Summary: One joke about eloping turns into vows, a honeymoon, and Clark proudly calling you “my wife” every chance he gets.
Pairing: (Husband) Clark Kent x F!Reader
C.w./Tags: Domestic fluff, eloping, semi sexual content, est. relationship, firting & tension, Ma & Pa kent, Jimmy & Lois, words of affirmation, praise, clark is yearning and i love that
W.c.: 1.4k
A/n: This is a shorter rewrite of my "Eloping with clark" fic. My writing has improved since I wrote that, & I personally think this one is better. <3 |Clark Kent Masterlist|
The day began the way it often did: slow and easy, the two of you lingering in bed a little longer than you should, savoring the quiet. Clark padded downstairs in navy pajama pants while the scent of something sweet, strawberries, and toast drifted up the stairs. You followed him, still half-dreaming, and greeted him at the kitchen doorway with a kiss.
He smiled, hand warm on the small of your back. “Hey, pretty girl. Want to sit?” he asked, patting his thigh. You did. He set a plate in your lap and fed you strawberries like it was an indulgent, private ritual. His laughter rumbled against your spine whenever you teased him. One hand found your thigh, the other tilted a berry toward your mouth; his lips ghosted the shell of your ear, hot and teasing.
“We should get ready soon,” he said softly, the words meant for both of you and the plans later in the day. You nodded, sliding his old university tee over your head and catching his eyes as you left the room. He watched you go, ridiculously proud and embarrassingly flushed when you turned and scolded him about staring at your ass. You giggled at his red face and disappeared into your cavernous closet.
Clark had always spoiled you with dresses, shoes, and random little luxuries, and the closet was proof. You stepped out in heels, called, “Clarkie, I’m ready!” and felt your chest lift when he kissed your hand and told you you were beautiful in a way that only he could make you feel like the truth.
The lunch with friends was cozy, full of chatter and a little gossip. Over a glass of wine, your friend joked about how miserable weddings were and how she would have eloped if she’d known. The idea lodged in your mind like a quiet longing. The rest of the afternoon felt quieter than it should, not because the conversation had died, but because you were thinking of possibilities, of how small impulsive choices could be the biggest ones.
On the drive home, Clark broke the silence. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, glancing over at you. You told him the truth: the thought of eloping had been sweet and sudden, a tiny, bright ache. You imagined running away together, saying your vows on a whim with salt on your skin and laughter in your throats. You expected Clark to gently smooth the edges of that fantasy with reason.
Instead, he pulled into the driveway, turned to you with a look you’d never seen, all sudden resolve and a grin that made your insides flip. “Say the word and we’ll do it,” he said. You laughed, both stunned and thrilled, and then you both bolted from the car, stumbling and messy, laughing as you raced back inside to grab a few things. Twenty chaotic minutes later, you were packed, breathless, and exhilarated, as Clark hefted your bag and carried you to the car.
He drove like a man with a secret and a mission. When you landed in a little seaside town and settled into a bright villa, Clark shepherded you out to a tiny shop that sold the kind of simple, semi-formal dresses people wear when they mean it but do not plan for it. You found a strapless white dress with little pearl trimmings, not a couture gown, but perfect for the spur-of-the-moment you were in.
Clark had asked around until someone pointed him to a small chapel that overlooked fields of wildflowers and the ocean. It felt like a place made for vows said with the wind as witness. You walked up the aisle hand in hand, knees trembling, tearful and laughing at once.
When the officiant asked about rings, you reached for the truth: there hadn’t been time. Clark reached instead into his back pocket and produced a small, worn pink box. You blinked. “My ma gave me this after she first met you,” he said softly. “It’s the ring my pa proposed with. She wanted you to have it.” You swallowed down a flood of tears and said the only thing that mattered: “I do.”
Clark didn’t wait for the officiant to tell him to kiss you. His lips were on yours, warm and hurried, and when you pulled back, the small circle of witnesses clapped and laughed and wiped their eyes. You were married; it was simple, true, and completely you.
The rest of the day bled into a golden blur: congratulations, embraces, a too-short reception, and then the hush of the villa as you began your honeymoon. Clark’s hands were magnetic: the way he touched your shoulder, the small kisses behind your ear, the way he hummed through sentences. You teased him in the car, he kissed you in the back of the town square, and when he carried you over the villa threshold, the world narrowed to just the two of you.
Inside the bedroom, the air changed with the weight of the moment. This was the first time you would make love as husband and wife, and the knowledge made every touch both tender and urgent. Clark’s restraint, usually so reliable, slipped away. He kissed you with the kind of hunger that was full of love, rougher and softer all at once.
You let him. Clothes fell away in hurried pieces, hands memorizing familiar places and discovering new ones. The way he held you felt like home and revelation: he was both gentle and fierce, attentive to every sound you made and every breath you lost. You asked if he could be just you, no barriers, no distance, and when he agreed, you knew the trust between you had deepened in ways words could not trace.
What followed was intimate and intense without needing to be described in detail: a steady, relentless closeness where kisses spliced between whispers of “I love you” and “you’re mine” made the world feel right. You rode a tide of sensation together, collapsing afterwards into a tangle of arms and breathless laughter, skin cool against the aftermath. Clark cupped your face and kissed each freckle and freckled shoulder as if blessing you.
“You’re mine,” he said against your lips, voice soft and awed. “Always.” You slept like that, curled into him, dizzy with the sweetness and the exhaustion that only a day like that can bring.
When you finally returned home, the Kents’ farmhouse felt like a storybook scene. Jonathan and Martha stood on the porch with a warm pie and the impossible, proud smiles of parents who had just welcomed someone new into the family. Martha fussed over you not inviting her, but was still happy nevertheless, while Jonathan whooped and clapped, delighted.
At the Daily Planet, the morning after your return, the newsroom nearly exploded when you and Clark announced, “We got married.” People who’d assumed your relationship was a summer fling blinked at the news; Jimmy choked on his coffee and Louis demanded to be shown the ring. You beamed and shared the polaroids: the chapel, wildflowers, his nervous smile, your hair in the wind.
The papers picked up a photo of Clark on duty as Superman, saving a kitten or helping an old woman, hands heroic and kind, and the tabloids speculated wildly after seeing the ring on his finger. Soon, everyone had opinions about the man who wore the cape and the woman who had stolen his heart. Your coworkers laughed, teased, and fawned. Clark, forever blushing at the attention, didn’t care. He had the one thing he’d always wanted: you.
He became delightfully insistent on one little thing: calling you his wife. Morning and night, it slipped into everyday sentences, sweet, constant, and clumsy in the best way. “Good morning, Mrs. Kent,” he’d murmur over coffee. “Does my wife want waffles or french toast?” He’d watch the ring on your finger like it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
Sometimes he used it to tease in private, fingers tracing the band as he asked, between kisses, “Does my wife want to stay in bed all day?” Other times it came out urgent and earnest in the dark between breaths: “My wife, my everything.”
When you asked him about it, he’d laugh, kiss the back of your hand, and sigh. “I’ve been waiting for this since the first time I saw you,” he’d say. “I’ve been married to you from that moment, I guess I’m just finally allowed to say it out loud.” And you let him, because it fit. The name felt like a promise, and every time he said it, you remembered, again, the quiet miracle of being the person he came home to.
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The team adores being with you. You fit into their dynamic perfectly, a soft lover among hardened men. The only thing that gets on their nerves a little is your elopement.
"Shit, where did Y/N go this time?" Simon grumbles as he comes back to the cart, Kyle and Johnny looking around for you than back at each other.
"I thought you were watching them!" Johnny accused as he shoves Kyle's shoulder.
"I thought you were." Kyle huffs, shaking his head as he starts walking towards the end of the aisle.
"Ah, Kyle, don't go anywhere!" John calls out, arm wrapped firmly around your waist while you held a rotisserie chicken in your hands. "I found them in the deli."
"We needed chicken." You shrug, setting the chicken into the cart. Price takes your wrist, and the balloon he bought at the front counter, tying it to you. "Hey, what's this for?"
"We can't stop you from wandering off, but we can find you easier with this." He huffs, kissing your forehead. You pout a little at that, but not even five minutes later, Kyle uses it to find you in the bread aisle.
"Kyle, baby, do we have peanut butter?" You ask as you turn to face him. He smiles at you fondly, shrugging his shoulders and watching you pop two containers in the cart. "Better safe than sorry."
A little scene I might expand on. Context: Dead on Main is engaged, neither Danny nor Jason has the best relationship with their families.
~~~
"I think we should elope."
"What?!"
Of all the things Jason might have expected Danny say to in response to "Who should seat next to who during our ceremony" it was not this.
Jason stare back at him in blank shock, but Danny continued.
"We should elope. Just you, me, Jazz and whoever you want to be your witness."
Jason could tell he was entirely serious. What he couldn't figure out was why.
"What about having the ceremony? The reception? We've already started planning?" Jason asked, not accusatory simply confused.
"Yes," Danny agreed. "And your already stressed out of your mind trying to arrange power-proof venues and planning managing your guests and making sure nothing goes wrong. We haven't booked anything yet so it's not-"
"But that's just how its supposed be, isn't it?" Jason butt-in, starting to feel anxious. Did Danny not want a wedding?
"Jase, your wedding shouldn't have to be about you worrying that the wrong guest will say the wrong thing to the wrong person or that someone will get drunk and damage the venue. It shouldn't have to be about you catering to people who you can barely tolerate for the sake of appearances. It should be about you," he paused to take Jason's hand, "about us, being happy to officially spend the rest of our lives together."
Jason felt the knot in his chest loosen. He didn't realized Danny had noticed.
When Jason Todd, the Red Hood, the second Robin, announce he getting married the caped community assumed they'd be involved. People he hadn't talked to in years started asking about the ceremony. Titans he remembered barely tolerating him asking about if he'd chosen Dick as his best man or if B would walk him down the aisle. He had capes requesting not to be seated near exes and informing him of dietary needs. As if it was a given he'd be inviting them all by virtue of them knowing the rest of the Bats.
Oh and don't get him started on the Bats. The first time Bruce had called him since slitting his throat was to ask if his fiancé knew about his identity. Alfred had sent him a gift basket with wedding pamphlets and questions for when he should book fittings. Babs had asked for a wedding registry. As if they cared what gift to get him, when they barely even cared to checked on him when he was recovering.
Danny had been the one holding his hand through nightmares and doctor's appointments. Danny, who loved him enough to propose. Who recognized when he was stressed over planning a wedding for people who barely cared. Who suggested they elope.
He leaned forward resting his forehead on his fiancé's.
"What about your family?"
Danny grimaced slightly, but continued to speak strongly and reassuringly, "You know I'm not in the best place with my parents, yeah? Jazz is all the family I need. And soon you will be too."
Jason felt himself flush, pulling Danny into a hug to hid his red face.
"People are expecting a wedding."
"I am not getting married for them. I am getting married for us."
Danny pulled back, taking Jason's face into his hands. "I just want you to be happy Jase. It's okay if you want them there. If you want a big wedding with all the bells and whistles, we can do that. But I don't need all that. I just need you."
He looked Jason straight eyes. His gaze was steady and unwavering. No matter how hard he looked Jason could not find a hint of doubt in those eyes.
Jason inhaled sharply.
"How about next weekend at East Municipal Courthouse?"
"Sounds perfect," Danny smiled, leaning in to kiss him.
Hoping Pixie go sleep with sleep medicines . And . Not get woke up because for fireworks . What sound too much like . Big guns and “ small “ bombs . to Pixie .
Like what got used on native people not actually very long ago . When Pixie baby :(
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In which Omega!Wei Wuxian in an attempt to put an end to any matchmaking, brings a handsome commoner home and announces they eloped and that "Lan Zhan" agreed to marry in (since he doesn't care about status, he already has enough of it for the both of them :DDDD)
__
His adopted brother and head of the Viscounty, Beta!Jiang Wanyin, fully supports his decision since he'd rather keep him by his side as his right hand (rather than marry him off to secure a dubious alliance with another noble house. YES HE'S STILL SALTY ABOUT HIS SISTER'S MARRIAGE, WHAT OF IT???!?!?). And really, it saves him from the hassle of finding a match of his own, he can just name Wei Yuan as his heir.
(What if his parents make a fuss? It's not as if they never had something to complain about, they'll just get over it in time.)
__
And in which the crown prince Alpha!Lan Wangji felt utterly charmed by the Omega that proposed to him so daringly. Not for his status, not for his money. But for his FACE. So he goes along and lets himself get attic-wifed (much enthusiastically. Everyday means everyday.)
__
Meanwhile King Lan Xichen searches for his brother the second Jade of Gusu, the finest blade of his generation and most sought after bachelor, that went missing for more than a year.
Then he gets invited to Wei Yuan's 100 day celebration in the Jiang Viscounty.
