WASSUP BULLET

Midori Sour pt.2 (d.f.)

pairing: dominic fike x (photographer fem! reader)

word count: 3,347

summary: you attend your friend Omar's pool party. what happens when liquid courage and a certain curly-haired boy combine to change your perspective on LA?

warnings: (18+) explicit language, smut, smoking of maryjane, unprotected s3x (kinda?),

author's note: Let me know down below if you guys would like a part 3 with the morning after. It would be such an adorable way to end this little mini series <3

-

It seemed he was thinking of you too, because soon after blue light flooded a small part of the room from a text, an unsaved number.

It read: “Can’t sleep. Come watch tv with me?”

You all but ran to the door, hopping up and making your way across the hall with no second thoughts. You lightly knocked, peering down the empty hallway, blanketed in silence as you waited for him to answer.

Your heart caught in your throat as the door swung open, and there he was. Clad in nothing but pajama pants, towering over your heated frame, he looked like everything you needed in this moment. 

“One second..” He turns to walk back to the bed briefly, grabbing a freshly rolled joint and returning to meet you back at the door frame. “You down to come smoke this with me first?” He tilted his head slightly as he waited for your answer. You nodded, a small smile making its way onto your face.

You stepped aside, letting him lead you down the dimly lit hallway. The scent of his cologne followed behind him as you both made your way to the backyard. It looked so different out here when it was empty. Neon lights gently blanketed the large pool, pool floats drifting aimlessly, and the moon reflecting delicately in the calmness of the pool. You and Dominic walked to the edge of the water, sitting criss-crossed aside on the warm ground. The silence was a sharp contrast to the overstimulation of earlier, save from the quiet flickering of Dom’s lighter as he lit the joint. You watched closely as his pink lips parted, ghosting the smoke effortlessly. 

“So..”He took an additional hit before handing it to you gently.”How long have you been like..in LA full time?” His eyes traced your features as you took a hit, waiting eagerly for your answer.

“Almost..6 months just about.” You blew out a bustling cloud of smoke, handing the joint back.

“You feel like you’re adjusting well?” 

“Can you ever really feel adjusted to LA?” You sighed. He chuckles dryly, smoke coming with it.

“I’m with you on that. I've been here for a few years now, and shit, it still feels like sometimes I can’t ever keep up.” He shook his head, taking his bottom lip between his teeth as he titled his head back to gaze up at the blanket of scarce stars blanketing the dark sky above you. The joint was at its near end, and after taking a final hit, he looked back towards you.

“Finish it off for me hm?” He held the small remnants of the joint in the air near you, watching you closely as you leaned forward to take a generous hit, not breaking eye contact. You pulled back, coughing at the smoke filling your lungs, and you both broke out into giggles at the choked sentence you attempted to get out mid cough.

“Holy shit.” You finally began to catch your bearings.

“You good?” He leans forward, one hand reaching to grab the underside of your jaw gently.

“Yeah..” Your breath stalls at the sudden contact. “Do you…should we go inside and get snacks or something?” You mentally facepalm yourself.

Snacks? Seriously Y/N? 

“Oh uh..sure.” He hops up, offering his hand down to you, and hosting you to meet him on your feet.

You are once again trailing behind Dominic as you both make your way back inside. The kitchen is just as stunning as you remember , draped in marble countertops with a large island in the center. The pool lights crashed through the glass wall overlooking the backyard, serving as the backdrop to you and the tall boy’s silhouettes.

As he opened the fridge, you went to the candy drawer, remembering it from last time you came over.

“Y/N I’m not gonna kill you for grabbing a snack you know? Look through the drawers hunny,  I can’t even finish half the shit I buy anyway.” Omar stated.

“Yeah-sorry.” You stumbled out.

“You know, one day soon, you’re gonna come out of that shell of yours.”

“Maybe for the right amount of liquor and a miracle." You sigh.

You chuckled at the memory, settling on a pack of sour patches to sooth your munchies. You padded over lightly to the island, leaning back up against it. Dominic made his way across from you, leaning against the counter opposite you. You were too focused on opening the package to notice his gaze trained on your face.

After finally getting it open, you finally looked up at him. “Want some?” You raised an eyebrow.

“For sure.” He leans forward, opening his palm as you shake a few into his hand.

A comfortable silence fell over you both, as you briefly turned your head to look out the window. Being alone with Dominic was strangely comfortable, almost like you two already knew each other. You returned your gaze to him, surprised to find him still taking glances at you, seemingly deep in thought.

“What?” You broke the silence.

“What do you mean what?” His eyebrows furrowed.

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what again?” He asks, genuine concern lacing his voice.

“Your eyes, that thing you do. I feel like you’re looking too deep into me. Like you’re gonna see something you don’t like if you stop prying.” You state dryly, peering down at your feet that have become the most interesting things in the world.

“I haven’t been able to stop looking at you all night, don’t you realize that? If there was something about you I disliked, which there isn’t, I’d know by now.” You couldn’t help the heat spreading through your cheeks, and more importantly the schoolgirl-like smile fighting its way to your face, tilting your head down to your feet in an attempt to hide it.

Your breath stalls in your throat as you see him stand up from his leaned position on the counter, walking closer and closer to you until there was nothing but a few inches between you too. You could feel the heat blazing from his skin, and you had no choice but to face him as he caged you in against the counter with his arms on either side of you. He was towering over you, bringing his face so close to you that the faint smell of mint and weed was faint.

His doe eyes were blown, and you couldn’t help yourself from utterly and completely drowning in them. A small smirk made its way to his face as he took notice of your shaky breathing, your own eyes mirroring his. 

“Dom..” You muttered weakly.

“What is it?’ He asks, feigning ignorance. “You have me out here about to kiss a girl I just met today, you realize that?” He sighs.

Please do something, anything.

You nodded, begging him silently to do it. Just as you stood on your tippy toes to hover your lips closer, he lunged forward gently to connect your lips. You had been aching for this feeling all day, and the pleasure surging through your veins was even more euphoric than you could’ve imagined. It started out gently, testing the waters as you both sank deeper. You and his hands began to make their ways to explore each other, making your kiss deeper and more intense. 

You gasped as he lifted you onto the counter, and he replaced his mouth in no time. Your legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him closer as you began to slyly grind up into him. It took everything in him to pull back from you, and you almost chased his lips as he began to speak.

“How far do you wanna go?” He pulled back from you, raising his eyebrows, rubbing circles into your hips.

“I want you to take me all the way Dominic.” You breathe out.

Holy shit this cannot be happening.

Without missing a beat, he lifts your heated frame into his arms, resuming your kiss as he walks you back to his room, closing the door behind him. He places you down gently on the bed, crawling over you between your thighs, using his arms to hold him up above you.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” He says breathlessly, pupils blown out from the adrenaline pulsing through him.

“Hm you think so?” You asked shyly.

“Yeah I do.” He smiled at your coyness, diving back in to connect your lips. His warm hands made their way under his hoodie on your body, making you gasp as they came in contact with your stomach. You began to rid yourself of it, and he leaned back to help you finish, tossing somewhere in the room haphazardly. 

He kissed down your jaw, kissing and sucking lightly across your neck, tilting your chin back gently for access. A whimper broke from your lips, cutting through the silence in the room. He continued his torture down the expanse of your chest, leaning back to play with the edge of your tube top. 

He tilted his head to the side at you adorably, “Is it okay if I take this off?” 

“Mhm.” You nodded.

You pulled it over your head, the both of you now only clad in bottoms. You instinctively rush to cover your chest, and his intense gaze softens for a moment. He gently grabs both of your hands in his hand, removing them from your chest to push your hands above your head. He dips his head down, peppering kisses all over your chest. 

“So so pretty.” He says between kisses. His mouth trails over to your nipples, eyes locking with yours as he wraps a mouth around your nipple. A whine rips through your throat, echoing a little too loud. He pulls back, whispering near your ear while nipping at it.

“I need you to be quiet for me babydoll. You think you can do that for me?” His voice sends a lightning strike of pleasure down through you and to your core. His eye contact found its way back to you, the depth of his stare drowning you. With the way he looked at you, he could convince you to do anything.

You nodded, eyes glazing over.

“Good girl.” He nods back at you, humming in approval. “Lift up your hips for me.” He slid your underwear and pajamas off of you gently.

A chill ran through you as you realized you were completely and utterly bare to him, and he had the same realization. His eyes raked over your frame, mouth slightly agape as he took you in fully.

“Jesus christ you are perfect.” He rasped out, heat flushing your features at the compliment.

“Dom..” You cover your eyes with your hand, turning away from him as a smile breaks out on your face. 

He silently slid down the bed, finding a place between your thighs as he hiked your leg up onto his shoulder. Your breath began to become unstable, your brain unable to catch up to your body. You felt his soft lips gently kiss the inside of your thighs, and he leaned his face onto your thigh.

“Hey…look at me baby. Please?” You couldn’t resist the sickeningly sweet rasp of his voice, and peeled your arm away from your face to look down at him. His puppy eyes were impossible, brown and deep, silently begging you to fully give yourself to him.

You watched as he hovered over where you needed him most, finally connecting his mouth to your core. You threw your head back at the contact, the weed and buildup from today combining to make you more sensitive than you’ve ever been in your life. Your breath stalls, and you grip onto him for dear life, suppressing the moan that threatens to spill as he works you over with his tongue. 

He begins to slide a finger into your entrance slowly, gripping onto your hip to keep you still as your hips jolt at each brush of your g-spot. Your hips grind up into him, small whimpers and heavy breaths racking your chest. He hums in appreciation, selfishly relishing in how hard you were fighting to stay quiet. The plateau you had been on was now turning into an incline, and you felt yourself becoming closer and closer to tumbling over the edge. Your legs shook uncontrollably, stiffening as your hands searched wildly for something, anything to bite down on.

You settled on a throw pillow, bringing it to your mouth as you sunk your teeth into it. Your eyes rolled as a sob racked your chest into the pillow as your orgasm suddenly washed over you. Dominic watched uninterrupted as your back arched, and you gave into him shamelessly, convulsing underneath him with your hand laced in his near your hip.

He let you ride it out before pulling back as you whined at the sensitivity, wiping his mouth of you and bringing himself back above you.

“Hey..” He cupped your face gently, trying to coax your eyes back to him. “Are you okay?”

“Mhm.” You nodded, still finding your breath. “Holy shit.”

He chuckles at your dramatics, leaning down to kiss your forehead. When you finally open your eyes, the fire behind them is burning bright, pupils blown from your recent rush. 

You peer down between you both, noticing the tent in his pants that’s poking lightly against your thigh. He follows the path down to where you’re looking,  taking in the way your mouth was slightly agape. 

“Hey.” He calls your attention back to him, rubbing his thumb gently at your cheekbone. “Are you okay if I-”

“Yeah!” You clear your throat. “Sorry. Yeah. That’s fine.”

He flashes you a look of gentleness, moving back from you to rid himself of his pajama pants. He groans at the relief, his manhood stiff and taunts against his stomach, precum glinting in the lights of the room. You can’t help when your eyes widen at the sight. He climbs back over you, pulling the comforter over you both up to his hips.

“Dom..I don’t…I don’t think that’s gonna fit.” You weren’t a virgin, but the sheer size of him compared to what you were prepared for was making your mind race. His eyebrows raise, as he smiles down at you. 

“I’m flattered that you think I’m well endowed. But I promise you, it will. Trust me.” Sincerity danced around the rings of his irises, leaving you no choice but to believe him. You nod slowly, releasing a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“Are you on birth control baby?” He continues. You nod again. He kisses your nose. “Good.”

He finally settles between your legs, beginning to rub his tip between your dripping folds, making both you and him gasp. “Holy shit baby you are soaked.” He groans, squeezing his eyes together to find his bearings. He pauses for a moment, massaging your hip bone as he begins to speak again.

“You are beautiful, you know that?” He looks down your frame, taking in you again once again, relishing in the compromising position you both found yourself in. “I need you to let me know if it's ever too uncomfortable, I will stop anytime. I mean it. Can you do that for me?” 

“Mhm.” You nod, unconsciously grinding your hips up into his in impatience.

“Ok. Ok. I get it.” His breath stalls at the contact, turning his attention back to between your legs. He finally begins to push the head in, both of you gasping again. “Hey. Breathe.” He nodded down at you, taking in your still chest. You attempted to oblige, short, harsh breaths leaving your nose in an attempt to relax yourself. Your eyes rolled as he worked into you inch by inch, the slick walls of you welcoming him in effortlessly. Your hips jump as he finally presses fully into you, brushing your g-spot and making him near whine as you fully sheathed him.

“There we go. Atta girl.” He praised raspily, delighting in how your legs began to wrap around him and your eyes found him in a sultry and desperate spell. When you fully adjusted as he moved slowly, a tame moan broke through the barrier of your lungs, and he ducked near your ear once again. “Shh baby, you gotta be quiet for me remember?”

“Dom I’m trying- it’s so hard.” You whimper pathetically, sounding almost on the verge of tears as you wrapped your arms around his toned back. 

“I know baby I know.” He tuts in mock sympathy, picking up his pace slightly and pressing deeper into you with every thrust. “You can do it though, I know you can.” You threw your head back, clenching down onto him, your hips jolting as he prodded at the one spot you needed him over and over. 

Your hands dug into him harshly, sure to leave some marks in the morning. Your best efforts to conceal your noise were no match for the torturous pleasure washing over you, coursing through your veins. The boy between your legs seemed almost hellbent on making you wanna scream. A guttural moan flies from your lips, and his hand flies up to catch in its path, cupping your mouth.

His eyes lock onto yours, watching as they roll, just as his hips rolled fervently between your own. Your legs began to shake around him, cueing him into your impending release. Another breathless moan is muffled against his palm as he reaches his free hand between you both, using the wetness there to circle your sensitive bud.

“You gonna be a good girl and give me another?” He watches as your wet eyes fight to look back at him, groaning as you begin to clench down on him relentlessly. Before you both knew it you were flying over the edge for the second time, holding onto the man for dear life as silent sobs wracked through your whole body. “There you go. Give it to me.” He rasps, biting down on your shoulder lightly when his own release begins to creep up.

As your orgasm begins to wane in intensity, his own finally approaches, both of you a desperate mess as you hold onto each other like your lives depend on it. You feel him fill you up with one final pump. You would have to grapple in the morning with the fact that you had sex with a man on the first day of knowing him, and welcomed his eager release into you so willingly. However, said man was Dominic Fike, so any residual regret would be very limited, if at all.

He gently pulls out, the emptiness a sharp contrast to the depths of you he has just reached. His mop of curls was flush against your chest as he laid his head down on you. You both laid wrapped in the comforter and the warmth of one another, letting your breaths catch up with you. Your nails scratched his scalp lightly, curls slightly damp, and a hand ran down his overly warm back. Your eyes were barely open, but you peered down at him , noticing his fluttering closed.

“Y/N” He grumbles lightly, almost startling you.

“Hm?”

“Can I take you out to breakfast tomorrow?” 

A tired smile breaks out on your face. “Do you want to?”

“I do.” He shuffles closer to you, burying his face in your neck. “Don't want you to think this is all I wanted you know? You are amazing, from what I can tell. Wanna keep talking to you.” You feel him smile into your neck, pecking a light kiss after.

“I’d like that.”

“Also want you to keep making me midori sours if that's okay.” He says, wrapping himself impossibly closer as if being in your skin wouldn’t even suffice.

“Mm. I can do that.” You sigh comfortably.

You both fell asleep, limps wrapped up haphazardly around one another. The serenity of the night blanketed you both, both of you blissfully unaware of the chaos that Dominic’s story had caused.

While you drifted deeper, a blue notification lit up the entire room:

“Instagram: 1000+ notifications”

-

TO BE CONTINUED: I have made the executive decision to make a finale: part 3! It will be very fluffy and a bit comical, I look forward to wrapping this up in a really sweet way. Thank you all, enjoy!

Avatar / Avatar: The Way of Water Lo'ak I'm Good At Letting You Go (You Were Never the Enemy) part one - part two

Neteyam Don't Let Yourself Be Hurt This Time

sub!elliot pleaaseee

probably will but this in a fic as well bc the concept is very hot

thank u for suggestion !

OBEY

His thighs would shake, cold nose burning the flesh of your neck. Eyes squeezed shut, fast breaths would part from the boy, his arm thrown around you as you pumped him at a quick pace. His stomach suddenly tensed when you ran your thumb over his slippery tip, another high pitched moan ripping from his throat, “Fuck—I’m gonna cum,” he announced, one of his hands flying to your wrist, “Can I cum, please? I’m so fucking close—“

“Cum,” you simply said, his hips lifting off the bed as white spurts of cum landed on your white hoodie. His other hand rested on his lower stomach, while the other squeezed your arm—jerking from sensitivity when you kept going, “I can’t—“

You ignored him, smiling to yourself as you giggled. He let out a choked groan when your hand sped up once again, only twisting on the tip, his hips trying to escape your grip, “Baby, baby—ugh,” He cut himself off, trying his best to escape your grip. His body began to take over his mind as he thrusted his hips again, “It’s too much—it’s sensitive, holy shit I’m gonna cum again,” he said the last part as if he was genuinely scared, shaking his head.

You hummed, pumping harder, and when your other fingers went to pinch his balls—his head snapped to you before his mouth fell open, a long raspy groan tearing from his chest as he came for the second time.

Omg what about this reader sees Ashtray bleeding or something then she helps him and he leads her to fez and says “she’s cool and I owe her one” or something like that.

Please this is so so so so cute.

Hell yeah I'll do this.

"Fuck!" A loud curse tears me away from my phone, my head craning to look in the direction that it came from. A small boy, maybe eleven or twelve, rests his head between his knees, blood pooling below him on the concrete. "Fucking shit!" He squeals once more, now causing me to rise to my feet as I abandon my bus stop and my shift at work.

By the time I reach him, he's groaning quietly against the steps of the corner store, the gash on his forehead looking nasty. I hesitate as the words get stuck in my throat, not exactly used to being in a situation where I can help, but not knowing how to offer.

"Uh, hi." I mutter, the boys annoyed gaze flickering up to look at me. "Do you want help?" I ask quietly, my finger pointing to the blood on his forehead. He curses again under his breath, shaking his head as he blows out a sigh.

"Fuck- No, I don't want help." He hisses, my feet taking a step back as I tilt my head at him.

"I'm EMT certified with a first aid kit. The least I could tell you is if you need stitches or not." I offer again, my arms folding over my chest as he glances up at me, not completely convinced. "Unless you want it to get infected and end up with a three thousand dollar emergency room bill." I snort, his eyes widening as he nods, his hands not moving from his forehead.

"Yeah, alright, I guess. But come inside. Can't have anyone seein' this shit." He huffs, standing up with wobbly legs. I laugh under my breath as I follow him inside the store, watching as he tries his best to hoist himself up on the counter. "Name's Ash." He mutters, swinging his legs over the counter as he sighs.

"Nice to meet you, Ash. I'm Y/n." I smile at the boy, fishing through my purse to pull out my first aid kit. He hands me a paper towel, my hands immediately lifting it to dab off some blood. He hisses, a small, sorry smile on my lips as I work. "It looks like you'll need stitches but if you can put up with me putting a few of them in, I can save you the money." I offer, his eyebrows pulling together as he ponders. After a few moments, he shrugs, giving me the go ahead.

Hearing the bell on the door ring next to me, I turn my head to see a man around my age enter the store. He looks between Ash and I, blinking a few times with a scoff.

"The fuck is happening, Ash?" The man asks, his bright blue beautiful eyes trained on my hands that work on threading the needle.

"I fucking tripped outside, busted my head open. Kind lady here- Y/n- saw me and offered to help." Ash sums up, his nose scrunching up in pain as I gently poke the tattered skin of his forehead.

"Guess nice people do still fucking exist." The man utters with a smile as he passes behind me, making his way around the counter. "I'm Fez. Ash is my brother." Fez smiles, his arms resting against the counter as he watches my fingers lift the needle to his brothers forehead.

"This is gonna hurt, so..." I trail off, Ash taking a deep breath as he grips the edge of the counter. My eyes sneak quick glances of Fez in between threads of my needle, Ash taking the pain way better than I thought he would.

I could tell from the heat on Fez's cheeks that he thought I was pretty. His eyes would flicker over my face and down my body every time that I was caught up with making a new stitch. He's handsome- my type. I always liked tough looking guys with facial hair. The fact that he was also incredibly good looking on top of the other physical qualities, yeah.

"She's cool, Fez, we owe her one." Ash sighs as he hops down from the counter, his eyes trying to make out the stitches on his forehead in the reflection of the cooler. "And I gotta badass scar." I look between the boys with a sheepish smile, my cheeks heating up as Fez smirks playfully.

"Yeah, what do we owe her?" Fez hoists himself up onto the counter, his eyes on mine as I smirk, my shoulders shrugging playfully as I take a chance.

"A date?" I offer, a sweet smile on my lips as Fez's jaw slacks a bit, his cheeks heating up. He looks bashfully away from me, a small smile on his lips.

"What the idiot means to say, instead of complete and utter fucking silence is, yeah, he'll go on a date wit' you." Ash responds on his brothers behalf, a wink being sent my way as I giggle. My hands reach up to rest on my heated cheeks, Fez grinning as he sends me an agreeable nod.

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𝐴𝑙𝑙 𝐴𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝐵𝑜𝑦

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||| ᴄʟᴀʀᴋ ᴋᴇɴᴛ x fem! reader

A/N: I watched maybe two seasons of this show last year and kind of moved past it. I randomly got a Clark Kent fic on my feed last night and suddenly I have a demon in my brain telling me to write. Anyway, there is a horrendous lack of full fledged, non-smut fics for this man, so, here you go.

Summary: Your friend has been distant for months, all of a sudden he's a brand new man. He's practically a puppy dog following after you and you're not sure how to feel. What's a girl to do when she suddenly finds herself looking at not one, but two Clark Kent's?

“Have any plans?” You pull your English book from your locker, fingers stilling as you wait for Clark to respond. Silence stretches between you, long enough to make your brows furrow in confusion. Peering around the edge of your locker door with narrowed eyes, you let out a sigh. 

You should have seen this coming. As always, Clark is staring at Lana from across the hall, looking like he walked straight out of a sappy romance movie. 

She’s close, so close, but entirely out of his reach. She laughs, tucking a perfect, shiny strand of hair behind her ear, completely unaware of the way Clark pines for her. Always pining. Always looking at her like she’s the only girl in the world. 

You could gag. 

Slamming your locker shut, perhaps harder than necessary, you break Clark out of his trance as he flinches away from the noise. His head snaps toward you, blue eyes narrowed on the irritated scrunch of your face. You smile, forcing the snark out of your expression. 

“Did you say something?” His voice is kind, expression open, as though he’s finally ready to listen. But the bell rings, cutting into the moment. You only have a minute to sprint to the other side of school. 

“No,” you sigh, forcing the stilted smile to stay on your face, “I gotta go.”

“I’ll walk with you,” he offers, falling into step beside you. “That way you can tell me what you actually said,” he teases, giving you that familiar boyish grin that never fails to make you unravel. 

You bite your tongue for a moment, mind unraveling as you struggle with telling him the truth or not. This is stupid. He’s Clark, your best friend. Your stupid, oblivious, beautiful best friend. But the way he looks at you, soft and warm as he slows his stride so he can walk together a little longer. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to ask. 

No. It will definitely still hurt. 

“Would you want to do something this weekend?” You rush it all out at once and immediately look away from him, terrified by what you might see on his face. 

There’s a beat of silence. Then Clark laughs, light and easy. Your stomach twists and your head shoots up, a disbelieving glare on your face. You’d known it would be unlikely that he’d return your feelings, but laughing seems below him. 

“Why’re you being so weird?” He shakes his head, still grinning. “We’ll just do a movie night like always.” He squeezes your shoulder, casual, friendly, a wholly innocent gesture. Nothing more and nothing different. It’s completely platonic to him, as it always is. It takes you a moment to realize that he took what you were saying the wrong way. Or, maybe this is just the gentlest way he knows how to let you down. 

“Right,” you struggle to keep your voice even but it doesn’t matter, the dejection slips through your tone. His smile falters slightly and he looks like he wants to say something when the shrill ring of the bell interrupts you both.

“I’ll see you later,” he offers but he sounds uncertain. Most of your plans have fallen through lately. Either because he was busy with Lana or off disappearing somewhere. You’re not sure, but you know the divide is growing larger between you both and you’re getting scared you’re going to lose him. 

“Sure,” you give him a flat smile and he hovers beside you for a moment, like he wants to fix this but doesn’t know how. 

“You’re going to be late,” you startle slightly and glance over your shoulder. Blake, a boy you share your English class with offers you a shy smile as he hovers by the door, holding it open for you to walk through.  

“Thanks,” you walk past them both and into class, not wanting to look at Clark any longer. You miss the sharp look Blake shoots Clark and the way your friend lingers by the door for a minute before rushing off to his own class. 

You slide into your seat, lucky to have gotten in before Mrs. Brown, lord knows she would love to make a spectacle of anyone being tardy. Blake follows not far behind you, slipping into the seat beside you as always. He’s nice enough, quiet, unassuming. You’ve never said more than a few words to each other, but right now all of his attention seems to be on you. 

He whispers your name and you give him a brief glance and smile, mind still wrapped up in Clark. “Um, I was going to ask,” he stutters over his words for a moment, swallowing thickly before finally meeting your eye. “Are you doing anything this weekend?”

“Yeah,” you answer absentmindedly. “I have plans with Clark,” you tell him shortly as Mrs. Brown walks in. You don’t have time to explain that you’ll probably just end up waiting around your house all weekend. Just to get a brief and incomprehensible explanation of why you were all alone on Monday. 

He sinks back in his seat with a sigh just as the teacher begins writing the assignment on the board. You shoot him a slightly concerned look before brushing the interaction off as nothing.

Standing in the line at The Talon has become almost a hobby for you. Not just because Clark drags you here constantly, but because he distracts Lana from actually taking any orders. The wait time seems to triple every time he walks into the shop. You hear people grumbling behind you and finally move toward Clark, breaking the unspoken rule of leaving him and Lana alone. 

“There’s a line, Clark,” you sing-song, warning him. The both of them flush, breaking their hushed conversation and shooting you a sheepish look. 

“I’m sorry,” Lana apologizes and you wave her off. “Do you want anything?” 

You’d been considering getting a muffin, but when you look over and see the lovesick smile Clark is giving her, you find your appetite has disappeared. “Uh, no, I’m good.”

Clark turns toward you with a soft frown and he nearly makes you forget just how much you resent him for dragging you along to see this. “I thought you were hungry.”

You glance back at Lana and find her eyes already on him. God, what’s the point of a breakup if you’re still obsessed with each other? “No, it’s alright.”

You move away from the counter to step outside, expecting him to stay there and continue flirting despite the angry customers behind them. You’re surprised when you hear his voice immediately beside you. 

“Hey,” he moves away from the door, a grin on his face. Face wrinkling in confusion, you nod your head in greeting even though you’d just seen him. Your eyes narrow in on the leather of his jacket and your head tilts in confusion. You swear he was wearing a zip up a moment ago. “What’re you doing?” He asks, tone light as he stands beside you closer than he normally would. 

“Uh,” you’re tempted to glance over your shoulder and make sure he isn’t still standing in The Talon. “Did you hit your head?” He flushes slightly and you laugh. “Just our usual friday endeavors, you moon over Lana and I hold back the mob of angry customers who just want a coffee.” Laughing to ease some of your own tension, it trails off when you see the smile drop from his face. 

His eyes narrow and he glances toward the shop, “Idiot,” he mutters. You shoot him an affronted look and he blanches, quickly correcting himself. “Me, not you.” You want to question him further but he slings an arm over your shoulder and redirects you away from the shop. Mind a blank slate, you feel your brain break slightly at the simple touch. 

When you were younger, before Lana, before either of you even knew what crushes were, something like this would mean nothing to you. As it is, though, your friendship seems to have dwindled to nothing but compulsory hangouts and the occasional conversation in the hallway. Something as simple as his arm around you has turned into everything for you. 

“So, what are we doing tonight?” 

“Movies at your place, like usual,” you remind him. He must have slipped and hit his head on the way out of The Talon.  Either that, or he already forgot the plans you made just this morning. Neither would surprise you. 

His face screws up and he shakes his head, “God, that’s lame.” You scoff, shooting him an odd look, not bothering to remind him that it was his idea. “I mean what’s he-” 

Clark cuts himself off, glancing down at you before letting out a short laugh. “How ‘bout the fair?”

You reach up and press the back of your hand to his forehead. He gives you a bewildered laugh, taking your hand in his and grinning. “What are you doing?”

You lean back slightly, breathless at the awestruck way he’s looking at you. You’ve only ever seen him look at…

Lana, you’ve only ever seen a look like this directed at Lana. But now, those deep blue eyes are pulling you in and you feel helpless to fight them. You swallow hard, blinking while you try to remember what you were even going to say. 

“Uh,” licking your lips you don’t miss the way his eyes track the movement. “I was seeing if you had a fever. Since when do you want to go out?” 

He laces your fingers together and tugs you forward, “Since now.” 

Usually, you’re not so quick to look a gift horse in the mouth. Months, you’ve been praying he treats you with even a semblance of care he throws toward Lana. Now, you finally get it and you can’t help the sick tightening feeling in your stomach telling you this is all wrong.

The fair is less crowded than you had expected. Though, it is nearly the last day it’s in town, you suppose everyone’s already had their fill of it. You have been trying to get Clark to come with you for nearly a week, maybe this is why he had waited so long to join you. Some of the rides you actually got all to yourself. 

“You know these things are rigged,” you tease, watching as he tries and fails at the bottle toss for the third time. The bored teenage girl behind the booth briefly glances up from her book to glare at you both. You shoot her a sardonic smile and she turns to Clark. 

“You can just buy the stuffed animal, ya know?” She drawls. 

“That’s cheating-”

“Where’s the fun in that-”

You and Clark share a grin as you speak over each other. The girl pales at your joined voices and returns quickly to her book, muttering something about annoying couples. 

Your stomach flutters at the idea of you and Clark as a couple but you push it down. “Alright,” Clark chuckles and holds his arm out for you, “let’s get out of here.”

You slip your arm through his easily, smiling up at him. You’ve long since stopped questioning just how touchy he is. Clearly, he’s in a generous mood tonight and you feel like taking advantage of that as much as possible.

“Where to next?” He asks and your eyes crawl across the fairground, struggling to find something you haven’t already done. 

You toss what must be your third lemonade in the closest bin and shoot him a sheepish smile. “I think I’ll need to go to the bathroom before we do any more rides.”

He’s slow to let you go, hand drifting down to hold yours as he steps back. “I’ll wait by the ferris wheel,” he tells you lowly. 

Your cheeks flush, eyes widening slightly as you slip away from him. The ferris wheel is notorious among Smallville students as the place to make a move. Everyone knows it’s just couples that ride up in those rickety old cars. Still, Clark is slightly oblivious to stuff like that. You don’t want to get your hopes up just for it to ultimately be nothing more than a friendly outing. 

Rushing toward the sad group of Port-a-potties you let out an annoyed sigh when you see the long line awaiting you. Your foot bounces against the dirt impatiently as you peer around the girl in front of you just to see there has to be, at least, ten people before you. 

There’s a vibration in your pocket before you hear the shrill ringing of your Nokia. Digging it out of your jeans you answer without checking the contact. “Hello?” The girl in front of you shoots you a dirty look and you take a step back from her. 

“Hey, where’re you?” You frown at the sound of Clark’s voice, glancing around like you might be able to spot him in the crowd. You’d told him where you were going, why would he be calling?

“You know where I am,” you tell him, chuckling. 

There’s a slight huff on the other end and you frown, he almost sounds disappointed. “What are you talking about? We were supposed to watch movies tonight.”

“Okay, Clark, I’m officially concerned. You’ve been acting weird all day. We’re at the fair,” you say slowly, over-enunciating your words like he’s slow. “You said movies were going to be lame.”

There’s a long pause and he utters your name in a concerningly serious tone. “The person you’re with-”

“Alright, do you mind?” The girl in front of you whips around and snaps at you. Blanching, you lower the phone from your ear and she shoots you an incredibly dirty look. 

“Clark, I’ll see you in a few minutes,” you whisper into the phone. 

“Wait-” 

You cut him off, hanging up and shoving your phone in your back pocket. She turns back around and rolls her eyes. It doesn’t take long for your Nokia to start ringing again but you figure you’ll just meet Clark by the ferris wheel like he said. 

Low groaning drifts through the noises of the crowd and makes you pause. Tilting your head around the corner of a trailer, the sounds only grow louder. Everything inside you says not to investigate, but the person sounds like they’re genuinely in pain. You can’t just walk away. 

“Hey,” you call out softly. “Are you okay?”

There’s no response and you take a hesitant step closer. A scuffed white converse slips from behind the back of the trailer and it looks worryingly similar to Clark’s. “Clark?” You call out, creeping a little further into the dark. 

It’s like a cocoon of silence back here, as though the shadows swallow the voices and loud cheering sounds of the games beyond you. “No,” the small voice croaks out. You see a hand in the dirt and they begin dragging themselves forward. You jump back a step, heart picking up as you watch them get to their feet. 

This was a stupid idea, walking toward a stranger in the dark. Even in Smallville you couldn’t trust everyone. They finally turn and you let out a relieved sigh. “Oh, Blake, hey.”

He gives you a weak grimace, clutching his stomach like he’s in pain. “Hi.”

“Are you okay?” You ask, taking a step closer to him, trying to get a better look. 

“Fine, fine,” he stutters out, shifting just enough to keep his face half-hidden in the shadows.  Even knowing the person lurking within the shadows, you still feel slightly on edge. Something about the way he moves unsettles you. It’s not as though you know him well, he’s just a classmate. Someone quiet and harmless. Or, you hope he’s harmless, right now there’s something about him that feels wrong.

“Alright, um, if you’re sure,” you take a careful step backward. Your foot’s barely back on the ground when he lunges forward. His hands stretch toward you like he’s about to snatch you into the shadows with him. You’re stuck deciding whether you’re going to scream or bite him when he jerks back like a puppet being yanked on a string.  

“Sorry, sorry,” he blurts out, breathless. “Clark walked by. He- he told me to tell you he was leaving.”

Your stomach twists with panic. Right now you care more about not getting your throat slit in a dark alley than you do about Clark ditching you. Without a second thought, you turn on your heel and run out from between the trailers. You swear you hear footsteps, quick and light, following your path to the cars. 

Sliding into your car, you lock your doors and peel out of the lot. You leave the fair, and whatever just happened, behind, not looking back. The phone in your pocket vibrates again but you ignore it, too freaked out by what just happened to bother answering.  

Someone calls your name and you peer around the edge of your locker door, grimacing when you see Blake walking toward you. His brown hair is a mess, like he’s been fussing with it all morning, and his thick glasses, normally perched precariously on his nose, are nowhere to be seen. His normal polished clothes look like they’re three sizes too big and you frown.  

“Hey,” you drag the word out, trying to sound polite even if his outburst last night left you feeling incredibly unsettled. “Feeling any better?” You hesitate to meet his eyes, and when you do, your annoyance only deepens. 

He’s watching you expectantly, like he’s waiting for something. 

“Did you need anything?” You ask, voice trailing off as you close your locker and take two deliberate steps back. 

Blake’s brows furrow and he almost looks hurt before his expression smooths over into something startling unreadable. “Um, no, I’m sorry,” his gaze drifts past you. The color drains from his face and you barely have a second to process the oddity of this conversation before he turns on his heel and goes barrelling down the hall.

“Hey,” Clark’s familiar voice cuts through your confusion, and you turn to see him striding toward you. Gone is the easy, playful grin he wore last night. He looks more serious than you’ve ever seen him, intent on something. “We need to talk,” he tells you, tone grave. 

“I know,” you snipe, not bothering to hide your irritation at just leaving you alone at the fair last night. You aren’t surprised, he’s been doing that for weeks now. What stings is that, for a little while, you had felt like you were actually friends again, only for him to ruin it. 

His brow furrows and he glances around the empty hallway with a frown. “Look, we can’t talk here, but-”

The warning bell rings, cutting him off. “Shit,” you mutter, shoving your books into your bag and turning away from Clark. He calls your name but you wave him off. “Later, Clark, I can’t be late again.” He watches you go with a frown, running a hand through his hair before turning toward his own class. 

Not even ten minutes later you spot him walking past Mrs. Brown’s room. Though, you swear he was wearing a red shirt not a green one. You could be wrong, it’s not as if you had long to take in his outfit.

You figure he’s just passing by and go back to taking your notes. There’s a light hiss from the door and you frown, looking up to see him hovering in the doorway and waving you forward. You glare toward Mrs. Brown’s back and shake your head. No way, you mouth. 

Clark gives you a pleading look, frowning and motioning you forward again. You know that look, you’ve been on the receiving end of it for years now. He’s clearly not going to let go of whatever  he was badgering you about this morning. 

“Can I go to the bathroom?” You call out, not bothering raising your hand. The old bat’s half-blind, you doubt she’d see it anyway. 

She answers without even bothering to turn around and face you. “If you need to use the restroom, you do so before my class,” her shaky voice calls out with a huff. 

You roll your eyes and grab your bag, stuffing your books in it as she turns back to the board. There’s no point in arguing with her, she’s never going to give in. You wait until she drops her eraser. The second she bends over to grab it, you’re bolting toward the door. Clark grabs your arm, dragging you behind him.

He makes a break for the end of the hall, blowing past the geometry class he’s meant to be in. He busts through the school doors and leads you quickly through the courtyard. “Clark,” you hiss, trying to hold back a laugh at the stupid grin on his face. “What the hell is going on with you today?”

He glances over his shoulder at you, eyes alight with mischief, “Come on, you can’t tell me you actually want to listen to her rambling on about Shakespeare for an hour.”

You can’t argue with that, but he hasn’t done a jail bust for you in a while. Especially not during one of the few classes he shares with Lana. “No, I didn’t,” you pause as you realize he’s leading you to your car and not his truck. “Am I driving?”

“Truck didn’t start this morning,” he tells you shortly, not bothering with any further explanation. You swear you saw him drive in this morning but you could be wrong. It’s not like he’s the only kid driving his dad’s old busted truck in this town. “I’ll drive, though, you won’t know where we’re going.”

“Ominous,” you snark as he takes your hand in his, directing you toward the passenger door. Gentle hands push you up against the side of the car and he ducks down, leaning into your space. You crane your neck up, flushing slightly at the proximity. Any closer and you could kiss him. 

“Well?” He questions softly, lips curling up in a half-smile that makes you want to melt. You blink, forgetting what you were doing before you notice his outstretched, open, palm. Swallowing thickly you take your keys out of your bag and place them in his hand. “Thanks,” he ducks down, soft lips pressed against your cheek before rounding the front of the car. 

Your hand drifts toward your cheek, a bewildered smile on your face as you try and regulate your breathing. “What the hell?” You mutter, shaking your head slightly. Turning around, you open the car door and slip into the passenger seat. 

Clark greets you with a grin, scooping your hand up in his as he pulls out of the school parking lot. You don’t want to think about the trouble you’re going to be in tomorrow, all you can focus on is how good Clark’s hand feels in yours. 

“I’m really starting to feel like I’m getting kidnapped,” you joke, head tilting to look out the window. The golden fields stretch endlessly, rolling past in waves as the car gets further from town. Houses become scarce, replaced by sprawling farmland and grazing cattle. The further you go, the more isolated you feel. 

Clark chuckles, but there’s something off about the sound, a slight wheeze, a strain where there wasn’t before. His face crumples and he turns away from you, his knuckles turn white around the steering wheel from his tight grip. 

“Are you okay?” You reach instinctively toward him but he jerks his hand back. You gasp, jumping back when you catch a glimpse of his face. It ripples, the skin shifting unnaturally, as if something beneath it is struggling to break free. 

“Oh no,” Clark groans, voice strained. His entire body spasms and his hands slip from the wheel. The car lurches violently to the side, tires screeching against the pavement. Panic surges through you, hands bracing against the door as you shout his name. 

He curls into himself, muscles seizing, leaving the car veering out of control. The telephone pole ahead rushes toward you, growing larger by the second. You throw yourself forward, grasping at the wheel, desperately trying to steer, but Clark’s foot slams against the gas instead of the brake. 

Everything happens too fast. A blur flashes in front of the windshield. Then, a sudden stop. Your body flies forward, arms bracing against the dashboard as your head whips forward and back, pain rattling through your spine. 

You whine in discomfort, slowly sitting up and trying to take in your surroundings. The passenger door is ripped open. You flinch, recoiling instinctively and sending a shock of pain down your body. Your breath stutters as someone ducks their head inside, a startling familiar pair of blue eyes find yours.  

“Clark?” You whisper, gaze flicking to the seat beside you where Clark still sits, doubled over, his breathing ragged. 

The Clark outside the car reaches in and gently pulls you out. Warm, calloused hands skate carefully over your arms and shoulders. He cups the back of your neck, tilting your head up, thumbs gently smoothing over your jaw as he looks you over. 

“Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?” His voice is soft, thick with concern. His eyes briefly leave yours to double check you for any injuries he might have missed. 

Your heart pounds. This isn’t possible. You must be concussed. You blink rapidly still struggling to wrap your head around the whole two Clark’s thing when the second one stumbles out of the car. 

He steps are uneven as he rounds the fender, his entire body shaking. Your rescuer moves swiftly, placing himself between you and the other Clark. He shields you, broad shoulders tense, protective to a fault. Must be the real one. Right? You rub your aching head and frown. 

“What were you going to do with her?” The one in front of you barks the question out, his voice sharp and edged with something dangerous.

“I just,” the other one keels over, cutting himself off with a pained groan and shaking his head. “Wanted to get away,” he grits out through clenched teeth, forcing himself straight again. 

“And you had to take her with you?”

“What’s going on?” You jut in, stepping back from both of them. Facing them, you see the same wounded expression reflected on both faces. Whichever is the fake, he’s certainly mastered the puppy dog look. 

Your rescuer tries to take a step forward but you throw your hand up, keeping them both at bay until you know what’s going on. He sighs and glances over at his shoulder at the other one.  “How long have you been able to do this?” 

It's like they start a conversation in the middle and you’re completely lost.  “Last year, I never saw a use for it and it was too much of a pain. But then I realized,” he looks at you, face contorting. “You would never go for a guy like me. You couldn’t. You were too wrapped up in him,” he spits the word out with venom, nodding toward the Clark you know has to be the real one. 

“You love him and that stupid all-American smile.” He chuckles, but it breaks off into a groan as he doubles over in pain, clutching his stomach. He drops to his knees and moans through clenched teeth, clutching at his face as he folds over. The longer black hair shrinks to a dull brown, broad shoulders slimming as the clothes he wears hang loose on him.

The illusion shatters, “Oh, God, Blake?” You gasp out, taking one step toward him. He shakes his head and you stop as Clark grabs your elbow. You glance up at him but he just shoots you a soft look that has you rooted to the spot. 

“I’ve been in love with you since freshman year,” Blake chuckles, still sounding like every word hurts. “If only I figured it out earlier, it’s always going to be him. I never had a chance, did I?” His gaze flickers toward Clark before he collapses to the pavement. 

You both go running toward Blake. Pressing your trembling fingers to his neck, you let out a sigh of relief when you feel his faint heartbeat. 

“We need to get him to a hospital, fast.” You lean back from Blake, looking around for Clark’s truck, confused when you don’t see it. “Dammit, Clark, where's the truck?”

He flushes, shaking his head, “I didn’t bring it.”

You frown, “What’re you talking about?” 

He glances toward Blake, the rise and fall of his chest steadily slowing. When he looks back at you his expression is unreadable, an intensity to it that you’ve never seen before. “I need you to trust me.”

“Always,” you tell him without missing a beat. He gives you a small smile but it lacks the usual warmth. 

“Close your eyes.”

“What?” You glare at him but he just shakes his head. 

“Please,” he looks close to begging and the pulse under your grip is getting weaker. Swallowing down your confusion you close your eyes. “Thank you,” he whispers, “I’ll be back.”

You frown, feeling a rough breeze blow back your hair as your eyes shoot open. But the spot in front of you is empty and the body under your hand has disappeared. Getting to your feet, you spin in one slow circle. There’s nothing out here except golden fields, your totaled car, and you. All alone. 

Clark eventually came back for you. His truck rolling into view after being on your own for half an hour. You hadn’t talked to him the whole ride back to town, too shocked by everything that had happened. 

He carried the conversation for the both of you, offering a brief explanation that only confused you more. Blake had apparently been one of the meteor freaks, somehow being exposed to it when it had left a crater in your town. 

But Clark didn’t tell you how he made it across the highway and to the hospital in under five minutes with no car. He didn’t tell you anything that actually mattered. So, you told him to drop you off at home and you haven’t seen him in a week. 

Chloe had called you once during your self-induced isolation, just to tell you that she’d driven by Blake’s house. Apparently the entire place looked like it had been cleaned out. No sign of him or his parents anywhere. You wish you could say you care, but you don’t. You’re almost grateful he’s gone. Not only did he reveal your long held secret infatuation to Clark, he’d clearly had ill intentions as he tried to take you out of town. 

Your Nokia nearly buzzes itself off your nightstand as you set your book to the side and look at the all-too familiar contact.

Clarkie

The stupid nickname you’d given him in middle school lights up the small screen and you let out a rough sigh, watching as it rings and rings before finally quieting. The screen goes dark before lighting up once more as his ringtone fills the silence of your room. He doesn’t give up easily, you have to give him that. 

You’re not entirely sure you’re ready to face him. Not now that he knows about your feelings for him. There’s no hiding what Blake so plainly laid out for him. You sink into the comforts of the pillows on your bed and wonder if you could just live here forever. 

Something knocks against your window and you ignore it as nothing more than a branch from the tree. It’s not much longer before it happens again and you rip your hands off your face and are forced to sit up. Your phone rings once more and there’s a sinking feeling in your gut that you know exactly who waits outside your window. 

“You can’t hide forever,” comes an annoying cheerful voice from outside. You force yourself off your bed and slink toward your window. Sure enough, Clark waits below it, a boyish grin poised on his face as he looks up at you. As much as you’re avoiding him, it’s plain cruel to just leave him outside. 

Reluctantly, you open your window and he’s quick to climb your tree. You back up as he slots his broad frame through and into your room. He lets out a short huff of breath and straightens up, giving you a sheepish smile. 

Taking a seat on your bed, you find it a tad difficult to look at him. Clark sucks in a deep breath and grabs your desk chair. He straddles it, resting on the back of it and staring at you until you feel like he’s going to burn holes into the side of your face. 

“I haven’t seen you in a while.”

You hum and shrug, tucking a loose wave behind your ear. “I’ve been sick,” you lie, briefly looking up. The intense way he’s looking at you leaves you breathless and you have to take in a slow breath so your heart doesn’t kick up too much.  

“I want to tell you something.” Your head shoots up, concern lacing through you at the grave tone of his words. He looks away from you, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, actually, I want to ask you something first. Is, uh,” he chuckles a little and licks his lips, a nervous tick he’s never been able to kick. “Is all that stuff that Blake said true?”

Your stomach drops, burying your face in your hands, you let out a low groan. “Oh, god,” you suck in a sharp breath, unable to look at him as heat flushes through you. 

Lying is always an option. It’s a poor option, but it’s there. Maybe, if you just lied straight through your teeth he would drop it and leave you alone. But you’ve been hiding this for so long, tucked so tightly to your chest, it would be a relief to finally be unburdened of the truth. 

“Yes,” you whisper. You don’t want to look at him, don’t want to face the truth of his rejection. Clark has been your best friend since you could walk, losing him over this stupid crush would destroy you. 

The silence drags on for too long and you feel the anxiety calling its way around you. Warmth envelops your hands and calloused palms draw them away from your face. 

You peek one eye open to find Clark kneeling before you, a soft smile on his face. “You better not be laughing at me, Kent.”

A small chuckle slips through his lips and you slap at his shoulder. He catches your hand in his, lacing his fingers through yours. “I’m not, I promise. I wish you’d told me.”

“Why? So I could ruin our friendship faster?” You snark. 

“No, so I could do this,” he darts forward, soft lips capturing yours. You freeze up, eyes wide as his hand cups the back of your neck and pulls you closer. 

There’s a brief moment of shock where you’re completely frozen. But then you feel the way his thumb rubs soothing circles on the back of your hand. And you find yourself melting into the feeling of his embrace, eyes closing as you slowly open up to him. Your arms find their way around his neck, fingers burying themselves in the soft waves of his hair. 

The kiss itself is gentle, chaste almost. But it warms you from the inside out, makes you feel like you’re going to be nothing but a puddle of goo the longer he holds you. When he pulls back, he drags it out, lips lingering as long as they can. 

You’re slow to recover, eyes glazed over as you stare at him. He seems just as shocked, like he hadn’t expected to do that. Of course, you say the first thing that comes to mind instead of just shutting up and enjoying the moment. “What about Lana?” You blurt out, wincing the second it leaves your mouth. 

He frowns at you and shrugs, “What about her?”

“You’ve been blowing me off for months for her. We go to her shop every day just so you can stare at her. Don’t tell me you’ve suddenly discovered feelings for me. I won’t be your backup, Clark.”

He shakes his head vehemently, looking almost offended by the idea. “What? No. Of course you’re not,” he snaps, narrowing his eyes at you before sinking back on his heels with a huff. “Look, I wasn’t ditching you for her, I can explain all that,” he pauses and then quickly adds, “later.”

Your eyes narrow in suspicion and he reaches up, taking your hands in his. “There’s a lot I have to tell you. But the most important thing is that I am completely over Lana.”

“Really?” You question, tone harsh but bordering almost on teasing. “You look at all your friends like that?”

He shakes his head, “No,” he pauses, “just you,” he adds with a cheeky smirk. You roll your eyes and shake your head, looking away from him. “Whatever you thought you saw between us, it was only on her end. I swear, it’s been you for a long time.”  

You look away, but he’s not accepting that, tilting your chin to face him once more. “It’s always been you,” he murmurs, voice steady, certain.

Your breath hitches, heart stuttering in your chest. Maybe this is real. Maybe it’s been you that’s been the oblivious idiot. 

You take a deep breath, meeting his gaze head-on. “Then prove it.”

His smile is slow, confident, and this time when he leans in you don’t hesitate to meet him halfway.

end. — I do not own the characters or the TV Show Smallville, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © scribes-of-valar 2025. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[ masterlist ]

neteyam

neteyam saving you as you fall off lo’ak’s ikran (sfw)

neteyam has something important to tell you as you patch him up (sfw)

you sing neteyam his mother’s songcord to calm him down (sfw)

you are nearly killed during a hunting party, and neteyam panics (sfw/angst)

neteyam sees you for the first time and falls head over heels (sfw),, pt 2 (sfw)

neteyam defends you from ao’nung and his friends (sfw/comfort),, pt 2 (sfw)

you take the bullet for neteyam, and are nearly killed in the process (angst/comfort), prologue (slight-nsfw)

neteyam returns from the metkayina and falls in love with you again after seeing you (sfw/comfort)

you want your avatar to become fully na’vi, but neteyam is firmly against it (sfw/slight-angst)

you and kiri overhear lo’ak giving neteyam advice on how to ask you out (sfw/comfort)

metkayina girls start falling at neteyam’s feet and you, his mate, gets jealous (sfw/comfort)

jake

neytiri is nearly killed during a hunting party, and jake panics (sfw/angst)

lo’ak

none yet…

ao’nung

none yet…

falling for you

or 3 times you fell for joaquín + the 1 time he fell for you

joaquín torres x female!reader cw: female!reader, mentions of a dress, no description of reader's feature (tried to keep it as open as possible), faintings, stupid ideas, fluff

The first time it happened, it was a coincidence.

You were watching a debrief standing on your feet — the room was packed, which was a little bit unusual — when your vision started to go black. You tried to hold on into anything, but it was too late to save yourself from a nasty fall.

One minute you’re watching the debrief, the next you have three concerned faces around you from above. You’re definitely on the floor. The lady murmurs a quiet “Thank god.”

“Hey,” Joaquín called your name softly, entering your line of sight, “you alright, chica?”

“Yeah, I just,” you felt a pair of hands supporting your back while you sat up, “low blood pressure.”

“You sure?”

“Afirmative.”

Your answer was enough for the two people to turn their attention back to the presentation. Joaquín watched you closely, helping you to get back on your feet. The debrief was going full force in the background, and while you knew you could pick up the reports and images later, you made the decision to stay until the end. A Lieutenant offered his chair for you, and you’re able to watch everything.

When you were walking back to the Captain America headquarters on the compound, Dana, one of the Senior Intelligence Officers you worked closely with, intercepted you. “Hey, don’t go around skipping lunch anymore.”

“I didn’t, I had a snack between tasks,” you explained yourself.

“I see.” She pointed towards your files and the tablet screen on your hands. “You should’ve seen how Captain Joaquín Torres catched you like, wow, so fast. Like he was paying attention to you, not to the Admiral.”

“You’re crazy,” you scanned your badge on the door. “I promise to have lunch with you tomorrow.”

“I know where you work, girl,” she joked and made her way back to her side of the compound.

You laughed it off. Yeah, no, Dana was definitely crazy. You worked closely with Captain America and the Falcon, but you were just there, in the background, helping with security systems, maps, basically being their eyes and ears when they were on the field.

However, maybe Dana was right: once you reached your table, you found a bottle of Gatorade and a package of salted nuts, with a small note, “Hope this helps” followed by a smiley face and an attempt of drawing a little falcon.

Dana made sure you didn’t skip any meals or anything, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of her words and Joaquín’s action. So you decided it was worth it to test if her observation was right.

On Wednesdays, if they weren’t out of town or the country for a mission, Sam would bring Isaiah to the compound for a challenging training session. Most of the attendees would barely survive it, and it was your perfect excuse to test the theory.

You were just on the outside of the ring, watching Isaiah point out the flaws and, well, mostly the flaws, on each persons’ fighting technique. You stopped just a few feet from Joaquín, checking the corners of your vision to make sure he was still there.

One moment you were fine, the next your body was falling backwards, slowly. And then two arms were locked around your shoulders and you missed hitting the floor — again.

“Shit, are you ok?” Joaquín quickly got you up and led you to a bench.

“Yeah, sorry. I got lightheaded after my round,” you delivered your line like you planned, no more than an hour ago. “Thanks for catching me. Again.”

“Oh, no worries. Do you want to see a doctor or anything? Maybe you should.” He looked quite concerned.

“No, I’m fine. I’ll just get more water and probably tap out my next round.”

“That’s wiser,” he got up and looked over his shoulder, to where Sam looked a little bit suspicious, and added, “you did good today. So pat yourself on the back.”

“Thanks, Joaquín.”

You never got out of the training room so fast in your life. Dana totally skipped the training — her middle forty joints were her excuse —, but was happy to hear all the details over dinner at her place — with her husband spying to understand why you would be so secretive with girls’ talk. Until he caught up and gave his insights: you were either lucky that the lightning struck twice at the same place, or Dana was really right.

“You know I’m right, I was right when I met you,” she pointed out.

“Even if you’re right,” you let your head fall into your hand, “I can’t do this.”

“Why not? You clearly have feelings for him,” her husband added.

“Because I am me. C’mon, guys, the Falcon dating a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, yeah, of course, very likely to happen.” You rolled your eyes. “He just probably has, like, some enhanced senses, I don’t know, anything they are doing to the future Avengers these days is definitely working.”

“You’re so silly, sometimes,” Dana poured more wine into your glasses. “Hear me out, you could try during the upcoming gala. You were invited, right?”

“Oh, I know this look,” he pointed to his wife. “Buckle up, kid.”

The Annual S.H.I.E.L.D. Gala was hosted for the workers, but also for the Senators and politicians to do business with VIP people. A S.H.I.E.L.D. officer would just be another face amongst the crowd, which granted you the free pass to pick something that would steal all the attention from a certain hero. Something breathtaking, but also subtle.

You got your hair and make up done the way you like, all in to complement your green dress, in a shade it would both compliment your skin and send a message. And the dress itself was highlighting your best features, while also showing some skin on the neckline and the back. Thinking backwards, you find this decision kinda stupid, but Dana was convincing enough.

“So, the other day we were at the grocery store and—”, Dana’s husband was talking about their funny encounter when she shushed him.

“Don’t look now, but a birdie is moving towards us,” she whispered, her eyes locked on Joaquín.

“I’ll make a fool of myself!”

“You won’t! And Josh will hold you if anything goes wrong.” She pressed her champagne flute to her lips. “Ok, now.”

You took a step back, just enough to look like you were out of balance, before letting your body fall again. You were prepared for the worst, but magically a pair of hands found their way to your exposed back. You opened your eyes and had an upside down look on Joaquín.

“We have to stop meeting like this.” His smile was playful. He helped you get back on your feet. “Are you alright?”

“Better now,” you batted your eyelashes and smiled. Joaquín looked amazing on the all dark blue suit he picked for the night. His hair was stylised, and he looked like a supermodel.

“Oh, Captain Torres, she is so stubborn. I told her to go see a doctor, but she refused to,” Dana was giving her all for a Best Supporting Actress that night. And her husband was holding his expression as best as he could.

“Funny, I told her myself a few weeks ago,” his eyes narrowed, and you prayed that your cheeks didn’t start burning red.

“You know what? I’m gonna go check if my blood pressure isn’t acting up again,” you went for a not so subtle French exit. “I’ll see you guys later.”

You slipped out of the small circle before your face caught on fire. You found the bathroom, taking slow deep breaths in front of the mirror. No, Dana couldn’t be right. You were in a room full of people, and still Joaquín was the one acting faster enough to prevent a disaster. No, it was just luck, right?

There was no way he was paying that close of an attention to you, to your moves, to how you were standing in the middle of a crowd.

Oh, damn.

Dana was right.

And you weren’t making your life easier when you walked out of the bathroom, going after a drink for you to drown the feelings you tried to keep on the bay.

It was almost two weeks later when you let yourself fall into the couch in a small room you’ve made a base of on the coast of Mexico. You were out there for a mission, and the last fifteen minutes pumped more adrenaline into your bloodstream than your whole life all together. You watched Sam and Joaquín take off and fly back to the base.

And your feelings? Unfortunately you’ve been carrying them around every single day, trying to not show how you’ve fallen for Joaquín faster than you could’ve imagined. And now you were splashed all around the floor, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

“Hey! Did you see me kick that guy? It was awesome!” You’re not surprised when Joaquín entered the room, helmet in hand. Still high on his own adrenaline, as per usual.

“Yeah, I saw that, Torres.” You agitated your hand, and he noticed you on the couch.

“¿Estás bien, chica?”

“Yup, just tired.”

“I know you’re not really fainting,” he blurted out, not really looking at you anymore. He was more concerned with removing his wings after a long day. “I mean, the first time you did look like a ghost, but after that? You were faking it, right?”

Your heart froze. You would look better if you’d come clean, right?

“First time was real, but the other two were my friend’s idea. She had this stupid theory,” and you shut yourself up before the explanation started to sound cheesy. “Nevermind.”

“No, por favor, enlighten me. What was her theory?”  

“No, it’s so stupid.”

You tried to shake it off, but Joaquín and his amazing agility got him closer to you in no time. His attentive hazel eyes were on you, and your cheeks heated up.

“She said you probably catched me the first time because you were paying attention to me, not to the debrief,” your voice died on your throat at every word, until the silence filled the space between you too. “So the other two times, it was a test.”

Joaquín watched you, expressionless face.

“So you were, let me get this right,” he took two steps back, then moved his body back and forth, and looked at you, “Oh my, Joaquín, please, I’m gonna…”

While you knew you fell like a potato bag every single time it happened in the last few weeks, Joaquín gracefully fell over your body on the couch, his arms catching him and avoiding a nasty collision between you. His face was a few inches from yours, the biggest grin on his lips, and if he got one inch closer, you bet he could’ve heard your heart beat.

“I think I reenacted it perfectly.”

“No, it wasn’t like that,” you tried to avoid his eyes. “I was just…”

“You were…” He was still pushing you to say what has been boiling over for weeks now.

“I told you I was faking it! What else do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know. You tell me, cariño.”

You rolled your eyes. Such a tease. And you had to fight back.

“So you were really paying attention to me, hm?”

“What if I was?”

“It means Dana is right,” you rested your hands on his shoulders.

“Yeah, she is,” he looked from your eyes to your lips. “Please don’t do that again.”

“Why not?”

“Because if you wanted me to hold you,” his right hand held your waist, “or kiss you, you just needed to ask.”

You smiled.

Maybe you had fallen for Joaquín more than two times, but he definitely fell harder for you.

a/n: hope you guys liked it! i'm writing a few oneshots and drabbles with joaquín, and i hope to get them posted sometime next week. also huge shout out to @live-love-be-unique for the feedback and encouragement! you're all welcome to send some ideas or requests my way via asks or dm!

Pietro Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: ask: Maybe Pietro and reader are the only ones in the avengers facility (the other were with their families, on vacation, etc), and he's really excited to spend Christmas with her because he has a crush on her but never really told her (or even done something about it because when he's around her he doesn't know what to do), and he's really excited because it's gonna be just the two of them there and he wants it to be special and surprise her.

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: AU where Pietro isn't dead, this is only a few months after Avengers: Age Of Ultron but in my head Pietro, Wanda, and reader are early 20s!

~ i hope you like this @thewinterv 🤍~

Normally, around the 20th of December, the Avengers Tower would be buzzing with the sounds of voices, the hum of machinery, and Tony's unrelenting playlist of 80s Christmas hits. But this year, it was dead silent.

Most of the team had scattered for the holidays; each of them returning home to their families. Tony was spending Christmas away with Pepper at some romantic destination no one knew about, Thor had returned home to Asgard, and Cap was spending his holidays with his friend, Bucky. Natasha, like almost every year, was spending Christmas at Clint's family house and this year Clint had opened the invitation—

Because Pietro disliked spending holidays away from his sister, and Wanda had told him her and Vision were spending he holidays with Clint, he'd been considering the offer.

However, when you'd told him in passing that you'd politely declined the invitation, Pietro's heart sank. You didn't want to impose, was your excuse, and it didn't sit well with him.

He didn't want you alone on Christmas.    

So, he found himself lingering in the common area of the tower, his foot tapping anxiously against the wooden floor. He felt the anticipation bubbling up inside him as he shakes his hands, a mixture of excitement and nervous energy bouncing inside him. He glanced at the clock hanging over the door for the tenth time in the past twenty minutes.

You were here, probably in your room. The thought alone made his heart speed up. The two of you were the only ones left now and all that was left was his excitement. For months now, Pietro had been harboring these feelings for you—feelings he never quite knew how to express. Around you, his usually confident self, became a jumble of awkward smiles and half-finished sentences.

But this Christmas, he was determined for that to change.

You wander into the kitchen, yawning. It's Christmas morning and Pietro is standing by the stove, stirring a pot with uncharacteristic focus. His usual blur of motion is replaced by small, deliberate movements, and you can't help but smile.

"Merry Christmas," you say, leaning your hip against the counter. 

Pietro's head shoots up, his icy blue eyes widen in surprise as he spins around. "Y/n," he exclaims, his Sokovian accent more evident in the early morning. "Happy Christmas," he smiles and continues to stir, "Ah, I made horká čokoláda, ah what is the word… hot chocolate? It's… traditional, yes?"

You smile, pushing some hair away from your tired eyes. "Very traditional, Piet," you say, leaning over some more and smelling the air. It smells sweet. "Smells yummy. Can I get some, or is this all for you?" you ask with no hint of annoyance in case he had made it for himself.

His cheeks turn pink, quickly ladling the hot chocolate into two mugs. "Of course, for you too. I made it special."

"Special?" you echo, taking the offered mug. You taste the hot chocolate and it tastes quite normal, but still delicious. 

"Yes," Pietro whispers, finding his words again. He feels nervous again but he swallows down the nerves. "For you. I made it special for you." 

Your smile widens and you take another sip, hot chocolate coating your upper lip. Pietro leans in and wipes it with his thumb. He's pauses, hesitating, but when you don't pull away he relaxes. "Thank you," you say honestly, feeling an unfamiliar warmth in your stomach. Pietro just grins, feeling his nerves disappear. 

Later that day, Pietro leads you to the training hangar, though he continuously refuses to explain why. Once you arrive, however, your jaw drops. The massive space has been transformed. Twinkling string lights crisscross the rafters, and a makeshift skating rink gleams at the center, its surface a mirror of ice. Soft holiday music plays from a speaker in the corner.

"Pietro," you breath, turning to him. "Did you do all this?'

He looks a little sheepishly. "Friday helped and I had some time. Plus, speed also helps," he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. "Do you like it?"

"Like it? Piet, it’s amazing," you exclaim, stepping onto the edge of the rink, feeling the ice. It's cool and smooth beneath your fingers. "But I don't have any skates."

"Pshh, already handled." Pietro speeds away and returns in a blur of blue lightening that dances around you. he steadies himself and holds two pairs of skates in his arms. He holds one out for you in your size. "For you, Princezna (Princess)."

You laugh lowly, seeing how his hair sticks up a little. "Do you ever slow down?"

Pietro thinks for a moment, rubbing his nape. "Only for you," he says softly, the words escaping before he could really stop them. Your cheeks warm, but you don't look away. Instead, you smile and walk to a bench in the corner, lacing up your skates. Pietro does the same, basking in the comfortable silence.

One on the ice, you struggle while he moves with surprising grace. He skates circles around you, teasingly close but careful not to knock you off balance.

"Show-off," you say, flapping your arms desperately. Pietro skates up to you and holds out his arms, not touching you but keeping an eye on you in case you fall.

"I have to impress you somehow," he quips, but his tone sounds lighter than usual, less guarded, and you like the change. He's acting like how he does with everyone else, not as stiff as he is when he's around you usually, and you like it.

The two of you continue to skate for what feels like hours, laughing and sharing stories. At one point, you almost slip, and Pietro reaches out and catches you, his arms wrapping around your waist.

"Are you ok?" He asks, his breath warm on your cheek. You nod and for a moment, you both don't move.

"You're really good at this," you whisper, trying to steady your heartbeat as your nose almost touches his. You pull away a little.

"I had a good reason to learn," he replies, his voice barely above a whisper. "Wanda and I used to skate a lot at home, with Mama and Papa."

"Must have been nice."

"It was," he reminisces, smiling at you and then he pulls away.

After you're both finished and your feet start to hurt, the two of you return to the lounge, where the electric fireplace is crackling softly. Pietro had prepared another surprise: a small, slightly lopsided Christmas tree, decorated with whatever he could find around the facility. Paperclips served as makeshift hooks, holding up ornaments fashioned from lab equipment and some minimal leftover holiday decorations Tony had lying around.

"Oh," you say, wrapping your arms around yourself as you smile. "You really went all out, hm?" you tease, sitting beside him on the couch.

"I didn't want you to spend Christmas alone," he says simply, as if it's nothing. When you look at him, he hesitates, then adds, "You deserve it all."

"Pietro," you whisper, placing your hand on his arm. You don't even know what to say.

He takes a deep breath, his usual bravado faltering as it always does when you're around but he swallow it down. “I like you. A lot," he admits, the words stuck in his throat as he confesses;

"But when I'm around you, I never know how to act. I'm nervous. Very nervous. Which is ridiculous, because I'm never nerves around girls. But with you, I want to be careful. Because you're important to me. I want to impress you. I want you to like me."

You stare at him, your heart pounding. "Pietro, I like you too. I've always liked you, I've just been waiting for you to say something."

"You have?"

You nod, a smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah, you aren't the only one who is nervous, you know? You're quite intimidating."

Pietro laughs, taking your hand in his. "Me? Nesmysl (Nonsense)," he chuckles and strokes his thumb over yours. He smiles, his blue eyes locked onto yours. He leans in, his lips suddenly brushing against yours as he closes his eyes.

The kiss is hesitant at first, then it becomes more certain when you kiss him back, your hand finding themselves in his hair. The world seems to stand still, a rare moment of stillness that Pietro actually enjoys.

For once, he wishes he could stop time forever.

When you finally pulls away, Pietro is grinning like a love-sick school boy, his cheeks flushed pink. "Best Christmas ever?" he asks, his tone teasing but very honestly hopeful.

You return his grin and squeeze his hand, resting your head on his shoulder.

"Best Christmas ever."

pairing ➵ luke castellan x fem reader

wordcount ➵ 755

content warnings ➵ angst, hurt no comfort (does this count as hurt no comfort?) implication of intercourse, makeouts w luke!!!

luke’s pov!! 💝

LIFE AT CAMP HALF-BLOOD WAS MISERABLE to say the least.

Luke watched as young teenage boys and girls, almost always younger than him, journeyed on quests their pathetic excuses of parents couldn’t be bothered with on their own.

He watched as they came back, eyes shadowed over with grief. Bodies weighed down by a fortnight of constant battle and little to no sleep.

He watched as sometimes they didn’t.

Solemn news raced across the camp as the words of a fallen friend made its way back home.

Life at Camp Half-Blood was miserable.

Well, until he met you.

It was a typical sunny morning, the scorching heat of the sun tanning the skins of the youths.

He was spilling his water bottle over his head onto his bright tufts and down his shimmering, golden skin for relief.

When he shook the water from his hair he glanced across the camp, and somehow, as if by fate, his eyes found you.

He hadn’t seen you before today. He was sure he’d remember the way your beauty seemingly rendered him speechless. You sat laughing with a few Aphrodite kids—perhaps your siblings? Silena was sitting closest to you on your right, and Drew was on your other side. He surveyed as you all giggled, eyes mischievously filled with gossip.

How had you flown under his radar? Your laugh ringing in the wind, cheeks puffed out from the action. Your orange camp shirt was tied up in a makeshift crop top, pink beaded bracelets tied onto your arms. He didn’t know whether you had makeup on, or if Aphrodite kids were just that naturally beautiful.

When you get up with Silena and Drew (he assumes are your sisters) he takes in the rest of your outfit. A tight jean skirt adorned your hips. The fabric accessorized with jewels. It was short—a little too short.

He let his pink clouded gaze memorize your figure. The soft skin of your legs taking up his eyes. He was hooked on the way your hips swayed side to side, a bit sensually for a teenage girl to be honest, but he didn’t mind.

Luke’s a great deal of embarrassed and practically feels the definition of creep when he stares back up to your face and makes eye contact with three, cabin ten girls that have their mouths slack open from his not so well disguised eye fucking.

He sees you close in on yourself, expression guarded when he tries to reclaim control of this awkward situation by sending you one of his Luke Castellan, the most popular camper, smiles.

Silena squeals, and punches your shoulder. Sending him a flirty wave with flicks of her fingers. Drew does the same and they bump your hip to follow suit. Undoubtedly doing what Aphrodite kids do best—matchmaking.

The next time he sees you, he detects you don’t actually need your sisters pushes to do something. Your long, manicured nails drag down his forearm and you slide your soft hand into his. Pulling him along to the quiet, deserted woods of the night.

He lets you shove him into a tree, momentarily stunting him from the aggressiveness of it all.

Damn, Aphrodite kids sure are freaks.

He loses himself in your kisses, your touches. Soft moans taking space in the night sky.

After that? Luke and you are inseparable.

Well, at least in the night. During camp hours you guys usually avoid having to encounter one another. It’s not like he’s ashamed of you, and vice versa. He loves what you two have. And he wants to keep the sweetness of it all to himself for just a little longer.

Especially when he has you beneath him, backside covered in the dirt from nature’s floor. You’re writhing under him, asking him to do anything and everything to you.

He likes the way your hand touches his scar, hesitantly moving up to kiss it sugarly.

“You’ll always be everything to me.” You had panted, lips rosy colored and raw.

So why is that now, as you're staring him down in a clash of bronze swords and armour.

You look at him like he’s nothing to you.

He didn’t understand why you chose Camp Half-Blood over him. Over your Luke Castellan. The Gods were irresponsible and immature. Luke couldn’t keep pondering over all his sparks of anger in rants of the camp, and Olympus—did it really not clue you in on his nasty resentment to the olympians?

Life away from Camp Half-Blood is miserable.

Even more so away from you.

© kisscastellan | all rights reserved

red lipstick | rc

| pairing: (non canon) rafe cameron x female reader

| genre: fluff, college rafe, halloween fic

| content warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol/drinking, mentions of food, a few tears

| précis: you get your boyfriend to dress up with you.

| word count: 1,512

You could barely believe it yourself when your boyfriend agreed to coordinate costumes with you.

Well, scratch that—you could believe it, but it was the particular costume you’d chosen that he agreed to—that shocked you.

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