taylor swift. smallville. clark kent. superman. coffee coffee coffee. old movies. sunsets. painting. art history. frida kahlo. daisies. smell of old books. reading. writing. humanity. the good in humanity. sharing with others. coffee. recently made waffles. DOGS. dogs again. puppies. smiles. art. photography. sushi. pizza. beer with lemon. edward cullen. buffy’s hair in s1.
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— summary: it is common knowledge that clark kent can’t get within five feet of you… until one day you cant help but to want him close.
— content: popular!reader. angst. fluff. clark kent just being clark kent. a bit bittersweet but worth it. “spell” around smallville makes people more confident.
— a/n: I am so sorry for pulling a disappearing act I’m trying to get back to writing. I had this sitting on the drafts for a long time. i’ve received recent requests of part two of unapproachable so here i deliver!! I link the part one! hope you enjoy. as always i take requests. love u xoxo
— part one. part two.
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Clark Kent has been trying his best not to seem like a stalker around you, but he can’t help it. Lying about the winter formal has put a dent in the struggling relationship you both share, as you both know he lied, but neither wants to talk about it. He can’t be any closer to you, and you can’t even look at him without feeling your heart squeeze, painfully, sadly.
The way your friendship has been stuck in for the past week has made you sick, as winter break gets near, and so does the famous winter formal. You’ve decided to go with Jake Teagues, a junior and tight end of the football team, who asked you in front of Chloe and Clark at the Torch.
And yes, it was as awkward as it sounded. You were delivering some pictures to Chloe for the paper, and Clark was there, naturally, so when Jake suddenly appeared, holding a bouquet of flowers, a big magazine smile one his face, asking you to the Winter formal, your first instinct was to look at Clark.
He wasn’t even fazed, there was no clear reaction on his face to even tell what could he be thinking at that moment. That’s turned once you said yes, because nobody expected you to say yes. Clark and Chloe opened their eyes widely as they watched you accept Jake’s flower and receive a kiss on the cheek from his part, your smile unbothered and high up on your face as you knew exactly what you were doing.
You were moving on.
Which is why, now things were even more awkward than what they were before. Clark still didn’t have a date, that you knew of, and not because lack of options. Chloe was right, the locker room talk was vibrant. Clark Kent had quickly become the most eligible bachelor of Smallville High. Every girl wanted him, every girl strutted by his side like a model on the cat walk when they saw him standing on the hallway, every girl would stay later at school to watch the male swim class in action, as Clark was taking it that semester.
You had fallen victim to the swim class as well, lying was pointless. Chloe had asked you to accompany her as she waited for Clark, just for a few minutes, and you had to watch all the girls you had heard that morning say they wanted to take a bite out of Clark stare at the practically naked guy as he got out of the pool, drops of the chlorine water dripping all over his toned abs and his biceps, the v of his pelvis attracting the gaze to the downstairs area, where that swimsuit left nothing to the imagination.
You knew Clark was hot. You had known that for far longer than these girls. You’ve known since way before your classmates thought of looking in his direction. And you had learned to like him despite all of that physical appeal, because that’s what made you look in the first place. His kindness, his generosity, his overall goodness had made you be in love with Clark Kent for as long as you could remember.
So now the fact that everybody else had noticed the blue specks in his eyes, his magazine white smile, his toned pecs, his eight abs, his big, strong arms, the veins in his hands… didn’t take away from the fact that the most attractive thing about Clark Kent was the man inside, even with how attractive he was on the outside.
And to that man inside, not talking to you, having to avoid you, being forced to look away when other guys dare to talk to you, has been even more painful than the feeling of the meteor rocks that hugged your wrist. Everytime he looked at you, he just wanted to hold you in his arms, never let you go, be as close to you as he possibly could, and even impossibly as well. He wanted to feel your skin, your warmth to touch him all over. He wanted your touch, your smell so close he could drug himself with just your essence.
Why did he have to lie?
And why did you have so much trouble communicating that with him?
The day had woken up sunny and warm, the snow was beginning to melt, and you made your way to school. You noticed something was different as soon as you parked your car. There were people arguing right in front of the school’s entrance, a heated discussion between a couple you knew but barely talked to. You got out of your car and walk right towards them, as the girl had left the guy yelling by himself, and had practically sprinted inside the building.
You approached him with the best intentions as you noticed the people around him weren’t doing anything. You were holding on to your bag, your books tight against your chest, as you placed a hand on his shoulder, making him turn around.
“Hey, Tom, is everything alright?” You asked as he looked at you.
He placed his hand above yours, the sensation making you blink rapidly.
“Now it’s better.”
Compared to how heated things were outside, things inside those Smallville halls had never been colder. Clark was filling up his locker with his books as Chloe went on and on, rambling about the approaching mega event that awaited you, as the Winter formal was the whole subject around the student body. Clearly, Chloe was on top of it, documenting the preparation for the torch, waiting for somebody to slip up and reveal something interesting regarding the big day.
Clark, on the other hand, hated the subject and everything about the Winter Formal, and was holding himself together to not use his heat vision and burn the whole school gym down so the event is cancelled.
“Anyways, I’m going with Seth to the dance. He asked me at the end of art class asking me if I was Monet because I sided made a big impression on him. It was corny but so sweet I had to say yes. And I heard Lana is going with someone from the team… which lucky girl got to go with Smallville’s most eligible bachelor, huh?”
Clark closed his locker. “I didn’t ask anyone.”
“You didn’t? I thought that’s why you weren’t going with, you know…” She meant you, Clark knew this. “If you aren’t going with other girl, why didn’t you ask her before Jake had the chance to?”
“She didn’t seem to mind that much, did she?”
“We both know that if there’s anyone she’d rather go the dance with, it would be you.” Clark looked away. “Look, the thing about her is that… Oh God.”
Clark frowned, confused. “What?”
“Look.”
Clark turned around to see you walking through the double yellow doors. You had ditched your winter coat, and had chosen to only wear your t shirt, which you folded nicely enough that it appeared crop. You lost the black tights, and lifted your skirt even higher, revealing to the public your thighs, all exposed to everyone’s eyes. You had gone to your car and grabbed the makeup your mom kept in the gauntlet, trying for a bolder eye look that made them pop, and made you look… sexy.
Clark, the man of steel, had to keep it together once your eyes landed on his.
“What the hell happened to Saint Mary?” Chloe spat out as they both watched you as you walked in their direction. “Isn’t she cold? It’s freezing outside.”
“She doesn’t seem to mind,” Clark whispered to himself, frowning as she noticed something peculiar, something strange.
You weren’t wearing your bracelet.
He called you name, gaining your attention. Clark Kent was walking straight to your direction. And just when you thought he would stop, Clark Kent step in front of that invisible five feet mark he had made himself, landing right in front of you.
In all the years you’ve known Clark Kent, he has never been this close to you without panicking. You smelled the sweet arome of his cologne, the masculine scent of his after shave. You could see the faint sunlight that peaked through the clouds make the blue of his eyes shine, sparkle like golden specs. You smiled, boldly taking a step forward yourself. You were so close, you could smell the fresh mint of his breath.
“What’s going on?” He asked you.
“You smell nice.”
“It’s freezing outside. Where’s your coat?”
You took another step. His nose was so close to his you were about to kiss him if he didn’t move away, but he did, like he always did.
“Take me to the formal,” you asked, it came out more like a beg than you intended for it to come out.
You didn’t mean for it to come out that way, but the confidence and the alter ego that had come to the surface had chosen to take the leap and jump into the unknown. The person you were portraying right now, the one that wasn’t sad or upset by the boy she liked ignoring her, or the father that raised her leaving, was taking the chance she thought she deserved and had been waiting for it to fall into her lap. You now knew that chances had to be taken, and yes, maybe your father wasn’t coming back around, maybe you home was broken from a place not even the biggest act of bravery could fix entirely, but there was one relationship that could yet still be salvaged. It was yours and Clark’s. At least you had to try.
“You said yes to Jake,” he pointed out, reminding you of the fact that someone else had entered the picture, that you had opened the door for them. “He’s taking you. Now, where’s your coat?”
“What did I do to you, Clark?”
“What? Nothing, you’ve done nothing to me.”
“Don’t you want me?” He was shocked, taking another step further away from you, like he always did. “You seem to be repelled by me, yet I can see it in your eyes. What is it? You hate me? You like me? What? Tell me.”
He mumbled your name, your thumb reaching his cheek and stroking it so softly as you thought this would be the last time you’d ever be this close to Clark. You knew deep down this wasn’t you, that the confidence and adrenaline surge that had come to you in that moment would soon fade into oblivion, and you would never be so brave to touch him again, and he would never be this worried to be this close once more. It was your chance.
Your only chance.
Right there, in the middle of the hallways, you kissed Clark with such passion it even shocked yourself. You let whatever it was that had possessed you when Tom touched you outside to take the lead in the case, planting your lips on Clark’s, the place where they belonged. You had waited for that moment for so long, for the moment that you’d finally know the way his lips felt on yours. You had been in love with him for so many years that this moment felt so surreal.
Clark broke apart the kiss softly, turning to look at you in deep surprise as he saw whatever it was that had made you gain that confidence dissolve from your system as it tried to infect him, but couldn’t get past the steel front. He saw it, he feared it. Because once you saw him, it wasn’t long before you fell right into his arms.
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You opened your eyes slowly, the coldness of the led ceiling lights tormenting your recently awaken sight, as they brightened your pupils so high you thought they would melt. You turned, softly, to your side, where you sight met your mother’s glance, that graced you with such… warmness, and love that you couldn’t help but smile. Your mother and I had been alone for far too long, the two of them, all by yourselves, that you couldn’t imagine how scared she might’ve been.
“Hey, honey,” your mom said, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “I’m glad you woke up, I was so scared.”
“What happened?”
“There was this parasite affecting a lot of people in the town. Apparently it increases your adrenaline levels, and once it leaves your body, it decreases them so quickly you pass out. You’ve been unconscious for a few hours, but everything is fine. The doctor checked you out, and you were alright. Soon, I’ll take you home, and we’ll watch so many movies and eat so much chocolate you’ll be sick again.”
You chuckled. “Thanks,” you said.
The door suddenly opened, and you turned your eyes towards the entrance of the medical room, where Clark Kent, of all people, was standing, holding a bouquet of recently cut pink begonias, your favorites.
You smiled, softly, surprised to him. Your mom, as if she could read the tension in the room, quietly stood up, mumbling something about food, and stepped out of the room.
“I brought you something,” Clark said, shyly, as he lifted up the flowers.
“Let me guess… a car,” you said, smiling, making him chuckle. He walked in your direction, placing the flowers down on the side table next to the hospital bed, and sitting on the place your mom had left empty. You smiled. “I don’t think I can remember the last time you were so close to me.”
He looked at you. “I see you everyday,” he said, ending the sentence with your name, said so softly, so melodic, you thought maybe it was now only his to say.
You exhaled. “Not like this. Sometimes I feel like you look at me as if I was going to hurt you.”
He gave you a sad smile, grabbing your hand with both of his, keeping it safe. “I think you’re the only thing… the only one with the power to hurt me,” he admitted, and you’d never seen Clark so vulnerable in your life. “I’m sorry about the formal.”
“It’s okay, it’s silly.”
“It’s not,” he said. “It wasn’t right. I should’ve been upfront. I should’ve had the courage to say what I actually wanted to say, and not hurt you because of my fears.”
“What are you so afraid of?”
“You,” he said, chuckling. “Everything… about you. The way you make me feel, what happens when I get close. I just… Seeing you like this actually made me realize what I was really afraid of.” You looked at him, feeling as his hand tensed. “Which is losing you. That scared me the absolute most.”
You smiled. “I’m not going anywhere, Clark… I promise.”
in every… series - masterlist & description - ONGOING
series description: a collection of short stories in a universe where you and Clark are secretly dating
important: this series is made with tom welling’s clark kent in mind as well as smallville tv show as a set up, but if you like, you can imagine any clark kent you wish, just take in consideration this is set in high school
warnings: secret relationship ; highschool!clark kent and highschool!reader ; fluff ; angst ; jealousy ; clark being adorable
a/n: the chapters on the series can be read in any order you wish, since i wrote them in any order i liked :) even so i would list the chapters in the masterlist in the order i recommend you read them, but it’s not necessary. smut chapters will be marked with an (s) next to them (all +18 characters) also i receive requests for this series, so anything you want to see here i’d love to read it xoxo ♡
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chapters
in every place
in every moment
in every universe
if you want to read more of my clark kent x reader here i leave my masterlist
— summary: being jealous when you are in a secret relationship shouldn’t have to be this hard
— content: secret relationship. popular!reader. fluff. angst. jealousy. clark is just too pure. smallville!clark kent or clark kent in high school
— a/n: i’ve been trying to figure out what to write and for some reason i keep coming back to this universe. maybe a mini series could come up? i just love secret relationships and this version of reader. also, i think taylor swift getting engaged actually gave me my inspiration back. pls enjoy!!! oh and, as I always say, requests are open. xoxo ♡
— SERIES MASTERLIST
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Clark Kent was incredibly attractive, and you were a fool to think for one second that you were the only one that had noticed.
His kind smile, his generosity with everyone, his mysterious aura, his big arms, his toned abs, his impotent height… you could go on and on about how that blued eyed farm boy made you feel every kind of butterfly, every tingling sensation, every excitement ever. Because he was just so… hot.
Yes. Stop tiptoeing around it. He was hot. Capital H-o-t. You swear he is a pigment of your imagination walking around in real life, tempting you with his toned body and his masculine scent, attractive you like a moth to a flame, making you want him at the most strange of places.
Well, a found raising car wash wasn’t as exactly as strange as you imagined.
The football team and the cheerleading squad joined forces to raise money for the Metropolis Children’s Hospital as many high school’s in Kansas had joined the motion. And of course, your boyfriend, the strongest man on Earth, made it into the football team last week.
He had to have done it in purpose, you swore. Just in time for the car wash, he had made it into the team after not wanting to join for years because of his dad. And now, you had to stare at him in a wet t shirt right outside in the school parking lot as he cleaned a girl’s white Jeep.
“Hey, Kent!” Your friend Amanda yelled as you both sat by the stand, collecting money. She was sitting on the table, her top was off and only wearing a bright light purple bikini top, her curly hair on a bun. Her yell called Clark’s attention, making him turn to look at both of you. “You have a bit of shirt in your water!”
You chuckled, watching the guy you’ve been secretly dating for a year now blush in embarrassment.
“You should just take it off! It’s not serving any purpose anyway.”
Amanda’s comment totally blew you off, making you turn to look at her in astonishment. What did she mean by that? You’ve known her for years, you recognize the look in her face. She liked him. No, not like. She found him attractive.
She thought he was hot.
You looked at Clark, his cocky smile showing as he, slowly, lifted the fabric of the shirt, revealing what had been left to the imagination before. His body was damp, reflecting the sunlight that hit him. He looked like a reality star, the hotness of the environment mixed with your boyfriend’s body is making you begin to sweat. You’re going insane. Absolutely insane.
What is he thinking? When has Clark Kent have ever taken into consideration the snarky suggestive comments of anyone? Why is he cooperating so excitedly?
And that’s when, completely shirtless, Clark Kenton a rush folded his damped shirt and tossed it in your direction, landing at your feet.
You picked it up from the floor, looking at him as he smirked.
“I’m keeping this,” you said to him.
He only laughed, gave you one last look, and walked back to the car he had been cleaning.
Amanda turned to look at you, and in a rush, she took the shirt from your hands, locking it in right by her chest with a mocking smile.
“I think this was meant for me, since I was the one that told him to take it off in the first place,” she pointed out, her eyebrows raised. “Get your own guy.”
You scoffed, thinking it was a joke. But Amanda’s face told you otherwise. “Oh my God, you’re serious. You like Clark?”
“What? Like ‘like’ like? No, no. I like his body.” She stood up from the table, tossing the shirt over her shoulder. “I’m going to invite him to Zach’s party tonight. You think he’ll let me use the downstairs bathroom to hookup with him?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Amanda,” you said softly, but she interrupted.
“You’re right. That’s the bathroom people use to throw up. I’ll just bring him to my car. Or maybe his truck. What do you think he likes? Gentle?” She looked at him. “Maybe rough?”
“You’re gross,” you said as she laughed.
You watched her turn around and walk in his direction. In your boyfriend’s direction.
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Calming down was practically impossible when you couldn’t concentrate on anything other than the rage you’re experiencing at the moment.
Because you couldn’t look away. You couldn’t. You were just staring at your friend, the one who is completely innocent in all this because she has no idea about your relationship, flirt with your boyfriend in your face.
Well, not in your face, a few steps away. But even so. She was trying as hard as she could to place her hands on his shoulder, his chest, and yes, Clark was trying to move away, but even so, the fact that he was entertaining her enough that he hasn’t talked to any other person other than her the whole night, made your blood boil.
What would you give so you could be the one with her hands all over him in front of everybody, the one that stood by his side, kissing him right in the middle of the room.
“Hey,” Zach called you, standing by your side. Your eyes fixated on Clark and Amanda. “Wow, your friend went for the new meat, huh? Kent hasn’t been in the team for more than a week and he already has someone by his side.”
You hadn’t noticed Zach, so when you turned, your face showed confusion. “Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah… She works fast.”
“Yes, she does,” he mumbled, turning to look at you. “You look great by the—”
“I gotta go,” you said, placing the plastic cup down on the kitchen counter and walking away, your eyes still on both of them.
You had to do something. You couldn’t just stand there and watch.
“Hey guys,” you said as you approached the two of them. Clark smiled at you, while Amanda stared at you confused and upset. “Uhm, Clark, do you own a red truck?”
Clark frowned. “Yeah, I do.”
“It’s being towed,” you lied, you lied your face off. Clark opened his eyes widely and ran outside, leaving you with Amanda. “Tough, huh?”
“Yeah, I should go with him,” she said, staring at the front door.
“Pff, I mean,” you said, crossing your arms in front of your chest, “if you want to spend the whole night out there at the parking lot, be my guest. He’s gonna argue with the two truck guy the whole night. Not worth it.”
Amanda frowned. “Poor guy. He shouldn’t be alone.”
You nodded. “You’re right. I think I saw Pete around, I’ll go tell him. Why don’t you make us some beer with lemon? I’ve been waiting for them the whole day.”
Amanda smiled at you and walked away, just in time as you turned around and crash right against Clark’s chest.
“My truck is outside, safe and sound, and not in a red zone,” he pointed out, his arms crossed. “Anything you want to tell me?”
You stuttered, looking away. “I… pfff, I mean… Well… Maybe it was another truck. What a coincidence.”
He said your name with his deep, hot, sexy voice, making you look at him. He then leaned over, looked at you straight in the eyes and said:
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
— plot; without asking, without wanting, without thinking it, you somehow end up getting to know clark kent very well
— content; very popular reader , secret relationship , kissing , fluff
— a/n: this is a prequel to “in every universe”, the start of clark kent x reader’s secret relationship. i really loved writing this version of reader, hope you enjoy. requests are open!! also, as i always say, i write for tom welling’s clark kent, feel free to imagine any clark kent you want !! xoxo ♡
— SERIES MASTERLIST
— my masterlist
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You pushed your books inside your locker, all while Zach kept talking to you about the party he was organizing for this evening. How great and amazing and other very simple adjetives were used to describe the get together he was planning, that involved the whole school, or at least the people at school that mattered. You smiled politely, wondering if he even cared you were standing there, or he just he just wanted an excuse to hear himself talk and not look weird. that’s just what he used to do normally. since he was as arrogant as a common swimsuit model, acting as if every moment of natural silence between you was the time for him to pose to an invisible camera.
He’d always liked looking pretty on the exterior so to not let people look at the emptiness inside.
“Zach,” you called him, closing your locker’s door. “I’m happy for you, really. I believe this party you’re planning has required a lot of effort. I can tell you put a lot of work into this.”
He shrugged, trying to disguise his arrogance with indifference, his narcissism with modesty. You hugged your History text book right against your chest, pressing down your nails to the back cover. You couldn’t wait for this long, insisting, tired conversation to be over so you could go to class. You couldn’t believe you actually wanted to go to class.
“You look beautiful today, have I told you that?” It was the first real compliment he had made you over the course of the twenty minutes he’d been talking about himself.
You looked at him with a soft smile. “Thank you,” you said, softly. “That’s very nice of you to say, Zach.”
He smirked, as if he was proud of getting the recognition he thought he well deserved. “I better get going. Class started five minutes ago, wouldn’t want to be any more late.”
Your face suddenly dropped at the mention of the time. You had classes with McGee, the history professor, and he was very strict with tardiness and the importance of being punctual. If you had known Zach’s intense and unending babbling would affect you in more ways than it already did, you would’ve left sooner.
You ran, didn’t walk, to your history class. But it was too late. Once you opened the door, and the eyes of your punctual classmates as well as your teacher laid on you, it was game over. You knew getting away with this with any less than detention would be improbable.
Your teacher said your last name with disgust. He’s made a point during the semester that he wasn’t fond of your way of getting things due to your looks, even if you thought it was just a discriminatory thought covered in pure fiction rather than anything that resembled the truth. You didn’t like the easy way, you’ve never had. Of course, he didn’t know that; and he felt wise to punish you for something he thought to be true rather than hearing the actual truth.
“You’re late,” he said.
“I’m sorry.”
“You know how I am regarding time. I don’t like any time of my class to go to waste. And since you’ve made it a habit to interrupt me and your classmates that take in consideration the time our class start, I’m left with no other choice than to give you detention.”
“Huh?” You let out, frowning. “But I—“
You were interrupted by the classroom’s door opening, a tall guy walking inside, someone you had seen before, yet never quite paid attention to. You turned to look at him. He was definitely tall, his eyes were as blue as crystal water, his skin tanned, his shoulders broad, his chest puffed. You raised your eyebrows in surprised, not expecting to see someone like him, and surprised you hadn’t noticed him before.
“Mr. Kent!” Your teacher yelled, taking you out of the trance you were involved in.
“I am very sorry, sir, I really am. See, I ran into some—“
“You can tell her all about it when you’re both in detention this afternoon.”
You both turned to look at one another, Clark noticing your presence to his side at that moment. He held his breath for a second, mesmerized by the sight of you standing so close to him. Of course he knew who you were, everyone did. Everyone in school would kill to be as close to you as he was right at that second. So close to someone as ethereal as you were.
“Now, you both, sit down.”
There were only two seats available in the whole classroom. Clark noticed, out of his luck, that they were right behind Chloe and Pete, and he followed you to them. His best friends smiled at him, practically mocking him, as he pulled the chair for you, letting you sit there. You thanked him, placing your bag on top of the counter, watching him sit down as well.
The blonde girl sitting in front of you that you recognized as Chloe Sullivan from the school newspaper turned to look at both of you, giving a mocking smile to your seat partner.
“Goodie two shoes Clark Kent got detention. That should be the Torch’s next front page article,” she whispered, mockingly, making Clark roll his eyes. “Do you even know in which classroom detention is.”
“3B,” you interrupted as you looked at Clark, both of them looking back at you. “I’ve had my fair share of detentions this semester to know a thing or two about them.” You extended your hand politely towards Clark, smiling, and you told him your name.
He reached for it, smiling as well. “I know who you are. I’m Clark Kent.”
“And I’m Chloe Sullivan,” Chloe interrupted, Clark and you letting go of each other’s hands. “What is your opinion on the recent resurface of cheating that the cheerleading squad has been apart of in the recent week? With the algebra midterm? Most of them had the same answers. Care to comment?”
You opened your eyes widely, surprised at the intensive eyes that were staring at you. You stammered, trying to find the right words, but you barely were even understanding the question.
“Chloe!” Clark reprehended her, his stared widened. He turned to look at you, giving you a kind smile. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” you said back, smiling. “Do you have a pen by the way? I’ve misplaced mine.”
He looked inside his backpack, taking out a blue pen and handing it to you. You grabbed it, your fingers gracing his as they passed. You smiled, he smiled, before you looked away down to your notebook.
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When you arrived at the 3B classroom and saw Clark Kent inside, sitting alone in a two seat table, behind all the common attendees to detention, you smiled to yourself. You looked around, noticing there was also an empty seat right where you always sat, but something called you. By instinct, by a force more powerful than yourself, you walked in Clark’s direction; sitting, on the back of the classroom, right by his side.
“Hey,” you said. He looked up from his book, giving you a wide, excited smile. “Is this seat taken?”
“No, not at all,” he said, as you sat right beside him. “I thought there would be more people.”
“Well, you’re early… to detention,” you said, and as if they’d heard you, people began entering the classroom. “You’ve never been here before, haven’t you?” He shook his head with such cuteness you thought for a second you were going to melt. “It isn’t half bad. Normally, the guardian teacher just shows up at the beginning to take attendance, then leaves, and comes back to let us out. I normally watch movies or listen to music.”
“What a rebel,” Clark mocked, making you chuckle. “So, what music do you got?”
And, sharing your light pink headphones, both of you listened to some Billy Idol, Bob Dylan, Fleetwood Mac, and many others, side by side, while you played tic tac toe or read, inevitably close. You didn’t want the headphones to fall, so you kept him close to you, trying not to move as much.
Before detention could end, you knew you had to say something, anything, otherwise it would be too late, and he would be gone, and you had no clue when would Clark Kent would ever be so social with you.
“Hey,” you said, and he put down the headphone, turning to look in your direction. “Would you like to come to Zach’s party this weekend? From what I’ve heard, it’s the event of the millennium.”
Clark snorted. “Is that so?”
“It is so, yeah. There’s going to be unlimited cheap beer, some loud dirty music and a lot of people sweating and moving around trying to go with the rhythm but not quite. It’s actually very fun,” you finally said, smiling. He smiled as well. “I would really like to see you there. I mean, because I believe it’s just a step up from detention, really. If you are here, might as well be there, you know?”
“It’s the same thing?”
“Maybe a different font,” you mocked, making him laugh. “Will I see you there, Clark?”
The way his eyes lit up you thought he was having a stroke. You’ve never seen that look on someone, it freaked you, but amazed you as well. It was as if he was trying to melt you with fire in his eyes.
“Yeah… I’ll be there.”
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He wasn’t there.
The wave of teenage men with beer in there system came to attack you as soon as you walked through the door, and the tsunami has yet to finish passing. You knew parties like this, specially as big as Zach organized them, eventually end up in disaster, and a lot of drunk high schoolers thinking they are more attractive than Calvin Klein model try to shoot their shot once they can.
But your eyes were looking for someone in particular.
And he did show up, just that you didn’t see him. But he saw you. He saw that white silk tank top you were wearing with those low rise jeans, and those high heeled pink sandals. Your hair was curled, different from that normal straight hair you always carry. And your lips were graced with something different, a shade of pink lip gloss you love to wear but always forget you have. And that smile of yours, which left him stuck right beside that door, your face just unmatched to any beauty he had ever seen.
But Zach had acted quicker. And he had said something that made Clark come back down to Earth from the ethereal place you had traveled him to.
“Hey,” Zach said to you as he sneaked up from behind, scaring you. “You look hot.”
“Hey, Zach,” you whispered. “Nice party.”
“Thanks, yeah. Hey, is it true you invited Kent? Clark Kent? That nerd guy that hangs around at the torch all the time? I just ran into him, and, let me tell you, he was under the impression that you asked him here.” He then started laughing, which made you frown. “Can you believe that guy? What a loser.”
You were quick to turn around and look through the kitchen window towards the front yard, being quick to see Clark Kent walking towards his red truck parked across the street, head down, staring at his feet.
Without even saying a thing, you left Zach talking to himself all alone in the kitchen, running towards the back exit. The cold air hit you right in the face as you stepped down the porch steps, white smoke coming from your mouth as the coldness of the night made red flush through your cheeks and the top of your nose. You yelled. Loud. His name echoed through the entire street, the sound of your voice filling him as he turned to look at you, without something to cover you up, running in his direction.
“What are you doing? Aren’t you cold!?” He asked abruptly, taking off his jacket and placing it over your shoulders. “What are you doing here?”
“Why are you leaving? You didn’t even say hi? How long have you been here?”
He exhaled. “Not long. Your boyfriend asked me to leave. Figured it would be wise considering this is his house, those are his friends… and I was there because of… his girl.”
You swallowed. “No, Clark, he’s not my boyfriend. He could never, in a billion years, be my boyfriend, okay? He just likes telling people that because it makes him feel better. The truth is my parents don’t allow me to date, alright? They’re very strict… I’m giving you too much information.” He chuckled. “I sometimes act out. Get in detention. Come to parties. Just to piss them off. Look, I just…” You smiled a bit, trying to find the words. “Please, believe me… I do not like Zach, okay? Just… come inside again, please?”
“I don’t know,” he mumbled to himself, doubting.
“Then,” you began, taking a step forward in his direction. “Let’s go someplace else.”
And you did. He took you to the barn right next to his house, to the loft that sooner you’d become so familiar with. And, trying to be as brave as he could, he kissed you so softly you practically melted in his arms. The way he held you, both of you breathing in as your soft touch eclipsed any other feeling you’ve had. The way he brushed your hair, the way your fingers caressed the back of his neck. It was the perfect kiss.
That’s how you and Clark Kent, under the cold light of the moon, decided that it was impossible for either of you to not see each other again, and that, for you to keep kissing like that, your relationship had to remain a secret.
— plot: keeping a relationship a secret is never easy, specially when two people really love each other, and specially when one… loses their memory.
— content: popular!reader heavily inspired in lana bc she’s ethereal , clark loses his memory , reader knows clark’s secret , kissing , secret relationship
— a/n: i really love the secret relationship trop so i hope you enjoy !!! requests are open, please give me more ideas to write. also, i always write with tom welling clark kent in mind, but pls feel welcome to imagine any clark kent you like!!! love you guys xoxo !!! ♡
— my masterlist
— SERIES MASTERLIST
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You’d gotten used to at climbing trees when the darkness of the night reached the sky. The tree that reached Clark’s window was as tall as his house, and keeping yourself from falling was something that required practice, some you’ve gotten over the few months you two had been together.
Who would’ve thought Smallville’s high head cheerleader and homecoming queen would’ve been caught climbing up Clark Kent’s bedroom window at eleven pm at night, less than the two were secretly seeing one another.
He opened the window once he saw the branches moving, helping you out by pulling you from your arms, lifting you up and getting you insight as if you weighted the same as one of those leaves. Your hair was a mess, which he helped you by pulling the small leaves and tree branches off it with a big smile.
“Next time, my house,” you whispered right in front of his face as you both sat on the bedroom floor. You were on his laps, his back lying back on the wall underneath the window, holding your waist with his hands. You looked beautiful under the moon’s light, your hair shining under the cool tone brightness that lit the whole room. You were to keep quiet, as you didn’t want neither Mr nor Mrs Kent knowing you were upstairs, in their son’s bedroom, wearing a pink tank top, some flared jeans, and no bra.
Clark smiled, his hands stroking your back until they reached the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him. The way his lips felt as they reached yours sent you ever the hill, as they felt both familiar, yet extraordinarily new, just like getting home after being away for too long. You feel comfortable, yet excited to see everything, finding out what you’ve missed while you were gone.
That’s how Clark Kent’s kisses felt. Like home. The way he would leave a trail of kisses down your neck and clavicle would send you over the edge, pushing the limits on how quiet you could remain without completely losing control, and doing something that would reveal the secret of your relationship and ruin the private moments you both shared.
Because that’s what you guys have left. The secret of you.
The next day at school, pretending you guys don’t know each other was the hardest. How could someone spend the entire night watching the stars, and dreaming about the future, yet treat you like nothing in their present? Clark would keep his best to keep his eyes away, trying to avoid looking in your direction. You were never that subtle, you’ve never been. And your friends knew.
“Why are you looking at Kent?” One of your friends asked as you looked away, putting back your things inside the locker, and pretending you hadn’t spent five minutes utterly star struck as you stared at your boyfriend, who was simply standing still.
“Why do you care?” You asked, your eyes glancing bar at Clark’s direction. He was talking to Chloe and Lana, chatting, and he was smiling. He always smiled like that. As if talking with others was the thing that made him the happiest. “What are you wearing for the party?” You asked your friend as you turned to look at her, diverting your eyes from Clark and from whatever that reminded you he wasn’t yours, at least not in the way you wanted him to be.
“Green tank top and my dark blue jeans. And what are you wearing? Something that matches Zach’s Porsche, I believe,” your friend mocked you, touching your arm with her index finger repeatedly, practically making fun of you. You rolled your eyes, putting your things back in your locker. “He’s very cute. And he likes you.”
“I’m not dating him,” you assured her. “And I never will. You can have him if you want.”
The day went by as normal. You were just waiting for the clock to hit ten pm so you could get out of whatever you were doing and rush towards the Kent farm.
You were at the Talon, your head buried in your books, studying next to your friends as a complicated history exam approached. You were sipping your latte, uncomplicated, practically just staring at your wrist watch with such intensity, as you waited for the clock to get any closer to ten.
It was currently six.
Clark, on the other hand, had a curious incident as the day had passed, and had lost his memory. Wiped. Entirely. He couldn’t even remember his own name, let alone his secret relationship with you.
“So this is the Talon,” Chloe said as they both walked in. Clark looked around, curious to the decoration of the cafe shop. “This is where we normally hang out, we drink coffee, that sort of thing. Uhm, let’s see if Lana’s around—“
“Woah…” Clark whispered once he saw… you.
You were ethereal. The way your hair fell so nicely, the way your eyes glistened, your smile warming the whole room. How you laughed, the melody of your laughter warming him up entirely. He’d never seen someone as precious, someone who made his heart stopped the way it did once he saw you.
You were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen in his short period of consciousness, and he couldn’t believe his eyes.
He definitely couldn’t believe his eyes because he felt sudden heat growing on them. He blinked repeatedly, turning to look to the side when the heat came crushing out, his vision burning up a lamp by his side.
Chloe hurried to drop some cold coffee on the growing fire, ceasing it in a hurry, but you noticed. Of course you noticed. You saw when Clark walked in, and you were holding yourself from not jumping in his arms.
“Who’s that?” Clark asked Chloe as they both saw you stand up from your chair, your eyes focused on Clark.
“What? y/n? Some girl from school. You’ve barely talked to her. I believe she asked you for a pen once.” Chloe looked at you. “And she’s now walking towards us?”
“She’s beautiful,” Clark whispered as you got near.
“Hey, Clark,” you said, stopping in front of the two. “And Chloe,” you quickly greeted the blonde, as to not draw any suspicion. Then, you turned to look at Clark. “You okay?”
You thought he had his heat vision under control, but he clearly was having a flaking out, or more like a flaming out. It was weird, since you’d never seen Clark struggle before. He picked up things very easily.
“He’s fine,” Chloe said, taking you by surprise. “Why do you care?”
“Uhm… no reason, just saw you…” You couldn’t come up with any excuse. Normally Clark is the better one at keeping secrets. You definitely struggled. “Are you sure you’re fine, Clark?”
“Never better,” Clark said, even as Chloe tried to stop him. But he couldn’t stop, his eyes were focused on you, taking a step in your direction. You were surprised, and by reaction you took a step back. “What are you doing tonight?”
You frowned. “I’m… busy,” you said, raising your eyebrows, as if letting him know why you were busy. Because he knew you were seeing him tonight. Didn’t he? “I better go,” you said, confused, turning to look at Chloe. “Nice talking to you guys,” you mumbled before turning around and walking away.
Chloe stood next to Clark as they both watched you walking back to your table. The blonde looked at her best friend with a mocking smile as he turned to look at her, confused by her expression.
“What?” He asked. “Did I do something weird?”
“If you call asking out the most popular girl in school after never having a conversation with her before in your life weird then yeah, you did something weird.”
“I don’t believe I’ve never done that before.” He turned to look at you again, your eyes staring at one another. “How could’ve been so close to a girl that beautiful and not done something before?”
“I didn’t know you even found her pretty.”
“If I ever felt a fraction of what I’m feeling now, then trust me… I did find her pretty.”
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Clark was definitely not expecting you. He quickly turned around once he heard you climbing through the window, surprised to see you in his room.
“You know,” you said as you stepped inside, chuckling tiredly. “Still, after doing this every night, I still get dizzy once I reach a certain height.” You looked at him, noticing how confused, yet mesmerized he was. “Everything okay?”
“It’s you,” he said, surprised, dropping his book on the bed and standing up, approaching you.
“It’s me,” you repeated, snorting. “Are you okay? You’re acting strange. Asking me out in front of Chloe was bold, to say the least.” You crossed your arms in front of your chest. “I mean, I thought you were okay with keeping us a secret for a while, at least until end of school when my parents chill out with the whole strict thing, and you find out… well… more about what you are. Also, what was with the pirotecnia back at the Talon? I thought you had your heat vision under control.”
“You know about me?” Clark asked.
“Yes, Clark, I’m your girlfriend. Whats going on?”
“I knew it was impossible you weren’t part of my life,” he mumbled to himself. “I lost my memories this morning. I woke up in an alley not even knowing my own name. And Chloe has been helpful and all, but… look, when I saw you…”
“You lost your memories?”
“When I saw you,” he insisted, approaching you. “I just knew. I so knew you were… something. The way I felt… it was too strong for you to be a stranger in my life.” He grabbed your hands, stroking the back of them with his thumbs. “Please, tell me everything. I want to know about you and me.”
And that’s how, under the light of the moon, you told Clark about the two of you, about the things you did without anyone knowing, about the way you two loved each other, about how understanding he was of your parents.
And right there, even if he couldn’t remember himself, you were the thing he was certain about.
“you’re going to save so many people, and bring happiness to many others” me while watching Smallville and seeing teenager Clark Kent being deep into puberty that whenever he gets horny he shoots heat from his eyes. “not yet, though”
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tell superman I have his girl { clark kent x f.reader }
masterlist
— plot: trying to get superman’s attention, batman kidnaps clark kent’s girlfriend… well, his ex-girlfriend
— warnings: older clark kent , angst , reader and clark fight , mentions of kidnapping , swearing , yelling , bittersweet ending , batman cameo
— a/n: ok, this came to me in a dream. i always write for tom welling’s clark kent, but this can also work for david or henry, or any superman you want to if you want to! also, im a superman girly, so my knowledge of batman is the bare minimum excuse me. i just imagined getting involved in between a batman and superman confrontation and my fingers just started typing. also, first time for me writing for superman more than clark kent, since im a smallville writer, so, hope you like it!! xoxo
Smallville was always quiet this time of the year. The streets were cold, using a scarf was a must, and the snow was creeping inside your boots, damping your socks. You needed to change them. You didn’t have any money to change them.
You locked the flower shop’s door before pulling down the gray roll up metal cover that kept the store safe. Your ears were cold under the wool of your hat, as you struggled with the keys due to your heavy packed mittens that you regretted wearing, yet were thankful for the warmth they provided.
You began walking, the cold night and breeze making your cheeks and the tip of your noise get tinted a warm rose tone as the blood flushed through you. You turned, the newspaper stand in the middle of the sidewalk catching you off guard. Of course, your luck seemed to never run out, as the name Clark Kent graced the front page of the daily planet.
Superman saves the day
Of course he did, you whispered to yourself, walking past the stand and towards the coffee shop across the street, dreaming of a hot cocoa to calm the extreme coldness. You were looking for something sweet, something with enough marshmallows to make you forget your ex-boyfriend of six years was making headlines, while you were making flower arraignments for the same three women every tuesday night. And that would be for the rest of your life.
Do not think badly of yourself nor your work. You loved what you did. It was your mom’s shop, the one you promised you would keep alive until you were no longer alive, the one that gave you your first summer job, your first adult experience. The place where you got your first kiss, your first dance, your first heartbreak.
You walked inside the coffee shop, the breeze staying outside while you stepped in, the scarf that circled your neck getting untangled by your hands as you began feeling the warmth of central heating.
You walked towards the counter, ignoring the calls of the men sitting on the tables, who called your name like cats chase mouse’s, or, of course, men chase beautiful women. They called you as if they were betting on horses, or were yelling at each other in Wall Street over stock values. You ignored them, your eyes on the blackboard where hot cocoa, with big chalk letter could be read.
“Please,” you asked the lady behind the register with a smile. “A hot cocoa to go, with as many marshmallows as you are allowed to put in a cup.”
Katie, someone that had become your pal ever since you were managing the store, smiled at you as she received your cash, and put your name on the coffee cup to go.
You stepped to the side, and by instinct, you didn’t know why, you turned your eyes to the door.
There, behind the men that were staring at you, or the ones that dared to call your name in order to get your attention, standing in front of the door was Clark Kent, with his mother and father, walking inside the coffee shop as they laughed together.
You definitely needed a place to hide.
But he called your name in surprise, and your name sounded so different when it came from his lips. The way his voice echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls, hitting you like a truck speeding through the hallway, crushing you down. Yet you were unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to think straight. And you had to stand there and pretend.
Pretend that seeing him, his blue eyes locked on you, on your body, looking at you up and down, hiding behind the lenses of those big squared glasses, wasn’t killing you. You felt weak. Your knees felt weak. You held on to the counter behind you, your lips parted, air leaving your mouth, and you forgot how to breathe.
How? He was supposed to be gone. You knew he would never truly leave Smallville, not with his parents still around. Because if they weren’t there, seeing Clark again would be impossible. You had to have left, but you didn’t, you stayed, forced to swallow down the memories of the man you were supposed to marry.
He unlocked his arm from his mother’s approaching you with a tiny smile. He was being polite. Clark Kent was always polite, well-mannered, never raised his voice, never took anyone for granted, always kind, always generous, always so… human. How much money would you pay for him to just have one flaw?
“Clark,” you said, giving him a polite smile. You thought if you looked straight into his eyes you would pass out. “I didn’t know you were in town.”
“Came to visit my parents,” he let you know. “I didn’t know you still live here. I thought you had plans to leave Smallville.”
“Guess I just got stuck here,” you whispered, knowing damn well the reason you were stuck wasn’t because you wanted to be, it was because maybe you were tricking your mind into thinking that if you stayed… it was because you were waiting for him.
Maybe it was the reason why you didn’t pay attention to the guys calling your name, asking you out, telling you how beautiful you are. You just wanted to hear it from him. For him to be the only one to ever say your name. To ever feel your lips. You were scared that once someone else got through your shield, they would leave… just like Clark did.
You looked down, hoping he wouldn’t notice that you were definitely going to start crying.
“I’m managing my mom’s flower shop,” you said, a soft smile growing on your face. “How’s the Daily Planet? I see your name gets the front page from time to time.”
“Only when I interview Superman,” he mumbled to himself.
You snickered. “You always liked talking to yourself.”
That gained you a look from him, with a tiny smirk. He didn’t have to tell you, because you already knew. The minute superman appeared to save the world, you knew that was him.
For you to not recognize Clark Kent, more than a costume was needed.
Your phone buzzed, interrupting the moment and the tension built between the two of you, a clear text read on the screen.
LL: Outside.
Your face turned red, putting the phone back in your pocket before Clark saw it.
“Everything okay?” He asked you, trying his best to be polite, yet curiosity growing up on him.
“Yeah, I can take care of myself now, Clark. That’s what I’ve been doing for a while,” you whispered the last part before grabbing your purse, and putting back on your mittens. “It was good to see you again,” you lied. It was incredible as it was overwhelming to see him again.
You liked the way he had aged over the four years you’ve been apart. He didn’t look fifteen anymore, he looked older, wiser, stronger. He looked more mature, yet still with that same boyish grin you always adored. You smiled, grabbing your hot cup of cocoa to go.
“I’ll see you around, Clark,” you finally said, walking towards the door. You waved goodbye to Martha and Jonathan before you kept walking, a guy that just entered holding open the door for you.
When you walked outside and saw the Porsche, you freaked. This was getting too regular for your liking, as now Lex Luthor tended to pick you up at the most random times, and you had no other option but to follow.
He stepped outside of the car and surrounded it, opening the door of the sports car to you. You took two steps before you heard your name being called.
“You forgot your—” Clark Kent stopped himself once he saw you and Lex Luthor, side by side, as you were about to step inside his car. “Scarf,” he finished saying, holding on to that pink fabric like he was holding himself not to freak out in that moment. “Lex,” he called your companion, which made the man smile.
“Clark,” Lex replied, approaching his long time friend, the one he never saw anymore, the one that he grew apart from, with a cocky smile. “Long time no see. Thought Smallville had become too… small for you.” Lex smirked, grabbing your scarf from Clark’s hand. “Maybe just the people, then.”
“What’s going on?” Clark asked as Lex walked in your direction, placing the scarf around your neck. It made you flinch, as you hoped he would use it to strangle you or something worse.
“I’m just giving her a ride home,” Lex replied, innocently. “Like I always do.” He then looked at you, so serious you thought he would freeze you with his eyes. “Get in.”
You nodded, turning to look at Clark. “Thanks for the scarf. I’ll see you around,” you said, getting inside the car, and Lex closing the door behind you.
It didn’t take long before Lex got in as well, your eyes turning to see Clark standing there, at the door, still baffled by the situation.
“I hope Clark being back doesn’t alter the terms of our agreement,” Lex said, you turning to look at him and nodding. “Good.”
The very next day, Clark came over to the flower shop, not even a hello from him was required, as you both knew what his visit was about.
“What are you doing fooling around with Lex Luthor?”
“We’re definitely not fooling around!” You defended yourself, actually offended by his insinuation. “That’s not what is happening?”
“Then you getting inside his three hundred thousand dollar car means you guys are just friends?” He asked, which made you scoff. “He’s bad news, baby.”
“Don’t call me baby,” you said, your eyes sharp, your face as serious as ever, lifting your finger at him, practically reprehending him. “You lost that right when you broke up with me so you could move to Metropolis and fly around in a cape and tights.”
“I’m saving people!”
“And what about me!?” You yelled, surrounding the counter so you could approach him. “You left me here, Clark! You asked me to wait, to understand your destiny, to respect your calling, and you left me here alongside your past. Because what? I didn’t belong in your future? I wasn’t part of Superman’s life? Of course. Why would the girl next door be worthy of such a god?” Clark looked away, flinching at the word. “The worst part of it all, Clark? You left me here thinking if I waited, I would get a ring.”
He turned to look at you. “I never promised you that.”
“No, you just hoped I would still be here once you finish being a superhero, once you fell from the pedestal you created. You cherish everyone in your life, yet you take me for granted. And maybe that’s what I thought of myself for a while after you left. That I was nothing more than a girl that peaked in high school. A pretty girl all the guys want to look at from afar, yet scares them away once they get near enough to see my true self.” You took a step back. “Isn’t that what happened to you? I didn’t live up to your expectations, didn’t live up to the greatness that awaited you, so you just bolted?”
“I didn’t want to put you in any danger,” he said. “I live a dangerous life. If anything happened to you…”
“Worse than what you did to me? I fell in love with you, Clark… Nothing could be as dangerous, and as heartbreaking, and as bad as that.” You walked behind the counter again, forcing yourself to look anywhere but him. “I sold the store to Lex Luthor.”
“You did what?”
“I was in big debt with my mom’s hospital bills, I had to sell. Lex promised that if I sold it to him, he would let me manage it. I just didn’t know it came with fine print.”
“So now you’re his trophy? Is that it? He can parade you around? Use you any way he wants?”
“It’s not like that…”
“That’s what it looked like yesterday when he was bossing you around,” he said, making you close your eyes. “Nobody should treat you that way.”
“How is it any different from what I’m used to?” You snapped back, looking at his eyes. “How is it any different from a guy who leaves and comes into your life whenever he pleases, just assuming you will stay waiting for him with open arms? Yes, maybe Lex just wanted me as a trophy. He’s always have, you know that, it’s not news. But why do I feel like I just traded cases instead? Or you’re gonna tell me I wasn’t a trophy to you as well? That dating me wasn’t your biggest childhood wish? That having what other guys wanted wasn’t great for you?”
“How can you even believe that what I felt for you wasn’t real?” He asked, baffled. “How can you say my love for you wasn’t more than some macho competition? I loved you with all my heart, with all my soul. You were the girl of my dreams, of my days, of my nights. I’m hurt you can even think any less than that. Is that what our love means to you now?”
“Yes,” you admitted, even if it hurt. “Clark, after you left, I blamed myself for so long. I thought I wasn’t good enough for you, that you did right to leave. That your destiny was much more than being by my side. That you deserve someone worthy of what you are. And then, I realized… than if leaving was so easy for you… then maybe what meant the world to me… was just another step in your way that you had to take.”
“How can you believe that? If anything, I’m not worthy of you.”
“That’s the thing. Relationships aren’t supposed to make you believe if you are worthy of them. You’re supposed to be at ease, you’re supposed to feel like the world makes sense. And that’s what happened between us. You and I, for me, for someone whose life is as simple as it could be, just made sense. But you? Life had other plans for you. Love isn’t the priority.” He shook his hand. “It’s okay… I don’t blame myself. So don’t blame yourself either. I just have to find someone who I can mean to them what you meant to me. Their future.”
“And that’s Lex?” He asked. “He’s bad. He has something planned, I can bet on it. He will never let you go off this deal. He’s going to keep you in his leash forever. I don’t want that for you.”
“What you want for me stop mattering when you took your car and drove away to Metropolis four years ago,” you said. “Goodbye, Clark.”
A gala in Metropolis was the last place you wanted to be. The dress Lex had picked out for you was a daisy yellow toned made of silk that reached your feet. It hugged your frame, you felt as if you were worth a million bucks. Just what Lex was looking for. A trophy for him to brag.
And he did, of course. The way the men and women stared at you as you walked in side by side with Lex Luthor was exactly what he wanted. A beautiful woman by his side, making the men jealous of him, and the women in love with him. That’s what he wanted from you, a boost in his public image. It was more efficient than having a model by his side. Your beauty wasn’t plastic, wasn’t made, it was natural, it was enhanced by your kindness, your goodness, your gold soul. Your innocence mixed with your secretiveness, what made you priceless.
The perfect girl next door the guys would call you in school. Whatever it meant. You were supposed to take it as a compliment. They were calling you beautiful, at least that’s what they told you they meant by it.
That’s when you saw him.
You’d never seen Clark Kent in a tuxedo before, and it was a sight for sore eyes. Your knees weakened as you saw him, standing there, all big, and tall, and handsome. You guys stared at one another, your soft smile growing involuntarily as you wished you would keep it away, but being unable to.
Clark Kent was your own personal kryptonite. Your weakness.
The love of your life was standing there, looking at you, making you remember the way he used to hold you in those arms, kiss you with those lips, look at you with those eyes. And the worst part? He meant everything to you, still. And you knew you would just be waiting for something that would never happened, but God how badly you wanted it to.
That’s when it happened.
The glass ceiling came crushing down, everyone taking cover. You felt Lex’s arms covering your head as you did the same with your hands, looking at the man that had descended from the sky.
You stood up, Lex pushing you backwards as you looked at the dark suited man that stood in the middle of the ballroom, his eyes covered by a black mask, his entire body inside a black suit that fitted him rightly so, with the great logo embedded on his chest.
“Good evening, people of Metropolis,” Batman said to everyone, your heartbeat raising. “I need to have a private chat with your friendly Superman.”
Your eyes looked at Clark, who was standing next to the big window of the ballroom, staring at Batman in confusion. What was going on?
“So, since clearly he’s not here, I just want to guys to deliver a message to him so he can meet me,” Batman said with his deep voice, his head turning in your direction. “Tell Superman I have his girl.”
From the pistol in his hand a rope emerged, circling your waist and arms tight enough that made you unable to move. Alex yelled your name as Batman pulled the rope, making you fly in his direction.
You yelled once your back hit his chest, his arm holding you quickly by hovering your waist, and pushing you closer to him. You look around the ballroom before your eyes met Clark’s, who stared at the events in disbelief.
“Clark,” you whispered so low, you knew he was the only one able to hear it. He nodded in your direction, noticing the shaking and fear in your voice. He could hear your heartbeat going so fast he thought it would pump right out of your chest.
That’s when Batman pointed towards the sky, lifting you both up and away.
Landing on a rooftop face first was definitely not ideal. The perfect bun you had placed your hair in was long gone, the rope finally off your arms and body, letting you free, yet still, on the top of the Daily Planet right in the heart of the city.
You stood up, your long hair a complete mess, blinking fast as you turned to look at Batman, that, with his arms crossed, was looking at the city’s skyline, as he waited.
“You have the wrong girl,” you finally said, pushing the hair off your face. Batman turned to look at you. “I’m not Superman’s girl. I haven’t been in a long time.”
“I saw you arguing with Clark yesterday. Seemed more like a lover’s quarrel.”
You frowned. “You know Clark is Superman?”
“Of course I do. It’s a code between superheroes. You don’t keep secrets identities between friends,” Batman answered, practically mocking you. “I just want to talk to him.”
“So you kidnapped me?” You asked, offended and altered. “Why didn’t you just talk to him? Why was the kidnapping part necessary?”
“He has something of mine. Figured I’d steal something of his,” he said, looking away. “He should be here by now. Where is—”
That’s when Superman flew right onto the rooftop, grabbing Batman by the fabric of his suit and pushing him to the brick wall, pining him there with such rage in his eyes, you blinked several times in order to believe what you were seeing.
“What game do you think we’re playing, Batman?” Superman asked. “What I took was for the greater good.”
“And what I took was to piss you off for taking what you took,” Batman said, breathless, as Superman let go off him, the guy falling to the floor. “Thanks for holding back on the strength.”
Superman turned in your direction, flying your way in a hurry. He placed his hands softly on your arms, his face warming, and you could see the Clark you love in his eyes.
“Are you okay?” He asked, softly. “I’m so sorry this happened. I never thought… I kept my distance to prevent this sort of things.”
“You did a terrible job,” Batman interrupted, making you both turn to look at him. “I found her in like a day.” Superman grunted. “We need to talk, Suppy.”
Superman turned in your direction. “Go,” he demanded. And you did. You look back at Batman then back at him, granting him a soft smile before you walked out of the rooftop, leaving the two superheroes to deal with whatever they needed to deal.
The flower shop seemed quieter that morning. Your eyes wandered, looking at the petals of the recently arrived roses that you were placing in a bouquet a lady had requested. You hands moved softly through the fabric, treating each flower with extreme delicacy.
“How’s your shoulder?” You freaked, jumping as you looked up to see Clark standing there, inside the shop, in front of the door. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
You nodded. “Uhm… my shoulder’s fine. Nothing some cream and some ice couldn’t fix.” You stepped outside the counter, approaching him with your hands inside your back pockets. “Did you settle things with Batman?”
“He sends his deep apologies,” Clark said and you nodded. “And he knew you wouldn’t buy that… so I made him do something else.”
Clark handed you an envelope, which you opened instantly, looking at the piece of paper inside.
“It’s the certificate of ownership of the shop… at my name.” You looked up. “He bought me my shop?” Clark nodded. “You made him buy me my store? How did Lex agreed to this?”
“Batman can be very persuasive. I figure his life is more valuable to Lex than some stupid rivalry against me,” Clark said, shrugging. “Superman made have pushed a finger or two as well.”
“You talk about yourself in third person? Is that what you do in your interviews with Superman?”
Clark scoffed, giving you a smile. “I don’t want you to ever feel like you have to be somebody else’s trophy. I want you to be you. Okay?”
You nodded. “Thank you, Clark. This means… so much to me.”
“I hope that… this helps you change your opinion about me. About us.” You looked away. “You were more than a step in the way. You mean more to me… than whatever destiny I have planned for me.” He called your name, softly, making you look at him. “You are my world. Please, believe what you want… but do me a favor, and know that to be true.”
dancing in the moonlight { redkryptonite!clark kent x f. reader } (+18)
masterlist
plot: a shot of red kryptonite makes normally good boy clark kent take you out for a hot night of dancing
warnings: really close dancing , cursing , fingering , reader is lana’s cousin , orgasm , redkryptonite!clark , MDNI (+18)
a/n: this is based on that dance scene in footloose (2011) for reference
You leaned over trying to grab a mug from behind the counter, letting everyone inside the Talon to take a glimpse of your ass in those tight dark blue denim straight jeans that hugged your legs.
Your cousin, Lana, called your name so high it made you turn around abruptly, making you almost drop that mug you were searching for. She had her arms crossed in front of her chest, approaching you angrily.
“Is there reasoning behind showing the strap of your thong to the world?” She questioned you, placing an apron around you that covered your exposed belly skin that your tank top didn’t cover. Lana looked up at your chest, giving up entirely. “If you don’t want to follow dress code, at least try not to flaunt it.”
“You’re just pissed because I’m bringing in clients,” you mocked her, serving a cappuccino in the mug you had been looking for. Your long wavy hair almost reached the start of your jeans, also something that pissed off Lana, since she was afraid a client would find a foot long hair inside an espresso. “You should let loose a bit. I’m going dancing tonight, and you should come.”
“I’m studying with Clark tonight,” Lana told you, awkwardly, which made you look at her. “Stop it.”
“I’m not the one spending the afternoon with my ex,” you mocked, resting your arms on the corner and leaning forward in her direction, staring at her with your siren eyes, your soft long waves spreading over your shoulders, covering a part of your face as you smiled mockingly. “Oh, Clark,” you moaned, biting your lower lip. Lana opened her eyes widely, waving her hands and trying to stop you. What you did instead was close your eyes. “Clark, you’re so hot! But we can’t be together. But you can still fuck me—”
“Really?”
That deep voice took you and your cousin by surprise. You opened your eyes widely, seeing through those strands of hair that covered part of your eye the figure of tall Clark Kent standing behind your cousin, staring at you with a smirk. You pushed your hair behind your ears, placing your hands inside your back pockets as if you were trying to hide.
He was looking at you, definitely having fun around the whole situation. He walked past Lana, placing his hands on the counter. You looked down, staring at his toned biceps and the veins thar recovered his arms. You could imagined those firm abs underneath that white tshirt, making you gulp.
“Can you repeat that?” He asked, softly, placing his index finger behind his ear. “Slower this time, please.”
“Very funny, Kent,” you said twirling your hair before walking away from the counter, keeping your eyes on him.
There was something different, a spark you hadn’t seen before. You liked it. You always searched for spark in guys, and you imagined Clark was too goodie-two-shoes for something like a spark.
“I’ll be ready in a minute,” Lana let him know as she began taking off her apron, as to which Clark stopped her abruptly, surprising you.
The farm boy smiled, showing his pearl white teeth to his ex-girlfriend with a grin you’d never seen before. You could even say he was daring. Taking in consideration his option of clothes that didn’t include his regular use of primary colors, or plaid, you could tell there was something different about him. Something that caught your eye.
“I don’t feel like studying today, Lana. It’s a Friday night. We should do something fun. Like we used to do, remember?”
“I think our fun ran out a while ago, Clark,” Lana said, and you noticed confusion in her tone. “What’s going on with you?”
That’s when Clark turned his blue eyes in your direction, smirking.
“And what are you doing tonight?”
You tried to hide your nervous smile, trying to not let Lana notice how attracted you were to his proposal. You looked at your cousin, noticing how she was staring at you, trying to appeal to your loyalty. And it was working. You could never go out with your cousin’s ex boyfriend. It would be wrong.
So you cleared your throat, you looked at Clark and smiled. “Why do you care?”
“Curiosity. I know you always have something fun to do. Pit of the two, you’re the cousin that likes to let loose.”
You scoffed, while Lana stared at Clark, noticing believing what she was hearing. “She’s going dancing,” Lana finally said, taking you by surprise. “Why don’t you go with her and have that fun you say you don’t get with me?” And with that, Lana turned around and left, leaving you and Clark alone.
Clark took a step forward in your direction, cutting the distance between the two of you. His blue eyes looking at yours before taking a look down at the revealed skin of your chest that you weren’t trying to hide, and he wasn’t trying to keep secret he was checking out.
“I’ll drive,” he said so close to your lips you felt the warmth of his breath. Then, with an inhumane strength, he grabbed you hand and pulled you out of the talon, smirking all the way as he walked.
You quickly took off the black apron and tossed it to one of the chairs, grabbing your coat that hung by the door as Clark dragged you out towards his bike.
As you walked inside the bar, you felt Clark’s hand placed on your lower back, just about to touch the string of your underwear yet not quite, as if he was keeping himself from it. You guided him inside, making your way towards the counter, where you both sat, face to face.
The lights of the bar barely lit anything, but the greenish blue neon lights that hung from the shelves of the bar were enough to highlight the color in Clark’s eyes, the ones you kept staring at. You were afraid they would turn back to normal, that they would lose whatever spark they had, and Clark would go back to ignoring you.
It wasn’t like you and Clark hated each other, you barely knew one another. When you got to Smallville, he was kind, he offered to show you around, he tried to keep peace with the fact that you were his ex-girlfriend’s cousin, and to you, that’s all he was. To you, he was the reason Lana got messed up, although now you realized you weren’t sure which of the two was hurting the other more.
There was something about the usual good hearted Clark Kent you weren’t seeing right now, and you weren’t sure you liked it or not. You liked boldness, and being direct, the things Clark Kent wasn’t usually known for, as to why this behavior seemed strange to you.
As strange as it was… it also caught your attention enough for you to ditch everything and come to a crowded bar with your cousin’s ex.
“I’ve just realized,” Clark said, turning your stool in his direction, enough for your legs to get intertwined with one another. You kept your lips around the straw of your drink, looking at how the pupil of his eyes grew and darkened when he looked at you. “You and I have never properly talked. I always took you as Lana’s cousin, never noticed you. Well, that’s a lie. I forced myself not to notice you.”
“Because I’m Lana’s cousin and you’re Lana’s ex.”
“And you made it so hard,” he muttered between his teeth, looking down at your chest again. He had lost all control of himself, caressing your arm’s skin with the back of his fingers. “With those tight jeans, always bending down to pick up stuff at the Talon. And those shirts.”
“Look, Clark, I don’t know how long you dated my cousin, I have no idea how serious you guys were. But what I do know is that I’ve been in Smallville for two months and you guys still have something there, even if you guys broke up like a billion years ago. And I don’t want to get in the middle of anything. I’m here for a long time, apparently. It’s not wise for me to get involved in any drama.”
“I like the way you scrunch your nose when you are serious,” he flirted, getting closer to you. He clearly was not listening to anything you were saying. Great, just like any of your other boyfriends. “Look, I came here to see you dance. That’s all I’ve been thinking about during the ride here. Do you want to dance, or not?”
You rolled your eyes, standing up from the barstool and landing right in front of Clark Kent, the start of your neck so close to his nose you felt his exhalations hitting your warm skin, and his eyes simply staring at the exposed skin of your breast, visibly through your corset style tank top. His lips parted in a way that let you know the desire behind his eyes, and you could tell he was imagining your skin entirely exposed to him.
He actually seemed as if he was seeing it rather than imagining it.
“I’ll give you a dance, Kent,” you finally said, watching him as he stood up, towering you over with his incredibly height, and his firm muscles. “If you promise you’re not doing this in some psycho way to piss off my cousin. I’ll only give you a dance if you promise that I’m actually the one you want to see dancing… and not someone else.”
He took a quick glance at you, his side smirk growing before looking at your eyes after checking you out.
“I can actually promise you… I really want to see you dance,” he whispered the last part against your ear, you melting to the sound of his dark, deep voice. “And after that, I’d really like for you to repeat what you said at the Talon.” His fingers stole your skin, leaving you goosebumps as his skin passed yours. “How you want me to fuck you. I really can’t stop thinking about that.”
“I was mocking Lana,” you admitted, your eyes catching his. “What do you have to say about that?”
“That I still liked hearing you moan my name like that,” he admitted you, catching you off guard.
He left a tiny peck on the skin of your neck, catching your head as you moved it to the side to give him space. His fingers got lost in your hair as he opened place for his mouth to touch your skin. You smelled fresh, sweet enough to tempt him. He could smell the wetness of your pants that grew as he got closer, the way your heartbeat raised at his touch, your breathing got uneven, hurried, as you progressively got more… and more… and more turned on.
You wanted him. You weren’t good at hiding it. He could bet that even without superpowers he could be able to tell from the way you let him get closer, from the way your hips betrayed you, and pulled you towards his throbbing cock that grew at the sight of your warm tinted skin that glowed under the bar lights.
You were quick to find the dance floor. The music the band was playing was in an entirely different rhythm to the one you and Clark were dancing. Your leg in between his, his leg pressing down so dangerously close to your center that one wrong movement from his part and you could become undone, and he knew. He pressed his hands against your hips, moving them side to side as his forehead was pressed against yours. The way he breathed made you tremble. You knew he was turned on, you could feel him.
He moved you side to side, his face going down, his nose softly stroking the skin of your breast before continuing his way down, until he was face to face with your pants, your lower belly, the ones he was controlling himself not to unbutton in front of the whole crowd. You ran your fingers through his dark hair as he went back up. Your hand found his white t shirt, pulling him closer to you, his nose touching yours, his lips barely gracing your lips, trying to pull back, but practically impossible to do.
“Clark,” you mumbled, you moaned, but he was quicker.
How? No clue. But magically, at the speed of light, Clark Kent had you going from the dance floor to the bathroom, your back impacting the brick wall of that country bar restroom. He grabbed your thighs, pulling himself closer to you and crashing his lips against yours.
“I love you how you move,” he whispered against your lips, a smile forming to the memory of your hips against his on the dance floor. “Please,” he begged, saying your name as a plead of mercy, so close to your ear you thought that was enough to make you cum, just that. “Can I touch you?”
“Yes,” you tried to make it sound casual, but it sounded more like you were begging for it as well. As if you needed it.
Those flare jeans were unbuttoned so fast you couldn’t even believe it. His hand pressed down your stomach before going down, the soft skin of his fingertips rubbing your clit slowly, that need for touch being fulfilled, your eyes practically rolling backwards as you felt him.
“Do you like that?” He said, moving his two fingers in circles, rubbing your clit so nicely you felt you were about to pass out any minute. “God, you’re so wet.”
Those fingers moved like magic. You tried to control yourself, tried to keep your cool, but you could barely keep yourself straight. You were falling down, sliding from Clark’s grip as you got swamped on the pleasure. He noticed, his fingers briefly leaving your wetness so he could take off his shirt, placing it on the sink counter. He then lifted you up, placing you on top of the fabric that kept you from freezing.
“What a gentleman,” you said with a mocking smile that was quickly erased when his fingers went back inside your pink underwear, and back to where he left off.
You bit your lower lip, your head resting on the wall mirror as Clark’s finger went inside. One first, with ease. Noticing how well you took it, he put another finger inside of you, grabbing the back of your neck with his free hand, and placing kisses all over your skin, going right down to your breasts, and leaving a peck on the top of them.
“You’re not wearing a bra,” he said, groaning. “Are you trying to make me go insane?” He took his fingers out and began rubbing your clit again, hurrying movement, making your eyes roll back as your legs involuntarily trembled in response. “Taunting me. You definitely got me, baby.”
“Clark,” you moaned his name against his ear, catching a deep breath. “Please— keep going. I’m so close.” You closed your eyes, unable to keep up with the speed he rubbed you. Oh, you were in his arms, he got you so opened, so ready, so wet.
His big arms were your doom. The way the veins of his arms were so toned and incredibly visible to your eyes, the way his bicep was so big, and you could see that glorious body he’s always hiding behind layers of clothes. His toned waist, the v-muscle that was so defined it turned you on, his abs that you couldn’t help but to touch.
“You’re so close, baby,” he said to your ear, his free hand sliding inside your shirt, and his index finger touching and rubbing the tip of your nipple, making you lie your back on the mirror once again.
His lips found yours once again, kissing you with such passion, such messiness, that you couldn’t focus in one thing at a time. He was touching you in every spot that made you crazy. Rubbing your clit, grabbing your breasts, kissing your lips, making you his in any way possible.
The orgasm came so strong it made you question reality. You’d never made yourself cum this way, letting yourself melt in his arms, on his body. It wasn’t enough. He wanted you whole, everything you had to give to him, he wanted it. He wanted to taste you, to please you, to make you cum like that over and over again.
You looked so pretty when undone. Your long hair to your sides, traces of your lipstick all over his skin. Your eyes rolled back, trying to close yet being unable to. Your panties all wet.
Clark Kent looked at you, ready to take you whole, when the spark you fell for slowly started dissolving, as the red liquid finally began losing effect.
summary: when you and clark's toxic relationship leads you to his doorstep one night, will you be able to fix things for good?
warnings: hurt/comfort, cursing, yelling, sexual themes/activity, female!reader, toxic relationships, jealousy, insecurities, semi-cheating
A/N: Inspired by Taylor Swifts "Fresh Out The Slammer"!! I lowkey hate this, but I worked on it for way too long not to post it, so here you go!! (3k words)
“You are dumping me?” you scoff, bewilderment evident on your face as you look across the table at Adam – the dull, unemployed, overly jealous himbo you’ve been seeing for the past few months. At least he was eye candy.
He had called you this morning asking you to meet him at the talon because he “needed to talk” – you should’ve known from that moment how this would go. He fiddles with his fingers, looking down awkwardly “I just…I don't think we’re on the same page anymore-” “Let me stop you right there,” you cut him off from whatever dull ramble he was about to go on.
“You want this to be over? Fine. It’s been over for me for a while now” you mutter, rolling your eyes as you stand up out of your chair, your manicured hands grabbing your iced latte and purse off of the table. The scraping sound of your chair on the wooden floor is enough to draw some eyes to the situation, but you can't bring yourself to care, embarrassed by his awkward demeanor and wanting nothing more than to get the hell out of there. It’s not like you were in love with the guy or anything, but it was humbling that he was the one who broke up with you after you had lowered your standards to suit him.
As you exit the talon, you whip out your car keys from your brown coach bag, unlocking your door and hopping into the driver's seat of your Toyota Cecilia, slamming your head against the steering wheel a few times for good measure before putting the keys in the ignition. You’re still reeling from the previous conversation as you contemplate where to go – home is always an option, but you don't really feel like drowning the sorrows of this relationship in a pint of ice cream and a bad movie.
And so, with a possibly very bad idea, you blast your car stereo – which is playing some old Brittany Spears song – and rip out of the parking lot, your sunglasses perched atop your nose. You drive for about 15 minutes until you reach a familiar house, parking crookedly in the gravel driveway. You clutch the wheel anxiously before you decide to just bite the bullet and go. You step out of the car, heeled boots crunching on the gravel as you make your way up to the front door.
Your legs feel weak as you stand on the old wooden porch, and part of you wonders if this is even a good idea. You debate on turning back, but before you can, the door swings open right in front of you – like somehow it knew you were there – to reveal none other than the person you were looking for. “Hey, Clark” you smirk.
Fresh out the slammer, I know who my first call will be to
You and Clark had a complicated relationship. Ever since high school, you two had this love-hate relationship that embedded itself into every aspect of your lives. One day things would be great, and the next you would find him on a date with someone else – and vice versa. You knew it was an ugly mix of jealousy and insecurity that made it this way, but it was a two-way street, and you weren’t entirely at fault for the things that had transpired. One thing had always stayed the same, though – you and clark always found your way back to each other.
“Hey?” he murmurs curiously, looking around behind you, wondering if this was some sort of joke. The last time he heard from you was three months ago after you two had gotten into a screaming match in his bedroom due to some argument that he could barely remember the cause of – it was right when you started dating Adam, actually. “Are you going to invite me in, or just leave me waiting in the cold?” you muse, looking him up and down plainly.
He’s suddenly hyperaware of his clothing choice, which consists of some blue plaid sweatpants and an old grey t-shirt. He can feel his cheeks heat up in embarrassment because while he looked ready for a night in, you looked ready for a night out. Clad in a pair of leather high-heeled boots, bootcut jeans that highlighted the curve of your ass, and a thin grey tank top – with no bra – it was safe to say you looked hot. And he was never known for his self-control around you...
“Yeah, uh, come on in.” he murmurs, opening the door wider to give you space to enter. As you do, you take in the familiar setting. It’s the same as you remember it, the same picture frames with the nostalgic family photos in them, the same tan colored paint on the wall, the same soft furniture that you two have fucked on multiple times. “I see some things never change,” you tease, looking around slowly before your eyes land on him.
“It's been a while” you point out, sitting down at one of the wooden chairs in the dining room – you still remember cooking breakfast with him here on mornings when things were really good between you two. “Yeah, it has.” he exhales before looking at you curiously “So why are you here?” he murmurs, causing you to laugh. “Well, I was hoping for a warmer welcome, but I guess I deserve that after how things ended.” you mutter before turning serious.
“Adam and I ended things – well actually, he ended things with me” you scoff before your voice gets quiet. “I guess it’s kinda deserved after I lashed out at you the last time we talked.” you whisper, causing him to frown. No matter how many times you fought, the one thing Clark hated was seeing you upset. “Listen, we both said things we didn’t mean – I don’t blame you.” he murmurs as he makes his way over to the table, sitting down next to you.
“I know, but what I said- it wasn’t true, Clark. I know you're a good person with good intentions.” you whisper, looking up at him with regretful eyes, and Clark can practically feel his heart squeeze in response. “Hey hey, I know that.” he assures, his hand coming to rest on top of yours reassuringly. “I’m glad you came by, y’know.” he adds softly, “I missed you, whether or not I wanted to.” he smiles, nudging your shoulder jokingly, and making you laugh in the process.
Gray and blue and fights and tunnels, handcuffed to the spell I was under
Four months ago
“Clark, I can't do this again.” you huff as you rip the red and white plaid sheet off of you, rummaging around his room for your clothes that were strewn across the floor. “I really don't think I’m asking anything of you.” he huffs, sitting up and rubbing his forehead “I just want to know what this all means. I think I deserve that.”
“Yeah, well, so do I. But every time I start to feel comfortable, you pull the rug out from under me.” you scoff, pulling up your denim skirt and looking for your missing heel – maybe it was downstairs.
“I mean, the last time I told you that I wanted to be exclusive, I found you and Lana making out in the kitchen window the next day. What am I supposed to do when it feels like I’m just some placeholder until you get what you really want?” you scoff, wiping your hair from your face as you avoid looking over at him, recalling that painful incident from six months prior. “Yeah, well, the last time I told you I wanted to be with you, you were with Bryan – or whatever this name was – at the bar” he mutters, making you roll your eyes, he knew it was Bryce.
“Don't make me feel like this is my fault, Clark. The Lana thing was way worse, and you know it.” you scoff, and he knew you were right. His feelings for Lana were the biggest cause for strain between you two – all of your actions were just attempts to get back at him for his indecision. But even still, this was one argument that he wasn’t willing to let go of that easily. “Well it’s not my fault you’re too emotionally involved in my life when I don't need you to be.” he whispers, more so out of rebellion than truth, but you still hear it – whipping around to face him as you finish putting on the rest of your clothes.
You choke out a humorless laugh before walking up to him slowly “Well maybe if you actually opened up instead of chasing after a girl who only wants you when it’s convenient, then we wouldn't be having these problems." you hiss "What are you really afraid of, Clark? That Lana doesn't want you, or that maybe you aren't as chivalrous as you think you are?” you growl, and you know you’ve struck a nerve. He bites the inside of his cheek in response, his nostrils flaring as he loses his temper.
He chooses to stay silent, but you just shake your head as you gather the rest of your belongings – choosing not to look at him until you’re about to exit his bedroom door. “And Clark” you add, “don't bother coming to me when you and Lana fall apart” you mutter as you slam his door, causing it to shake on its hinges as you bolt out of the house – and picking up the heel that you left lying on the staircase. That was the last time you saw him.
Now pretty baby I'm runnin back home to you
“Clark” you whisper softly, his face leaning into yours slowly. “Yeah?” he whispers back, and you feel his breath against your cheek as you both lock eyes, wanting to preserve this moment. Finally, there was no yelling, no anger, no jealousy – just a sense of yearning.
“I’m really glad I came to see you,” you murmur softly. “Not as glad as I am.” he mutters before his lips meet yours, his hand coming around to grasp the back of your head. The familiar feeling is enough to make warmth erupt in your chest as your hands grip the back of his hair, your manicured fingers scratching down his scalp softly in the way you know he likes.
Before you know it, you feel his arms gripping your thighs as he hoists you up, your legs wrapping themselves around his waist instinctively. You guys don’t even break apart as he carries you one-handedly up the stairs, his other arm gripping the railing to stabilize the both of you. Now this feels familiar – you two were no strangers to make-up sex
You’re a clash of teeth and moans as you reach his bedroom, he uses his arm to push open the door as he carries you inside. The next thing you know you’re being tossed onto the bed as he crawls over you, encasing you with his hulking frame in a way that makes you clench your thighs together in anticipation. You feel his hands run across your breasts, trailing up to your neck as his hand splays itself across your cheek. His lips break away from yours briefly to stamp kisses across your neck and chest, and truthfully, you want nothing more than to continue but you came here for something – and this wasn’t it.
As I said in my letters, now that I know better I will never lose my baby again
“Clark,” you breathe out heavily, a pit of anxiety forming in your chest as you push him away softly “As much as I enjoy this, I did come here for something else.” you murmur, and he freezes as he looks up at you. “Are we doing the right thing- is this the right thing?” you whisper, and he can practically feel the anxiety rolling off of you. He wants to comfort you, but he doesn't know how.
One thing about Clark is that he was great at comforting people; it was second nature to him – he liked feeling useful, helpful – and that was easy when he always saw the best in people. But when it came to you, he could never find the right words to say – maybe because he was afraid of saying the wrong thing and driving you into the arms of someone else. The last thing he wanted was to see you with another man, but that wasn’t fair when he wasn’t emotionally ready to commit himself to you either.
He exhales softly before laying down next to you, eyes plastered to the old ceiling as he takes in your words. "I don't know.” he answers honestly, “But I don't think that's something we’ll ever really know. If theres one thing my dad taught me, it's that life – especially a life worth living – is about hard work and commitment,” he murmurs, turning to look at you. You nod gently, processing his words before you look over at him, a hint of vulnerability in your voice.
“I think that's our problem – no matter how much we say we care about each other, there’s always something that drags us back here.” you murmur, “I know that you care about me, but part of me always wonders if you think this is something worth fighting for” you frown.
He takes in your words quietly, and he knows deep down that you’re right in feeling that way. You had always made him feel chosen. You’d drop everything to come and see him if he’d ask – he knew that – his problem was that he never asked. Choosing to once again slip into the self-destructive behavior that led him here in the first place.
My friends tried but I wouldn't hear it, watched me daily disappearing
7 months ago
You’re curled up on your bed, your two best friends surrounding you as you sob into your silk pillow, which is now stained with remnants of eyeliner and concealer. You’d been crying for over an hour now, and you still couldn’t see an end in sight. Every time you’ve managed to stop crying, the image of Clark and Lana wrapped in each other's arms flashes back into your mind.
You thought things were going well – you really did – Clark had finally taken you out on a date that didn’t involve going to the next town over. So when you got a call on your blinged-out flip phone from him asking if you wanted to have a movie night, you were ecstatic. You had hopped into your car immediately just to find him and Lana making out in the loft of his barn.
“He’s the one who invited me over.” you sob “I don't understand," you cry, as your friend Jasmine strokes your hair and Claire shakes her head angrily on your behalf. “What a fucking loser.” Claire mutters, and Jasmine just coos at you sadly, ”he doesn’t deserve you. He never did." she murmurs softly.
You still couldn’t believe it, and the worst part was that he didn't even look sorry when you interrupted them. All you did was call out his name, and he looked at you like you had ruined his entire year – like this was all somehow your fault for not having an innate sixth sense that Lana needed his attention in that very moment.
“I mean, he freaked out on me at the club when he saw Bryce and me there a week ago, but when I get upset in a private setting somehow I’m the bad guy” you scoff, looking up at Jasmine and Claire in frustration – your sadness had just about ended and just like clockwork, anger was next.
“I swear, I’m never talking to him again.” you mutter as you wipe your eyes haphazardly. “We’re gonna hold you to that” Claire murmurs, doubt evident in her voice as she tries her best to be supportive. And you suppose that's fair because the very next night you were in Clark's bed…again.
Now pretty baby I'm running to the house where you still wait up, and that porch light gleams
“I haven’t been completely honest with you, and I know that’s my fault,” he whispers, “but there's something that I really need to tell you.” he murmurs, looking over at you and admiring how the lamp in his bedroom illuminates your soft skin. He can't fathom how he ever let you go.
“I haven't been with Lana – or anyone else for that matter – since that night you found us in the barn.” he whispers, making you freeze. You push yourself up gently with your arms as you chew on the inside of your cheek, “What?” you choke out breathily. “Don't lie to me, Clark” you murmur, and he cuts in “I’m not, I swear. That night seven months ago, that was the last time.” he assures.
“But you- you mentioned seeing her three months after that. I remember, we were at the park and-” “I lied.” he whispers, causing you to freeze. “I lied because I didn't want you to know how I really felt. I knew you had a date planned with Bryce, and I didn’t want to look stupid. vulnerable." he mutters with a sarcastic laugh. "I guess I got something worse out of it though because that ended up being one of the biggest fights we’ve ever had.” he murmurs before looking down, “and one of the biggest mistakes of my life.”
You just sit there frozen, staring down at the embroidery of your jeans as you try to make sense of the information you just received. You didn’t even know it was possible for Clark to feel lonely, let alone jealous – but you also know Clark wouldn’t lie about something like this. Plus, you knew all of his tells, from the way his eyes darted around anxiously to how he stuck his hands in his pocket and bounced on the balls of his feet – he was telling the truth.
You don't know whether to be hurt by the lies or jump for joy at the fact that he hasn’t been with anyone else, because no matter how much you hated admitting it, you still loved Clark – and you’re sure all of the guys you've been with knew it too, because whenever you’d bring him up they'd get this grim look on their face.
After a few very anxious minutes of silence – at least for Clark anyway – you decide that you’ve been hurt and upset for long enough, and that maybe it’s time to let the past go and focus on what’s right in front of you now.
You turn to face Clark, a small, hesitant smile on your lips as you lean your face into his, a curious look in your eyes. “What was the biggest mistake?” you ask quietly, eyes locked on his. “Letting you go.” is all he manages to say before his lips are on yours, and it’s different than before. There's no hidden anger or frustration, no jealousy or longing, there’s just love – pure, undivided, compassionate love. And that's how you hope it’ll stay, because now that there's only you, you never want to let him go.
plot: your brother comes home from college, and brings clark kent, his college friend, with him.
warnings: college!clark kent and senior!reader, everyone +18 , make out, a bit shy clark while very outgoing reader
a/n: i wanted to write like a hot older clark kent, and i’ve always loved brother’s best friend trope
The music was too loud. Definitely too loud. There was a mess all over your parents’ house and if they came home early from their visit to your aunt, you would definitely be grounded for life. Definitely.
“Cool party,” the starting quarterback, Peter, said to you when he finally found you alone, as you were walking through your kitchen trying to get to your mom’s favorite plates before these high school football players used them as footballs.
He placed his arms on the counter, locking you in between them. You looked down, staring at his biceps he was flexing just to show them to you. Then you looked up, his smile crooked, his breath smelling like warm cheap beer and jell-o shots, and his hair dripping wet.
“Did someone toss a drink at you?”
“Probably,” he said, loudly, trying to speak over the music. “I like your outfit.”
You were wearing a simple light pink tank top and low rise jeans, but he was probably referring to the white bra straps that you weren’t trying to hide. You hair was up in a practically undone bun, and you did your makeup just right enough to accentuate your eyes.
“You’re an idiot,” you said, diverting your eyes from him, which only made him laugh. “So why did you get a drink as a hair accessory?”
“Wrong girl,” he said, looking down at your lips. “Got the right one right here.”
“Has that line ever worked?”
“You tell me,” and he said your last name like it was the sexiest thing ever, which only made you roll your eyes. “You love to play hard to get, huh? All year we’ve been playing cat and mouse you and I.”
You scoffed. “More like you’ve been playing cat and mouse while I look away. It’s getting embarrassing really.” He raised his eyebrows. “Trying to get my attention. Showing me your jacked arms in an attempt to get me.”
“Is it working?”
You shrugged. “I like guys that beg.” You bit the edge of your cup, the only thing that was maintaining the distance between you two and acting as a shield, otherwise that quarterback would have nothing to stop him from kissing you.
Other than your brother.
Your brother.
YOUR BROTHER.
Tyler, your older brother, called your name with a voice so deep, so similar to your dad’s, that freaked you out, making you and the quarterback turn around. There he was, standing on the doorframe of the kitchen door with his bag over his shoulder and his suitcase in hand, watching you as you were cornered against the counter by a six foot two football player.
“What the hell is going on?” He asked as several guys walked out of the kitchen yelling something about a keg stand.
“Who’s this guy?” Peter asked.
“Her brother,” Tyler said, getting as red as he could get.
The quarterback, clearly catching the hint, took a step back. He looked at you, dedicating you a tiny smirk.
“I’ll see you around,” he said before walking away, leaving you alone in the kitchen with your brother.
Tyler took a step forward, his eyebrows raised in the hope for an explanation.
“Mom and dad are at Aunt Millie’s so you’ve decided to throw a keg party at the house. There’s people making out in grandma’s couch. I just saw someone using dad’s coin box as an ashtray.” You held back a laughter, looking at your feet. “I’m ending this thing.”
“Like you didn’t do the same when I was with mom and dad away at soccer games,” you spat back, following him into the living room.
That’s when you see a tall guy standing in the middle of the living room looking as uncomfortable as ever, a back pack over his shoulder and a suitcase held by his hand. He was looking around, completely out of place in the situation, as if he was looking for a place to hide.
“Who’s that?”
“God, do you even read my texts?” Your brother reprehended you, turning his head to look at the people in the room before whistling so loudly everyone heard him.
Tyler unplugged the stereo, cutting off the music that had been so loud you couldn’t even hear your own thoughts.
“Get… the fuck… out,” your brother said in a low tone, so terrifying that every classmate of yours that had been previously grinding on the sofa, dancing on top of your tables, drinking beer upside down, and having the time of your life, quickly ran out and left through all of the exits your house had.
“See you guys Monday!” You exclaimed, watching as the crowd disappeared quickly, only your brother and his freakishly tall friend remaining.
The guy left the suitcase on the floor, his eyes turning to look at your brother.
“Nice place you got,” he said, grabbing a red lace bra from the sofa. “Love the decor.”
“Shut up,” your brother said as his friend laughed. “This is Clark. Clark, this is my sister, the cause of all my problems and stress.”
Clark dropped the bra and took a step forward, offering you his hand.
“Pleasure to meet you,” he said, and you shook his head extremely confused. “I hope you don’t mind me staying with you guys a couple of days.”
“Didn’t know you were,” you said, letting go of his hand. “Didn’t know you were coming either,” you said to your brother. “Mom and dad aren’t here. They come back Tuesday.”
“I’m aware. Look, Clark and I have a big exam soon and I thought it would be good for the both of us to spend a weekend in complete silence in the middle of nowhere for us to study, so I invited him to stay here with us. You’ll barely notice us, I promise, we’ll be out of your hair.”
You rolled your eyes. “This was supposed to be my weekend alone.”
“We’ll leave you alone.”
You turned to look at Clark, who was still holding his backpack with both hands, giving you a kind awkward smile. You looked at him before looking back at your brother.
“Alright… just leave me alone and I’ll leave you guys alone. Deal?”
If this was war, they’ve conquered ninety percent of the territory, and all that was left for you was your bedroom and your bathroom. Everything else either had smelly socks, gym clothes, or, worse, millions and millions of loose papers, notes, post its, pens, and opened text books everywhere. Including post its on the fridge door.
”You guys can’t be serious,” you said once you got downstairs to see your brother sitting crosslegged on the floor right next to a shirtless Clark, who was doing pull-ups on the floor of your living room. “Go outside!”
“We’re studying!” Your brother exclaimed at you before turning to look at Clark. “What is the difference between stress and strain in the context of material mechanics?”
Clark pulled up, heavy breathing. “Stress is the internal resistance offered by a material to an external force, while strain is the deformation or displacement that results.”
“Yes! You’re on fire, Kent. My turn.”
Clark stopped making pull ups, grabbing the text book from your brother and sitting on the floor, while your brother laid on the floor, preparing himself.
“You guys are insane,” you said from the kitchen window, making both of them look at you. “Pull ups until you get the question right?”
“Forces you to think harder,” your brother said, taking a good look at you and frowning. “Why are you dressed up?”
“I’m going out,” you let him know. “It’s a Saturday night.”
“With who?” Tyler asked again, interrogating you in a very protective manner.
“Uhm… just a friend. Some guy from…” Both guys raised their eyebrows. “Why do you care? I’m meeting him at the movies, okay? I’ll be home late.” They were still looking at you. “I thought you said you would leave me alone and that I wouldn’t even notice you guys are here. You aren’t fulfilling any of those promises.”
Your brother gulped. “Fine. Go. Kent will drive you.”
“Huh?” You said.
“Huh?” Clark asked, gaining an angry look from your brother. “I mean… alright.”
Sometimes you had to pick your battles. And if having your brother’s nerdy friend drive you to your date with the quarterback meant him leaving you alone for the rest of the night, then fine, so be it.
So there you were, applying lipgloss on the front seat of Clark Kent’s pick up truck, using the side mirror to see yourself. The radio was turned on the news, so you muted the noise of that lazy radio station that your town had and focused your eyes on applying final touches to your makeup.
“So, where are you going to college?”
“Kansas State,” you answered. “Just like you.” Clark turned to look at you quickly. “And my brother?” You reminded him, as to which he seemed to remember, sudden ease being revealed in his eyes. You liked keeping guys on edge, seemed fun.
Especially shy guys like Clark Kent.
“So, where are you from?”
“Smallville,” he said. “It’s not different from here. A bit smaller.”
“Wouldn’t be surprise. It’s on the name,” you mocked, smiling. “Didn’t like it back home?”
“Oh, I loved it,” he said, showing you his smile. He had a pretty smile. “I miss it.”
You nodded. “And high school? Do you miss it?”
“I miss football. I don’t play football in college. I kinda retired.”
“What position?”
“Quarterback,” he said, as if he was embarrassed by it. You laid back, your eyes on him. “What?” He said, on arm on the gear, the other on the wheel, his thumb taping the leather.
God, he was nervous. You smiled.
“Were you any good, quarterback?” You teased.
You saw how his eyes drifted quickly to your legs before looking back at the road. Any second quicker and you wouldn’t have caught him, but he took his time. He gulped. Who would’ve thought that shy guy was secretly a high school celebrity?
“I could teach the guy you were at the party with a thing or two,” he bragged, even taking himself by surprise. You raised your eyebrows. “I overheard he was the quarterback at your school.”
“Yeah… his name is Peter. He’s been trying to take me out since freshman year,” you let him know. “I thought I’d give him a chance. He’s losing points by not picking me up, though.”
“Lame move,” Clark agreed, parking his car in front of the movie theater. “Do you see him?”
And you did. The quarterback was standing in front of the movie theater, flirting with another girl that was there. She was blonde, prettier, probably far more approachable than you were. Maybe your suspicions were correct: if you stopped the chase, you stop being relevant to him.
“No, I don’t,” you lie, looking down at your phone. “He texted me,” you lied, again, looking at Clark. “He said he couldn’t make it, that we should reschedule. I’m sorry for making you drive all the way just to get back.”
“It’s okay, I like to drive… and I liked the view.” You looked at him, your eyebrows raised. “This is a beautiful town.”
“It sure is,” you said to him. “Want to go somewhere?”
“I have to study.” You looked at him. “Where?”
“Follow my directions.”
The sun was going down as you reached the highest point in your hometown. Clark parked the car right by the side of the road, where the view couldn’t be any better. You looked at the street lights and the homes that were all over the town, your smile growing as you drifted your eyes to the sky, this one turning different shades of yellow and red, growing into purple and blue. You smiled, turning to look at Clark, who was amazed as well.
“Do you like it?”
“Who doesn’t?”
That was a good answer.
Your mind drifted to a memory of you and Tyler growing up, watching the sunset from the swings as you went up and down on them. You would be there for such long time that you would get dizzy once you got off. You liked to jump, see who would get further. You loved it.
You imagined grabbing watercolors and trying to replicate that beautiful sky from your memories on the page, yet you knew you would never do it justice, as it was too beautiful for it to ever be replicated.
You looked at Clark, and he was looking at you. It took you by surprise to see those blue eyes staring at you, and you wanted to know what he was thinking about. You bet there was a whole world behind those eyes.
Without taking control of yourself, and letting instinct guide you, you pulled a strand of his hair that way covering part of his eye away, letting you see him fully. He didn’t flinch, neither did he reject your touch. He actually welcomed it, doing the same with a strand of your hair he placed behind your ear, yet he didn’t move his hand. He remained there, the tip of his thumb touching the side of your face so gently, so softly you barely felt his warmth, yet it was so strong you felt yourself getting hotter.
“What?” You asked.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, softly, as if he was saying it to himself. It took you by surprise. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” you said. “It was nice.”
“I bet you have a lot of guys telling you the same thing. I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable,” he tried to fix it, pulling his hand away. “I just… I blurted it out.”
“It was nice,” you repeated again, your hand on top of his. “Thank you, Clark.”
“I can’t believe that guy stood you up,” he gained confidence, talking to you as if you’d known each other for definitely more than a day, which wasn’t the case, but you liked he felt comfortable enough to say it. Nobody else would’ve been so direct, would’ve them? “He’s an idiot.”
“I’m not known for dating smart people.”
“And for what do you want to be known for?”
You shrugged, looking at him. “I like writing,” you said, chuckling by instinct. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I just told you that.”
“It’s okay,” he said, smiling. “I’d love to read any of it someday.”
You stared into his blue eyes, holding his gaze before your eyes drifted towards his lips, before looking right back up. He noticed. Of course he did. You weren’t hiding it.
He placed his hand back on the wheel, breaking the stablished eye contact that you’d gotten used to.
“We should get going,” he said, turning on the car.
That drive back was living hell. You couldn’t wait so you could get home and curled up in your bed and forget the whole day even happened.
Contrary to popular believe, you didn’t hang out with boys every week, changing them as often as you did your underwear. That was just something the guys at school made up because they couldn’t handle the fact that you had rejected every single one of them.
And the one time you agreed turned out to be for the worst. So yeah, you decided to go for it with Clark, and he made it very clear he had no interest.
Your stereo was playing loudly, trying to mute the voices of your brother and Clark as they talked downstairs. How could you’ve been so stupid? Seriously? Taking Clark to the makeup spot of town and not even getting a little peck? Or maybe a sign that he is interested? The only thing you got was looking like a fool in front of him.
You flipped the magazine page, not even reading the lame articles. Not even trying to. You just wanted to mute the spiral of thoughts building up in your head.
There was a knock on the door, and you stood up, knowing it was probably your brother asking you to shut up the music. But when you opened the door and found Clark Kent standing in front of you, the lights of the house all turned down, you frowned in confusion.
“Your brother went to bed and asked me if I could come here and tell you to turn down your music,” he said and you nodded. “May I come in?”
You stepped aside, letting that building of a man walk inside your little girly room. Everything he stood near he made it seem smaller.
He approached your dresser and turned down the volume of the stereo, the music playing low, filling up the silence and distance there was between the two of you.
“I know what you were doing earlier,” Clark said, walking in your direction. “You were upset about the quarterback standing you up, you thought good makeup and the nice outfit shouldn’t go to waste, huh?”
“That’s not what it was,” you defended yourself, noticing now at the mention of your outfit that you were wearing a tank top with no bra, so you were quick to cross your arms in front of your chest. “And he didn’t stand me up.”
“What do you mean?”
“He was there. At the movie theater. Talking to another girl,” you said, laying your back on your closet door. “Maybe he was giving her directions but I preferred to avoid the embarrassment.” You shrugged, looking away. “Besides, I don’t even know why I said yes. I don’t even like him. He’s just been begging forever, I thought… maybe I thought it was my last chance of a high school romance or something. It’s silly.”
He took a step forward. “I didn’t think you were having trouble finding something like that.” You raised your eyebrows. “I’m just saying… you’re very beautiful.”
“Now it’s very beautiful,” you mocked, watching as he approached you, slowly, doubtful, waiting for your reaction. You put your arms to your sides, as if you were opening to him, letting him get closer. “Thank you.”
“What would you have done… if we would’ve stayed longer in my truck?”
“What would you’ve wanted me to do?”
He scoffed. “Answering a question with a question. Tricky.”
“Well it was a tricky question,” you said, smiling softly, watching as he was now just inches away from you, his eyes on your lips. “What would you have done if we had stayed longer in your truck?”
He smirked. “Something like this,” he whispered against your mouth before he closed the distance, his lips crashing into yours.
You closed your eyes, as the moment of surprise faded into passion, as you let yourself be taken by Clark Kent, letting him guide you into the kiss. One hand laid on your back while the other gently pressed your cheek, pulling you closer to him, as close as you could be.
His right hand drifted upwards, letting itself inside of your shirt, lying on the skin of your back, then moving to your waist, and pushing you gently against the closet door. Your mouth opened just enough for his tongue to get through, the kiss revealing the hunger underneath the politeness, the passion that he hid behind manners and shyness.
His left hand got tangled inside your hair as you pressed yours on his chest, feeling the tight muscles he hid under the plaid shirts. He stepped away from your lips and moved his to your neck, pulling your hair down softly so you would give him space to kiss your skin.
Your back was still against the closet door, your skin getting warm as Clark moved his hand, touching you, as if he was trying to learn every mole, detail and curve of your body, memorizing it, loving it.
His lips went back to yours, finally pulling you closer to him and walking you towards your unmade, untidy, and small bed. You switched positions, his back lying on the bed as you pulled yourself on top of him, not by any chance breaking apart that kiss.
You suddenly felt embarrassed as you looked at Clark Kent on your tiny bed that he clearly didn’t fit in, surrounded by a Vogue magazine, nail polish, your iPod and pink used socks. Yet he didn’t mind. He definitely didn’t seem to mind.
You felt his hands as they touched your thighs and ass, he definitely couldn’t keep still. The silk pijama short you were wearing was the only thing stopping him.
That and the sound of your parent’s bedroom door opening, which was where your brother was sleeping while Clark was there.
You hurried to get off the bed and Clark did the same, standing up quickly. You tried to fix your shirt and shorts, as your hair, while Clark grabbed one of your pillows and placed it on top of his pants.
Just in time for your brother to appeared on the hallway, turning his head towards your room through your opened door, staring at the two of you in confusion.
“What are you guys doing?” Tyler asked, staring at the two of you.
“I was showing some of my CDs,” you lied quickly, pointing at the CD collection on top of your dresser. “He wanted to borrow one for the ride back to school.”
Your brother nodded, turning to look at Clark. “Are you going to bed soon or are you going to keep studying?”
“I think I’ll study for a bit then I’ll go to bed,” Clark said, smiling. “Bright and early tomorrow?”
Tyler nodded, alternating his eyes between the two of you before turning around.
“Good night!” He said, walking away towards the kitchen.
You and Clark looked at one another, sharing a smile.
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plot: it’s an statistical fact that clark kent can’t get within five feet of… you.
warnings: ive decided to go a bit sad so yeah, one-sided love (or is it?).
a/n: i just watched an edit of tiktok about that line from the first ep of smallville like “clark kent can’t get within five feet of lana lang” and i wanted to write a fic about that bc i love the idea, but give it a sad twist. Im trying something new i always write happy things! hope you enjoy and pls request me more things to write!
When you thought the storm had passed, you looked over your window with excitement in your eyes, your fingertips laying on the cold glass as you stared at what those grey clouds and icy weather had left on your front yard.
Snow.
Like the one you had when you were a kid. The one you and your parents would play in on Christmas morning as the first glimpses of sunlight appeared on the sky. You smiled, your face lit like a million suns as you grabbed your winter coat and boots, and rush downstairs.
You stepped outside, the coldness of the weather making the tip of your nose warming red, your smile growing as the inches of snow covered your ankles as you too each step, burying yourself in that freezing paradise.
You looked up as you laughed, watching that familiar red truck enter your driveway. You waved at the Kent boy with a smile on your face, hugging yourself in a lame attempt to gain warmth. It wasn’t uncommon for your friendly neighbor Clark Kent to appear once the snow hit the town.
“Hey,” he said, later slurring your name as soon as he got out of the truck. “Do you need help getting out of that snow?”
“I’m perfectly fine, Clark,” you said, smiling, pushing away the snow from your feet. “You don’t have to shovel our driveway,” you insisted as you watched him pull out his shovel from the back of the pick up truck. “You do this every year.”
“How else would you be able to get your car out of the garage to go to school?” He asked, pointing at your snow covered garage, as to which you exhaled. “Did you put chains on your tires?”
“I was about to, I swear.” You looked at the snow that would definitely keep your car from getting out, turning to look at Clark. “Can you give me a ride?”
He seemed to twitch, his eyes diverting from your eyes as you waited for an answer. Clark always did this. Whenever it meant you had to be in a same room together, or even close to one another, he pushes you away. He always did that, and you already gotten used to being in a complicated friendship with Clark.
“I have the first period free,” he finally said. “I’m getting in late, hoping to clear out your driveway before getting to school. But I know Chloe’s around. She can give you a ride. Do you want me to call her?”
You smiled, yet it wasn’t the same smile he had seen in your face when he arrived, watching you play in the snow. It was sadder, acting as a shield and trying to cover something bluer.
“It’s alright. I’ll call her. Bye Clark,” you mumbled, stepping back, as to which he looked like he thanked you for it.
It was always like this with Clark. He was nice to you, sometimes so much it even made you think he had a thing for you, but whenever you got close, his face just turned entirely, staring at you as if you were bad fruit that he was being forced to eat.
It made you sad. The way you looked up from your book once you saw him walking in the cafeteria with Chloe and Pete. How he would smile to a thing Chloe would say, tossing his head back with a smile so big you wondered what would make him laugh like that.
The snow outside Smallville high made the place seem more magical than ever. You stared at it from the classroom window, Chloe besides you paying attention to your teacher, but more to whatever it was that was distracting you.
“Are you think about the Winter Formal?” She abruptly asked, taking you away from your thoughts. You turned to look at her. “Have you received any invitations yet?”
“Not the one I want,” you mumbled to yourself as you looked back at the window. “Are you going with Clark?”
“Not in this lifetime.”
“I thought you guys—”
“Not in this lifetime,” she repeated, softer this time, with a tone of sadness that made you turn to face her. “Besides… you should hear the locker room. Every girl wants to go with Clark. I think they’ve recently found out what you and I have known for quite some time.”
“And what’s that?”
“That he is the perfect guy.”
You gave her a tiny smile. Everyone had the perfect thought of Clark, everyone that you talked to knew what a great guy he was, and you didn’t doubt it. You also thought he was great, and kind.
You maybe would have a better opinion if you could get any closer.
Which is what you decided to do once you saw him beside his truck. If he wasn’t the one to cut the distance, you’d have to take charge.
“Hey,” someone called your name as you walked out, a guy from the football team, probably to ask you to the winter formal, but you ignored it. Your mind was set.
“Clark,” you called him as you approached him. Around five feet were the distance between you two. The icy road he was standing on was troubling your mission, as you’ve had a tendency of slipping and falling down. So you stoped yourself, and he seemed to thank it. “Clark,”you said again.
“Yes?” He answered, laying his arm on the front of the truck, looking at you. “Need any help at your house?”
“What?”
“I don’t know. The snow tends to reveal secrets within structures, you know? And now that your dad isn’t around, I thought you and your mom could use some help fixing something. Is that?”
“What? No, uhm… thank you,” you said, confused to where he had driven the conversation. “Uhm… I wanted to ask you. What I meant to ask you was…” You chuckled. “Do you have a date for the Winter Formal?”
He gulped, clearly taken by surprise. Maybe that was good, you thought, taking him unwarned, not being able to escape without ruining this strange friendship you guys have built over the past few years. He couldn’t leave you standing there, could he?
He seemed to want to, though.
You took a step forward, his face suddenly changing to the one you’ve gotten to see before against your good luck. He stepped back the same distance you did, so you took another step, and he stepped back.
You stopped. He stopped.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah… watch out with the road, though, it’s slippery.”
“Thanks,” you mumbled. “So…”
“I’m going with Chloe.”
Well, the obvious lie could have certainly been avoided. Chloe had just told you she wasn’t going with him, so this was a big punch in the gut you were definitely not expecting.
You gave him a sad smile, and you could see in his eyes that same sadness, although it did surprise you, considering you thought the only thing Clark felt for you was disgust.
“That sounds great,” you lied, and he could tell you were lying. He just wanted to cut that distance and give you the biggest hug he could, but he remained still. “I’ll see you around, Clark.”
“Are you sure you don’t need any help at the house?”
“We can manage, Clark,” you cut him off, turning around and walking away, trying to held back the tears that were about to come out.
Clark looked at you as you left, his eyes looking down at that bracelet you wore that your dad gave you. Made with meteor rocks.
plot: your relationship with clark is public, yet dealing with his friends has never been harder
warnings: angst and fluff. mean girl!reader x goldenretriever!clark
a/n: this is part two of “call it what you want” that has been requested like three times! i also loved it so here it is i really hope you like it. also, i wrote this very late and somehow ended in the existencial crisis route at one point, but still, hope you enjoy
Up til that moment, Clark’s parents seemed to be the only ones in Clark’s life that actually enjoyed your presence. The other people in his life seemed to keep their distance when it came to you.
“And that’s how,” you said, finishing setting up the Kent’s’ new TV cable as it arrived. “You can record your games, Mr. Kent.”
“You’re an angel,” Jonathan said, pressing the record button to save the Sharks game for later. He laughed, excitedly, staring at the recording symbol on the screen. “This is the future. This way I won’t miss any game.”
“You just created a monster, sweetie,” Mrs. Kent said to you, making you smile. “Thank you for helping us out.”
Clark came from the kitchen, surprised to see you standing in the living room with your parents when he wasn’t around. He looked at you with a frown, confused, but you simply gave him a smile.
“Babe, what? Uhm…” He smacked his lips together, giving you a closed-mouth smile as he looked at you. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Thought I’d come by and surprise you. Ran into your parents setting up their new cable and wanted to help them out.” You smiled, but that’s when you saw the root of the problem.
Lana walked into the living room, holding her backpack. She looked at you both before staring at her shoes.
“Lana,” Mrs. Kent called her, standing up by your side. “What a surprise, sweetheart. Long time no see.”
“Hi, Mrs. Kent. Clark and I had an English project due soon and I suggested doing it here,” Lana explained, turning to look at you. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” you finally said. “Clearly I’m the bad third… or fifth, here. Uhm—” You clapped your hands together, turning to look at Mrs. Kent. “It’s always a pleasure coming here.”
“Always a pleasure to have you,” Jonathan Kent said as he stood up from the couch, his eyes on his son before looking back at you. “You know, such a pleasure that you should come to dinner tomorrow. I’ll cook.”
“I’d love to,” you said, softly, grabbing your purse. “See you then.”
You turned to look at Clark, who had decided, for his own good, to sit this one out. You smiled at him, rubbing with your usual warmth his arm before walking out of the Kent house, feeling like the second to Lana once again.
Clark stared at the door that you walked through before looking back at Lana, handing the girl a kind smile.
“Lana, why don’t you wait for me at the barn, please?” He told his friend and the brunette nodding, walking out of the house as she waved goodbye to the Kents.
Clark turned around, looking at his parents with a shy smile.
“Why didn’t you tell me Y/n had come over?”
“She said it was a surprise,” Martha said, sitting back down on the couch. “Is there a problem?”
Jonathan raised his hand. “Let me guess,” he said. “Lana and your girlfriend are not the best of friends.”
“Let’s just say… there’s some history between them. They’ve known each other for a while.”
“And how’s your friendship with Lana affecting your relationship?” Martha asked him. “Because y/n didn’t seem very thrilled to see her.”
“I’m dealing with it.”
You, on the other hand, were definitely not dealing with it.
Your true nature was to face the problem head on. That’s the way you’ve handled yourself all your life, and it wasn’t going to change because Clark was now in your life. If Lana and Chloe had a problem with you, it was your business to fix it.
Leaving it to Clark had just made things incredibly awkward.
So, when you saw Clark talking with his parents through the window, and Lana walking towards the barn, you decided to make your move.
“Hey, Lang!” Bad opener, you knew, but you already made it.
The green eyed girl turned to look at you. Mixed feelings grew as you approached her. Memories of Lana and you in the cheerleading squad, arguing, not getting along, jealousy getting involved, of course. And let’s not mention the unnamed popularity contest between the two that, even if you didn’t acknowledge it at the time, you both knew it existed. As you grew up, it disappeared or at least seemed less important than ever.
Lana was always going to be Miss Nice Girl, the one everyone loves. You, on the other hand, were labeled the popular mean girl, wannabe princess, the anti-Lana. And part of you knows it has to do with your strong personality, but most of the time… you have blamed Lana for your reputation. It’s not like she has bitten her tongue when it comes to talk about you.
“What?” Lana asked, her arms crossing in front of her chest. She was pissed. And she had no right to be. Not this time. “I just came over for a school project, not to cause any drama.”
“I think for the first time, Lana, I’m not the drama-starter.”
“What do you want?”
“For you to tell me straight to my face what the hell is your problem with me.”
“I think you know what it is.”
“Ever since I started dating Clark you’ve been nothing but an asshole.” She scoffed. “What? You love to start fires but can’t handle the heat? You’ve been nothing but rude, and I’ve been trying so hard to find peace, but nothing seems to be enough for you.”
Lana shook her head. “You’re only doing this because of Clark! It’s just a charade you’re playing. And I don’t want to see Clark get hurt because he can’t see how rotten you are inside.” Lana took a few steps forward, threatening you. “This nice girl facade you’ve been putting on for the past few weeks aren’t enough to erase all the damage you’ve done to others all your life.”
You both stared at each other, your eyes flaming with heat as you looked into hers. You were pissed, you were hurt, yet you were, by far, just so embarrassed.
She was right.
You could pretend all you want. You could try and be as nice as Clark is, try to let his goodness and kindness rub on you, wait until you get infected with his values… yet it didn’t erase that, along the way of being mean to yourself… you’ve been mean to other people.
Lana was just telling you something you already suspected of yourself.
You did not deserve Clark.
“Hey,” Clark finally interrupted, making you both turn to look at him. “Everything alright?”
You looked at him, a fake smile appearing on your face as you quickly nodded.
“Everything alright,” you said, brushing your hair off your face. “Just some lame girl talk. I’ll see you around, Kent,” you whispered, placing a quick, rather rushed, kiss on his cheek before walking away.
The strings of your guitar burned your fingers as you pressed them too hard. The rage you had, against Lana, against the things you’ve done, against how all of it it’s crumbling down, and ruining what’s going on with Clark.
Your friends are no better. The cheerleaders haven’t spoken to you for anything other than help with what outfit to wear, or opinions on which guy they should date. When you told them about Clark they shrieked, smiled, and then forgot about it as soon as the next topic came around. Your football player friends had to be explained at least a few times who Clark Kent was, and once they finally put a face on the guy, they promised they wouldn’t mock him when they see him again.
At least that was nicer than the way Chloe and Lana have been treating you. Chloe was someone you could handle at least. Other than the snarky comment, the witty remark, and the trip down memory lane to remember your most embarrassing teenage moments, she was alright, and you thought you were actually bonding for a second.
Lana… well she was another conversation.
The fact that she and Clark had a thing for one another not a while back, and had briefly dated, or were seeing each other and then stopped… it was complicated enough without adding your rocky relationship with her as a factor.
You strung so harsh the string of your guitar ripped in half, startling you awake from your thoughts. What were you even thinking about? You’ve been mortifying yourself with your own banquet of thoughts when what you should be doing was talk to Clark.
You stood up from your messy bedroom floor. Badly composed lyrics, chords that didn’t make sense, scribbled down doodles, and probably a grocery shopping list surrounded you like a pile of your own mental disaster manifesting in front of you.
You tossed the guitar on the bed, looking in your drawers for a set of new strings you tend to collect in cases like this, when the mental spiral comes and projects physically, ending up in breaking a string.
You grabbed the set and sat down next to your guitar. The sight of that old, beaten-up instrument makes you nostalgic. Maybe in your hand you were holding what truly is your best friend.
Your phone rings. The screen on that pink flip-phone lights up and the name you were hoping it was is shown.
Clark<3
You smiled. Couldn’t help but to. You crossed the river of unfinished songs, grabbing the phone that kept bouncing as it vibrated, knocking the white wood of your desk.
“You’re lucky I like your face. I’m in the middle of something very important.”
“And what’s that?”
“Staring at the ceiling while I decompress from a tired day of carrying everyone on my back,” you joked. “You think I just wake up that beautiful?”
“Look outside, hothead.”
You frowned, approaching the window with curiosity. You peeked outside, being surprised by your boyfriend standing on your front lawn, holding a basket and a blanket, while his phone was next to his ear.
He was wearing a gray baseball cap backwards with his hair peeking from the sides, a white t shirt that highlighted the bigness of his arms, and a pair of dusted blue denim jeans with dirt on the knees. He probably was coming from completing farm chores. He looked sweaty, and he knew. You could tell he was embarrassed about it.
You kind of like it.
“I’m sorry about today,” he said, his smile growing widely once he saw you. “You wanted to surprise me, so I thought I’d return the favor.”
“You think this is pretty romantic, huh?”
“Well, I don’t know… Yeah, yeah I do.”
“You’re proud of yourself? Pat yourself on the back even?”
“Are you mocking me?”
“I’m sorry, you’re right. I should be amazed by a farm boy picking me up some of ‘em apples and bringing ‘em to my dear old home. Did you bring me a lil’ pie, young fella?”
“I’m hanging up.”
You laughed, opening your window. “Are you going to climb up or what?”
“What about the front door?” He asked, laughing as well.
“You want to wake up my dad?”
He looked at you, holding tightly his cellphone.
“Take a step back,” he asked you and you did as obliged.
You turned to look at the papers all over your bedroom floor, as well as the clothes on top of your bed, and you did your best to start picking up your things, tossing them under the bed, inside your closet, wishing he can’t see though the doors or something.
As you turn back around, you see Clark Kent taking a step inside your bedroom, placing the basket on the floor with a giant smile.
“It’s no windmill but, I try my best.” He closed the window behind him. Then, he turned to face your bedroom, taking in all its elements as he smiled. “Nice place.”
“I try my best,” you said, grabbing the blanket Clark brought and placing it down on the floor.
You sat down, legs crossed, looking up as that tall good-looking man you’re lucky to call your boyfriend sat down right beside you, opening the basket he brought with him just for you.
“I brought hot chocolate, chocolate chip cookies of course.” You smiled, looking at his face framed by that baseball cap he was wearing. He looked incredibly attractive, so handsome you were trying not to melt. “I also brought chocolate strawberries. Everything that has chocolate is probably inside this basket.”
“I think that’s a wise choice,” you whispered, taking out one of those incredibly appetizing strawberries and taking a bite. “So how was working with Lana?”
He shrugged, looking away. You noticed. “Normal. I heard your conversation with her though.”
“Spying?”
“Overhearing.”
“On purpose?”
“Mostly accidentally.”
You nodded, turning your head away as well. You were embarrassed enough that you had to hear Lana’s words about you, but Clark hearing them too was a low blow.
“I knew you guys didn’t get along. Didn’t know it was that bad.” Your fingers seemed the perfect place to focus your eyes on at that moment. “Care to tell me what Lana meant?”
“You already knew I was kind of mean. You said you liked it.”
“I like that you’re honest. And direct.”
“Same thing,” you mumbled.
“Baby,” he called for you, softly, making you turn to face him. Those eyes. Those hypnotizing icy blue eyes that fit his handsome face, that made your skin warm. You simply stared at him, hoping he would touch you know, make you forget, make you relax. “What is it?”
“It’s no secret I’m not known for my… sweetness,” you tried to sugarcoat it. “Yes, I may have used my honesty as a way of harm sometimes. But it’s all because… I’m just tired of this place.” He frowned. “Everyone has this opinion of me, since I was little. Maybe because I was pretty, maybe because of my loud personality, but it just upsets me. And I take that anger inside of me on others, and I know that’s not right and I shouldn’t do it. I just… sometimes I think I’m meant to do greater things in life than live up to the image people built of me.”
“And you think Lana does that?”
“I didn’t mention Lana,” you were quick to say, pointing your finger at him. He raised his arms in innocence. “But… don’t you think people like her and me are constantly locked down by the idea that people have of us? Like, everyone thinks Lana’s so perfect and nice, so she can’t make any mistakes. That puts so much pressure in one person. And let’s not talk about my labels. Cheerleader. Miss Sweet Corn. Homecoming queen. Just… so many labels. So I’m rude, yes. And yeah, maybe I’ve hurt people. I get it… But maybe I was just trying to escape them. Don’t you think that maybe, by trying to comply with what they wanted of me, I might be getting hurt too?”
Clark looked away. “I think it’s valid to feel that way… but maybe what you need to start thinking about is… is it really worth it? To change the label? Yes, you change what they think of you, but they’re still labeling you as something else. And you lose yourself in the process.” You looked away, fearing he was right. “But I’ve also seen what happens when people take real interest in you. That happened to me. That’s what I liked about you. Just… how excited you are to be your true self. And how scared you are to be it as well.”
You looked at him, a smile slowly growing on your face. “Can I have a hot chocolate?”
“Would you consider what I said?” You nodded. “Maybe try breaking off the label. Being who you are, no matter if people like you, hate you, idolize you, or ignore you.” He handed you a hot chocolate, which you grabbed with both hands. “Just be yourself. Like you said: Smallville is just a step in your way of something bigger.”
“I don’t care about popularity, Clark,” you lied, taking a sip from the chocolate.”
“Right, says Miss Sweet Corn,” he mocked you, trying to hold back a laughter. You did the same. “I like you. Just how you are. I don’t care about the past. Just like you always say: what matters is what’s coming ahead, and how you’re working for that goal every day.”
You walked in hand in hand with Clark the next day. It was becoming a habit.
But what had also become a habit was that you would sit with your friends, the popular crowd, with Clark, since his friends couldn’t stand you.
When they called you, and signaled your usual spot, you waved at them with a smile, before you continued walking, confusing Clark as you dragged him along.
“Where are we going?” He asked. “We always sit there. I was finally starting to learn all the nicknames.”
“I thought we could eat somewhere else for a change,” you said, turning right and entering the Torch office with a smile.
There was Chloe and Lana chatting at Chloe’s desk, both girls turning to look at you and Clark as you walked in, confused and surprised.
“Long time no see,” Chloe finally said. “Popular crowd finally kicked you out?”
“Opted for the exit sign this time,” you replied before Clark could, approaching the girls. “I thought we could eat with you guys.”
Lana looked at Clark before looking at you. “Why the sudden change?”
“Well, I believe I haven’t gotten the chance to actually get to know you guys, as well as you guys haven’t gotten the chance to know me,” you said, sitting down at an empty chair, while Clark leaned back on the desk. “So, the torch… nice. Tell me all about your next edition, Chloe.”
Chloe and Lana looked at one another before looking at you. Just like that, you put a nickel on Chloe and she started talking non stop.
You turned to look at Clark, the sound of Chloe’s voice filling the room. He smiled at you, placing a strand of your hair behind your ear, and whispering the words you wanted to hear.
