#dc comcis fluff

It all started when Lian got a new teacher at her kindergarten in the beginning of the new year. Roy wasn't able to make it to the meet and greet, but the bright smiles and theatric stories Lian told him about you gave him a pretty good first impression of you.

After about 6 months of hearing about how lovely you are, how pretty the flowers looked in your hair, how lovely your dresses looked and how worried you got about one of the kiddies who scraped their knee on the pavement, Roy was quite curious about you.

One day, Lian came home and told Roy that you'd gotten the bronchitis and you were off for the next two weeks. Roy decided that this didn't make him just a little concerned about you. No. Not at all.

The day that he knew you were coming back, he sent a care package with Lian to class. A little basket with a blanket, bath goodies, a hot water bottle, some fluffy socks and some hot chocolate. Not a big deal. Lian was more than happy to tell you that her daddy had spent a lot of time asking her if you likes cats or raccoons on your socks.

You smile and try to hide how it made your heart skip a teeny tiny beat when you'd heard how Roy had gone through such trouble for you.

>>—♡—>

About a week later, there was a mandatory little end of semester garden party. It's a private kindergarten. It was Autumn and you were wearing a long sleeved coffee coloured dress with some black leggings, boots and your hair was tied into a bun with wispy hairs sticking out.

You were busy talking to another parent when Roy saw you. To say that his jaw dropped was an understatement. You were drop dead gorgeous. Your smile? Radiant. Your laugh? Absolutely encapsulating. It was so full and whole, like when Emilia Clark laughs. Even the way you walked was nice.

"Daddy, you're staring." Said his sassy 5-year-old daughter.

"Yes, thank you, Lian."

"You're welcome." she smiles her missing-toothed smile. You walked up to him with a grin and a cup of tea in hand.

"Hi, you must be Lian's father. I'm her teacher." you smile. You must admit he is attractive. The tattoos, the 5 o'clock shadow, the long-ish hair, the leather jacket paired with the sweater vest, a white collar peeking out? Sold.

"I'm Roy. it's nice to finally meet you, did you enjoy the care package that I sent with Lian, or did she steal it?" he teases Lian and ruffles her hair.

You smile, remembering how thoughtful and sincere the little basket was, making your heart do funny things. "I loved it. Especially the socks. I love the cats."

"I like your dress, miss." Lian says with a crooked smile.

"Thank you, pumpkin. Why don't you go play and grab a little snack?" you suggest. Roy watches as the tot runs on her little legs.

"How is she in class?" He asks, not entirely sure what else to ask.

"She is one of my best. She's so interactive, and happy and willing to learn. She's compassionate. The other day, she wouldn't let me kill a bug that was in the class, asking me to take it outside. No, she really is a lovely student and a pleasure to teach." You say. Your passion for both Lian and teaching kindergarteners makes his heart do little flips in his chest.

"Im glad she isn't being a little menace."

"Lian told me you put a lot of effort into that basket. I really appreciate the thought. No one's done that for me before and it made me really happy." You smile. That smile does things to his heart and stomach. He hasn't felt this way since Lian's mother, Jade. Except this time it isn't so much the thrill of dating a villain. You are a kindergarten teacher. And you are so beautiful when you smile at him like that.

"It was really my pleasure. Lian loves you as her teacher and I was just trying to give you a little kickstart to the new week back at school." Roy pauses. "I make a lot of bike references. Not sure if that was obvious." he adds sheepishly

"You like bikes?" You ask.

"Yeah. I am something of a mechanic. I bought the bike that I have now after working on a really huge project." Roy says proudly. He really likes his bike. "You have really pretty eyes." He says sheepishly as she shifts.

"Aw, thank you." Your smile makes him want to go out and marry you. Your glasses are so pretty. His eyes travel around your face, the soft, natural roundness of it, the cute rosy cheeks.

Roy shuffles from foot to foot and you just find it so adorable. He's so cute.

"Did you like the colour of the blanket i got you? I thought 'well, you cant go wrong with black'. Unless you hate it and you wanted the pink one. But the pink one isn't as thick. Unless you get warm easily and-"

"Roy, I loved the blanket. The black is also nice. Thank you" You interrupt his rambling and smile at him.

"You have a beautiful smile." Roy realises what he's said and he blushes redder than his hair back in highschool. "I mean- like- your teeth are really white. I MEAN--" He cuts himself off with a groan and his face tilted to the evening sky like 'why me, God?'.

"You okay there?" You ask, slightly concerned ig he's having a stroke.

Lian saw her father struggling and walked up to you. "Miss? My daddy really thinks your pretty and wants to invite you to a tea party." She then whispered loudly, "Don't worry, daddy, I have your back." And kept playing with her friends.

"A tea party meaning, like, a café date? But- Like- it doesn't have to be a date date. It can be a friend date. Or a work date." Roy says nervously as he wipes his clammy hands on his jeans.

"What if it wanted it be a date date?" You ask, halfway to clarify that you're single and into him and halfway to tease him a little, it's fun watching him squirm.

"That's cool. Totally cool. Rad." Roy then decided to shut the hell up before he threw himself into oncoming traffic for using a term that died 20 years ago.

"Rad?" You ask with a raised brow.

"Rad." He decides to roll with it. Go with the flow. Be rad.

He was doomed to forever be a millennial who used the term 'rad'. And now he was going to lie down on the highway.

"So what do you say, miss?" he asks and there's something about the way the blush on his freckled cheeks and the way his blue eyes shine in the evening sunset that make you smile softly as you nod your head.

"Fine, you've convinced me, I'll go on a super rad date with my student's dad."

"Well, you didn't have to say it like that." he grumbles as she looks down at his feet.

"I am the best wingman ever." Lian says to her friends. She only learn that term last weekend and was determined to use it as much as she could.

>>—♡—>

The two of you were having brunch at a nice outdoor restaurant that you chose. You're in a nice sun dress and Roy is in a t-shirt and a pair of slacks. Slacks. This man is wearing slacks to brunch. He is down bad.

"I love the steaks here." You say with a smile. You're wearing makeup. Barely noticeable makeup that accentuates your lashes and hides the blue hue under your eyes from dealing with kids constantly. It look so pretty, but he wonders what you'd look like when you've just woken up, all mussy and frazzled, no makeup. He's pretty sure you'd look just as beautiful as you do all dolled up.

"I've never been here before. But I like the scenery." Roy says as he looked out to the fields where the horses graze and the corn grows. The part of the property the restaurant/café is on is well trimmed and lusciously green.

"Its half the reason I love it here. In winter it's just as pretty, but I like being able to smell the roses." You say, pointing to the rose beds behind Roy. He glances briefly over his shoulder.

"This morning when I was getting ready, Lian kept asking me when you were going to wear so that I could match with you, because it's 'more romantic', as she put it." Roy chuckles. And you kind of just stare at him with a dreamy smile as he speaks animated about his 6 year old daughter. His hands move and his face shows vivid emotion. His smile is charming and his freckles and sunspots adorn his nose and cheeks. His orange nape-length layers are tied back into a bun where pieces that won't reach the elastic have fallen out to create a lil something something that makes his 5 o'clock shadow that's just barely there all the more attractive.

"Are you listening?" Roy pauses mid-story about a time Lian was trying to climb up the kitchen cupboards to reach sour gummy worms at the tippy top.

"Yeah. Lian, gummy worms, kitchen cupboards." You recount key points.

"That was, like, 3 stories ago." He sips his milkshake.

"Right. And which one are we on, now?" You ask, slightly embarrassed that you've been too busy ogling him to listen to his stories properly.

"When I was 20 and juggling life as a new father? Am I talking too much?" Roy asks, suddenly self-conscious that he's talking too much and he's boring you. "Enough about me." He says, making that you don't have to answer the question, in fear that you'll say yes. "Tell me about yourself. I'm sure that there are tons of stories about being a kindergarten teacher that made you think 'what are kids these days?', right?"

"Honestly it's not so much 'what are kids' and moreso 'what are parents these days'." As you tell interesting stories about how some kids show up to school literally coming to school naked and others throwing their poo at people they do not like, Roy watches with a smile, chin in hand as he watches the way the late morning sun brightens your eyes and brings out the soft golden flecks. He admires the way your face goes slightly more rosy due to the warmth that comes with the transition between spring and summer. He watches the way you take bites of your beer steak schnitzel in between stories about what the parents allow and/or encourage their kids to do.

After brunch, Roy insisted paying. His excuse was that he was simply a gentleman and always payed for the first date, but he also saw the hefty bill that came with both of their meals and compared to a kindergarten teacher's salary, he wanted to be nice. Not that he pitied her, he just didn't want to make het broke after the first date.

"So, date 2?" You suggest as you turn to face him once he has escorted you to your car.

"Really? I didn't talk your ear off?" He asks with a playful tone, but a hint of seriousness coloured his voice.

"Nah, I liked listening to you talk. It tells me you can keep a conversation. I'd rather have a guy who talks too much than too little." You say.

"So I do talk too much?" Roy asks.

"No! I meant like, someone who talks a lot. Not too much. Just a lot. Like me. I talk a lot, too." You say quickly.

"Date 2 it is then, Miss." He says with a smile as he takes your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, making you swoon.

"Im glad." Before you can get into your car, Roy tugs lightly at the hand he had kissed and pressed a soft, almost feather-like kiss to your cheek.

"Drive safe. Until next time." He whispers before pulling back, winking and walking away.

Lian was so excited for Halloween this year. She was going as her favourite superhero: Speedy. She's got the red domino mask, as well as a vibrant yellow hat, boots, gloves with a red top and pants. The look's completed by a handful of soft arrows with little suctions at the ends. Safe to say, Roy's seen a lot of those flying (and sticking) to his head over the last hour while you get ready.

Roy is, much to his protest, dressed as Green Arrow since Lian insisted that, "Daddy must dress as grandpa, since I'm dressed up as daddy."

And you agreed quite well with that logic.

"That's only because you get to dress as Dinah. And you won't get teased for dressing like that." Roy pouts adorably and just as you're about to smile and kiss that frown off his lips, Lian pipes up.

"Mama's dressing as grandma!" she squeals with excitement. Your mind stutters and you stop dead on your feet.

You're absolutely frozen.

You and Roy have been dating for nearly two years. Lian being only two when you started out, three when she met you, and now she was four and some months. And she just called you 'mama'.

Roy holds your gaze for a decent 10 seconds. Your head remains dipped, your lips still puckered in that kiss you planned to give him. You stand dumbfounded for a while as Lian jumps up and down on the couch, squealing and giggling, mirth glittering in those soft doe eyes.

"Did I hear her right?" Roy whispers, still sitting on the bed in a too-small-for-him Green Arrow suit, emerald-hued domino mask in hand. His blue eyes peer up at you as you stand back up from your previously paused dip.

"I think so." Your voice is soft. You're not sure what to feel. Right now you feel happy, scared, excited and shocked, all at once.

"Are you mad?" Roy asks. You give him a deadpan look.

"The last thing I am right now is mad."

"So.. what you're saying is.. you're more turned on than you are mad?" He asks, hands tugging at your waist as he wiggles his eyebrows and shakes his shoulders. "I think those odds." His weird sense of humour always has a way of allowing her to relax in situations where she doesn't know how the hell to react.

Much like this one.

"Are you okay, though?" Roy questions, hoping you'll ignore the way his hands drift from their spot on your waist to your rear.

You do.

"Yeah. It isn't the end of the world. And there was always a possibility of it happening, right?" You respond, glancing towards Lian, where she's moved from the couch to a spot on the wooden floors behind Roy, where she shoots spit-sticky arrow at his back, where they do not stick to his cotton suit. The child clearly can't read a room.

Well, duh, she can't, she's four.

"I mean, yeah." he tugs you closer. "Off topic, but is it weird I want you to keep the suit on later?" A grin splits his face.

"Yes." You answer almost immediately. "This is Dinah's suit. I'm not keeping it on. Mostly because I actually have to give this back, but also because Dinah is your unofficial stepmother." Your words make Roy grimace.

"Forget I asked." He mumbles, looking towards the wall like it'll give him the bleach needed to clean his brain from the image you just conjured up in his head.

"Mama, mama! Can I have some juice, please?" Lian asks, tugging on your fishnets that you have yet to put on properly. Your brain short circuits again, but Lian's tugging connects the wires.

"Sure." You walk to the kitchen to get Lian some of those all natural juice boxes Roy bought for the sake of not being bullied at the PTA meetings for the 'unhealthy junk' that he packs into her lunches.

Lian takes it happily. "Thank you, Mama." She smiles with a few missing teeth before she skips away with her plastic bow. When you turn around, Roy is in front of you, arms already sliding around your middle.

"That is going to take some getting used to." Roy murmurs as you melt into his embrace.

"I was going to say the same. And before you ask, no, you can't call me that in bed for the sake of getting me used to it." You chuckle. Roy lets go of you and sighs loudly.

"You always ruin all my fun." He groans melodramatically, throwing his arms up like a toddler. "You're a meanie." He pouts.

Lian hears that and perks up.

"Mama is NOT a meanie! Mama give me juice. She not a meanie." Lian defends yoi, promptly shooting Roy in the face with a spit-slicked arrow that sticks to his forehead perfectly.

"Mama IS a meanie, because she was mean to me!" Roy gasps and takes the arrow off his forehead to stick it against her cheek. Lian looks up at Roy and launches herself at him. Roy catches her and tosses her up in the air.

Her giggles and squeals with each toss. "Again! Again!" She giggles hysterically.

Until Roy tosses her a tad too high and she hits her head on the ceiling. Her giggling is cut short and her squeals transform into ear-piercing wails.

"Shit." Roy mouths as he rubs the back of Lian's head while tears stream down her cheeks, face screwn up.

"Mama!" She sobs.

Roy stops short when Lian calls for you instead of him when she's hurt. Deep down he knows it's because he's the one who accidentally hurt her, but on the surface, there's a fear that comes up.

A bitter taste that makes his stomach churn.

It's a fear that makes him feel like he's losing her. Like Lian will no longer need him. It isn't an anger or envy towards you for Lian wanting you more, but a deep-seated fear that he's going to lose his baby girl.

That fear's always been there, lingering. And for a long time, that fear's been dormant because it's been him and Lian for the longest time. He's never really had to fear losing her because of how dependant she always is. Roy's had to be mom, dad, cook, cleaner, for nearly 4 years all on his own. And at the end of the day, he loves it because he gets to be that for his little girl.

But the moment she cries for you, reaching out towards you with chubby hands as tears roll down her cheeks, instead of curling into his chest and letting him calm her, like he used to. That fear creeps back. Full force.

His grip on Lian tightens just a little as she reaches to you, screaming for you. His eyes meet yours and you see the fear in them. The reason behind it alludes you, but you step closer, hands held out for Lian.

You assume he's maybe a little panicked that you don't want to hold her. But in his mind, you want to aid in taking his little girl away.

"You can't have her." Roy adjusts his hold and cradle's Lian against him. His hold is almost protective and then it clicks to you that he's scared. Scared of losing his baby.

You step closer and place a hand on Roy's hip. "Its okay." You murmur gently and the panic melts from his eyes. He leans into the palm you placed on his cheek and Lian crawls into your arms. You cradle her as you plant yourself on the couch, Roy trailing behind like a sad puppy.

After 30 minutes, Lian's calmed down and fully wants to go trick-or-treating now.

"Mama, daddy, can I get candy, now?" She asks. You gently feel the back of her head and feel the slightest little bump, hidden by the inkiness of her hair.

"She'll be okay. Let's go." Roy reassures, grabbing your and Lian's hands. You finish your costumes up and walk out the door for trick-or-treating.

Roy glances over at you when you arrive at the first house with Lian, letting her run up the steps and push the door bell by shooting a sticky arrow.

"I love you. You're, like, amazing." He says with a whipped face. You grin warmly before pressing your lips against his cheek as his arms wrap securely around you, biceps bulging beneath the skin.

When your ma told you that you'd be spending Halloween with your neighbours, you were excited. You haven't spent a holiday with the Kents in a few years. You and Clark grew up visiting each other on the fence between the two farms.

You'd already heard that Clark got a job offer as a journalist and were very excited for him. The only problem is that he got the job in Metropolis. That's a two to three hour drive away. And you're moving to Central City, for your own job, which is even further away.

This is Clark's last weekend in Smallville.

Your parents are getting in the truck while you find yourself finishing things up in the house. You're in the Halloween-themed sweater Martha had knitted you when you were younger. You'd grown into it in the last couple of years. The design's cute enough, black cat peeking out of a pumpkin. The cat being inspired by the cat Clark had found and given you when you were in elementary school. You'd wanted to name him "Ellie", with the intention of honouring Clark's Kryptonian last name, but Martha said Ellie was a girls' name and you'd both settled on Elliot.

You pet Elliot, slow blinking as he meows whilst rubbing against your calves, tail poised in the air. Once he's fed and has some water, you grab your handbag and head out to your dad's old C10 truck. The blue paint was long overdue for a redo, but your dad insists that it's for character.

You'd hung out with Clark so many times during your childhood, the thought of him leaving so far — permanently — is almost surreal.

You reminisce your childhood with Clark on the dirt road drive to the fence separating your parents' farm from the Kent farm. And Clark's already bouncing on the balls of his feet, grinning widely, rosy cheeks and deep dimples.

Once you get out of the truck, Clark zips over to you and tackles you in a bear hug, just like he does every time you two see each other. Except this time, the two of you hang on just a little tighter.

"It's great to see you. How was boarding school?" His dimples pop as he speaks. You'd been going to boarding school from the start to the end of your high school years. Your parents had wanted the biggest opportunities for you.

"It was good, but there is zero yard. I missed being able to wake up every morning to fresh, clean air and the screaming of chickens." You respond, tone light.

Clark doesn't understand why but his heart pounds just a bit faster, knowing you prefer the farm over the undeniably posh school you'd gone to. And once you're finished greeting his parents with a hug each, you and Clark begin to stroll.

"Are you excited for the pumpkin carving? Ma says she's going to make pumpkin muffins and bread out of the innards and plant some for next season." He smiles. You'd loved Martha's baking since the moment you were old enough to try it.

"You got taller." You comment, remembering how last fall, he was only 5'11", and he now, stands at an impressive 6'3" — making the height gap between you so much more noticeable.

"I know! Ma says you didn't get as tall because you didn't eat your beans enough growing up." He says, Caribbean blue eyes sparkling with mirth.

"Ms Martha has never been wrong, so I can't argue." you smile up at him, eyes crinkling and that's probably Clark's favourite thing about you.

The way your eyes crinkle at the corners when you smile, your face lighting up with warmth that makes his tummy burn.

Once you get to the front of the farmhouse, there are tables set up for pumpkin carving. You and Clark choose the same table and immediately start on it.

"Why carve it the traditional way if you can just use your heat vision?" You question him, as you stab your knife into the top of the orange vegetable.

"It's more fun this way." He says as he bumps his stupidly carved hip against yours.

"Congrats on your position in Metropolis. I'm really happy for you." Your grin doesn't betray the way you'll miss him.

And you don't need x-ray vision to know he'd miss you too.

"Thanks." He hums softly. "I can't wait to meet new people and make friends." He seems bittersweet about it, but you opt to not question him on it. "But don't worry," he continues, that mid-western drawl showing through, "I won't forget you or our childhood of laughs." He reassures. "In case you were worried about that." Clark adds afterwards, glancing back down at his pumpkin.

"Well, I would hope not. Though considering you remembered my fake strawberry allergy and went out of your way for years to make sure that I didn't go into anaphylaxis." You say with a little smile, remembering 8 year old Clark making sure you never came in contact with strawberries, even remotely. Until you had a strawberry and lemon cheesecake for your 11th birthday. He nearly had a heart attack until you'd told him you weren't actually allergic and you thought allergies were so cool back when you were younger and you thought strawberries were a cool allergy.

"Oh, golly. I remember that. I also remember you got so mad at me when I snatched that cheesecake from you." He chuckles. It's a light, bubbly sound. You laugh alongside him, remembering how red-in-the-face you got when Clark took the generously cut slice from you 'for your own good'.

You carve out the insides of your jack-o-lantern while sipping on a honey cinnamon hot chocolate that Martha had made for you.

"Where do I put the pumpkin innards?" You question Martha and Jonathan.

"You can put them in that maize bag right there, hon." Martha points. You toss the seeds and pumpkin flesh into the red and yellow maize bag that says 'a-maize-ing maize'.

You look over to Clark's pumpkin after about half an hour later. It has heart eyes and glasses. When you look back up at Clark, he, too, has glasses.

"What are those for?" You ask, knowing that Clark doesn't need glasses.

"I decided when I move to Metropolis, I am going to do good for the people of the city. Ma says any good needs a good disguise.”

He beams and you can almost see the young teenager in him, running around with his Kryptonian blanket around his shoulders with a pair of red jocks on the outside of his pants.

"You're gonna do great, Clark." You smile.

"Clarkie, the chickens need feeding. Why dont you go feed them quick?" Martha says.

Clark nods, taking his glasses off. "On it, Ma." He says, nodding for you to go with him.

You pull on a pair of Martha's old wellies she gave you once you got too big for your previous ones and you were at their farm that day. The wellies have pink flowers on them. She told you that Jonathan had given them to her one their 20th Anniversary, when Clark was 5. And that year, he'd gotten her a new pair, leaving the 10 year old pair of wellies to you when you were 16. They lived at the Kent farm for whenever you needed them.

You walk with Clark towards the chicken coops, there's a small foot path in the waist-high grass till you two reach a chicken coop with a large fence perimeter. Clark opens the little gate and lets you in first.

The moment he closes the gate behind him, a larger than average rooster runs up to you, wanting to attack you. You shriek, hands shooting out instinctively and you hold onto Clark. He wraps a firm arm around your waist and slaps the rooster out of the air.

"Hey! No attacking. Ma said if you attack again, we're gonna eat you." He narrows his eyes at the rooster, who goes slowly back into the coop.

Clark looks down at you again with a dimpled grin. "Sorry about him." He keeps his arm around your waist for a tad too long before he grabs a bag of chicken feed from the corner and throws out a decent few handfuls.

Once he's done, he mentions something about needing to fetch a new bag from the barn. You follow him like you always used to.

"This place still smells like the paint you dad used on it." You mention, fingertips brushing the blood red paint on the inside of the barn where the Kents keep their hay, grass and animal feed. The cows sleep here during snow storms. Which rarely happens.

"It does." He says, sitting on the square bale of hay. After a moment of contemplation, he looks up at you, something new in his blue eyes.

"I'm gonna miss you." He murmurs, playing with a hole, small and imperceptibly worn into his lightened jeans.

"I'm gonna miss you, too, Clark." You reciprocate as you walk closer to where he's sitting.

"Do I get a goodbye kiss?" He asks, mischief clear on his tone. You can't hide your grin as your cheeks heat up from the request. You'd never kissed him before. Even if you'd thought about it often while away.

"A lady never chases a man." You say, repeating something one of the girls in your boarding house said.

"So proper." He says, standing up and sauntering closer. "What next, you gonna tell me to clean my hands before I touch your clothes?" He asks, hand hovering over your waist.

"Nah." As soon as the words leave your lips, his arms are snaking around your waist and his mouth presses against yours.

You sigh into the kiss, hands closing around the straps of his dungarees before sliding up around his neck.

Clark's tongue swipes over your lip, asking softly for permission to kiss you proper. Once your mouth opens, his tongue slides into your mouth with a deep groan from him. His brows are knitted, arms tight around your waist and his chest aches deeply that this might be the last time you two get before he's off for some city 3 hours away.

When you two pull away, but not far, breaths still mingling, lips pink and kiss-swollen, Clark's eyes are glossy and his bottom lip trembles.

That triggers some emotion of your own.

"Clark—" your words are cut off when he hugs you, his face buried in your shoulder, large arms wrapped around your middle. Your feet are off the ground as he pulls you up high enough that he's upright and your shoulder is at his eye level.

A soft sob shakes his broad, meaty shoulders.

"Aw, Clark." You coo, hand rubbing his shoulder while the other runs through his hair.

Tears of your own trek down your cheeks as a hot burning lump forms in your throat.

"I'm scared. I won't know anyone. What if they're mean? What if you don't like me when I come back?" He sobs and your arms tighten around him.

"I'll always love you, Clark. You know that. And so what if they're mean. They're just mean because they don't know Clark Kent." You smile.

"I don't think a single person can hate Clark Kent of Smallville. Especially not your super persona. What are you gonna go by?" You question, changing the subject while hands rake into his hair.

"..Superman." He mutters, head on your shoulder, forehead in the crook of your neck.

"That's a great name." You comment gently and a smile ghosts his pretty, still swollen lips.

"Thanks." He presses a soft kiss to your neck. "Sorry I ruined our moment." Clark whispers, lips grazing your neck just enough to make your breath stutter and your stomach do flips.

"I can hear your heart racing." He smiles. "Does that mean you like it when I kiss your neck?" Lips press into a supple kiss against your pulse, under your jaw.

"Yeah." You breathe before that breath is stolen when Clark's mouth sucks your supple skin into his mouth. He's so soft. And gentle. His hands slide up and down your sides, not low enough to touch your ass and not high enough to touch your chest.

He's reverent. Gentle. You're pretty sure that fact alone turns you on 10 times more than if he was groping you.

"Can I give you a hickey?" He whispers, lips pressing apologetically over the spot.

"Yeah." You nod and his tongue swipes over that spot again. Your knees buckle and he carries you over to the square bale and moves back to sucking your neck. His hands grasp your thighs and knead the flesh.

Your breathing gradually quickens until your pupils are blown wide, lips are parted, mouth dry, your cheeks are flushed and your breathing is ragged.

You'd swear he did way more than give you a hickey.

"It's pretty." He grins at the red mark blooming on your neck. His rough thumb brushes over the redness, eyes soft as he looks at them. The blue is almost swallowed by his pupil.

Once you walk back to the Kent farmhouse, your hair is covering the hickey, to avoid any questions front your or his parents. His parents do, however ask why he's got such a lovesick grin when he walks into the house.

A week later, you walk with Clark to the station. Your eyes sting once his bags are all loaded up.

"I'll miss you, Clark." You whisper once he's pulled you against his big, warm chest in a hug.

"I'll miss you, too, silly." His dimples deepen as he looks down at you, brushing some hair behind your ear.

"Don't go getting a floozy to replace me, now." You mutter, thinking of all the city girls he'll meet.

Clark laughs. "Gosh. I'm flattered you think so highly of me." His hand lingers on your waist. The train whistle blows.

"Bye, Clark."

"Baby, where's the sugar?" You hum, shuffling around the kitchen, barefoot, the tiles smooth and cool under your feet. Your panties sit low and snug on the curves of your hips, accompanied by a matching bra.

Large arms slide around your soft waist, Konner's stubbled chin resting over your shoulder. His black hair sticking up in all directions, bare front is pressed against your back.

"I think we might be out. I didn't see it on the grocery list last week, so I didn't grab it." His soft lips graze your neck as he speaks.

His hands slide up around your waist as you squeeze golden honey into your morning hot chocolate. A hand leaves you and nudges a Red Robin mug towards your working hands, silently asking for his own hot chocolate.

"What do you want to do today?" You question sleepily as you warm the milk for his drink, and the hum of the microwave fills the air.

"I was thinking we do a bit of grocery shopping and then maybe a nice quiet date night in?" He suggests.

"Yeah. I got that new scented candle we can light, if you want." Kon hums lazily in agreement as his hands heat up your middle. His palms are rough, sliding up and down your bare waist. The microwave door pops shut after beeping.

Your hips sway to a song that isn't playing as you pour honey into the cup and stir some hot cocoa powder in the warm milk.

"Marshmallows?"

"Yes, please, baby." He kisses your jaw, piercings cold against the heated skin. You sprinkle teeny marshmallows into each of your cups with a bit of whipped cream on Kon's, which is just how he likes it.

Konner takes over the small, well lit kitchen space as he prepares a breakfast of eggs, sausage and mushrooms, with some toast. You're seated at the kitchen island, having gotten dressed in a simple worn band tee that Konner had left here before moving in with you a year ago now. Worn blue jeans fit snugly around your thighs that Konner constantly describes as 'soft and pillowey'.

"You know what shocks me?" You inquire as Konner sways his hips to a soft song playing from the TV. His own jeans are low enough to reveal his tramp stamp at the small of his back. Winding and twisting ink marring perfect skin.

"What's that, babe?" He ask, his muscular back moves with the rhythm of whatever Ke$ha song he put into his playlist.

"Your twink era t-shirts fit me snugly, but it doesn't make sense because you were still pretty ripped in your twink era." Kon turns, his sunglasses low on his nose. His eyebrow piercing shines in the kitchen lighting as he raises the feature.

"Excuse you, my 'twink era' wasn't an era. It's a lifestyle. And I'm just in my more mature twink era. Less cropped tops." Kon concludes as he moves back to the stove, dishing out sausages and mushrooms.

"It's a shame."

"I think that I'll go back to the cropped tops and skinny jeans once I actually feel like getting hit on when I go out. But I don't. Because I already have a hot babe on my arm." He shoots a wink over his bare shoulder as he clicks his tongue.

The last thing you have to do before going out shopping is pull some shoes on. You opt for some trainers because heels and grocery shopping don't pair well, if it means staying away from sore feet.

Konner just pulls a a well-loved, black and blue ACDC t-shirt. The hemming rests just above his waistband, pale skin peeking out at you whenever he bends or raises his arms.

Ringed fingers brush through his fluffy, obsidian curls before curling back around the handle of the shopping cart. His muscles shift beneath snug sleeves as his booted feet walk rhythmically on the linoleum flooring of the store.

"Do you wanna get the chicken or the beef bangers?" You ask as you hold the two options up.

"Banger? I hardly know her. I'd rather bang you." He smirks, leaning against the stationary cart next to you, denim hugging beefy thighs as he crosses one over the other. His layered belts flash in your peripherals. You groan and smack his stiff peck (which he definitely flexed, knowing you would hit it).

"I'll get the beef." You decide and place the package in the cart.

"But get the chicken, too." Konner says, stretching for the other package, shirt riding up to expose his tattoo again.

That's basically a summary of what weekly shopping with Kon looked like. You choosing between two things and Kon picking both.

"We cant have four types of cereals, Konner." You argue exasperatedly, staring at your dark-haired boyfriend with a dead-pan look.

"Why not? You cant expect me to pick between chocolate, strawberry, rice krispies AND fruit loops. Like, I need variety." He complains like a child, but with the sass of a gay man.

"Pick two."

"Three."

"Two."

"Fine. I'll take the chocolate hoops and strawberry pops." He huffs, knocking the two cereal boxes into the cart.

~~~

"You look so cutie." Kon smiles up at you, dimples popping, when you walk into the living room for your night-in date night. The warm smell of the vanilla candles have filled the space, couples with thick blankets to fight the November chill. Your socked feet slip underneath you when Kon slides his arm around your waist to tug you next to him on the couch.

"What movie did you put on?" your voice is soft to match the atmosphere.

"10 Things I Hate About You, because Heath Ledger is hot." Kon shrugs as you settle against his chest, large arm still comfortably around your waist

About 45 minutes deep into the movie, Konner's tongue is in your mouth and his hands are pressing you into the couch. His knees dimple the couch around your satin thighs.

Your shirt is.. some where on the floor where his shirt was thrown off first. Your pants are not too far from following it.

A soft sound leaves his pretty, swollen lips when your hands touch his belt. His eyebrows knit together, his lips leave yours and blown pupils catch yours for a split moment before his mouth attaches to your neck in soft, wet kisses, lip ring catching on the reddening skin. Your hand tugs gently on the soft hair at the nape of his neck, making his fingers dig further into the exposed skin of your hips.

"You're going to make me lose No Nut November." He whines — like actually whines so perfectly.

A large hand comes up to cup your breast as he begins to suck a soft hickey into the side of your neck. Your lips part for a soft sound.

"You're so pretty, and so sexy, baby." he whispers weakly as his thumb brushes your peaked nipple. And that was it. That's it. The pants are coming off.

Soft hands push Kon to sit down as he shimmies his hips out of the restrictive faded denim till they're around his ankles. Dark blue eyes flick down to his tight-feeling Calvin Kleins before back up to your flushed face.

"You're so pretty." You coo cloyingly as you see a damp circle over the front of his boxers. Konner is red from his heaving cheast up. Pupils almost swallow the blue of his eyes, and he's looking at you like you've hung the moon and stars just for him.

"Say it again, baby." His pink lips curve around the words, like he's trying to catch yours again.

"You are so pretty." Your lips carve a wet trail down from his neck, along his impassioned chest, stopping at the dark line of hair below his naval. Kon sucks in a sharp breath.

"Baby–" He gasps, his hand pressing against your lower back to ground himself, despite the wet patch in his boxers only growing.

"Use your words." You croon, fingers delicately tracing the waistband of his blue boxers, eyes locked on his, but your mind is on that newly healed piercing that's sticking wetly to the soft fabric of his boxers.

"Please– please, put that pretty mouth, that perfect warm mouth, on me, babe. Please." He begs, breathless and needy. And it's such an insanely sexy look on him.