FRICK YEAH!

// DC LEX LUTHOR SLANDER // f!reader / lex luthor ▸ long fic! You’re a journalist for the Daily Planet. You’ve recently got your hands on some leaked documents on LuthorCorp, so you’re slowly unraveling the glossy image Lex Luthor has created for himself. You simply have a job to do, and he’s got a reputation to keep. BEACH DAY // f!reader / lex luthor ▸  one shot! even ceo’s of massive corporations need a day off. but they can’t go anywhere without their secretary, of course. ALL YOURS // f!reader / lex luthor ▸ a blurb! where lex gives you a necklace. DRESS // f!reader / lex luthor ▸ a blurb! "Lex is gonna put waaay to much thought into picking the perfect dress hdbdb. Rip the Metropolis tailors, they're gonna have a rough week"

// HOUSE MD ROBERT CHASE MIDNIGHT BAGLES // f!reader / dr chase▸ a one shot! When Chase runs into an old university friend at a bar, he's caught off guard—not just by the coincidence, but by how quickly forgotten feelings resurface.

It was part of the job. Tech consulting. A few times a year, you had to travel out, meet with clients for a weekend, schmooze them over with drinks, a fancy hotel, activities. These always ended up being your biggest deals, (commission was nice!) but you were constantly debating on quitting your job when you had to change terminals… again.

You’re making your way to the new gate, and even in the distance, you can see that there’s not a lot of seats open in the waiting area. A heavy sigh leaves your mouth, when to your dismay, there’s only one seat left, to the right of a man with curly silver hair. 

Hopefully he’s nice, you can see that he’s right next to the charging station. Maybe he’ll feed your cord through and plug in your phone. You’ve been up all night trying to nail down the last details of your trip, and it drained your device. 

You quietly step around a few people, making your way to the open seat. You stop when you spot a backpack on the chair. Maybe saving it for his wife or something. 

“Damn it.”

You’re about to turn around when you hear a soft, “Hey.”

The man pulls his backpack off the chair, and sets it down by his feet, a silent invitation for you to sit. 

“Oh, thank goodness,” you say, and plop down on the seat, slinging your duffle on the ground in front of the seat. 

You turn to the man, who’s kept his focus trained on you. “Thank you, I really appreciate it.” 

Your eyes flick down to his left hand. No ring. No wife. 

He nods, probably not really able to hear you through his headphones. He gives you a half-smile, his crows feet tightening around his hazel eyes.

His gaze feels… warm. Familiar. His entire body is relaxed and somehow it transfers to your tense shoulders, and you sink into the chair slightly. 

The man slides his headphones off his head and lets them rest around his neck. 

“Where are you headed? Off to a fun vacation?” He says. His voice is a low quiet rumble, clearly marking him as someone older, as if you couldn’t already tell from his cinnamon sugar colored locks, the way the grays sprouted out more around his ears, wrinkles setting in deeper lines on his forehead. 

“Definitely not. I wish,” you reply hastily, eager to make your identity clear that you were strictly business. “Work stuff.” 

“Ah,” he says. “Work stuff, in San Diego?” 

He’s a stranger. But something about his disposition makes him easy to trust. Maybe he works a lot with people. Like in healthcare. 

“Yeah. I have some business meetings. Some sales stuff. I work in tech.” 

He lifts his head slightly as he listens to you, peering at you with an interested look. “No beach getaway planned at all?”

You scoff. But it’s the first time Jack sees you smile. 

He likes it. 

“Maybe, we’ll see. If things go well, I’ll have the weekend free and I may get some time on the sand.” You shrug your shoulders. “What about you?”

“I have a few days off work. I don’t get out much for my job, so I like to travel as much as it permits, which isn’t a lot.” He pauses. “Purely self-indulgent vacation days.” 

You hum. “Sounds nice. What do you do for work?”

“ER attending. Night shift.” 

Ha. You were right. 

“Dang, see people’s legs getting cut off?” 

“Nah.” The corner of his mouth lifts in a sly smirk. “I don’t see that happen. But we do stitch them back together.” 

You nod. “Right. That’s what I meant.” 

He shakes his head. “It never gets old. The stuff you see. But y’know,” he gestures to the big window panes. “It’s nice to get away from it for a bit.” 

“Yeah. Makes sense.” 

There’s a pause in the conversation as you both watch a plane take off. 

He takes a deep inhale, and realizes he hasn’t even introduced himself. “I’m Jack, by the way.” 

You introduce yourself and he nods, letting the buzz of the airport fill the space between you. 

His gaze lingers a moment too long, taking in the way you’ve clipped your hair back, a few pieces framing your features, but keeping most of it away so he can really see your face. 

A chime rings out, and a flight agent announces that boarding will begin. 

“Finally,” Jack says under his breath. He’s not particularly impatient, but he feels like it’s been forever since he got here. 

“I’m glad I got to sit for a second. I’m always running late,” you admit out loud, and this gets a good chuckle out of Jack. 

Passengers begin filing in a line, and you and Jack join the group. He lets you stand in front of him, ”Ladies first,” he insisted. 

There’s the typical waiting and inching forward as people load their overhead luggage and shuffle awkwardly into their seats. You feel Jack’s looming presence behind you, raising hairs on the back of your neck. 

As you finally get to your seat, before you can pick up your carry-on, Jack is already lifting it off the ground and sliding it with a thud into the overhead compartment. 

“Oh, thanks.” You smile, heat rushing to your cheeks. You were perfectly capable of doing it on your own, but you didn’t mind watching his forearms flex, now noticing his weathered freckles scattered across his muscular arms. 

“Anytime, sweetheart.” 

Okay, as if you weren’t already blushing enough.

You slide into the middle seat, and watch as Jack checks his boarding pass, then looks up at the seat number, and then back at you. His brows furrow a bit, but then he loads up his own duffle bag, and lowers himself into the seat right next to you.

No way.

“Y’can’t get rid of me,” he says, adjusting himself in his seat and clicking the metal buckle across his lap. 

“Who says I’m trying?” You respond without thinking twice, and when you see his expression shift into amusement, you blink and shake your head. “It’s just- I’m not used to talking to strangers at the airport. It’s kind of nice to interact, you know.” 

He nods at your rambling, acutely aware that you’ve flustered yourself… about him. 

But he doesn’t mind. The fact that he hasn’t scared you away yet by his age, or by simply starting a conversation, it feels good to him. 

New. 

Different. 

“So tell me more about your job,” he says, ignoring the safety message that plays across the speakers. 

“Well,” you roll your eyes. “I think you should go first. My job is like watching grass grow in comparison to what you probably do.” 

His eyebrow quirks. “Is that so?” 

“Tech sales… yeah. It’s not super exciting.” With your toes, you push your backpack further under the seat in front of you.

“Why do you do it?”

You pause. And let your shoulders sag a little. “Pay isn’t bad. It’s actually pretty good at this company. I get lots of time off. I joined the company because I started dating some guy that worked there. But then we broke up… and he left. I stuck around.” 

“Was that recent?” 

You laugh. “No, it was about a year ago. I pretty much got promoted to his position too. Benefits all around.” 

“Poor guy, had to go break his heart like that.” 

Your face contorts into discomfort. “Well… he broke up with me. Kinda out of nowhere.” 

“Are you seeing anyone now?” Jack blurts too quickly. 

The second the words leave his mouth, he regrets them. 

Way too forward. 

But to his relief, you shake your head lightly. “No. I think that whole thing messed me up more than I expected.” You give a dry laugh. “Dating kinda sucks lately.”

You let your head hang for a moment and shrug your hands in the air in defeat. “People leave so easily now. There’s no commitment.” 

You glance out the window, and quieter, “Maybe I’m just hard to stay for.” 

Jack’s jaw tightens as he sees the weight of failed relationships on your shoulders. 

“I seriously doubt that.” 

You look over at him. 

His eyes stay fixed on you when he adds, “Sounds more like they didn’t know what they had. 

You straighten a bit under his gaze, trying to not read into what he could be implying. No. There’s no way. This guy is probably closer to your dad’s age. 

Still, he wasn’t half bad to look at. Hell, he was actually really attractive. That made it worse. It’s one thing to have an older guy hitting on you, it’s an entirely different thing when he’s handsome and competent. 

“So,” you clear your throat, voice going neutral. “What’s the craziest thing you’ve seen in the ER?” 

Jack notices. The shift in the conversation. He winces internally. 

Yep. Too far. 

But he answers, settling back into his seat more comfortably. Like you’re not prepared for the answer. “You really wanna know?”

“Absolutely not,” you admit, “but I asked, so you have to tell me anyways.” 

Jack grins. 

The conversation goes a lot smoother after that. Jack tells you stories that are horrifying and hilarious, your expression shifting from near-vomiting to laughing a little too loudly for an airplane. Elderly men with objects lodged where they definitely shouldn’t be. College students making drunk decisions (ones that you made not too long ago!), and long nights that he barely made it out alive from.  

No more hints of flirting or romance, at least from what you can tell. 

You don’t notice the fact that you’ve been smiling almost this entire time. 

But he does. 

The plane hums steadily around you as the time passes slowly. Somewhere midway through one of his stories, your responses start getting sluggish and your eyes burn more and more. The lack of sleep, stress of packing, and running through the airport has finally caught up. 

Jack stops talking for a moment when it’s the third time you’ve suppressed a yawn. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, now acutely aware that you might be communicating the message that you’re getting bored. 

“Tired?”

You nod. “A little…” 

Jack studies you for a moment before speaking again, then in a lower voice, “you should really get some sleep.” 

You want to keep listening to him. To that smokey, raspy voice of his. 

...

Yep.. you probably need sleep. Your brain was going places it shouldn’t be. The more Jack told you about life in the ER, the more you watched as he explained things with those big hands, watching his veiny arms move around. 

“Yeah, okay,” you surrender, shifting in your seat for a moment before letting your head hit the back of the headrest. 

The next thing you know, you’re out. It didn’t take long before your chest rises and falls with each breath. 

Jack sneaks a glance at you now that you’re unconscious. He prefers you awake, active in conversation, listening to his tales, but he doesn’t mind seeing you like this. Peaceful. 

He feels your shoulder slide closer to him as some turbulence jostles the plane a little. Then your head tips towards him, slowly, 

Then fully.

Your cheek lands on the space between his shoulder and the curve of his tricep. You don’t wake, much to his surprise, and instead your mouth parts slightly against the fabric of his shirt. 

Jack looks down carefully as to not move, afraid even just a little movement will wake you. He takes in the relaxed expression and your proximity with a deeper breath. 

It’s adorable. 

It’s even quieter now on the plane with you fast asleep against his shoulder. 

He tells himself he should stay awake. Just in case you wake up embarrassed. Or if your neck starts hurting, Maybe if a flight attendant needs to get through the aisle. 

The exhaustion from the night shift catches up to him too. His head tilts against the seat. And as he slips into unconsciousness, it slides towards you. 

A flight attendant pauses by your row. She smiles faintly at the sight of you completely passed out against each other, and gently unfolds a spare blanket across your laps. 

The lights in the cabin glow on as the plane begins its descent into San Diego. Sunlight blares through your eyelid and everything shifts slightly to the left, the movement startling you. 

For a moment, you’re disoriented. Vision blurred, your legs feel like pins and needles asleep. 

Then, you realize, your cheek is pressed against Jack’s chest now instead of his shoulder, his head resting lightly against the top of yours. And there’s a blanket. Over both of you. 

What the-

Your eyes widen at the sight. Jack wakes a second later, blinking slowly, and sitting up.

His voice comes out even rougher with drowsiness. “Are we there?” 

You stifle an embarrassed laugh. “I think so.”

He glances downward, noticing the blanket. Then realizes you’re still halfway tucked against him. 

A sleepy smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Well. Looks like you got comfortable.” 

Your face instantly goes red, heat rushing up your neck. You sit up, much too fast, nearly tangling yourself in the blanket. 

“I am so sorry.” 

“Relax,” he mutters softly, reaching over your lap with one arm and taking the blanket. “Could’ve been worse.” 

You bury your face into your palms while he chuckles under his breath beside you, folding the blanket up and sliding it under the seat in front of him. 

The plane lands promptly after that. Thank goodness. You were far too mortified to endure any more time on this flight. Though you didn’t mind being curled up against him. You never slept longer than 30 minutes on any flight. The fact that you were passed out most of the time was impressive. 

There’s a bit of strange awkwardness that follows the unexpected intimacy. Jack doesn’t bother saying much. He’s not sure what to say. Thanks for falling asleep on me?

Though he is, oddly enough, thankful for your presence. He’s actually feeling sad thinking about the fact that this could be the last time he would ever see you. 

Maybe. 

You both stand once the aisle starts moving towards the exit. Jack grabs your carryon from the overhead before you can reach for it. 

“Thanks,” you murmur.

“Of course,” he says, dipping his head slightly. “Starting to think you’re expecting it.” 

You roll your eyes, but it’s paired with a soft smile. 

The walk through the bridge, following Jack, feels short. 

Reality is starting to hit you. This is the last time you’d be seeing him. 

Maybe. 

People start heading towards baggage claim and the exit. Jack’s pace slows, allowing you to catch up to him. 

Then he stops, watching you, as if waiting for you to say something.

“Well,” you press your thumb into the button on your carryon handle absentmindedly. “This is probably where the fun ends.” 

Jack looks at you with his dark hazel eyes. Oh how you’d miss them. 

Then he reaches into the pocket of his pants and pulls out his phone. “You said if your meetings go well, you might escape early.” 

Your stomach flips. 

“I did say that…” 

He taps the screen twice and holds it out to you. An empty contact. 

“Then maybe you should have my number… just in case you get bored.” 

You stare at him for a moment, mouth turning upwards into a smile. 

“Just in case?” You repeat. 

Jack tilts his head towards the phone. 

And you take it. 

He grins. “The beach is a lot more fun with company.”