turtleboyo lite

You dont have to though if your already busy!

(Love the lee!Kon and ler!Clark fic tho, super cute!!)

Hi!! Absolutely I can, although it might take me a while I'm usually a very very slow writer, sorry!!

In the meantime, off the top of my head the blogs I'd check for them would be august-anon, greyanon or hyacinthanon. If you're here you probably already have but just incase!

A/N: Thankyou all so much for all of the love on the last post!! It kinda motivated me to churn this one out so I hope you enjoy!!!

Summary: Sometimes Dick forgets how much some of his siblings have missed out on and wants to help make up for missed experience. Thankfully, he's had plenty of practice at big-brothering.

Lee!Cass / Ler!Dick

A/N: This is my first tk fic please be nice <3

Summary: Kon is determined to get Clark to pay attention to him. Clark is happy to oblige.

Lee!Kon / Ler!Clark

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Never let it be said that Conner Kent doesn't think things through. In fact, this particular plan required more forethought than even Rob usually puts into stuff… Probably.

Thing is, he's kind of sort of a bit of an attention seeker. But hey, at least he admits it! He knows who he is. The problem is that sometimes, he only seems to want one specific person’s attention.

He's developed certain techniques for grabbing the attention of different people over time–like stealing Bart’s snacks or hiding Tim’s laptop–but with some people, he’s yet to find what makes them tick.

Like Clark. Kon’s been trying for a long time to figure out the best way to get his kinda-dad’s full attention for more than a moment, and today he thinks he's finally cracked it. You see, some people think that Superman must have endless patience, that nothing on Earth could possibly annoy him. Those people, Kon thinks, just haven't met Kon himself yet.

Kon grins to himself as he hears Clark’s annoyed huff, the biggest reaction he's managed to ream out of the man so far. Turns out, Clark really doesn't like when he's getting invested in a show and it gets turned over. So, naturally, Kon rests the remote on his thigh, letting each new show play just long enough for Clark to get into it, before feigning boredom and clicking off to find something else to watch.

He's repeated this process three times so far and he can't help the gleeful smile he feels tugging his lips up.

“Are you actually gonna let this one play?” Clark asks, turning to Kon with a furrowed brow and slight frown he looks to be trying to tamp down on. Kon can't help the giddiness he feels building up inside of him.

“If it’s any good, sure,” Kon shrugs as nonchalantly as he can manage, turning to the TV and letting some kinda movie play. He feels Clark adjust against the sofa next to him.

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20 minutes.

That's how long it takes for Clark to lean forward, elbows resting against his knees with his chin on his hands, eyes alight with interest.

It's maybe a bit weird, Kon can admit, that he feels somewhat jealous of a TV. Even he knows that that's probably not very normal. He's sure Cassie would call him over dramatic.

He can't help it though, something in his stomach stirs uncomfortably at how invested in this film Clark is, at the idea that some random movie is more entertaining–more important–to him than Kon.

And so, it's with a pout that he once again turns the film off, hoping his expression looks more bored than it does petulant. He's not quite sure he manages it.

“What the hey," Clark says, exasperation clear in how he gesticulates, “it was just getting good, Conner, come on.”

“Nah, it was boring,” Kon defends, flicking through Netflix for the next thing to stop as it gets good. He lets his gaze flick over to Clark a few times. It's almost embarrassing how pleased it makes him to have Clark’s full attention on him.

“Okay, what's this about? It's like you're just trying to rile me up,” Clark frowns and Kon's torn between being amused and nervous at just how right he really is.

“That's ridiculous,” Kon dismisses, tapping the remote against his thigh nervously, “I just got bored of the film, that's all.”

Kon turns to Clark again and can't quite stop himself from smirking at the man’s narrowed eyes and crossed arms. Oh, he's won, Clark's well and truly annoyed. He's even turned fully in place to sit facing Kon, his full attention away from the TV and on the boy in front of him.

Ok, in hindsight, Kon really should've listened to Tim’s lessons on schooling your expressions, because the way Clark’s eyes narrow further as Kon feels his expression settle on self-satisfaction cannot be a coincidence.

“I see,” Clark starts, shuffling a bit closer to Kon on the sofa. Kon gulps. “If you want my attention, Conner, you only have to ask.”

Though he plans to never admit to it, Kon feels how red his face gets and he sputters at the playful grin on Clark’s face. Why does being called out by Clark fluster him so much? He knows that's exactly what he wanted, but it's a whole nother thing hearing Clark acknowledge it so plainly.

“Infact,” Clark says, raising his voice to be heard over Kon’s embarrassed babbling, “I think I know exactly what kind of attention you're after.”

With that, Clark lunges, and Kon’s too busy trying to shout out denials to do much more than screech in surprise. Kon squirms as Clark climbs over him, throwing the remote at the man as he tries to grab Kon’s wrists.

Clark’s still for a moment as the remote hits his chest before falling innocuously to the floor. Clark is obviously unharmed, so Kon takes a cautious peak at the remote, blanching at the massive crack down the side of it. Oh, he's fucked.

Guilt bubbles uncomfortably in Kon’s stomach, freeing itself in hurried exclamations of “I'm so sorry” and “I'll pay for it, promise”. Clark just stares at him, quiet.

And then, between one blink and the next, Clark has pinned Kon’s arms above his head, grip deceptively gentle against his wrists. Kon tugs lightly against Clark’s hands and can't quite keep still at the funny mix of excitement and apprehension fizzing up inside of him.

“Well, you certainly have my attention now,” Clark says, voice low and deceptively calm. Kon flushes. And then any thoughts he might've had fly out of the window as Clark adjusts his grip to hold Kon down with just one hand, while the other digs into his ribs.

The shriek that bursts out of Kon doesn't sound entirely human and he can't help but kick uselessly at Clark’s sofa before dissolving fully into helpless cackles.

“There we go," Clark hums, speaking just that bit louder to be heard over Kon’s laughter, “is this what you were after, kiddo?”

“NOHOHOHO,” Kon squeals, shaking his head desperately as a hotness creeps across his cheeks and down his neck at Clark’s teasing.

“What's wrong,” Clark smiles and Kon has to squeeze his eyes shut to avoid being face to face with Clark’s fond, mushy expression, “isn't this what you wanted? You've got my attention, sweetheart.”

“Sh-shuhut uhuhUP,” Kon laughs, succumbing to a new wave of shrieking laughter as Clark’s hand claws up to his armpit. He'll never live this down.

“What was that? I can't quite hear you over all those giggles,” Clark says because he's evil and the worst and he sucks. Kon’s face burns worse as he snorts, unable to voice how bad it tickles because oh fuck it tickles so bad he's actually gonna die oh my god.

Clark chuckles, seemingly trying to take mercy on Kon by switching from digging into his armpit to fluttering his fingers against Kon’s neck.

Unfortunately for Kon, though, the light touch seems to set his nerves on fire and he barely registers the giddy shriek being torn from his chest before falling into ridiculously high-pitched giggles. “Clahahark,” he whines, squealing each time the man’s touch traces too close to his ears. “It- it's so bahahad. I can- cahan- I cahahahan’t.”

Clark’s amused hum is mean and horrible and actually Kon’s half convinced that Superman is secretly a supervillain because what the hell how does it tickle this bad?

“I thought this was what you wanted,” Clark says, pausing to comb Kon’s hair away from his face. Kon can't help the way he follows Clark’s hand, nudging his head against it like a cat. He determinedly ignores Clark’s fond snicker the same way he ignores the blush that seems to have taken up permanent residence against his face.

Kon feels himself relax, breathe evening out into something steadier as Clark scritches against his scalp. Kon purrs in contentment.

After a while, Clark breaks the easy quiet, saying “I'm not mad about the remote, y’know. Accidents happen.” Kon just grumbles at him, hating how easily the man seems to read him.

“Ah ah, don't get all grouchy on me now,” Clark teases, letting Kon’s arms free only to worm both hands under Kon’s t-shirt and skitter his fingers against his stomach.

“Hehehey,” Kon whines, tittering against the arm of Clark’s sofa. He grabs at Clark’s wrists, brain stuttering as he makes contact and just kind of holding Clark’s wrists, not bothering to even try to pull them away.

“Y’know,” Clark starts, one hand clawing against the middle of Kon’s stomach while the other skates across his waistline, “you haven't really been putting up much of a fight.”

Kon starts to protest, to deny it, to say anything, but Clark leans down to blow a raspberry against Kon’s neck, just under his ear, and he loses it.

Kon writhes, shrieking and squealing as Clark keeps doing it, unable to think past oh fuck it tickles it tickles so bad I can't I'm gonna die it's too much.

Clark’s hands don't stop, both now moving higher up to claw against Kon’s lower ribs while he nuzzles his stubbly jaw against Kon’s neck. Kon shrieks again, kicking out his legs and letting his arms flail around as he wheezes, snorting each time Clark pinches his bottom set of ribs.

“NAHAHAHAHAHAH," Kon shrieks, hands smacking uselessly against Clark's chest, “PLE- PLEEHEEHEEHEASE.”

Clark finally straightens, leaving Kon’s neck alone just to coo at him and Kon flushes at it, too tired to fight Clark’s silly affection.

Clark slows his fingers, gently steadying his tickling until his hands are just resting gently against Kon’s stomach. He pulls his hands out from under Kon’s t-shirt, smoothing it back down and chuckling at Kon’s over-sensitive snicker at the soothing gesture.

Kon feels like a ragdoll, completely boneless against the sofa as Clark moves to sit back next to him, patting the boy’s knee good naturedly. Now that there’s nothing else to distract him, Kon can't help but flush again as he fully comprehends what just happened.

Before he can fully succumb to shame, though, he hears the TV start playing again. He looks and realises it's the same film from earlier. He raises his head to face Clark and, sure enough, the man is holding the broken remote, smiling warmly back at Kon.

“That was mean,” Kon mutters, unsure of what else to do in the face of such open affection.

“Oh please,” Clark grins, shocking Kon with a light-hearted eye-roll, “you knew exactly what you were doing provoking me. You got what you wanted.”

Kon was right, Clark really is evil. He turns to bury his face in a pillow, flipping Clark off behind his back.

“I'd be careful if I were you, unless you want a round two,” Clark sing-songs and Kon shuts up, letting the warmth of Clark’s goading words wash over him.