clark kent x immigrant! reader
okay but imagine.. AGAIN!
You step off the bus in smallville, kansas, with one suitcase, a little bit of confusion, and absolutely no idea what you've gotten yourself into. Your english is functional. You know the basics, you can order food, you can ask for directions, but no one warned you about american high schools. No one warned you about the noise. the lockers slamming, the people shouting across the hallway and the sheer amount of bass coming from someone's car in the parking lot. Your ears are genuinely overwhelmed. Back home, things were quieter. Here, everything is loud and fast and everyone walks with so much purpose like they're in a movie.
You're looking around like... why are people wearing pajamas to school? why are the jeans so low? why is that girl's shirt two sizes too small but also bedazzled? You showed up in your nice outfit and suddenly you feel overdressed and underprepared all at once.
The cafeteria is its own circle of culture shock. You stare at the cafeteria pizza like it personally offended your ancestors. Everyone around you is eating it like it's normal, like this sad rectangle of cheese is acceptable food, and you're sitting there thinking who hurt these people. You take a bite of the lunch and immediately miss your grandmother's cooking with your whole chest. You start bringing your own food in little containers and chloe literally moans when she smells your leftovers one day. She hovers like a stray cat every lunch period after that.
and then. AND THEN.
You're walking to class and you see it. A couple pressed against the lockers, full-on kissing. Like, in front of everyone. In public. Where teachers can see. You stop dead in your tracks, eyes wide, because back home your cousin got in trouble for holding hands with a girl at the park. You stare for maybe two seconds too long before you physically turn your body away and speed-walk in the opposite direction, face warm, muttering to yourself in your native language about how these people have no shame 😭
The bullying thing lasted approximately one day. A group of smug guys corners you by the lockers, trying to intimidate you with all the classic american bully lines. One of them goes, "you better watch your back," and you literally turn around, stare at your own back like that's a physical thing you can do, and go, "my back.. fine?" with the most genuine confusion on your face. They stared at you, you stared back, they had no idea what to do. They never tried again. You still don't know why they were talking about backs. Maybe american sports are just that intense?
But here's the thing about you. You're so earnest, so genuinely kind, that people can't help but gravitate toward you. You have this aura, this calmness, that makes people want to sit next to you and talk. You don't even realize it's happening at first. A girl sits down at your lunch table, starts crying about her ex-boyfriend, and you just nod and say "he is.. ah.. trash, yes?" in your broken english, and somehow that's exactly what she needed. She comes back the next day. And the next. You still don't know her name. She's told you her entire romantic history. She always leaves saying "you're the only one who gets me." You don't get her, you don't even know her. But you have a kind face, apparently, and smallville is hungry for that.
Your english gets better slowly, determinedly. You carry a little notebook everywhere, writing down words you don't know, practicing pronunciation under your breath. Sometimes you get things mixed up– in the most adorable way possible!!
like the time with clark 😩
It's a hot day, he's been helping his dad with something, and he walks into the school looking fine. Slightly flushed, hair a little messy, sleeves pushed up. You're trying to say that he looks warm, that he must have been working hard, that you have water if he needs it. what comes out is: "clark, you are hot i see."
He opens his mouth and nothing comes out. You, completely oblivious, pull a water bottle from your bag and hand it to him. "here. for the hot." he takes it like you've handed him something sacred, mutters "thank you" in a voice that cracks slightly, and you walk away wondering why he looked so surprised.
Another time, you're in class and some upperclassman says, "i'm afraid it's not possible to get a spot on the yearbook committee this late in the semester" You look at them with so much sincerity. "Afraid? don't be afraid. it is just committee"
The upperclassman blinks. Then they laugh. It's genuinely delighted. You get a spot on the committee. No one knows how you did it. You just have that effect on people😭💕
Someone complains about a test and says "i'm gonna die, i'm serious," and you look at them with such gentle concern and say, "please do not die. you can take the test again maybe." they don't know how to argue with you. They just study harder.
You're determined, stubborn in the quietest way. You learn english through sheer force of will, watching late-night tv with a notebook, practicing pronunciation in the mirror, asking clark endless questions because he's patient and never makes fun of you. He loves it. He loves the way you scrunch your nose when you're concentrating, and how you triumphantly yell "I DID IT" when you finally master a phrase you've been struggling with 🥹
You're the girl who invites the whole gang over for dinner and your mom feeds them until they can't move and they all leave saying it was the best meal they've ever had. Clark watches you navigate this weird loud american world with so much grace and determination and he's gone for you. He starts learning a few words of your language just to see you smile!!
Let me hold your hand when i say this:
You're sitting on the kent farm porch, legs dangling off the edge, your notebook open in your lap. Clark is beside you, ostensibly doing homework, but he's mostly been watching you sound out words for the past twenty minutes.
"Okay," you say, tapping your pencil. "i have a list. Words people say, i do not understand."
"Hit me," clark says.
You look at him, alarmed. "No! why would i hit you? you are so nice to me!"
"No, no, it's—" he rubs the back of his neck, smiling. "it's an expression. it means 'tell me.' like, go ahead."
You narrow your eyes at him, writing something down. "Americans say so many things they do not mean. Okay. First word. 'literally.' People say it all the time. Chloe said 'i literally died' yesterday but she is standing right there alive"
Clark laughs softly. "Yeah, that one... people use it for emphasis, they don't mean it literally literally"
"Then why say the word 'literally'? just say 'figuratively'? or nothing? this is confusing"
He watches you write something in your notebook, a gentle smile on his face. "What are you writing?"
"I am writing: 'literally' does not mean literally. Do not call ambulance if chloe says she died."
He lets out a real laugh this time, bright and warm, and you feel something flutter in your chest. You want to make him laugh more.
"Okay, next," you say, hiding your smile. "'down bad.' pete said this, he said he is 'down bad' for the new girl in science class. is he sick? should he go to the nurse?"
Clark's laugh turns into a cough. His ears go pink. "that one— uh— that one means—it means he likes her. a lot"
You blink. "so... 'down bad' means good? but 'down' is down. 'bad' is bad. two negatives? like math?"
"it's not—" he runs a hand through his hair, laughing. "it's slang"
"American english is not real english," you declare, closing your notebook with authority. "I have decided. You are all making it up as you go."
Clark is quiet for a moment, still pink, looking at you with that soft expression he gets sometimes, like you're the sun and he's just happy to be in your light.
"Yeah," he says quietly. "Yeah, we kind of are."
You nod, satisfied, then you bump your shoulder against his.
"You are my favorite american, though. even if your language is fake."
He looks away, but not before you catch the smile spreading across his face.
