inquired. "Would you like to have a snack and tell me more about your journeys someday?"

"I would love to," her face was graced by a radiant smile which made Peter's stomach drop but he had no clue why.

"I'll give you my phone number..." he took a crumpled small piece of paper and short pencil from pocket of his leather jacket and

"You've prepared," Lizzie giggled citing the fact that he could use it while meeting women.

"Being an old man that I am I need this to write down a grocery list. I hate this feeling when I'm in a supermarket looking for milk but ending up buying tampons," this dramatic head shake and the fact that he had been joking so easily about himself made her think that he liked to be some kind of a clown.

"Poor Peter," she snickered.

"I can say the same about all of musicians," he grinned and caught her looking at his fangs with curiosity again while laughing.

The fact that the girl was exposed didn't go unnoticed and Elizabeth's pink cheeks showed her embarrassment at the situation.

"Thank you..." she lowered her head when he gave her the paper but quickly regained her composure. "Um.. can I ask you for something?"

"Of course," his eyes showed slight concern.

"I have been looking for your records but didn't find one. Can I find it here?"

Oh that, our shitty music albums, the man chuckled at himself.

"Let me see," the musician decided to act like he didn't know that their and Carnivore's discography was in that store. Peter Steele was kind of hero of Brooklyn music scene, many musicians and metalheads knew him and his music (even though he was harsh on himself) had a great impact on others' musical creations.

He went to a section of rock and different genres of metal and pretended to be searching hard for the album, in fact just moving his CDs back and forth, and after a minute of that shameless simulation under Lizzie's watchful eye he picked the latest one, "Bloody Kisses".

"Here," Peter returned and gave her the current CD.

She gladly accepted it while paying attention to how long his slender fingers were. But her attention was instantly captured by two moaning goth-like girls on the cover in a moment of heavy make-out-session... Well, Elizabeth heard their songs live and all of the erotic messages that were there, so it wasn't a big surprise.

"Oh, that's... provocative," she giggled awkwardly looking at the cover from both sides.

"We play dirty," stated Peter in pleased voice. But the cause of his high spirits was that he liked to see how she was getting shy in front of him at his actions or any nonsense that he'd said.

The man turned to get her record but instead was interrrupted.

"Oh, It's not a good version. Trust me!" Lizzie exclaimed. The puzzled and confused gaze he gave her made songstress disappear behind various stands.

And when she came back he saw her holding another music record of hers. The cover was shot with the same prospect but style was different: vintage luxury, swimming pool and palm trees in the back, dressed in swimming suit with straight loose hair looking magnificent as always. All of these was framed with golden textures. It had the same name but under the title there were small gold letters: The Paradise Edition.

"This is a special edition, went on sale only a week ago. The first one sells good but this has twelve more songs and costs the same, even cheaper."

"Thanks for taking care of my wallet," smirked Peter. "That's actually good that you've decided to add so many songs even though I'm sure that your label made you do it."

"Yeah, but I'm glad that I can finally show my material to the world..." he noticed that her cute voice always sounded very garetful when it came to the music and opportunities that were given to her. And then Lizzie stole a quick glance at a round wall clock that hung on the wall behind the salesman. "I think that I shall go and meet my uncle, don't wanna make him wait for me."

"Sure," the frontman felt a sudden wave of sadness and despair by looking at her buying his CD and knowing well that they wouldn't meet so soon, hastily added. "I'd like to call you but I don't know when you'll be in New York next time."

"I'm here everyday," the girl said and threw him a meaningful smile over her shoulder. Then she got the change and waved at him. "Bye."

When glass doors closed themselves with a quiet slam Elizabeth no longer saw the amused look on the big man's face.

"What was that?" Peter chuckled to himself under the annoyed gaze of the salesman, who had been waiting impatinately for them both to pay.

What was that, Lizzie thought to herself while walking down the street to a café when she and her uncle had decided to have a cup of coffee.

Looking down at the CD record in her hands she couldn't help but shake her head with wry chuckle. This is all so strange. At first that festival which almost made her shit herself, then this huge gothic guy with fangs and corny sense of humour...

He wasn't her type at all. Yes, she had said many times that she had no type but all of her boyfriends had something in common: appearance or some kind of fleur around them. But Peter was different. He was beautiful in a dark way; pale, long-haired with manly face and hypnotic green eyes looking like a black-maned demigod or a vampire. But Lizzie had no interest in vampires... until when?

Anyway, there was something about him that seemed to be magnetic for her romantically or not.

Five days later they met in a good place where they could have a proper meal and a real conversation and where nothing and no one could interupt them this time. At first Peter had wanted to invite her to a premium restaurant but then he thought that it would look like a date and he didn't want to scare her away that way... Well, to be honest the man didn't fully understand what he felt for her. But the one thing was clear: he was drawn to the melancholic songstress.

"...and then you moved to London?" Peter asked while pouring red wine into his glass after she had kindly refused the drink. He was trying to sort out Lizzie's life and her numerous moves and almost every one of them had been remembered by him.

Her life looked like that detailed puzzles that people buy and then forget about them because its complexity irritate them and make them feel oppressed due to they can't easily collect it. But when it's finaly ready it looks so fascinatingly and reassuring that they can't tear their gazes away.

And Peter even felt little bit embarrassed because being six years older than Elizabeth he still hadn't moved out of his parents' basement. His life was so boring compared to hers: no relocations, no life in a trailer, no metaphysics degree.

"Yes, right after my first studio album got flopped," she said and took a sip of her Pepsi. "I lived in a shitty flat with no heat, it was so awful."

"Looks like you took everything from life," he smiled and got chuckle out of the girl.

"Not at all," with slight frown Lizzie remembered all those ten years that she was desperately trying to break into a music scene.

"Anyway, I'm pleased to be in a company of such an intelligent and erudite woman."

And again there was heat rising on her cheeks.

"Am I wrong or you do really enjoy see me blushing?" her lips curved into an cute-awkward smile. "However, thanks."

"Making people feel uncomfortable is my another favourite hobby," significantly stated Peter and there was a mischievous small sparkle in his eyes when he sipped wine.

Oh, if only she knew about "Nazi" scandal, the original cover of "The Origin of the Feces", being "misogynist" and this "Prelude to Agony" song...

He wasn't proud of it at all, but that's what happens when you have a provocative vision of art and crude humour.

"I noticed that when you played this 'Christian Woman'. Kinda reminded me about the time when I was in a Catholic school. Singing in choir and loving going to a church..." the girl's face assumed a nostalgic expression as if she cherished those times which surprised the gothic musician — his own experience was quite the opposite.

"Oh, that means that I wrote this song about you?" he asked jokingly.

"Well, I don't remember that I could be touching myself while looking at crucifix at nights. So, probably no."

"Yeah, it was me who had been fantasying about Jesus, sorry..." Peter was fooling around again, like he used to act around with his close ones, but when he saw her restrained smile and shining eyes he decided to tell a little bit more. "Actually, I wrote this song out of my experience being a catholic boy during puberty. Nocturnal emissions and other embarassing things, you know. Just made up a sensual story out of a teenage nightmare."

"I do write songs based on my life too," Elizabeth nodded knowingly. Her favourite way to write music was when the stuff that made the girl emotional had happened so she could see things more clearly. But at that moment she thought about how many of his songs were filled with real experience and not wet and gloomy fantasies.

There was a short pause before Peter spoke again.

"You have this interesting song. Um, 'my pussy tastes like Pepsi cola' as long as I remember..." he uttered with a puzzled expression, looking away like couldn't remember it properly but in reality he was just messing around with her again.

Her hazel eyes immediately widened.

"Oh my god!" she choked on the exact drink and quickly caught the attention of other visitors. Some of them had stopped their conversations and turned around to see what the matter but they saw the songstress wiping her mouth with a napkin.

"Very interesting line," the man could hardly keep the smile off his face.

That bastard... that extremely good-looking bastrad, Elizabeth thought.

"Oh my god, ughh!" she hid her face behind palms and groaned embarassingly. If few moments ago her cheeks were briefly dusted with pink, now she was sure that the heat her face was radiating could be felt from the other end of the table.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to embarrass you so much!" he laughed heartedly. It was a deep rumbling sound that Lizzie wanted to hear again and again. So smooth and calming.

"No, it's fine," the girl waved her hands. "Well... oh my," she couldn't help but snored again. "One of my friends, he's Scottish, ones said that American girls' pusseys taste like Pepsi cola. And I thought that's would sound cool."

"Your friend seems to be an expert in foreign cuisine," Peter noted ironically.

"I don't want to go into these details!" the girl exclaimed giggling.

He liked to make her laugh, how she lowered her long lashes, how her plump lips were curving into a gentle smile. That was a hypnotic sight to see.

Although, this part of conversation was hillarious but Lizzie couldn't help but felt slightly insecure.

"Do you have silly songs like this one?" she looked calm but the way she started to pick her long manicured nails didn't go unnoticed by the big gothic musician.

"Every song of ours is silly," his biting self-criticism was storng as always. Had this man ever admitted his achievements?

"Come on," the songstress rolled her eyes in a playful manner.

Peter coughed — that was the habit of his, he did it occasionally during conversations or interviews — and thought.

"Alright... um, from the last album it is Black No. 1," that time the answer was honest and serious.

"Really? But it's a hit. I saw the crowd going insane when they heard it," she wondered. The song was brilliant, catchy and had great pontential and not to mention the fact that it was the single. Audience was shouting, jumping and singin along with the band that evening.

"I would like to look at them when they find out that this song is about hair dye that I wrote in a traffic jam while driving a garbage truck," Peter smirked. "Although, I've said that too many times in interviews. People don't understand that's a sarcasm. I noticed that they don't understand what sarcasm is at all."

Then she started to understand that Peter Steele was not about gothic romantism and sex; this person was much deeper and complicated. But in a witty way, may say.

"Being a musician means that every song of yours shall mean something deep and contain higher thoughts. But how exactly this hair dye inspired you? I'm interested."

"My ex-girlfriend used it and she still does, I think. She was a gothic girl, a real hot stuff. She listened to goth bands and was making fun of my music taste, especially hardcore bands that I liked at that time. She said that I don't know the real music."

"That's kinda stupid of her," said Lizzie with furrowed eyebrows and took another sip of Pepsi. She'd always thought that It's so childish to make make fun of something that you don't like or don't understand yourself.

"Yeah, but at that time I was crazy about her, I didn't mind," the man just shrugged his shoulders.

This made her wonder about that girl: how she looked like, was she really that hot as Peter saw her, how she smelled like and what kind of a perfume she used, was her voice low and sultry or high and pitchy, how she prefered to spend her free time and was she more beautiful than Lana herself.

Lizzie found herself thinking about these silly things and but decided to brush them off. She had no need to know about his love life. But anyway, almost every song that Elizabeth had heard on that 'Bloody Kisses' record (oh, and how she got so fucking scared when in the beginning some girl started to moan heart-rendingly) was about both mental and physical relationships with women.

"So, according to my observations can I say that women are your main inspiration?" the girl asked curiously but couldn't hide that mischievous glint that was seen in her hazel eyes. She wondered if this giant would deny it with male shame or agree willingly in order to cozy up to her.

"Not main, but they are also important to me," Peter stated simply understanding that the talented companion wanted to mess with him little bit. And he smirked himself teasingly. "But you too have these love ballads from what I've heard."

And then that glimmer in her eyes faded. Lizzie had two options: to tell the truth or to laugh it off playfully and move on next topic. But somehow she felt urge to share a little bit. Maybe because he was an artist too or because she just wanted to.

"Ha, well..." Lizzie giggled but it was more nervous and sad chuckle. "I'm an ex-alcoholic."

The playful mood that was between them two quickly vanished after that leaving a ringing silence. Peter was looking at the girl and feeling guilty for making her feel uncomfortable by offering to drink wine earlier but Lana was okay.

That moment he saw her in a different light but not in a bad one: behind this careless lush red hair, vintage makeup, long nails and golden necklaces was something dark, tragic and fragile. People who saw her and heard her music thought tha she was just a foolish beautiful doll with whining songs and a pathetic product of a good label. But that's not true.

This beautiful porcelain doll had barely noticable cracks and Peter wanted to see what was behind them, inside.

The man felt ashamed for drinking wine so casually in front of her all the evening.

"Oh, sorry, shall I..." he started to apologize hastily and his already big green eyes became even bigger while fussing and attempting to get rid of alcohol on their table.

"No, I'm not so fucked up," Elizabeth rolled her eyes with ironic smile at his fuss, he was so cute. "I mean, almost in every music piece that I create there is a small hint about my past addiction."

He nodded silently in response and felt no desire to sip this wine; the laid-back atmosphere around them collapsed like a shattering glass but it wasn't girl's fault. Suddenly Peter found the dark red liquid in his glass so interesting to observe.

"You may be silent but I see the question in your eyes, you know," Lizzie joked and got chuckle out of the frontman.

"Right," he smirked in a guilty way and slightly lowered his head to hide a fact that his pale cheeks were flushed with shame.

"It's all started when I was fourteen," she began her story. "When I was very young I was sort of floored by the fact that my mother and my father and everyone I knew was going to die one day, and myself too. I had a sort of a philosophical crisis. I couldn't believe that we were mortal. For some reason that knowledge sort of overshadowed my experience. I was unhappy for some time. I got into a lot of trouble. I used to drink a lot. That was a hard time in my life."

"I know it all sounds silly, but... I was a big drinker at the time. I would drink every day. My parents were worried, I was worried. I knew it was a problem when I liked it more than I liked doing anything else. I was like, 'I'm fucked. I am totally fucked'. Like, at first it's fine and you think you have a dark side — it's exciting — and then you realise the dark side wins every time if you decide to indulge in it. It's also a completely different way of living when you know that...a different species of person. It was the worst thing that ever happened to me."

"In general, my album is about me being a crazy mess in my teens," the girl waved her hands so simply that made Peter blink distractedly. One minute she was telling a harsh story and then acting like nothing happened. There was no bad taste for her but maybe they are telling truth? Time heals?

"I just wondered why we're here and was sort of consumed by the fact that everyone's gonna, um, leave this planet. About love..." Lizzie smirked tauntingly returning to the previous question. "They think that I write songs about a specific guy who broke my heart or 'bout the man I will love forever, but the true is most of my "love songs" are about alcohol. Don't know, when I write about the thing that I've lost I feel like I write about alcohol because that was the first love of my life."

The gothic bassist remained silent but couldn't tear his gaze off. Not anymore.

"Anyway, this fact doesn't change that I still have bad taste in men," an awkward giggle escaped her lips.

"Can say the same about my taste in women," Peter joked to support. But in that one there was also some truth.

Elizabeth really wanted not to talk about her personal life, at least not right now, but the urge to babble about it was so strong so the girl was holding herleslf back as much as she could.

"It's just like, once I was blessed to find someone who made me so happy. But, in the end, it seemed like I wasn't good enough for him."

"I think you were more than enough," he said surely, his deep voice was filled with warm and kind notes.

"You can't know such things, you weren't there," she uttered with her hand shuffled through patterned napkins in a carved metal napkin holder on the table. Lizzie didn't want him to assure her in something that she still couldn't figure out.

"I know that's true because someone who says this usually that one who tried their best in a such shitty relationship."

That made her reflect on it.

"Well, I can't help but agree with you this time..."

The rest of the evening went well and calm. They felt some kind of an ease and were joking and talking like nothing had happened before, just having a good time in general. However, both sensed that someting intimate flashed between them, especially after Lizzie's honest tale. In response the gothic frontman told her that bottles of wine onstage were not for cool entourage: he had a bad stage fright like Lana did.

Later that night, when Peter came home being greeted by his few cats he played her CD again. Skipped to the 'Born To Die' and started listening to it from a new perspective knowing small details and a skeleton of the piece.

And that moment he knew — he was falling for her. Fast and irreversibly.

After that night Peter and Elizabeth started to spend more time together. At first they had been meeting twice a week but soon Peter started to notice more and more often that he's on phone with Lizzie asking her for a walk. And their walks weren't romantic or too amorous. That were two brilliant people, even though they didn't know that about themselves, walking around New York together, telling stories and discussing many topics but all they did was only in a friendly way. Even though Peter cut his long strides in half to walk alongside the girl, her legs were aching anyway after their 'city tours'.

Elizabeth was intrigued by the fact that passers-by always looked at him, examined his tall figure, long black hair with a police cap, dressed in the leather jacket. Of course it was difficult not to notice him but he had something special about him, and it's not just beauty, that made women stare at him.

Especially Lizzie Woolridge Grant.

Once they walked around Manhattan and she told him how the city had inspired her in so many of her songs. When she was younger the girl used to wander around New York and hum some tunes then she just cuptered them on paper. 'I was a waitress at that time,' she said. In return the Brooklyn's giant took her to his favourite Chinese food restaurant and bought meals for 60$.

Peter started to quickly dissapear after every music session and the guys liked to make fun of him every time they got a chance. Kenny and Johnny were joking, Josh did it too but more cautiously. He knew very well how vulnerable his friend was so he didn't want to rescue his big boney ass if something would go wrong. Even though they didn't know Lana personally three of them had a common joke that next time Peter would write a sarcastic song about vintage hair curlers and a glue for fake eyelashes.

Meanwhile Lizzie began to realize that she was attached to him not only because he a beautiful, intelligent, polite and restrained Individual... The reason surprised her — she liked him.

While listening to his album, which was a gimmick in her collection, the girl found herself not enjoying Type O's instrumental anymore. From then on it was all about his voice, no matter if he talked or sang. His deep velvet voice with rambling laugh made her knees weak. She could no longer look him in the eyes without admiration which immediately led to confusion and shyness.

At the same time Elizabeth started to caught his glances more often. Of course Peter had found her attractive before but now he couldn't help himself. Every time the man looked at her gorgeous face he wanted to trace his fingers down her cheekbones, full lips... those lips... The frontman wanted to devour them in the most hot and sweet kiss at once.

This continued for some time. Long walks along Coney Island, restaurants meals and conversations about music, art and love affairs.

They said that they didn't want anything serious or a proper relationship and the very next second they were passionately kissing in his car. Long slender fingers tangled in red hair, long manicured nails slightly scracthed the back of the neck. Both knew that there was no way back. Both were so fucking glad.

Peter didn't paid attention to friends'mockeries of him being excited and in love. Instead he began to invite Lizzie to their recording sessions which didn't disturb the process at all. She had known inner workings of the recording and tried not to distract them very much but she made friends with all of them somehow anyway (what a bunch of facts, both gross and nice, guys told her about Green Man...). And for Pete her presence in the studio had been good. Melancholic songstress didn't know that she was in fact his muse at that time and that most of his creative fantasies, and not only creative, were about her.

Out of respect she didn't buy this 'Playgirl' magazine with his spicy photo session. But in the very beginning of their relationship there was a huge temptation because her hormones gone wild.

It was so scary and thrilling. Lizzie was afraid because she'd heard about his tour lifestyle. God, she even didn't need to hear about this — the girl saw with her own eyes how women were looking at him wherever they were going together. Particularly after that infamous magazine which seemed to be not only for ladies...

But she decided to dive into it, knowing there would be no turning back. Only a broken heart and vain hope.

Though everything between these two were developing gradually and correctly.

Several months later Peter being a family guy that he was decided to introduce Elizabeth to his big family. His mother, Nettie, really liked her (the woman complimented her hair-style every time), five older sisters and their kids thought that she was nice and even Peter Sr who usually prefered to stay out of son's private life, that was his wife's job, who knew about love adventures of their youngest child, appreciated his new squeeze. He also promised Peter that if he would hurt her somehowhe he would get in the neck. In response the man just laughed and pledged that she will be cherished and taken care of. Just like Lizzie deserved and how his sisters taught him to treat a woman.

Life is so god damn weird, she thought looking at his sculptured masculine profile while having a ride with him one night. Peter could swear loudly at passing cars or speaking in puns just to hear Lizzie's laugh, her real laugh: loud and bright, not small giggles.

That European festival supposed to increase the music career of hers, a task with which it was succesessful, but in addition it gave Lizzie something bigger: a great man and worthy relationships.

Compared to this her past experiences were just a shit on a sole. No regrets.

Behind shutters there cars were passing in the night with a dissapearing flash and a distant roar. The light in the room was dim, a lamp with a red illuminating bulb was on. Such glow created a mysterious atmosphere with lit candles in the bedroom combined with living room in the flat in Queens.

Cocteau Twins' 'Pepper-Tree' was softly playing in the background. The only sound that was heard besides it were light sighs and quiet girly moans.

Lizzie's naked body was wriggling on light burgundy cotton sheets under Peter's skillful tongue and watchful eyes. She was lightly swaying her hips, arching her back with sexy breathy 'Oh's, grabbing her perky breasts herself and pinching hard nipples between the middle and index finger.

Looking at such erotic and mesmerizing view Peter was absolutely sure in one thing: he would spend his whole life between legs of his angelic girlfriend if he could just to hear these moans and see her beautiful face in pure ecstasy, with closed eyes and parted full lips.

"Mm, you taste divine..." he murmured lowly and adding thoughtfully. "Those soda bubbles and cherry... or vanilla, I haven't figured it out yet..."

She rolled her eyes but this time not from pleasure.

"Why do you have to do this right now?" Lizzie asked irritably and rose on her elbows feeling her climax fading and lustful mood ruined.

"Because you yourself say that your pussy tastes like Pepsi cola. It's not my fault!" said the man in his defence. He could hardly hid the cheeky grin behind her smooth silky skin.

Sometimes he was so unbearable.

"When I wrote that I thought that it would sounds cool, but now I hate this line more than anything!" she stated heatedly and lay on her back again.

He always found her so cute and funny complaining about her lyrics.

"I think it's one of the coolest things that I've ever heard about vagina."

Elizabeth turned a deaf ear on that.

"Ugh, why am I such an idiotic songwriter?!" Lizzie groaned hiding her face behind palms.

Peter was looking at her while calmly running his big palms up and down her thighs in soothing manner.

"I am always trying to create something but every time ending up doing some stupid shit!"

"And because of it I love you."

Bitter annoyance and frustration were gone. Her tongue was immediately caught in her throat. She even forgot how to breathe.

The girl looked at him over her naked breasts expecting to see a grimace of fear and painful waiting but she saw absolute assurance in his pretty manly face. These words weren't a fleeting gust even though they were in bed.

"What?" sounded like a choked gasp.

"I love you."

Lizzie had blinked few times before she began to feel hot clear tears running down her shocked face.

She grabbed him in attempt to pull closer and planted a hot and strong kiss on his lovely mouth. While their lips were moving Peter felt her whispering 'I love you' all over again and again. And they couldn't be happier than at that night.

'You make me feel electric' Lizzie said to Peter when they were lying on the bed in his basement, just cuddling with his cats at their feet. Grizzelda was purring when the songstress scratched her tiny head delicately.

Both lovers and cats were napping that rainy evening and Elizabeth felt absolute peace. It was always like that near him.

'That's because I always give you these electrical shocks every time you touch me?' he asked hoarsely and she giggled tiredly.

He was so humble, so sweet, gentle and down-to-earth that the girl could no longer imagine her life without Peter. More important, it was mutual.

For the first time Pete saw that his woman could show as much affection as he did himself with her. Every hour spent with Lizzie he could compare to delicate sunbathing in warm Spring days. The muscician almost felt how the light was seeping through him with their every interaction.

She made a discovery that he wasn't that gloomy and serious like she saw him on that European festival. He was a jokester, who liked to fool around with puns and scare his loved ones with weird noises that the deep voice of his could make. But the man treated people with respect and was friendly to everyone. Of course he could have bad days like any of us, when the bassist could sit there all grumpy with furrowed bushy eyebrows and with no desire to share his worries with her. Peter preferred to keep everything to himself, just not to bother anyone on or not to look like a weak person.

Otherwise, he was a tender and supportive soul.

But still, Lizzie anxiously waited for that moment and it happened. He just couldn't be only hers forever. Not him, not Peter Steele.

One day at the party of some friend of' the drab four' guys' Kenny went to her to talk about it. She was terrified to hear next 'You see...' or 'I don't want to be the person who'll tell you this but I know that he has no balls to do it himself, so...'. But instead the guitarist said that he was almost shocked to see Peter not paying attention to any other woman anymore but her. And he said that he was very proud of his mate and them both. Lizzie didn't know what to say and Kenny didn't know what to do when he saw her crying.

And how shaken was Peter when he saw his girlfriend shedding floods of tears in a corner with his best friend standing next to her.

"What a fuck is going on, man?!" shouted the frontman angrily without paying attention that his friends and acquaintances stared at him instantly while being anxious and confused.

"Pete, I..." Kenny started to make excuses but his mate didn't want to hear any.

Peter looked at Lizzie for an answer but without any words she unexpectedly threw herself at him, tugging his neck down and capturing his lips with a strong kiss full of adoration. Distractedly accepted the gesture and scooped the melancholic songstress closer but still had no idea; his friends just snickered and returned to their previous activities.

Later she told him the reason of this public 'rush of love' and the man couldn't help but laughed and pulled her closer to his huge frame.

But still there was a third wheel between them two.

It was a miracle that the city in their such differernt tour programs had coincided. Lizzie's first worldwide tour had been a success. Sales were great, people bought tickets for the shows and records, appearences on TV and interviews on radio. Life was sweet like cinnamon. But what eluded her the most that she had opportunity to see her man performing right after her perfomance would be finished.

When the time had come Lizzie was walking down the backstage hall hurriedly to see Peter after five-month-separation.

"Johnny!" the singer greeted happily walking past Kelly.

"Hi, dear," the drummer smiled in his cheerful manner.

"Where's Peter?" the eagerness in her voice made her sound like a little girl waiting for Santa at midnight.

"He is in the dressing room alone," he showed her the very last door in the end.

"Thank you," she lightly patted his back and went into the direction.

Full of enthusiasm and giddy impatience Lizzie had thought how tightly he would hug her. His warm mitts on her back, cheeks, gentle kisses on lips, the crown of the head.

But when the door was open Peter didn't show joy at all. The frontman had been trying to hide a bottle of red wine but failed. The red liquid accidentally spilled on the dirty carpeting from the sudden movement.

"Shit!" he hissed lowly either of being caught red-handed or because he'd almost ruined his pants.

Elizabeth's expression turned to stone one. The wish to squeeze him tight in her embrace died, instead she wanted to leave with a loud bang of the door but it was not her style.

"We were talking about it, Pete," Lizzie said quietly but as stern as she could.

"I remember," the man nodded not looking at her with a blank face.

"You told me that that was the last time," at that time words came with more passion.

"I remeber that too."

"And you told me that you'll make an effrot."

"I have a good memory," Peter quipped. In his opinion it wasn't really a big deal. Few sips could reduce endless anxiety level, a few bottles could make his legs went to jelly and give this excellent feeling like he was at home during perfomances.

"Looks like you're definetely not!" she threw in return angrily. Thanks to the empty backstage hall and loud banging music no one would hear them arguing.

The frontman could fight back, make excuses, explaining or shout at her but he was so tired of touring, performing, living on the road, giving interviews about his penis in 'Playgirl' magazine to stupid journalists, endless parties just all of that shit that he couldn't stand.

Peter stayed silent not wanting to say any word.

Of course the girl knew how he "liked" his job but there was something about it that the Brooklyn giant was sick of the most: live perfomances. Even there, at 'home' clubs she saw him panicking and stressing out, trying to dull feelings with alcohol before a show and then celebrating it with another portion of booze after.

One big vicious circle.

"Pete, I fucked up on TV!" Lizzie exclaimed wanting to comfort him even though that fact hurt her very much. "My performance on SNL was so bad that almost every fucking person in this country thinks that I can't sing! But it didn't start to drink again after that."

"Yes, I see that you're much stronger than me," he rolled his eyes turning a jackass mode one.

"I didn't mean that," Lizzie stared at her boyfriend coldly. "I just beg you to stop, because it will drag you to nowhere"

"Sounds not so bad," Peter smirked dramaticaly and she almost send him packing.

"You don't know any shit," the songstress chuckled bitterly. At that moment he reminded her a small boy who hadn't listened to anyone but in the end that boy admitted that he was wrong. And she knew that he would come to it himself but on his way he would receive many wounds and scars.

Lizzie was slowly passing around the stuffy small room with greyish-blue carpeting and stains of splashed wine on it, a worn out black couch, a smudged square mirror and a coat rack by the door. Peter was sitting on the couch, his hands were lazily clasped, elbows were on his knees. His gaze was focused on a plinth, the forgotten bottle stood next to the right leg.

When music subsided a little the girl began to speak again.

"I know that it's much easier and more understandable when you smash your face into a table. It immediately shows how things are going. But believe me, you don't want it."

Peter looked like he'd closed inside himself but he heard everything she'd been saying. The gothic bassist just didn't want to face it, not now. God, please, not now.

"I do this because I care about you. And the reason why I care about you is because I love you. I don't want to see you going through the same things that I went through," her lovely voice was tender that time, like she wanted to touch something deep inside him, to wake her loved one wake up. Unfortunately he didn't want to wake up.

When silence had become unbearable Lizzie sat down on the couch next to Peter whose look was distant. This was this type of silence when one of them understood that there was urge to tell something meaningful and that feeling was pressing on Elizabeth.

She had never actually told him about her past. Peter didn't want to push her and the girl considered that phase of her life was over. It was so long ago that seemed far, far away from her and current events.

But still, it was painful and nasty to tell about. And she had no way; the youngest child of Ratajczyk's was so stubborn.

"I stopped when I lost my parents' car somewhere and couldn't remember where, why and what happened then," admitted the melancholic songstress. The voice was steady but still there was a shameful tone. "And I'm afraid that you will stop when you lost your parents' house when you'll be officially of the rails,"

And then the frontman was all ears.

He was looking at her carefully, the right side of girl's face was hidden behind loose wavy red locks; they didn't look presentable like they had been a few hours ago. Even though Lizzie looked sad and tired after the performance, it was seen in features and slightly smudged mascara, Peter still saw her as the most attractive woman even with fake eyelashes peeling off.

"And the recovery wasn't all about rainbows and unicorns. And the first attempt wasn't successful and the last one. These things don't go smooth."

She stared at the deep scratch at the bottom of the door and continued half-heartedly.

"If you want to know more, I worked as a volunteer at drug and alcohol rehabilitation centres in Brooklyn. Before that I was in rehab myself, great times," Lizzie chuckled lowly and felt a strong desire to smoke right now but the room had already smelled like a mix of piss and smoke so the decision of hers was to not make it worse.

"I saw their desperate exhausted faces," memories of that poor lost people flashed n girl's mind but Peter couldn't understand that tragedy fully, he didn't see them. "They knew that we were ready to help them, but the only thing that was out of their reach was that everything starts with themselves."

Their lives were chaos but her own had been no good too.

"I know what is like to have an alcoholic boyfriend," Lizzie smirked and if Peter didn't know her he would have thought that she tried to make him jealous or feel guilty. "And I know what is like to be an alcoholic girlfriend to a sober guy, a complete mess both ways."

Although the man continued to stay silent at that moment his brain was absorbing the new information rapidly. Since the day one, when he first saw her on European stage in that white dress with Priscilla hair, the musician couldn't get rid of the impression deep inside in the corner of his mind that she was like a fog: weightless and illusory, without a story behind and big shocks. However she had everything. She had a family, parents and two siblings, childhood in Lake Placid, funny stories, adventures with her dad, arguments with mom, fears and failures.

She was like a real human being, just like him and any others he knew. But much sweeter and cheerful, and because of it Peter loved her with his whole heart.

And Lizzie thought that the man was like a Frankenstein. Not because there was something monstrous about him, which was absolutely not true, it was as if he was made and stitched of different pieces that at first sight couldn't fit.

"You're so weird..." the girl muttered with amused chuckle and a head shake.

"Oh, you stabbed me!" Peter sarcastically placed his hand on his heart. That were his first words in last fourteen minutes.

Lizzie still was feeling down but could help but chuckled quietly.

"You almost hate your musical career. But since sixteen years old you only do that create bands and play music..."

"You are the most fucking conflicted person that I know," she confessed honestly.

Peter decided not show that it struck him because everything that was coming out of her mouth was true. In her and others' eyes he looked like a masochist.

"You flatter me," the gothic singer brushed off with irony natural to him.

However, his so called "playful" mood was killed when the girl finally looked at him. And oh boy, Peter had never seen her so serious and overwhelmed at the same time and he almost regretted what he had said.

"Your self-conscious will caught you up one day, Pete," Lizzie stated not wanting to tip-toe with the whole topic. "It'll destroy from the core."

And then the man could no longer keep a deadpan expression. Certainly Elizabeth Woolridge Grant was a smart girl, she saw that painfully shy small boy in the big man's body, who ripped guitar strings barehanded onstage once. If a person could be brave (and tall) enough to look into his blue hazel eyes with green contacs, that Brooklyn giant had been buying on King's Highway, they would see vulnerability that contrasted his overall presence. Peter was so soft for her, he could do literally anything that she would ask for, but the only thing that he couldn't do was to not kill and poison himself with his own self doubts, venomous criticism and self-deprecating jokes.

"Small things inside of us can fucked up everything," her voice got quieter, raspier, and her pretty features expressed only tiredness.

Now Lizzie was observing Pete without any frustration. The frontman turned and looked away but his whole appearance showed noticable weaking of his positions.

"I don't know how to do this," he muttered quietly gazing at the bottle beside his leg. It seemed to him that he could smell the intoxicating smell of wine from that distance.

The small questinable ' hm?' came from the songstress and Peter tried to recollect his frantic thoughts.

"I hate parties, I've always hated parties and being in bunch of loud and annoying people," the man sounded almost exhausted and dark, with no jokes and sarcastic remarks. "I'm grateful to our fans but I feel the weight of responsibility on my shoulders every time I go onstage because I need to do my job good. They pay money just to see us messing around with instruments. But what's more important that I chose to die with a bass guitar in my hand than with rake because I wanted to use my brain, not to say that I have any."

"I don't know how I've ended up here," he confessed heartedly and felt completely lost.

Lizzie saw something shattered in big green orbs, so she moved close to the man and gently brushed shiny long black strands away from his face. Her delicate moves, cold hands and long nails always caused goosebumps on his skin.

"Just start, it will get easier, you'll see," the girl briefly touched his temple.

Peter closed his eyes wearily but suddenly opened them again when he felt how she took his big palm into hers.

"And I'll be there with you, I promise," Lizzie almost whispered but the words were loud like a scream.

That made him look at her, then at their clasped hands and then at her again. The man sensed a warm feeling inside, it was much warmer than two liters of a red wine.

Without any words Peter tugged his melancholic vintage girlfriend closer, holding her in tight and sweet embrace and sniffing the rich scent of her perfume.

And he started.

Not immediately, but started.

The spring breeze blew thin creamy curatins with pale floral patterns. The sun was shining high in the sky, that May was warm and bright. The electric black clock showed 3 p.m with its neon green numbers which actually was the wrong shade of green.

They moved in only three weeks ago but thus far felt like that Brooklyn apartment had been their home, like they used to live here before. There was a big number of boxes around but all of the furniture was already assembled by the leader of Type O Negative and him only.

That was a big step and both of them knew it. But Peter, for the first time in his life, was ready to move in together with his woman of his dreams and newly there was enough trust and love to try and create something special. And Lana felt enough assurance to buy a property with her man for once and not to be tricked or cheated.

"Well, my boyfriend's in a band," Lizzie sang softly to herself while shuffling through the box full of her notepads when they had been resting in the living room. "He plays guitar while I sing Lou Reed..."

Peter couldn't hide a smirk when he heard the line about musician-boyfriend. He tore his gaze away from a scientific book that he had bought last week and looked at her but Elizabeth was so focused on the task that she didn't notice a gentle stare.

"I've got feathers in my hair..." at the last word she did this raspy thing with her voice that he loved so much. "I get down to Beat poetry."

Peter caught himself thinking that it was a new song, because he probably didn't hear that before.

"And my jazz collection's rare," that time the songstress switched to a beautiful melodic falsetto. "I can play most anything."

At such moments she reminded him of that retro female singers or cartoons' princesses, it sounded so airy, so fantastically like in a fairytale or in the old musical TV perfomance.

"I'm a Brooklyn baby," Lizzie caught a wave and she could no longer be stopped. Her eyes were closed, small smile palyed on her full lips. The girl repeated. "I'm a Brooklyn baby..."

When the girl opened her eyes she saw a strong adoration on Peter's face, who was sitting across from her in the opposite armchair to hers.

"Come here," he said in his deep voice putting the book aside.

Lizzie fluttered from her seat easily and teasingly and with a playful smirk sat on his lap.

"So, you're Brooklyn baby now?" the musician asked with a pleased look. His mitts lovingly wandered over her bare legs in denim shorts that he liked so much. "Hm?"

"I think I've never stopped actually," Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders thinking back to the days when she used to serve in cafes in Long Island and giving first gigs. Although she added giddy and proudful. "And I will always be the coolest couch queen."

"You have to prove me that, darling," Peter flashed his fangs with a rolling "R" and quickly got up from the armchair with screaming Lizzie in his hands. Her loud laughter boomed around the room when her body hit a soft sofa and one of his cats ran away from there with annoyed 'meow!' not wanting to nap anymore with these two around.

He was biting her neck lightly and tickling girl's sides with long slender fingers while she was trying to kick that fucking big oaf off of her. After all, she gave up and took initiative upon herself, kissing him deep and slow just how he liked.

And Peter felt that familiar taste of a cherry lipbalm and Pepsi cola on his tongue. Just like he preferred.

Tried not to make it cheesy, hope turned kinda okay?

[beforethepoison]

lois lane instagram

[catkidjekyll]

Chapters: 11/11 Fandom: Superman - All Media Types, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Superman & Lois (TV 2021), Superman (Christopher Reeve Movies), Man of Steel (2013), DC Extended Universe Relationships: Clark Kent/Lex Luthor, Clark Kent/Lex Luthor Jr. (DCEU), Clark Kent/Lois Lane, Clark Kent/Eve Teschmacher, Clark Kent/Lois Lane/Eve Teschmacher

  Characters: Clark Kent, Lex Luthor, Lex Luthor Jr. (DCEU), Lois Lane, Eve Teschmacher, Jordan Kent, Jonathan "Jon" Kent (Superman & Lois TV 2021), Bruce Wayne (Mentioned), Metallo, Brainiac (mentioned)

  Additional Tags: Multiverse, Dimension Travel, Superheroes, Polyamorous Character, Past Relationship(s), Autism, Autism Spectrum, Mental Health Issues, Borderline Personality Disorder, Canon-Typical Violence, (+) Summary:

No body fell to the ground though. Monitor vanished into a flash of light. That was his signature escape every time they had fought – the quick piercing sound, then the light, then the end of the fight. The Justice Society had fallen back from the shockwave, and as they rose, they glanced around, apprehension filling the air around them.

Nothing.

[lainiespicewrites]

Coach Syverson

Okay, Y'all I'm trying something new and posting one of my Henry Cavill Character fics. I haven't posted a fanfic in so long it's gonna be a short story probably only a two-parter maybe 3. Let me know what you think! I loved writing this. I think it's so cute!!!!

Warnings: None for Part 1 :) Definitely will be smut in part 2!

High school football coach Sy and school guidance counselor OFC

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was locked in a trance,  typing in progress notes from an early morning meeting I’d just finished with a student.  The sounds of the office, which was just coming to life outside my door, fuelled me. I almost never came in this early. But, one of my seniors was having a crisis and this was the only time we could work into her busy schedule. It’s gonna break my heart when that girl graduates this year. I get so attached to the students. I can’t help working as a school counselor. It's hard not to.  

“You’re in early,” The voice coming from the doorway made me jump. He chuckled softly.  “Didn’t mean to scare ya.”  After a brief heart attack, I finally looked up. I smiled when my eyes met his. 

“No, it’s okay, I just didn’t see you! Good morning Coach, What can I do for you?” His soft blue eyes held my gaze, before shooting me a gentle smile. Coach Syverson and I had become good friends since he started working at the school a little over a year ago. Like many good high school football coaches, they made a history teaching spot for him. Unlike others, he’s actually a great teacher! 

I met Logan Syverson for the first time in a staff meeting. Our principal introduced him at the beginning of the meeting going on and on about all the improvements he would bring to our team and our community. He certainly looked like a football player. The guy was huge! Tall, large muscles, and a full beard. His eyes were a deep blue. He had a winning smile and a southern accent. The English department was drooling. I hated him immediately. 

I figured he was just going to be a self absorbed prick like the last coach. who only cared about the popular students, peaked in high school, and got fired because he got a little too close to one of the cheerleaders. We were not at all sorry to see him go. Well, those of us with half a brain weren’t anyway. Some of the community and staff were more worried about the football program. But I digress. 

I was even more annoyed with him when I caught him falling asleep during the same meeting 30 minutes later when we were discussing the budget for new textbooks. I’m not exactly sure what came over me but I kicked him under the table. He was immediately alert. I expected him to glare at me. Or maybe even smirk. But the look on his face could only be described as apologetic. He quickly caught up to me when we were leaving the meeting. “Some first impression I made, huh?” When I didn’t immediately respond he added. “I swear I’m not some asshole that doesn’t care about education, that’s not like me, just didn’t sleep much last night. I had to take my dog to the emergency vet, she broke her leg in the woods late in the evening and didn’t get back until late and…”

“Is she okay?” I asked quickly. He looked completely dumbfounded.

“Uhm what?” He asked, clearly confused. I smiled sympathetically. I did exactly what I told my students not to do and judged him too quickly and I felt like an ass about it. 

“You’re dog, is she okay?” He smiled softly and nodded. 

“Yeah, Yeah she is. They got her all wrapped up and in a cast, poor pup, but she’ll be alright.” There was a brief pause and then. “I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

“The students know me as Miss Plummer, but it’s Alayna. And um.. Sorry I kicked you. I don’t  know why I did that.” I smiled sheepishly. 

“Alayna,” He repeated. And then chuckled and squeezed my shoulder “No need to apologize, I’m glad you did. That would’ve been embarrassing. Falling asleep in my first staff meeting doesn’t really look good. Thanks for saving my ass back there!”

 We were fast friends from that point on!

Sy pushed off the door frame he’d been leaning against and walked into my office. “Brought ya coffee, I was gonna sneak in and leave it on your desk but I guess it’s you surprising me this morning,” He said, setting the cup from our local coffee shop down on my desk. 

“That’s sweet of you!” I took a sip and almost choked. I expected just plain black coffee. He wasn’t the kind of guy to order fancy coffee. But this was actually my coffee order. “How did you know my coffee order?” He had a big grin on his face now. 

“I remembered it from that morning when we ran into each other in line a few weeks ago. Thought I’d be nice and bring my work wife some coffee since I was there.” He shrugged. He really was such a sweetheart. He looked tough and scary. I know he did. When he and a few of the other teachers in the history hall gathered between classes they looked intimidating. At least from a student's perspective.I knew them all well though. I’ve talked with students failing his class because they wouldn’t ask questions. When I asked why, they said they were nervous. But he was certainly no one to be afraid of. Yes, he could yell, but he saved that for the football field. The man was a damn teddy bear. 

“Thank you!” I smiled. I quickly looked out into the guidance office to make sure there were no students around. “But I know you didn’t walk all the way down here just to bring me coffee for the hell of it. You’re buttering me up for something. What do you need, Logan?” He laughed and shook his head plopping down on the edge of my desk.

“You know me too well, sugar. Two things!” He said. I rolled my eyes. “Hey now young lady, don’t get an attitude with me I’m not asking you to give up a kidney!” I hid my smirk behind a sip of coffee and nodded at him to continue.  “First, Can you look up Ty’s grades for me just at some point by the end of the day. He came into my office this morning and was all nervous about his algebra grade, swearing up and down it’s because he failed one quiz. But, I’m pretty sure,” I cut him off. 

“He’s not turning in his homework because he just started dating Caitlyn and they’ve been staying up texting all night.” He raised an eyebrow. 

“Uh, Yeah, How’d you know?”

“Caitlyn stopped in to see me this morning and we had a chat about it, amongst other things. I’ll double check but I’m sure you’re right. I’ll email it to you so you can have a chat with him. I was going to call him in  today but he listens better to you. When you talked about being a veteran and your time in Iraq at the Labor Day assembly, I think that really struck something with him. He looks up to you.” his eyes locked with mine and he smiled softly placing his hand over mine on the desk just for a second. 

“Thank you for saying that,” He said before moving his hand and leaning on the desk again. I just smiled. 

“What’s the other thing?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Because you could’ve just sent me that in an email.” He smirked. And his nose crinkled a little. Oh no. 

“So our first away game is tomorrow night,”

“I know,” 

“And you’re a big football fan, and you love those boys don’t you?” He was deflecting

“What do you want, Sy?” I asked again. He let out a long breath. 

“Carol was supposed to be a student chaperone for the student fans buuuttt well, you heard her kid is really sick? I need you to come chaperone. Actually. I kinda already said you would.” He quickly stood up from my desk and backed up to the other side, like he was afraid I’d hit him. 

I just leaned back in my chair and groaned, 

“ugh Sy! What if I had plans?” I cocked an eyebrow at him. He chuckled 

“You don’t!” I scoffed 

“You don’t know that?” I retorted. He smirked 

“Yeah, what big plans do you have for Friday night?” He crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. I sighed. 

“Okay I don’t! But I could’ve!” I argued. “Why, didn’t you ask one of the other guys? Like Nick or I don’t know Mike?” I asked. 

“Nick’s an assistant coach, he’ll already be there. And we both know as much as Mike loves teaching…he does not want to spend his Friday night with the kids and at a football game making sure there’s no funny business. And you love the kids.” He was pleading now. Practically giving me puppy dog eyes. “And…Maybe I want you there,” He winked playfully. I looked down and jiggled the mouse on my computer to hide my blush. 

Jessica, who works the front desk of the guidance office swears he flirts with me. But I know he’s not. We’re friends. Good friends. We tease each other to make work a little more fun at best. But that's all it is. A man like Logan Syverson would never look twice at a girl like me. He’s fit and strong and tall and handsome. I’m pretty but I’m short and round and a little too quirky for my own good. Girls like me only get men like him in the movies. And I’m not stupid enough to believe otherwise.  Moment’s like these though. I do wonder a little. But I don’t let my thoughts wander too far. 

“Oh yeah?” I joke, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I mean maybe you’re our good luck charm. You’ve been at all our home games this year and we haven’t lost a game.” He said with a cheeky smile. 

“We’ve only had two Sy.” I say matter of fact. He just shakes his head. 

“That doesn’t mean you’re not good luck, but okay,” He held his hands up in defeat. “If you don’t want to do it I’ll figure something out. I messed up and didn’t ask you first. I’ll tell the boys their favorite guidance counselor doesn’t want to come support them. It’ll break their little hearts sugar but I’m sure they’ll find,” He pauses and lets out an exaggerated sigh “Some way to pull through and play a good game of football.” He frowned, shaking his head. I crossed my arms and raised my eyebrows looking straight at him. 

“Are you done?” I deadpanned. He snickered softly and nodded. “Fine, I’ll go,” He smiled and walked over squeezing my shoulder. 

“You’re the best! It’s supposed to be chilly! Wear a sweater! And Free coffee,on me all night! I promise,” I rolled my eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah okay,” I chuckled.

“Seriously, I owe you sugar! I’m happy you’ll be there, I better get goin, class starts soon and I probably shouldn’t be late being that I’m the teacher,” He chuckled. 

“Get out of my office Logan!” I laughed. He smiled. 

“You’re the best!” He said one more time before finally walking out of my office. I shook my head and tapped at the keys on my keyboard to wake up my computer. I felt eyes on me and looked up to find Jessica standing in my doorway. 

“Don’t start!” I warned her. 

“Please, sugar. I really want you there!” she mocked. “He knows your coffee order, Alayna. How long are you going to ignore what’s right in front of you?” she asked exasperated. 

“It’s not like that Jess, He was just being sweet because he needed the help.” I said.

“Like you wouldn’t have done it anyway. You were trying to play coy but we both know you would have done it anyway.” She laughed. I blushed. And threw an eraser at her. 

“Get back to work!” She laughed. 

“Whatever you say… Sugar!” I snorted and we both chuckled for a minute. “I mean it Alayna, He’ll be kinda busy during the game and yes you’ll be keeping an eye on the students but take the opportunity to flirt back, he likes you, I’m not wrong!” She turned and walked back to her desk before I had a chance to say anything. And before I could spend any more time thinking about it my email notifications went off pulling me back into my work. 

The rest of my work day went by in a blur. I had meeting after meeting with students. My seniors were in panic mode, my juniors have early onset senioritis, and the freshman and sophomores came into vent about the daily woes of high school drama. Oh to be 16 again. 

With a full schedule of meetings I barely had time to eat lunch even in my office. When my phone lit up with a group text from two of my girlfriends asking about our weekly Thursday night dinner. I was quick to respond. 

(I’ll be there!) I sent the text, before packing up my desk for the evening. It had been a late night for me so it was just past 5. I didn’t bother going home first to change into something more casual. They were used to the office style by now. I felt my shoulders relax a little as I slipped into the booth next to skyler.

“Hey!” she said cheerfully, slowly pushing the glass of white wine they’d ordered for me closer. 

“You know me so well!” I smiled at her. 

“Long day?” Hayley asked from across the table, she picked up a tortilla chip and filled it with queso. I shrugged. 

“Not long in the sense that it was rough, just busy,” Skyler nodded and took a sip for her wine glass. 

“I feel that. I tried to get some school work done while the kids were down for a nap.” She runs an in-home daycare. She adores kids. But she’s also going back to school for a degree, Pediatric nursing. She’s a saint. I don’t know how she does it. 

“I commend you babe. The school is asking me to take classes, they want someone to take on the position as school psychologist. They’ve been trying to nudge me toward it the past couple of weeks. It’d be a raise but, that on top of the current workload? I don’t wanna drown myself ya know?”

“I totally get it, it’s not easy! But you should think about it. You’ve talked about it before! At least consider it.” Skyler said. 

“She’s got a point dude,” Hayley added. “Look at you guys moving up in the world while I’m stuck with an art block. If I can’t think of anything, my online shop isn’t gonna take off and I’ll be stuck at the factory forever!” She groaned and downed a quarter of her strawberry lemonade that was no doubt spiked. I looked sideways, meeting Skyler's eye. She was giving me the same look. 

“You’re just getting started Hayley.” Skyler said. 

“I know but if..”

“Ah, no buts!” I cut her off “We have to allow ourselves room for mistakes and error when we’re trying something new. You will get there. Give yourself the love you give your art! I don’t wanna hear anymore of that self deprecating bullshit from you! The people love their ghost fish!” I demanded, trying to hide a chuckle. She could be so stubborn! She was starting an online etsy shop for commissions and spreading the word through social media. She had all these fun ideas. She was a great artist. But of course it’s not an easy way to make money. And right now, things were slow. She would get there though! I know she would!

“Have I ever told you how annoying it is when you use your psychoanalysis shit on us?” she deadpanned. 

“Everyday but I still do it anyway, and that’s why you love me!”  She just laughed.

“Yeah okay buddy. Enough work talk, I lifted a bunch of heavy shit all day and I don’t wanna think about it. I just wanna eat my chips and queso and get drunk with my friends!” She said and scooped another chip through the queso. I laughed and held up my glass

“Cheers to that! Although we all know damn well it’s a Thursday night and we all have to get up early and we drove separately so drunk is relative but yes!” Skyler laughed and clinked her glass with mine. 

“Let her have her moment. Cheers to drunk Thursday dinner!” she said. 

“Fuck yeah!” Hayley added and added her glass in with ours. We all took a drink and it was quiet for only a second. 

“So,” Skyler spoke immediately. “It’s been a week, what's new?”

“Nothing for me, just still considering the offer to go back to school. My job would pay for it. Love life is still dry and I’ve bought like 3 new spicy romance books on my kindle this week!” I said laughing. 

“Fun!” Skyler smiled. “Hayley?” She asked and directed her attention across the table. 

“I went to Target and spent an obscene amount of money on fall stuff. We have a fall party coming up at work that I volunteered to do face painting for, but that should be fun! Oh there’s this new movie that came out I want you guys to come see with me I was hoping maybe tomorrow night?” she said. I started to agree. But then remembered my conversation with Sy earlier. 

“Oh tomorrow night? I can’t. I’m actually busy!” They both looked at me with raised eyebrows. 

“Since when are you busy on a friday night?” Hayley asked. Here we go. This is gonna open a whole can of worms. If Jess was good at getting my hopes up about Sy, these two were going to have me down right delusional. 

“There’s a football game. I like to support the team.” I said. Skyler snickered and a smirk spread across Hayley’s face. 

“You like to support the coach you mean?” Skyler asked. 

“That’s not true! I’ve always been a football fan!” I defended myself. Hayley chuckled

“Sure but since when do you go to away games? Isn’t it like 2 hours away?” She raised an eyebrow. I sighed. 

“Coach stopped by the office this morning, one of the other teachers that was supposed to chaperone the roadies tomorrow canceled and since he and I are friends he volunteered me to do it. He buttered me up with free coffee this morning and practically begged me to go tomorrow and… I just can’t say no to him. Plus he said he really wants me to be there.”  I swirled my wine glass and stared down at it. I knew the looks they were giving me.  I heard skyler squeal.

“Shut up! He asked you to come because he wants to spend time with you! Watch, I bet next week he’ll ask you out!”  She bounced in her seat. 

“He does not! He’s going to be busy with the team! He’s not going to have time to talk to me or anything.” I said taking a big gulp of wine. 

“Why else would he say he wants you there though. And clearly you want him to hang out with you. Or you want to hang out with him. Or you wouldn’t have given up your precious Friday night in!” Hayley smirked. 

“Okay, so what if I do. He’s not into me like that. He’s just friendly. He’s southern, it's just how he is!” I said, trying to hold onto whatever sanity I had left. 

“Really?” Skyler said. “Does he bring anyone else coffee? Ask if he can eat lunch in anyone else’s office?” Hayley but it

“Didn’t he get you a christmas gift last year?” she asked. 

“He was my secret santa!” I stated. They both sighed. 

“ I don’t know why you can’t see it but he likes you!” Skyler said. I started to  object but Hayley cut me off. 

“You don’t have to believe us. Just pay attention to how he acts around you tomorrow and the next couple of days. He's trying to make a move. And I know you have your little no coworkers rule,”

“Because if…”

“Ah, I don’t wanna hear it! He’s clearly trying to get your attention. And you work in a public high school it's not like everyone else isn’t hooking up.” She stated. 

“She’s got a point, remember all the teachers when we were in school? And he’s not just trying to hook up. He’s playing the long game,” Skyler said. “All we’re saying is IF we’re right,”

“And we are,” Hayley added. Skyler gave her side eye but laughed. 

“If he asks you out you should give him a chance. We’ve never met him but it’s clear he’s so into you. And he seems like a great guy. Don’t push him away because something COULD go wrong.” she said. At that point the waiter came up and we placed our order. I also ordered another glass of wine. But a wine buzz wasn’t enough to convince me they were right. Sy couldn’t like me. I wasn’t his type. But it didn’t matter. I will go tomorrow and have a good time watching the game and cheering on the boys and watching Sy in his element. And when it’s all said and done I’ll ride home with the student section and maybe catch the chance to say goodbye to my friend before we leave. And on Monday everything will be as it always has been. Sy and I are friends. 

I repeat that to myself as I walk the hall toward the gym after school on Friday. I turned down the hall toward the locker rooms and found his office door open. Sy was leaning back in his desk chair watching the tape from a few weeks ago. He noticed me before I spoke. He paused the video and smiled. 

“Hey you! To what do I owe the honor? You never venture down this way?”

“Just coming to double check the plan for tonight! We’re meeting back here at 5:15 and the bus leaves at 5:45?” I asked him. He nodded, running a hand over his beard. 

“Yeah, but I was thinking, you got plans for dinner?” He asked and raised an eyebrow. 

“Uh I was just gonna run home for dinner, why do you ask?” I leaned against the doorway and crossed my arms over my chest. I watched curiously as he chewed at his bottom lip for a moment. 

“I was gonna grab a bite to eat in town before the game. I won’t have time to go all the way home. Do you wanna come with me?” He finally made eye contact with me again and gave me a soft smile. 

“Oh um,” I hesitated for a second. 

“I’ll buy,” He smirked. I rolled my eyes. 

“You don’t have to do that, Sy,” I said softly. He stood up grabbing his keys off the desk. 

“I know, I want to.” He smiled and brushed his shoulder against mine as he walked out the door. “Come on, I’ll drive.” I raised an eyebrow 

“Driving me to dinner and you’re paying? Sy if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were flirting with me.” the corner of his mouth turned up into a smirk and he stopped walking. He turned toward me and bit his lip trying to hold back a grin. 

“Alayna,” He chuckled nervously, “I find it hard to believe after all this time…” He was cut off by a loud whistle down the hallway. 

“Well ain’t that a cute couple!” a voice said in a horrible mock southern accent “Get it coach!” One of Sy’s boys called from just outside the weight room. Another one of the football players popped his head out the door to see what was going on and started making kissy sounds with his lips. Sy dropped his chin to his chest and shook his head but his shoulders shook when he chuckled, giving him away. He loved those boys he couldn’t be mad if he wanted to be. 

“Tyler you’re already on thin ice don’t make me bench you tonight! You too Matt. Don’t think I forgot about the little stunt you pulled in the parking lot last week!” He gave them a stern look

“Sorry coach!” they said in unison 

“It was funny though,” Matt mumbled. Sy shook his head

“Sure, You boys get out of here and get something to eat, I don’t need you passing out on me on the field tonight.” He held Matt’s gaze. 

“It was one time!” He stressed. 

“And it’s only gonna be one if I can help it. Go eat!” He barked. The boys immediately straightened up and nodded. 

“Yes coach!” Logan just chuckled and we kept walking. 

“They adore you,” I said. He smiled 

“Nah, they just know I’m not kidding’” I laughed. 

“Oh come on Sy, you aren’t that mean, or you wouldn’t care so much,” We walked out the back door to the teacher parking lot and headed to his truck. “Hey… what were you saying earlier,” He raised an eyebrow. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about sugar,” He smirked. 

“Sure you don’t cowboy,” I rolled my eyes and hopped up into the truck after he unlocked it.  He slid in next to me and started the engine. 

“Where do you wanna eat?” He looked over at me and raised an eyebrow. I shrugged. 

“Doesn’t matter to me, you’re buying,” I said flatly. 

“Sugar,” He threw his arm over the back of the seat, his fingertips brushing my shoulder, as he backed out of the parking spot. He left it there as he pulled out on the road. “Don’t be shy with me, I know you love food darlin.  I’ll drive all around town and we’ll starve until you tell me what you want.” I looked over at him just in time to make eye contact before his eyes shifted back toward the road. He shook his head and tried to hide his smirk. 

“You are so dramatic,” I teased, trying to play it cool but I could feel a blush creeping up my cheeks. 

“Oh, I’m dramatic? Weren’t you the one tearing up in her office because of a book you were readin?” He snickered. I reached over and playfully smacked him in the chest. 

“Shut up!” I laughed. He held his hand to his chest feigning hurt. 

“Ow!” He pouted. 

“That did not hurt! I barely hit you!” he side eyed me still pouting but the corners of his mouth started to break into a smile

“Over here committing spousal abuse.” He shook his head. I laughed so hard I snorted. 

“We’re not married Sy!” 

“You’re my work wife, it's the same damn thing” He chuckled. “Seriously, where do you wanna eat, I’m starving.” 

“My god Logan,” I laughed. “Um fine, I haven’t tried that new sushi and ramen place yet!” I said. He almost slammed on the break. 

“You haven’t?! That place is right up your alley, all trendy and shit. It’s real good too!” 

“You think I’m trendy?” I raised an eyebrow. He looked over for a moment and caught my eye giving me a gentle smile. 

“I think you deserve to be taken out to nice places.” And here I was blushing again. 

“Sy,” I started but my phone buzzed in my lap distracting me, I wasn’t really sure what to say anyway. It was a group chat with the girls asking me what time we leave tonight. They were going to have a field day with this. And instead of just replying I decided to start a fire. I tapped my screen to open my camera and held it up to take a selfie “Smile, cowboy.” He chuckled. 

“What are you doin over there, sugar?” He smirked but glanced over at the camera quickly so I could snap a quick photo. 

“Lighting a match.” I smirked. He bit his lip and chuckled softly. 

“You’re something else,” He spoke as we pulled into the restaurant. I quickly sent the picture to the group chat and slid my phone into my purse.

Sy was right. This place was incredible. And very trendy. 

“God I can’t get over how good this place is!” I said for like the 4th time. Logan smiled. 

“I told ya, Darlin,” The waitress came and brought out our bill and I reached for my purse. “Hey, No, I told you, I’m paying.” He said pulling out his wallet and handing his card to the waitress. 

“Thank you Sy, I appreciate it,” He grinned.

“Anytime, you deserve it,” I blushed, “ you’re really saving my ass tonight.” I forced a smile, so that’s what this is about. I told the girls this was all just because he needed something. 

“It’s no big deal Logan.” I said. I pulled my phone out and checked my messages. There were like 10 from the group chat now. 

“OMG YOU'RE WITH HIM?!”

“You didn’t tell us you were getting dinner with him.”

“UNLESS THEIR NOT GETTING DINNER ;)”

“What else would they be….oh”

“Alayna you better not be fucking the football coach right now.”

“Leave her alone Hayley she can fuck him if she wants to BUT IF YOU DO I WANT DETAILS”

“ALAYNAAAAA”

“GIRLLLL ANSWER USSSSS”

“Seriously dude you can’t just send us a picture of you with your hunky football coach man crush and just disappear.”

“OMG THEY’RE TOTALLY FUCKING”

I held back a smile and shook my head. 

“It is a big deal,” He said and grabbed my hand across the table. “I’m glad you’re gonna be there tonight.” I smiled but pulled my hand back. 

“Sure, because you needed another chaperone.” I joked. His eyebrows furrowed and he tilted his head catching my eye. 

“Yeah, but I wanted it to be you, I like hangin out with you. And you’re really fun to watch in the stands. I didn’t know you could be so…aggressive.” He smirked. 

“I’m just really passionate about football!” I argued. “And how do you know you like hanging out with me? We've barely seen each other outside of work.” I questioned. 

“Well we should change that,” he said.

“Won’t your girlfriend get jealous?” I asked. I knew a lot about him but he never mentioned any relationship. I’d be stupid to think he wasn’t seeing someone. He laughed. God I loved that sound. 

“Don’t have one sugar,” He said with a mischievous grin on his face. 

“How?” It was my turn to be confused. 

“Why don’t you have a boyfriend?” He retorted quickly. 

“I … because…” I stuttered, unable to come up with an answer.

“Haven’t found the right guy yet huh?” He pauses, “guess that’s where I’m at, she just ain’t found me yet.” He smiled. Right then the waitress came back with his card. “Thanks honey,” He said, giving her his signature smile. He signed the receipt and stood from the table. “We oughta get going. Don’t wanna be late for the game!” 

Sy drove us back to the school and parked his truck next to my car. “Oh no!” I sighed. 

“What's wrong?” He asked. 

“I was going to grab a sweatshirt when I went home and,” I opened my car, turning on the light to look in  the back seat. “I don’t have an extra in my car.” I pouted. 

“Is that all?” He chuckled. He reached into the back seat of his truck and pulled out a black hoodie. “Here. I always have an extra in the truck you can wear mine. Don’t want you to catch a cold.” I took it from him tentatively. 

“Sy, this is your coach sweatshirt.” I said. 

“One of ‘em yeah.” He smiled. 

“I…okay,” I just shook my head and pulled the hoodie on. He bit his lip. 

“Looks good on ya,” He smirked. 

“Shut up,” I rolled my eyes. Before we could continue to tease each other the buses pulled up. And I could see some of the students' cars pulling into the student lot “We’d better head over there!” I said quickly. Logan nodded. 

“Yeah, we better get going.”

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Some Things You Just Can't Refuse

Title: Some Things You Just Can't Refuse

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Dom!Clark Kent x Sub!Reader

Word Count: 4.7K+

Summary: A collection of first times with Clark Kent, and one last time.

Warnings: dacryphilia, unprotected p-in-v sex (wrap it up babes), creampie, spit kink (for like two seconds), Reader being a brat

A/N: This has been a plot bunny that sat in my Google Docs while all my other works got attention. Did I really just write a 5+1? Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best. 

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist 

Clark Kent was a simple man, for the most part. He had preferences, sure. But he knew what he liked, and went for those things more often than not. One of his preferences was a certain kind of woman. 

And you were that kind of woman. His Sunflower.

The perfect combination of submissive and strong-willed. What others may call bratty, Clark would call “a little feisty” and he wouldn’t change it for the world.

And that is where Clark was anything but simple. He was your Dominant, you were his submissive. He loved you, he provided for you, and he kept you safe. He kissed the ground you walked on, he broke you, and he put you back together.

The first time you met Clark Kent was in the break room of the Daily Planet. 

You were an intern for the summer, just working to get some credits toward your journalism degree. You weren’t all that interested in going to warzones and reporting on drug lords and shit. You wanted to tell stories about starving artists and activism. You wanted to surprise people with your ability to capture the essence of someone’s emotion and relate it to the reader’s own experiences.

While doing your writing at work, while you were supposed to be doing whatever Lois Lane threw at you this morning, you decided to take a break to recharge. Since energy drinks gave you the jitters, you opted for a warm-ish mug of hours-old coffee.

As you reached up to the cabinet to get a mug, you watched as a hand appears above you to grab the handles of two mugs. You turned, following the hand, to see who reached over you. Eyes blue like the Atlantic Ocean behind a pair of plain black rectangular frames looked back at you. You can’t help but smile at him as he beamed, bright enough to illuminate your entire day.

And your writer’s brain was getting way ahead of itself already. Who the hell was this mountain of a man? I wonder what his lips taste like. Should that tie go with that shirt? Fuck, did he just ask me something?

“I’m sorry, what?” You shook yourself out of your thoughts.

“I asked if you wanted the black or the flower mug. I was gonna offer the flower. But I’d rather not assume you didn’t wanna just take the plain one. So, I’m gonna stop talking and let you answer.” 

Fuck, he’s cute when he rambles.

“Sunflowers are my favorite.” He offered the mug and your fingers touch and you’re glad that you are the only two in the break room.

“Clark,” he says, as he poured himself some coffee, “Clark Kent.”

You gave your name and he put out a hand to shake yours. With your hand in his, you notice how it engulfed your own. You thought to yourself about that hand around your throat. Just lightly squeezing the sides of your neck, as a warning.

“Nice to meet you. I hope Lois has been easy on you. She can be a little…much.” He said it in a way that lead you to believe he’s been on the demanding end of Lois more than once.

“Eh, she’s alright. I mean, Ms. Lane is just fine.” You tried to cover your disdain for Lois. In reality, you saw her as a ‘Pick-Me’, but you tried to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“Yeah, sure she is. I dated her, so I know her pretty well. Not that I should be saying anything. But, don’t let her try and get in your head. She’ll use whatever she can to get a scoop, whether in the field or the workplace. She’s a great journalist, but-” You cut him off, not wanting to take part in putting down another woman.

“I think I get the hint. Watch my back around her.” You assure him you understood as you poured your coffee and put in some cream and sugar.

“Yeah, sorry. I shouldn’t talk about her behind her back. That was rude of me. My mother would be disappointed in me for that.” He looked into his mug, and you saw that he was not proud of himself for putting down his ex.

“It’s all good, Clark. I can tell you didn’t mean anything by it. Emotions are tricky, ya know?” You don’t know why you wanted to give him an ‘out’, but you did.

“That, they are. I better get back. See ya around,” He gave a cute little wave and exited the room.

The first time Clark Kent called you Sunflower happened about a month after your first meeting. 

The two of you ended up together on a test run for Perry to see how you go about working with other reporters. He probably just wanted to see if I could share a byline.

You could tell that Lois saw a tenacity in you that reminded her of her younger self. While that was great, you wanted to be seen for your ability to get people to talk to you without making them feel like they were in an interview. Just a conversation between people.

When you asked Clark to work on the assignment with you, he jumped at the opportunity. In truth, he wanted the chance to see you at work. He’d listen to Lois talk about how you just saw things differently. Almost like she was jealous, but she would never admit to that.

“So I was thinking we could go to Gotham. Before you say anything, I know it’s dangerous there but we’ll be going during the day. And I finally got the go-ahead from Wayne Enterprises to shadow one of their board members. A Day in the Life kind of piece. What do you think?” You rambled out, arms crossed as you leaned against Clark’s desk.

“I think I can get you an exclusive with Bruce Wayne if you wanted.” He stated nonchalantly.

“I would owe you big time. Wait, how the hell do you know Wayne? What, were you boy scouts together or something?”

“We just end up at a lot of the same places.” Clark offers no other explanation.

“Right,” you nodded at him, not letting it go, “So, I run point on this and you back me up?”

“Sounds perfect. You’ll do great, just know he will try and flirt with you so don’t make it easy for him, Sunflower.” The nickname caused heat to rise to your face, remembering that first time you met him.

“Sure, like the most eligible bachelor in Gotham who can buy whatever he wanted would look at me twice?” You weren’t being down on yourself too much, more like you were being realistic. The man had dated supermodels and heiresses, not chubby junior reporters.

“Without sounding unprofessional, trust me when I say Bruce will look at you more than twice. You say the word and I’ll set him straight.” Was that flirtatious? No way.

“Um, if you say so, Clark,” you tried to laugh it off and walk away but Clark caught your wrist, your eyes locked with his and you felt…something. 

“I do say so, Sunflower,” he lowered his hand from around your wrist, “Just prepare to shut him down more than once. He’s, uh, persistent.”

“You trying to save me for yourself, huh?” You couldn’t help yourself. If he denies it, you could say you were joking. If he confirms it, then…

He simply smiled and tilted his head, neither confirming nor denying. 

During your interview with Bruce Wayne, you were surprised that he indeed did flirt with you as Clark said he would. You managed to steer the conversation back to Wanye Enterprises each time he would stray to learn more about you. You would give him a detail here and a tidbit there, but you kept it professional. Clark was there to take notes, letting you take the lead. He was impressed by you. You kept Bruce flirting with you to get him to spill details about new things he was working on for Gotham.

The first time you kissed Clark Kent was three months into your internship. 

Lois had taken a shine to you, loving what few pieces you were able to get past the intern pool and into an issue. You figured it would be in your best interest to go to her with any journalistic questions you had. You may not like her very much, but she was still a Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist and you would be an idiot not to take a few pointers from her.

There was one thing you didn’t talk to her about, and that was the massive crush you had on her ex. It just seemed too messy, and honestly, you didn’t need her permission to do anything. 

That’s why you accepted Clark’s invitation to make you dinner. Frankly, you weren't surprised he asked you. You had been flirting with each other, exchanging glances and smiles across the office. Spending hours a night talking on the phone and texting back and forth naturally lead you here.

Armed with a bottle of wine and all the courage you could muster, you make it to Clark’s apartment just as he is finishing dinner. He answers the door in jeans and a grey long-sleeved henley, looking so comfortable and so different without a tie on. He thanked you for the wine, took your wrist to pull you behind him, and shut the door with a socked foot.

Pouring you both a glass, he congratulated you for completing half of your internship. It completely slipped your mind that you had reached this milestone, but he remembered. And that was saying a lot. You clinked your glasses together and took a sip of the pinot noir. 

“This is going to go great with dinner. Thank you again for picking up some. I can’t believe I forgot to,” Clark bantered, setting his wine glass down to check on the pork tenderloin and roasted potatoes.

“You were too busy trying to impress me,” You insisted, smiling when he gives you a stern look.

“Watch it, Sunflower,” is all you hear and you shifted from one foot to the other to hide your search for friction. You barely had two sips of wine in your system before this man had you feeling drunk.

“Time to let the pork rest while the potatoes finish up. Should be done in a bit,” Clark picked up his wine glass, settling his other hand on your lower back to guide you to the island counter. He didn’t expect it when a shiver ran up your spine and caused you to giggle, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it.

You sat and chatted during dinner like you’ve known each other for ages and it just felt very comfortable. He told you about his mom, growing up in Smallville, and how he came to work at the Daily Planet. You spoke about your schooling and how you’d one day like to write for the Planet and publish a book of short stories. He was stuck on your every word and it made you feel important to have his undivided attention.

After dinner, you retired to the living room to watch some tv. It was more just on as background noise as you conversed with each other. When you both reached for the wine bottle at the same, you both laugh and then look at each other. And it was all you could do not to melt into a puddle as those blue eyes stare longingly at you.

Clark reached up and took off his glasses before tossing them on the coffee table. Fuck. But, he does nothing more. For what seems like minutes, you sat in silence just staring into each other’s eyes until you speak up. 

“Clark, please?” You whined, growing more frustrated with every second.

“Use your words. Tell me what you need, Sunflower.” The way he said it had you shifting in your seat.

“I need you to kiss me, please?” You pleaded, the little crack in your voice not missed by Clark.

He cupped your face with one large paw, his touch so soft that you leaned into it to feel his warmth. His thumb moved over to wipe across your lips, followed swiftly by his lips.

Your lips met and you felt the warmth radiating from him. You could taste the sweetness of the wine on his tongue as he begged for entry. You let him in, moaning into his mouth. Clark grunted in return and pulled away to rest your foreheads together.

“I have wanted that for far too long, Sunflower,” Clark groaned, licking his lips.

“Me too,” you whisper, scooting closer to Clark to lace your fingers together, “Can we do it again?”

Instead of answering you, he pulled you into his lap and attacked your mouth with fervor.

The first time you tell Clark Kent you love him is exactly two months after your first kiss.

It was completely by accident, but no less true. 

Clark invited you over for dinner and a movie. The two of you were in the middle of watching 10 Things I Hate About You. Patrick was dancing on the bleachers and singing to Kat. The most romantic scene in the movie apart from the poetry scene.

“Ya know, if we went to high school together and you sang ‘Can’t Take My Eyes Off You’ to me in front of the whole school, I would have melted,” you say, stuffing popcorn into your face, “But then, I already love you, so you wouldn’t have to do the whole singing thing.”

Clark’s head whipped around so fast that you can feel the wind coming off of him. “What did you just say, Sunflower?”

You look to Clark and you realized what you had said at the same moment and your eyes went wide. “I think I just confessed love during a ‘90s romcom.”

“Yeah, I think you did,” Clark looked at you with that look in his eyes, “Good thing I love you, too.” He says nonchalantly, trying to not freak you out, and went back to watching the movie.

“Clark, I love you.” You wanted to feel the words on your tongue again.

“I love you too, Sunflower.” Hearing the words come from him was like a cozy embrace that coated the night in warmth.

The first time you had sex with Clark Kent was at the end of your internship.

Clark wanted to wait- 

No, he didn’t want to wait, but he chose to wait until your internship was over and you were offered an actual job at the Daily Planet to not seem like he was cruising for tail in the intern pool. 

Little did you know, but Clark had it all planned out. Candlelit dinner, romantic music, wine, and chocolates. The whole nine yards. But you didn’t get to experience that version of lovemaking. 

At the same time Clark was lighting candles, he heard your heartbeat spike across town. He sped away to your location, without putting on his suit. He flew above the city before he found you being held up at gunpoint in an alleyway and his blood boiled. He watched you comply with your attacker and hand over your purse before flying down behind the man quietly. The man had no idea what hit him when Clark flicked his temple and the assailant falls over unconscious.

He didn’t even think to keep his identity secret anymore. He steps over the man to get to you and check you over for injuries, both external and internal. When he sees nothing, he questions you, “Are you alright, Sunflower?”

You look almost through him because there he is in a sweater and dark-wash jeans, glasses slightly askew. You step back an inch as he reaches out to you. He can see it in your eyes that you are piecing together little moments. 

How he got across town in what seemed like seconds. How he never got sick. How it felt like he was always hiding something. This is what he was hiding from you. For your safety? For his?

“There were so many times I wanted to tell you I was Superman, I just didn’t know how. Do you forgive me, Sunflower?” Clark’s pleading ultramarine eyes burned into yours. 

“I mean, I guess this is as good a time as any to tell me. I have so many questions. Of which, you will answer all of them, Clark. But, all I need to know right now is how the hell you found me?” Your breathing was starting to speed up again and you tried to calm down but given the circumstances, you were acting pretty normal.

“I kind of, know your heartbeat. I can hear it at all times. Wherever you are, I can hear you,” Clark makes an odd face and then forces out an embarrassed laugh, “Now that I say that out loud, it sounds weird.”

“Yeah, it’s a little weird. But it’s also super romantic, too,” you reach to Clark and pull him to you, “What’s my heart sound like now?”

“Sounds like you’re excited,” he let his hand drag down your body, “Smells like it too. Now, why would that be?”

“I mean, I did just find out my boyfriend is a superhero. That’s sorta hot. Sorta, I mean, he hasn’t taken me flying yet.”

“Brat! How hard is it to ask for what you want?” He picked up your purse from the unconscious attacker and handed it to you. When it is secured around your shoulder, Clark picked you up and you wrap your legs around his hips. “Hold on, Sunflower.” He took off so fast that the world blurred around you.

As he got closer to his apartment, he slowed down and flew a bit higher near the clouds. He rolled over onto his back so that you are straddling him. His hands found each other behind his head as he floated above Metropolis, all attention directed at you. Your eyes wandered around the city as you adjusted your seating which stirred his arousal.

Clark tried to adjust himself under you without you noticing but instead, you took the opportunity to grind your clothed sexes together. The groan that escaped Clark’s mouth is enough to spur you on to continue your ministrations. His eyes are already rolling back in his head and you feel quite proud of yourself. You reached under Clark’s sweater and ran your fingers through his chest hair as you continue to work your hips over him.

“Clark?”

“Yes, Sunflower?” He opened his eyes, pupils were blown wide with lust, breathing becoming unstable.

“Take me to your place so we can get more comfortable?” You flirted with him, wrapping your arms around his neck and shimmying up his body.

“Yes, Ma’am.” He grabbed under your thighs to have you wrap your legs around him once more and began to descend to the balcony of his apartment. He let you inside first but is quickly behind you following you into his bedroom as you start to shed your layers.

You spun around and gave Clark a show of your skin becoming visible in the moonlight. When you are fully undressed, you knelt in front of him with your head down and your hands on your thighs. 

He walked over to you and kissed the top of your head. He listened for your heartbeat, and it was steady, if not a little heightened. You were awaiting instruction, as far as he could tell.

“Sunflower, I want you to pick a safe word.” He stood behind you and undressed down to his underwear.

“Unicorn is my safe word.”

“Good girl,” Clark caressed your shoulders and squeezed them, “Are you okay with calling me Sir?”

“Yes, Sir.” Your heart rate evened out, Clark noticed. You’re happy. He beamed down at you.

“Good girl, now turn around and take out Sir’s dick.” 

You turned around and reach up to Clark’s boxer briefs, cupping him over the fabric before hooking your fingers into the waistband and pulling the underwear down and off. His length sprung up to bounce in front of your face and you lick your lips in anticipation but don’t go any further without direction.

“Such a good girl, Sunflower,” he grabbed your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your face up to meet his eyes, “Come lay down so Sir can taste you. I can already smell how wet you are.”

You took his hands as he helped you up. Clark pulled you close to his body, your back against his chest. He attacked your neck, nipping and sucking marks that would show in the morning. His length on your hip has you testing your limits. 

As if reading your mind, Clark reached down and cupped your netherlips. You instinctively clamped your thighs around his hand and he used a foot to kick your legs apart. With one hand exploring your cunt, the other slides around your throat as a warning.

“Don’t ever block me from my pussy, Sunflower. This belongs to Sir now, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, Sir, it belongs to you.” You were sure Clark could feel you clench around nothing and you didn’t care. You wanted him to know he was doing everything right.

“Good girl,” He dipped a finger into your wetness and pulled it back out to wipe across your bottom lip, “We’re both gonna taste your sweet honey.” He used the hand around your throat to turn you around so he could claim your lips.

You tasted yourself as his tongue invaded you, whimpering into his mouth. His answering groans had you trembling. He walked you backward until your legs hit the edge and he pushed you down. Leaning over, he knelt and pushed your thighs back as far as they would go, marveling at your glistening slit.

With the flat of his tongue, he licked from your entrance to your neglected nub, pausing to suck on it lightly. He ate with the hunger of a man starved. He steeled his tongue, probing your core and tasting you from within. He made out with your pussy, pulling back to spit on it which drew moans from you and had you squeezing your breasts in response.

Clark was good at this, not that you were surprised because of how good of a kisser he was, but fuck! The way he fingered your pussy, making sure to curve his fingers to hit that sensitive bundle of nerves inside was heavenly. 

When he sped up his fingers and pushed down on your lower stomach, you gasped and realized he understood the assignment. He was rewarded with you squirting over his hands and chest.

“Such a good girl for me, Sunflower,” he said, before sucking your juices off of his fingers and moving your limp body up the bed, “Now, you’re going to be an extra good girl and take Sir’s dick.”

That was all the warning you received before Clark was pushing in, stretching you wide over his thick hardness. With every inch, he would pull out and press in an inch more than the last thrust. He made sure to stretch you slowly, keeping your tightness while allowing you to get used to his girth. 

“That’s right, Sunflower, open those sweet petals for Sir,” Clark soothes your whines as he fucks into you, “I promise I’ll make it all better when you let me all…the way…in.” He punctuated his words with jolts from his hips. 

When he is finally seated inside you, he pauses. The sudden stop has you reaching for Clark and moving your hips to gain friction.

“Look at you trying to fuck yourself on my cock,” he leaned over you and watched as tears flow from your eyes, “These tears are gorgeous, but use your words. Tell me what you want.”

“Sir, please,” you whined, looking into his eyes, “Need you to fuck me, please.” 

The smile on Clark’s face is brilliant, he’s got you right where he wants you. He kissed your face, stopping to wipe away your tears with his tongue. Pulling back, he secured your legs around his hips before he leaned down to wrap one hand around both of your wrists, holding them above your head.

When Clark fucked you, he paid attention to every aspect of your body. He looked into your eyes. He kissed and nipped at your neck. He pinched and teased your nipples. He rubbed your clit while he pounded inside you. 

Clark just did it better than any of your partners before. Maybe because you allowed yourself to be vulnerable around him? Or maybe because he was just…better. It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that you were with him and he was inside you and you were all his.

You lost track of how many times you came, but Clark remembers every time. He committed them to memory, seeing you arch your back and feeling your walls flutter around him. He could tell by the sheen of sweat on your body and the way your body is vibrating that you were beyond spent. Possibly even a bit overstimulated. Perfect.

“You ready for my cum, Sunflower?” He licked his thumb and pressed on your clit as you keen, “Do you think you can hold on for me for just a bit longer?” 

“Yes, Sir,” you moan as he slid his hands to your hips.

“There’s my good girl,” he groaned and began his assault on your pussy. At this angle, he can stimulate both your hooded center and your G-spot. A punishing pace that set you ablaze. While you held onto his biceps, you looked into his eyes. Where there used to be blue irises, only dark pupils remained. His curly hair was a sweaty mess on his forehead. He was barely a man now, more like an animal rutting into you.

Before long, his hips stutter in their onslaught. Breathing erratically, he squeezed your hips so hard you knew there would be bruises tomorrow. He moved to kiss your neck and latched onto your shoulder with his teeth as you feel every twitch of him releasing inside you. You know there will be bite marks in your shoulder for days but you don’t care.

Clark’s teeth left you, followed closely by his tongue soothing your almost-broken skin. Sometimes, he didn’t know his strength. And it was a close one this time. He was still inside you semi-hard before he decided to pull out slowly causing you to whine at the sudden feeling of emptiness.

He moved from the bed for a moment. You closed your eyes for a millisecond before you feel warm wetness between your legs.

“Just cleaning you up, Sunflower,” He wipes your delicate folds softly and throws the towel in the clothes hamper before crawling in bed beside you, “You go right to sleep, you deserve it.”

The last time you refer to yourself as Clark’s girlfriend is a year and a half into your relationship.

Clark proposes to you over dinner in the house you bought together. He bought the ring after you talked about marriage just two weeks ago. Well, technically, Bruce helped him buy the ring. As in, Bruce bought the jewelers store and had them design the perfect ring for you. 

A smoky quartz center with marquise and pear-shaped citrine petals around it. You had mentioned more than once that you didn’t want a diamond engagement ring, you wanted something that matched your style.

Clark presented the ring to you on one knee, ever the traditionalist. You said yes, of course.

This man was your life, your hope, and your future. You looked forward to every minute of every hour of every day with him. 

He is your light in the darkness, and you are his Sunflower.

A/N: Yes, the title is from "Sunflower" by Post Malone/Swae Lee. Yes, the song was for a Spider-Man movie. So, what? It's a good song.

**Tag List**

@brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67

@astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry

Let me know if you wanna be added and for what plz  😁 Also if you want to be removed from tags, lemme know!

[christinescupofcoffee]

dead man walking

Chapter Three: Rise and Shine

That first night with Alex proved to be quite the event: the sun had set over their little corner of upstate New York and once the late night hours crossed over them, he had already settled into the spare room at the back of their house with his guitar and the clothes he had with him. Krista knew that, if he still lived over on the Pacific Coast, he would make that room his own for as long as he wanted, even when the baby came. Though he was a full grown young man at that point, and one who was eight years younger than her, she still viewed him as a boy, especially with his little round boyish face and the streak of gray hidden away with the black hair dye.

He had set his guitar case down on the floor, right next to the foot of the bed, and he peeled off his shirt. Lucky for him, the door hung slightly ajar and thus, he could undress and find himself naked right on the spot. He looked down at his lanky little body and frowned.

To think that he had had another body next to him not long before and one that wanted to touch him, or so he believed. He folded his arms over his chest and bowed his head, and stray tendrils of black hair spread over his bare collar bones.

That skin on his chest and shoulders, so smooth and yet so forbidden to touch and love on.

The cozy bathroom was right next door: he had had a long day, and after leaving that dilapidated, dingy hotel room a few blocks from there, he deserved a shower. The phone rang in the next room and that was his cue to duck in there with nothing more than his travel bag. If nothing, he had to get comfortable with himself in his most primal state again.

Alex bowed in there as Krista's voice floated into that back hallway and the bathroom. He flicked on the light and once he closed the bathroom door behind him, he gazed on at himself in the mirror's reflection.

At that nude body that stood before him against the glass. He set the black leather bag down on the counter and he looked on at his arms, at those lanky wrists with those prominent veins, and he was unsure if he wanted to see those veins as beautiful or anything less than that. He looked on at his body with both disdain and oblivion, at his slender hips and his narrow waist.

A chill swept over him and he turned to the shower for a good cleaning.

A single touch from his own fingertips sent the chill further down his body. The water poured over his jet black curls and his slender shoulders. He should have been the elegant classical musician, but what was he at the moment? A willowy skeleton covered in tired flesh. Twenty five years old and yet he felt so much older than that. So much older and so much more frigid on the inside than he had realized.

He took a quick one for himself and he climbed out of there with the towel wrapped around his hips and his bare feet still soaked wet despite the bath mat on the cold pale white tiles. To think that in nine months time, that bathroom was going to be filled with little bath toys for that baby. Such a weird little collective to be in that house, with Krista the matriarch and the baby in her arms, and what was Alex? Nothing more than a random guest who showed up at her door. The more he thought about it, the more out of place he felt with it all and the more he should return to the West Coast.

Granted, he did it because he wanted to do it, but he still saw it as a bold move on his part. The thick layer of condensation on the mirror before him allowed him to take off his towel and rub it upon his head. Even with the black hair dye all around his head, there were moments in which he swore it rubbed off and showed off that touch of gray to him.

He still couldn't hardly shake the image of her landlord Peter from his mind, either: that big tall man with the long smooth jet black hair down to his waist, the brilliant green eyes under the prominent brooding brow, and the big booming Brooklyn accent; he towered over Alex, who was already a rather long drink of water to begin with, and he struck him as a vampire right out of the classic novels. And yet, when he showed him an unsure small Mona Lisa smile, he could see mere a row of teeth up top.

He was massive, almost too big for this world, and one who looked ready to step on Alex himself and crush him like a bug.

He shook his head. He mustn't think this about himself. He was a boy of worth. A man of worth.

Alex let out a low whistle and he reached one hand before him. He wiped away the condensation from the mirror's surface and he gazed back at the Jewish boy with the round face, the prominent aquiline nose, and the deep set blue eyes.

If only he could see himself with more worth.

He sighed through his nose and doubled back out to the hallway, and back to the guest room for a fresh change of clothes.

Once he slid his shirt over his head, and he ruffled his hair dry with the towel some more, Krista's footsteps caught his attention. He turned to see her there in the doorway, with a stunned look upon her face.

“That was John,” she told him in a low voice.

“Bush?”

“Yeah. He told me that there's a spare pressing of Sound of White Noise saved just for me—there's a redo of the song 'Black Lodge' with a little bit of the lyrics changed to honor Joey and me both.”

“Wow!” He was stunned as he slung the towel over his shoulder.

“Yeah. 'Her love for you knows not death nor distance' as he described it. I—” She wiped away fresh new tears from the brims of her eyes. “—I got nothing to say about that.”

Alex lunged for her and threw his arms around her. She returned the favor for him and stroked his still soaked hair at his back.

“Thank you,” she whispered to him. “You smell good.”

“I try my best,” he confessed to her. He bowed her head into her shoulder and stray tendrils of hair spread over his face all the while. He figured to grow out his bangs some more: he wasn't in a metal band anymore. He had to look his best from that point onward.

Krista let go of him and wiped away more tears.

“Do you need anything?” he offered her as he fixed the towel over his shoulder. “I can get you something from the kitchen if you'd like.”

“No thanks, that's just—you're so sweet, Alex. But I'm going to have to get used to doing things myself from now on, and that includes finding out how Joey found that needle.”

“Well, if you need anything at all—and I mean anything—I'll be right in here.” He rubbed his eyes. “I'm beat.”

“You look it,” she said with a sniffle and some more wiping away of the tears. He took the towel off of his shoulder and folded it from the corners when she spoke again.

“Alex?”

“Yes?”

He held the folded towel before him with his index fingers.

“I hate to do this to you,” she began in a small voice, “but I haven't had a kiss good night in so long.”

He hunched his shoulders up a bit. For all he knew, the hormones that flowed through her body forced those words out from her, but then again, she did have a point behind that. It had been a time since he did as well.

“It's okay,” she beckoned him. “You and I both need a kiss good night.”

He held still as she walked on over to him and lingered before his face. He looked down at her lips as they puckered a bit for him: his stomach turned a bit, especially when she set a hand on his shoulder. Krista closed her eyes once she came in closer to his face and she caressed him right then and there.

Soft and smooth and very gentle. The lips of a widow.

She held back and she gazed right into his deep eyes. His bottom lip trembled and he swore his knees would buckle at the feeling, but they never did.

“Yeah, we—I guess you could say we do,” he confessed with a tremble to his voice.

She gently patted the side of his face.

“Get some sleep,” she advised him. “I'm gonna have to wear my mama bear mask more and more with you around.”

“Me and the—” He gestured down to her belt.

“Well, of course, that's a given,” she assured him with a nervous little chuckle and one hand on the waist of her jeans.

Nine months, most of which took place over the winter months. He would have to tough it out with her there upstate while he searched about something for himself.

Krista left the room and he closed the door part of the way, and he crawled underneath the musty covers of the guest bed. A cold chill surged up his spine from the feel of his wet hair but the blankets welcomed him in for the night. He reached up and switched off the light, and he rolled over onto his left side, away from the door, and he closed his eyes.

The last thing Alex thought about before he fell asleep was his hope that he could feel better about himself soon enough.

Meanwhile, Krista wiped away some more tears. She would have to turn in for the night herself when a big loud knock on the front door caught her attention.

“Krista?” Peter's big booming voice pierced through the front door panels. She swallowed down the nervous sensation in her stomach and she wondered what he wanted, especially at such a late hour.

She let out a low whistle and then she reached for the door knob. He towered before the doorway and against the cold autumnal darkness, and yet his pale skin stood out from the tapestry of the night.

“What's—going on, Pete?” she asked him, to which she cleared her throat a couple of times.

“I just wanted to see if there was anything you needed for the night,” he confessed in that low voice.

“I don't, Pete,” she assured him, and she tried to close the door but he stopped it right in place with the toe of his big black leather boot.

“C'mon,” he beckoned her. “I promise you that there's something you need. You're widowed and barely pregnant—you're going to need all the help you can get.” He stopped right in his tracks and he sniffled the air behind her. “Is there someone here?”

“No, I lit some incense in Joey's honor,” she assured him at a fast clip, and he squinted those deep eyes at that. He stared on at her as though he stared right through a solid pane of glass. His very stature brought on a hollow sinking sensation within the pit of her stomach, and she understood why Alex himself was shaken by his very presence on the street. She made a promise to Alex back there in the bedroom, to wear the mask of the mother for him as well as the tiny sliver of life within her, and she straightened herself upright before him. Though he stood strong and high before her, she still pressed her hands to her hips.

The fearless girl, now a woman, before the green giant.

“Sweet dreams then,” he told her in a near whisper, and he bowed out to the darkness once again. She watched him back to the sidewalk, at the streams of black hair directly off from his head. Once he reached the edge of the yard, he turned back to her with those deep eyes as they stared back at her like the hollow sockets of a skull.

He was her landlord, and thus she couldn't understand as to why he spooked her so much to her core, especially now that she didn't have Joey with her anymore. He stood there in silence except for the breeze around them, and then he doubled back to the block on the other side of the house, into the shadows. Krista sighed through her nose once again and she ducked back into the house and locked the front door.

[kishibedefender]

oh shit guys my hands keep slipping I should probably get that checked out-

“Brother! Brother watch me!” 

Two children rode along the riverside, one attempting to stand on her stallion's back to grab a tree branch, and the other watching in both amusement and concern from his own mare. 

“Careful, Isadora!” The older boy called out to the younger girl, who waved him off, her focus solely on the branch above her. 

“I'll be fine, Thomas! Colorado can catch me!” She yelled, finally reaching the branch with the tip of her fingers and pulling herself up, a fraction of an inch. Her success would be short-lived, though. The girl yelled as her hand slipped on the bark, and she fell back onto the stallion, and slid off the saddle, onto her left wrist. 

“Isadora!” The boy, Thomas, yelled, dismounting and running over to his younger sister. The girl had tears in her eyes, but she pulled herself up out of the dirt and sticks, swiping a few twigs and pieces of bark off her riding pants with one hand. 

“Are you alright? Nothing broken?” The boy asked, and the little girl, Isadora, nodded slightly, before a shooting pain in her wrist interrupted the confirmation. She cried out and held the wrist in her other hand. It was swelling quickly, and beginning to turn purple. 

Thomas sighed, “Alright, get on Rio, I'll take you and Colorado home.” 

The younger girl tearfully nodded and trudged over to her brother's chestnut American Quarter Horse. Her brother would help lift her onto it, and would mount the horse right behind her. Isadora sniffled and looked back at her older brother, who had now grabbed the reins of his sister's black Thoroughbred, Colorado. 

“Thomas, will Mother and Father be upset with me?” She asked, and Thomas nodded, “Definitely. You need to be careful, Isadora. We have important jobs to do when we grow up, we need to keep ourselves safe.” 

The girl faced forward again, and her brother put a gentle hand on her brown hair, “Do you remember, Isadora, when I raced in the Kentucky Derby on Dazzling Light, what happened?” 

She nodded at the memory, it was heartbreaking, “You gave up third place when the horse in front of you kicked up a rock that almost hit your head.” 

Thomas nodded, flicking the reins and prompting Rio to move, pulling Colorado with him. 

“Why did I do that?” 

Isadora looked off to the side, and Thomas nudged her shoulder to answer, and she did, “Because you knew that your future was more important.” 

The 16-year-old boy nodded, dropping the reins for a moment to pat his 12-year-old sister’s head. 

“That’s right. Winning is not as important as finishing, and finishing intact, Isadora. Mother and Father let us do anything we want, as long as we keep ourselves safe.” 

“That's why father lets me shoot?” She asked, before looking at her wrist, “Oh, father won't let me shoot like this…” Her eyes teared up again. 

“See, Isadora. That's another thing. If you hurt yourself bad enough, then you can't do the things you love. You can’t shoot, can't ride, and can't read books as well if that hand is broken.” Thomas lectured, and Isadora would only sniffle, keeping quiet the whole ride home.

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

Matt/Heckyl/Levi playlist!

Listen. Listen. This was a total crackship. No basis in canon. None of these characters appeared onscreen together. But my brain went hey, what if? And apparently more of you read this one than read some of my actually-based-in-canon ships like Mystic Force and Time Force, so morbid curiosity, I guess? Or recency bias? Whatever the answer, I'm so happy y'all took a chance on this one! It is one of two complete and utter crackships in this series (the other of which is Emily/Mack/Kendall) and it was quite the experiment. Looking back, I wish I'd expanded it by maybe 2k more words in places, but I remember my hyperfixation fading at the time and how I was close to quitting if I didn't finish writing it when I did, so I'm proud that I got this out! (Especially in the context that I was taking several college classes at the time and balancing freshman year with some personal shit behind the scenes.) I hope y'all enjoyed it!

Also, I'm not gonna lie, I kind of love the vibes of this playlist? Like, it totally fits the vibes of the fic in order, but it's got this late 2010s indie-pop-rock energy that really works for me. I'm even thinking of using it again for an original novel because the vibes are rather immaculate.

@skyland2703 @madhare0512 @khruschevshoe @liveinalovelyway @disastardly @augment-techs @our-raven-strife-universe @infinitysgrace @estel-eruantien

[cardierreh15]

Believer

I do not give permission to anyone to copy or repost my work!!

Warnings 18+: Slight Angst , Flirting , Mentions of Sex , Fluff 💕💗

Pairing: Clark Kent x Cardíerre James (black!plus size female)

Description: Clark decides to welcome Cardí back to the daily planet in a special way.

Side Note: This is a part one. I wrote way too much to keep anyone's attention I feel. Part two's link will be at the bottom.

Word Count: 5.7K

Song: Happy Feelings by Maze & Frankie Beverly

Chapter 3: Moment for life

‘Wait you’re seriously going to go back to work?! What about your hand girl?!’ Her mother asked in a worrisome tone.

‘What about it? It’s fine— Aah!’ She whimpered out as her mom snatched up her hand and pressed her thumb into the wound gently. Even with such a gentle brush over the damaged flesh, it still hurts like hell.

‘Hmph.’ Her mother scoffed with a smirk before letting go of her hand and turning back towards the stove.

‘That’s not funny, mom.’ Cardi mumbled holding her wrist in her free palm, ‘You know the antibiotics only work so fast. Besides, it’s a lot better than it was when I was in the hospital.’

Janice didn’t say anything else, she just stirred at the grits in the pot.

‘Mom, look I need this. Since the fire and the hospital and being stuck here, I have been miserable!’

‘Oh!? I’m making you miserable?!’ Her mother’s head popped up and she turned to fully face her daughter.

‘No. I never said that but you know my job— my career is everything to me. I have to get back out there… see what’s been going on— see what he’s been up to.’

‘Oh Jesus Christ, not him again!’ Janice laughed and threw her hand up and rolled her eyes. She walked over to the sink to gather some water in a cup.

‘What do you mean “not him again”?! He solidified my career! He saved my life!’

‘And had he been there much sooner, you wouldn’t have had to worry about missing work because you would’ve been going! But instead you ended up in the hospital, barely breathing and choking to death because you were doing his job! He risked your life!’

Cardierre rolled her eyes and burst out in hysterical laughter, ‘Wow! You are so cynical! Have you thought for a single second that I went into that building on my own?! I told you this a hundred times! I wasn’t looking for a savior mama. But he did and you should be grateful he did! What would Batman have done?!’

Janice raised a brow as she continued stirring, ‘Don’t bring that fool into this. He ain’t no saint either.’ She paused for a second, ‘Probably would’ve—broken your legs for attempting something so idiotic.’ She snickered.

Cardi’s head fell forward as she tried to hide that laugh but instead, it showed in her bouncing shoulders.

‘Yeah, that guy is a piece of work.’ She sighed out as she pushed her feathery hair out of her face. Cardi then took a step closer to her mother, placing her hand on her arm reassuringly, ‘Look mom. I know you worry for my health. But this is what I want! I’m ready.’

Janice sighed and looked up at her daughter for a long moment, ‘Well you’re grown hell! You can do what you want!’ She said as she brushed her daughter’s shoulders then her chest. ‘I just thought I was doing what was best for ya… that’s all.’ She said softly.

‘I understand but only I know what’s best for me, mama. I flew from the nest years ago, you gotta let me live my life.’

Janice sighed and nodded, ‘I know it. Just— be careful alright? And if you run across that fool in the red cape, tell him I owe him my foot in his ass.’

Cardierre giggled and nodded, ‘I’ll be sure to tell him, ma. I’ll see you and dad later.’ She said as she pressed a kiss against her cheek and scooped her purse up off of the kitchen counter.

***

Cardi had parked in front of the building, gathered her belongings and stepped out of her car. She stared up at the slowly rotating globe with a gentle smile curling on her lips. It felt like years but in reality, it had only been about a month and a half.

‘Ms. Lane!’

She snapped out of her gaze and looked over at the valet, ‘Terrance! Hi!’ She grinned as she shut her door and walked around her car to meet him.

‘Welcome back, Ms. Lane! I heard about the fire and I just want to say you are really brave. I personally wouldn't have done it.’ He chuckled as he placed his hand over his chest.

Cardierre chuckled and placed her keys in his palm as he reached out for them, ‘Well that’s why we’re two different people. Behave out here.’ She said as she walked past him and towards the double glass doors.

‘Yes ma’am!’ He called out.

***

No one expected her to be back so soon. So she found herself laughing at the stunned reactions of her coworkers and members from other departments down in the lobby.

She stood in the elevator, taking a deep breath. She was starting to feel so anxious about being back. Maybe she was afraid that no one missed her. Or she’d been replaced with someone who was more dependable. No, no— Perry wasn’t like that. If he was going to fire her, he would’ve told her already. She knew better than that.

When the elevator dinged and the large metal doors tore apart, Cardierre stepped out into the busy, bustling office. Her ears throbbed at the sound of phones ringing, papers printing, conversations amongst her peers and typing. She left it just like this.

‘H-hey! Look everybody! Cardierre’s back!’ Someone said aloud.

Everyone in the office space had snapped their heads towards the lady in baby blue. Mumbles and whispers filled the room, seconds before everyone stood to their feet and applauded her.

Cardi wasn’t big on attention. Oddly enough with her career choice, she tried to stray away from being the center of it. But now and then, it did feel nice to be recognized for her efforts.

She looked around the room, taking in all the familiar faces and took note of those who called to check up on her and sent her get well soon gifts.

She had given her peers a sweet grin before her wandering eyes landed on Clark who had just stood up and joined in on the celebration. He had this ecstatic grin spread across his lips.

She felt her heart squeeze in her chest, pleased to see his handsome face.

When the clapping had died down, she placed a hand on her chest, ‘Thank you… for the warm welcome back everyone. If only you all knew the things I’ve endured while being away. Recovering wasn’t the hardest part of it all… but my mother is back in town—‘ the room echoed with laughter.

Cardierre chuckled and pushed her hair behind her ear, ‘But on a more serious note, thank you guys so much for not burning this place down and making this my second home to come back to.’

‘Welcome Back Cardii!’ Steve called out before the office clapped once again.

A brighter smile curled on her lips before she looked over to see Clark adjusting his glasses, then running his fingers through his hair. Was he– was he grooming himself?

Clearing her throat, she walked over to her desk where Clark stood. He wore a dark plaid shirt that was tucked into his khaki slacks. The color really brought out the brightness in his ocean blue hues. His sleeves were rolled up his forearms and he donned a dark gray g-shock on his left wrist. What he wore was simple but he filled it out real nice.

‘Hey Cardi, Welcome back!’

‘Thank You, Clark. It feels good to be back.’ She smiled up at him, her big brown orbs studying his features. His skin! He probably had the most perfect skin she’d ever seen! Almost like glass, it was smooth all the way across. Practically like a porcelain doll but so lively. But aside from that, she’d noticed how familiar he was- but she couldn’t exactly pinpoint it.

‘Cardi? Cardi? Cardierre–’ he waved his hand in her face before she had finally blinked her way back to reality.

‘Oh-oh!’

‘Back to Earth now?’ he chuckled as he folded broad arms across his chest.

She chuckled, shaking her head before feeling her face and neck grow warm. She wasn’t exactly the type to be embarrassed about checking someone out but, this was her hot ass coworker. The one who she had caught staring at her a few times before her absence. ‘You good?’ he asked kindly.

‘Yeah, I’m cool. It’s just… I know this is super dumb and maybe it’s all the medication I was taking in the hospital but– Clark have we met before? Y’know like outside of work?’

Clark raised a brow as he cleared his throat, ‘Uh,’ Then he proceeded to rub the back of his neck, ‘What do you mean like–’

‘Like I mean have we interacted or worked together… I just get the feeling that I know you from somewhere or at least, seen you.’

Clark looked down at her as he dropped his hands and shoved them in his pockets.

It grew quiet between the both of them before– ‘Had that been the case Cardierre, you would’ve been hard to forget.’

A smirk curled on Cardi’s lightly glossed lips, ‘And what is that supposed to mean?’

‘It means how could someone possibly forget a smile like yours.’

She laughed and playfully slapped his arm. She allowed her hand to linger there for a moment too long. He was firm beneath his thick plaid long sleeve. She was almost tempted to ask him if he worked out but her attention was stricken by how Perry’s blinds were closed. ‘Where’s Perry?’ she asked, dropping her hand; placing her purse down on her desk.

‘Oh, He had to leave work a little early today. He thinks he got food poisoning.’ Clark gritted his teeth together as he inhaled deeply, then let out a deep breath.

‘Aw no,’ she said in a slight whine, ‘I was hoping to see him today.’ She pulled out her desk chair and sat down, noticing all the “Get Well Soon” trinkets and cards. ‘Aaw,’ she giggled softly and looked up at him for a second before carefully unpinning the card with the tacks.

Clark smiled down at her as he folded his arms over his chest, ‘Mine is on the top. You should look at that one first.’ He seemed a bit more confident than usual.

Cardi looked up at him with a smirk and raised a brow, ‘What are you up to mister?’ she giggled as she gently tugged the light pink ribbon that was wrapped around the card all cute and delicate like.

She then opened up the card and two rectangular cut cards fell in her lap. ‘What’s this?’ She gently placed the card on the desktop and picked up what had appeared to be tickets.

‘Those are tickets to the carnival. I thought it would be a nice welcome back gift… Since you like running into burning buildings – I figured you may enjoy something that would give you an adrenaline rush while being safer.’

Cardierre laughed and spun around in her seat to look up at him, ‘You got jokes huh?’

Clark chuckled and shrugged, ‘Just a few… so,’ he pressed his lips together, ‘What do ya say?’

Her head fell to the side as she crossed a leg over the other, lacing her fingers together and resting them on her knee.

‘You askin’ me on a date?’

Clark was taken back by the question, his whole entire face flushing bright pink at the question. ‘Uh–’

‘You are asking me on a date…’ she smiled up at him.

‘It would be whatever you want it to be… Or," he said, standing up straight. There he was again, scratching the back of his neck and then rubbing his chest in a nervous manner, ‘Maybe you can just take the tickets and go with another frie–’

‘Clark…’ she raised a brow, ‘I told Steve no, on many occasions and on many fun outings…’ she looked away at the word, trying to avoid the term for the moment since it wasn’t official. ‘What kind of person would I be if I told you yes and rejected him all those times?’

Clark glanced off to the side and swallowed his spit. She was right. What was he thinking? She was out of his league! Gorgeous, smart, funny, career driven… he wasn’t her type or –

Cardi laughed out, ‘Oh my gosh, if you could see how you look right now!’

Clark was thrown off by the remark, starting to feel a bit uncomfortable since he felt like she was teasing him.

‘I’m only kidding! Lighten up, man!’ She said as she tried to recover from her giggly state, ‘I would love to go on a carnival date with you.’ Her big humorous grin had softened and eventually faded into a subtle, approving smile. But she never took her eyes off of his face.

He then chuckled and placed his hand over his chest, ‘Well, that’s a relief!’ He said as he adjusted his glasses again, hiding his face. trying his damndest to hide that blush that just burned against his flesh.

She smirked as she spun back around to face her desk and the rest of the cards.

The pair sat in that space in a comfortable silence. Clark just watched her, analyzing. He thought it was cute how when she laughed, she did so with her soul. The sound was delightful to his ears. He’d make her laugh all day if it meant he got to hear it.

Her shoulders would bounce effortlessly, her eyes would shut and her head would fall back carelessly since she just didn’t know what to do with herself.

He liked when a woman could simply let go and be herself; carefree, spontaneous and adventurous.

Perhaps she’d fit perfectly in his complicated world after all.

‘So, you wanna go tonight or—‘

‘I’m down. I kinda—‘ she glanced to the side, ‘Need to get away from my parents for a few hours anyway.’ She sounded annoyed. And that was an understatement. It was nice having her parents around to help her since the fire but now she felt like they were overstaying their welcome. Her mother particularly.

‘Oh. Well at least it’s nice that your parents were around to help. How was your healing?’ He asked a bit concerned, noticing how she balled up her fist as tight as she possibly could.

She let out a whimper so soft, only she and he could hear it. It was itchy. Sore. And sometimes it burned when the wind blew the wrong way.

‘As helpful as they’ve been— they were pretty intolerable.’ She scoffed and shook her head. Then she looked at her balled up fist, ‘It hurts sometimes… too much pressure makes it feel like my skin is cracking but it’s better than what it was.’ She gave him a soft smile.

‘Oh,’ he hissed as she described her healing, ‘I’m sorry— I didn’t mean to pry.’

‘No, it’s fine… I mean— it’s best that the guy who’s taking me on a date tonight,’ she hinted, ‘Gets to know me and how I’m feeling anyway, right?’ She smirked.

An enlarged grin curled up on his handsome face, ‘Well if he’s smart enough he would.’ He chuckled, ‘What time should I come get you? Or… should we just meet there?’

‘I can pick you up.’ She said softly before reaching down beneath her desk and pressing the power button.

Clark was a little taken back by the request, ‘no, no— it’s fine! I’ll come get you.’ He chuckled.

She smiled softly, ‘you sure?’

‘Positive.’

‘OK, well— there’s somewhere I wanna go when we’re done. Is that cool?’ She asked softly with a smile.

‘We can go wherever you’d like.’ He said as he rested his body against the short cubicle wall.

***

‘Whose this boy you’re going out with Cardi?’ A deep voice boomed throughout the condo.

Cardi rolled her eyes as she blended her contour into her cheeks. ‘He’s no boy papa. He is a man,’ she tried to hide the smirk on her lips, ‘a rather, good looking man.’ She murmured.

‘Oh leave that girl alone! When was the last time she went out with a guy?’

Clarence walked into the bathroom, ‘What happened to that handsome fella?! What was his name?’ He pinched and smooth at his salt and peppered beard, looking up as if an answer was going to appear above his head, ‘oh,’ he snapped his fingers, ‘Lee! That’s his name! What happened to Lee!’

Cardierre scoffed and turned around to look at her father, ‘Oh you mean that douchebag that worked under Bruce?!’

‘He was well off!’ He argued back.

‘Pfffft!’ She rolled her eyes as her mother walked in the bathroom.

‘Lee was a selfish prick and I would never go out with him again.’

Janice pressed her lips together and looked over at her husband, ‘She has her mother’s values.’ She shrugged and leaned against the counter, ‘Anyway, who is this guy?’ She asked curiously.

Cardi sighed dreamily as she placed her sponge down on the counter, ‘His name is Clark. He’s so sweet, and funny, and tall, and handsome, and—‘

‘Ugh! OK OK, he’s the whole package.’ Her father interrupted.

She snapped her neck back at her father with this less than amused glare written on her face. Her pretty features, appearing more dramatic than before.

‘Clarence,’ her mother stood up straight and pushed him out of the bathroom, ‘Gone! Gone, GIT! Get out, you ain’t no damn help!’

‘What?! What did I do?!’ He exclaimed.

She slammed the door and locked it. Then she turned around to face her daughter, ‘Unlike your good for nothing papi—‘

Cardierre giggled as she shook her head.

‘I am very happy for you baby. Now, where’d y’all meet?’

‘Well,’ she sighed out, ‘We met a few months ago. He was at the Planet before I was transferred there apparently but he was away…’ she trailed off, ‘But I can’t help but feel like he and I met somewhere before.’ She raised a brow and turned back towards the mirror and applied some setting dust.

‘Hmmm… maybe a passerby? You know your mind is capable of remembering someone you’ve only glanced at.’

‘Yeah…I mean…’ she paused for a second and shrugged, ‘I don’t know. It’s just been 3 years since I’ve been with someone … romantically—‘ she gritted the next word, ‘sexually.’

‘Whoa, whoa— hey I don’t wanna hear about that missy. I’m still ya mama.’ Janice waved her hands in defense.

‘Sorry maaa.’ Cardi trailed off.

Then, the doorbell sounded throughout the condo. ‘He’s here! Oh my god! He’s here! I’m not even done! I’m not even dressed!’ She began to panic! Her heart rammed hard in her rib cage, she began to hyperventilate.

‘Cardi! Cardierre, look!’ Janice grabbed her daughter by her arms, ‘You’re gonna be fine. If he’s anything like you say— he will wait for you.’

Cardi’s full lips trembled, ‘For real? You mean that for real ma?!’

‘Of course sweetie. Lemme go get the door!’

‘OK…’ she said.

***

Clark pressed the blue ring light on the door and stood up straight. He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing the soft feathers out of his face. He then dust off his free hand and held a dozen long stem roses in the other. ‘Alright, Clark. Be cool. It’s cool.’ He cleared his throat before he focused his hearing when he heard footsteps on the other side of the door. That wasn’t Cardierre. Then he remembered…

He gasped.

‘CLAARK!’

Her parents.

Her mother exclaimed and quickly wrapped him up in a hug quicker than he could have imagined. ‘Ooh! Uh—‘ he stood there with his arms open wide, glancing down at the much smaller woman. ‘You must be—‘

‘Janice,’ she pulled away and clasped her hands together happily, ‘Cardierre’s mom! Here are those for her?’

‘Uh huh.’

‘Lemme take those! Wow these are beautiful, Clark. Come on! Come in!’ She grabbed his hand and tugged him inside.

Clark swallowed his spit before scoffing nervously and adjusted his leather coat.

‘Make yourself at home honey!’ She waved her hand about as she searched in the kitchen for a tall vase.

‘Yeah… thank you.’ He then noticed the other heartbeat in the room. It caused him to turn his head to the right. A man, who appeared to be her father, sat in the recliner, rocking back and forward slowly as he smoked on a perfectly polished wooden pipe.

‘Hi sir!’ Clark said as he lifted his hand in a respectful manner.

Clarence just kept rocking with his thick glasses sitting at the tip of his nose. He gave him a gentle jerk of the head as he watched Clark sit down on the sofa across from him.

The space grew eerily quiet. Clark could hear everything at this point. The resting heart rates of the elders in the apartment space, the cars riding on the asphalt several floors down from where they were. But then he heard whispering. Her whispering… he felt at ease for a moment.

It’s alright. It’s only a date. You haven’t been with a man in a few years but you haven’t lost your flare. Maybe if it goes well enough tonight you’ll probably give him some ass… no. No, he’ll probably think you’re a certified slut. Lord, I just hope everything goes smooth tonight… Heaven knows I just want that man to wrap those arms that he so desperately hides from everyone, around me… am I asking for too much?

‘So where y’all headed tonight?’ A deep voice filled the silent void.

The gentle smile Clark had written on his lips had faltered only a bit to focus on her father, ‘Uh, we’re— I'm taking her to the festival. I figured she deserved to have a bit of fun…’ and to get away from you wackos too.

‘Hmph.’

‘Awww,’ her mother cooed as she walked into the living room with a glass of water, ‘How romantic! That was me and Clarence’s first date! He was terrified of roller coasters,’ she giggled aloud as she placed the glass on a coaster in front of him. ‘Poor thing. Do you like that kind of stuff?’

Did he? The man flew around for fun. It was almost second nature to be up in the air. ‘Umm… if you’re asking if I’m afraid of heights, no ma’am I’m not.’ He reached over and wrapped his hand around the glass of water to take a sip.

‘Alright, enough of this small talk shit— are you gonna marry my daughter?!’ Clarence exclaimed, sitting at the edge of his seat.

Clark choked on his water at the sudden outburst.

‘CLARENCE!’

‘It’s a serious question, Janice hush! I’m trying to have a serious conversation with my future son in law— now,’ he turned his attention back to Clark, ‘You gone break my daughter’s heart?’

Clark had just finished recovering from damn near choking to death when he glared at her father, ‘I—I guess! If she wants to marry me, I mean—‘

‘Good answer boy. Good answer.’ Clarence sat back as he took a long drag of his pipe.

Clark then looked at her mother with confusion written in his crystal blue hues.

‘Clark! Are you there?’ Cardi called out from down the hall.

Thank God.

‘Yeah! I’m here!’ He stood up from his spot as he held his glass of water in his hand.

‘OK! I’m coming now!’

Clark took a long, final sip before placing the glass back down on the coaster.

Finally, she emerged from the long hallway. And he was completely mesmerized by her. She wore a gray body con dress that was scrunched up from her thighs to her hips; with two elastic strings tied at her silky smooth thighs. She filled out that dress so nicely; taking up all the room it had to offer.

She donned a silver anklet with a dangling letter “C” on it. And she wore shiny black Tory Burch sandals that brought out the brightness of her White toenail polish. Infatuation wasn’t even the word he’d use for how he felt about her at this moment. Fondness? Adoration.

‘Wow… Cardierre you look—‘ he let out a shudder of a sigh. He never really got to see her outside of lady suits, long skirts and slacks. But he could tell she was much more comfortable in casual clothing than business professional. Which made her all the more gorgeous. ‘Stunning.’

Cardi grinned, her head falling to the side as she clutched her purse strap in her healthy palm, ‘Thanks. Are you ready?’

‘As ready as I’ll ever be.’ He smiled softly.

‘Alright! Well you two have fun now.’ Janice said as she walked over to grab her daughter and practically pushed them towards the front door.

‘Have my daughter home by 9!’ Her father called out.

Clark looked down at his watch and raised a brow, ‘But it’s 9:01?’ It was more of a question than it was a statement.

‘Well have her home by 10!’ Clarence shouted.

Cardierre rolled her eyes as the pair walked out of the door.

‘Oh please. Don’t pay that man any mind, Clark. Y’all come back when ya done. Have a good time babies.’ Her mother said softly, waving her hand happily before she shut the door.

Cardierre let out an embarrassed chuckle before looking up at Clark, ‘Shit. I apologize for my parents. They are…’ she sighed, shaking her head, ‘Overbearing. I hope I didn’t leave you stranded out there like that.’

Clark chuckled and shook his head, ‘It’s alright. I’m not expecting everyone to like me.’ He shrugged, ‘Besides, your father is kind of funny.’ He added as he pushed his thick locs out of his face.

She let out an embarrassed scoff, ‘You think he’s funny now. Give him a while… he’ll annoy you eventually.’ She rolled her eyes.

***

The drive on the way to the carnival was entertaining. It did start out a little awkward since they couldn’t find anything to talk about. So Clark turned on the radio. They sang everything they possibly could under the moon the station could’ve possibly offered.

When they made it to the carnival, Cardi sat in the car until he got out and came to get her door. She thanked him as she placed her hand in his and stepped out of the truck.

Once they made it inside of the carnival, Clark looked down at Cardi who had this look of endearment on her face. She was taking in all of the lights and rides and the games. He was glad he’d chosen to bring her here tonight. ‘So, what do you wanna do first? Wanna catch some rides?’

‘Rides? I never took you to be a roller coaster kind of guy Clark!’ She grinned as they walked side by side.

Clark smirked, ‘Everyone says that. Listen, I may be a nerd but— I know how to have fun too. Come on. Let’s go on that big one over there.’ He grabbed her hand and they walked over to the line hand in hand.

Luckily, the line was short and they were able to get on and experience the tallest rollercoaster at the carnival. With all the loops and sharp turns, Cardi felt like she was going to fall out of that old thing. But the grip that Clark had on her, she just had the blissful feeling of being safe. So when the ride did its second rotation, she was a bit more comfortable now and even found herself screaming and throwing her hands up with her partner.

When they got off that ride, she did her best to stand up straight but her legs grew wobbly. She eventually lost the little balance she had and landed in his arms.

‘Whup!—‘ Clark exclaimed in a bit of a laughing fit as he caught her just in time so she wouldn’t eat the dirt they stood on, ‘You alright?!’

Cardi laughed and stood up straight, ‘I’m good! I just haven’t been on a rollercoaster in ages!’ She cleared her throat and smoothed out her dress. ‘That was so fun.’ She giggled a bit as she looked up at Clark.

Clark looked down at her, his oceanic blue eyes gazing into her pools of honey. He just couldn’t help when he was around her. She was just so pretty. Then he cleared his throat, looking away for a second before he caught a glimpse of a little girl walking past with this big cone of cotton candy.

‘Hey! You down for some cotton candy? I haven’t had any since I was a kid!’

She gazed into his eyes, pressing her full glossy lips together. ‘I’d follow you anywhere… just take the lead.’ Once Cardi realized what she had said, she placed her hand on her chest. That was awfully bold of her.

He then smirked and held his left hand out towards her. Waiting for her to place her hand in his.

She then looked down at his palm; kind of skeptical about this. What if she was just damaged goods? Cardierre wasn’t perfect and had a lot of baggage that hadn't been exactly resolved yet. She was just afraid to scare him away and ruin her chance at a happy life. She knew that Clark was a good man. There was no denying that.

But the other half of her wanted to jump into the deep end! Let go and be completely free with him. He may help heal her in all the right places. But she wouldn’t know, if she didn’t try.

So she smiled up at him and placed her small right hand in his much larger one. And with that, Clark immediately wrapped her hand up in a warm embrace. She braced herself from the searing pain in her palm, but his touch was so gentle— it was almost as if there was no burn there in the first place.

‘Just let me know if it hurts too bad.’ He said softly as they both turned to walk towards the food truck.

‘I will.’

***

The night consisted of them eating a ton of crap that would clog up their arteries. Foot long corn dogs, cotton candy, caramel popcorn, and Fried Oreos. It was a miracle they weren’t hugging the toilets! Between their snack times, they had been on 3 more roller coasters and wreaked havoc with the bumper cars.

‘It’s too bad the Ferris wheel is down! It’s such a gorgeous night!’ Clark said as he wrapped his heavy arm around her shoulders.

‘That’s cool! I have another place in mind though.’ She smiled up at him before looking ahead at the guy trying to lure people in for a game of “Hit The Bell!” He had enormous bears, unicorns, and bananas. Her eyes twinkled at the sight. She wanted one! But before she could say something he spoke up.

‘Hey! Check this out!’ He let go of her hand and walked towards the guy, asking him how much for a game.

‘It’ll be $10 for 3 swings! $18 for 6!’

Little did he know, it would only take one swing.

‘Cool! Let’s do the 3!’ He paid the guy in cash and then took off his leather coat and handed it off to Cardi.

Her eyes slightly grew at the sight before her. Beneath that thick leather coat, he donned a dark blue long sleeved thermal that just hugged his body.

It hugged and outlined his chiseled muscles; defining those curves and cuts. Cardi was flabbergasted!

‘Thank you sir.’ Clark said as the man handed him off the large hammer. Typically, these were heavy, which made the swings a bit tougher. But he lifted it like it was light work.

Cardi held their coats close to her chest, squeezing them as her eyes glassed over with amazement. She was heavily invested.

Clark held the hammer in his fists for a moment before bringing it up and down against the black stump. The black knob quickly flew up and Cardi’s eyes followed it all the way up. When the knob touched the bell, Clark grinned in such a knowing way. Of course he’d win.

‘Alright! Can you do that two more times? Win that pretty lady over there one of these big ole’ teddies!’ The older male said.

‘Too easy.’ Clark shrugged before swinging it once more and again after that.

To say that Cardierre was impressed was an understatement! She was ecstatic! She found herself just smiling out of control.

‘Which one do you want, Cardi?!’ He called out to her.

‘The Unicorn! I want the Unicorn!’ She squealed out happily.

Clark chuckled and gave the gentleman a nod before he watched him grab the metal stick and bring it down from the rack. When the man placed the prize in Clark’s arms, he thanked him and walked over to his date who was dancing happily.

Her tap dancing had stopped and clapped joyfully.

‘Oh it’s so cute! I love it!’

He chuckled before swapping their coats out with the plush pink gift. ‘Yeah. Now, you gotta promise to keep it safe for me.’ He said softly.

She hugged its neck, snuggling the toy with the brightest grin on her lips, ‘I’ll protect it with my life!’ She giggled before they walked off, hand in hand again.

It was now 11:45 pm and they were finally walking out to Clark’s truck. Cardi released her hand from Clark’s and walked to the driver's side. Clark stopped in his tracks, ‘What are you doing missy? I’m supposed to be driving— I’m the gentleman!’

Cardi opened up the back door, throwing the pink unicorn there.

‘Truuue but— I don’t wanna ruin the surprise by giving you the directions,’ she shut the door and stepped to the driver’s door, ‘Just give me the keys and enjoy the ride pretty boy.’ She said as she shot him a wink, stepped on the step and hopped inside of the vehicle.

He chuckled before shaking his head and walking to the other side of the vehicle.

Part II 👇🏾👇🏾👇🏾

[cloisfics]

STAY

She was running...where exactly, she couldn't fathom, couldn't bring herself to care about the fact that she, being defenseless could potentially get murdered in cold blood, not when she felt that sensation of impending doom suffocating her, the terror running deep in her veins, her heart pounding.

Lois Lane was not one to shy away from danger. It was what excited her, chaos was what she was used to thriving on, it was what defined her life- what made it worth living for. But this was different - of course it was - she could feel it..the last thread of hope -slipping away from her clutch, the flashing lights from the battlefield nearly blinding her. She found her breath coming in pants, her eyes tearing up, limbs shaking..her entire world crumbling down into pieces, right in front of her eyes- and yet, she was totally and utterly helpless to do anything about it. Her frantic eyes had found the read and blue mass lying in the corner, right next to that terrifying beast- most disturbingly, motionless.

" Clark!"

Lois was so horror struck for a moment that she could only stay rooted to the spot, praying that her bloody mind was playing stupid tricks one her. This couldn't be real. She wouldn't allow it...

She finally willed enough strength to move to him, dizzy and feverish, for the first time-petrified of the unknown, of what awaited her. She managed to turn him around onto her lap, shaking hands immediately finding the face she loved so much. His skin was so frigid, and clammy. He had never felt so cold before. The soundless scream erupted from her throat of it's own accord...

Like a bucket of ice-cold water had been splashed on her, Lois jerked awake. She felt her forehead, feeling sick, her heart pounding loudly against her ribcage. She instinctively reached out next to her, and was further anguished on discovering the cold side of the bed. Slowly, she took in the familiar surroundings- the comfy bed with the silk comforter she was tangled in, the walls coated in warm beige illuminated from the table lamp, the cozy decor, the tall mahogany cupboard and the frigid bay windows against which snow was falling, heavily.

No. She kept telling herself. It was just the usual nightmare- her worst memory, in fact- the one which took pleasure in constantly haunting her..and yet- it had been so real, she could feel her throat constricting, her chest tightening. Her restless mind began conjuring up such bone-chilling imagery she couldn't manage to shut out.

She ran her hands through her hair, trying to pull herself together somehow and failing miserably. He would be here, he had to be here, or was he?

Tired of her internal debate, she decided to put an end to the dilemma; she was even more frustrated to find out the amount of effort it took to sit upright against the headboard, and that was when she was suddenly alerted to the wound on her left shoulder, the pain so tangible she was forced to recollect the unpleasant scenario she had found herself in before the bullet had brushed past her skin.

As if on cue, the door opened- and there stood Clark- in his casual flannel, looking quite worn out with dark circles quite visible under his eyes- he never got dark circles, he was Superman for God's sake- but alive. Miraculously, right in front of her. Unharmed.

The fatigue weakening her body, and her wobbling legs which threatened to give way beneath her, forgotten- all of a sudden, she collapsed straight into him, wrapping her petite frame against his muscular torso, arms wrapping around him as tight as she could muster.

"Lois!" He breathed into her hair.

She felt his steady heartbeat, as she buried herself deeper into him, letting his scent wrap around her- healing her. She once again reminded herself of how much her life revolved around him, and him alone.

"Honey.." he gently peeled back away from her, concern pooling in his mesmerizing blues, as he took in the sight of her, hand trailing down her cheek.

"Hey.." she managed weakly, instinctively melting into his touch.

"Is everything..."

"I'm fine.." she assured him, and herself, arms circling his neck, leaning her forehead agaist his, "Just a bad dream.."

He held her close, kissing her forehead as he murmured, "You scared the hell out of me.."

She knew they had to talk it through. She sensed apprehension, fear and worry- all in that one simple sentence, and felt the guilt creeping up her veins, already. But not right now. It had to wait.

"Clark..."

"I know." He whispered, delicately stroking an arm down her back, perfectly aware of her need for comfort.

"Stay."

"I'm not going anywhere, Lo!"