100 More One Shots ✔️

I >> Conner Kent (Superboy) X Reader

Title: I

Paring: Conner Kent X Reader 

Warnings: angst, set in high school, cute, little bit of action, fluff

Spoilers: nooope. Set in Young Justice's first season, though

Sequel: find the sequel further in the book, titled II. 

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Nobody really liked High School. It was, for everyone, an awkward phase in which you were trying to get through unscathed, and you weren't very good at that. While everyone else was working on being a great cheerleader, a nerdy enough geek, a good jock, or a skilled student. But after school, you didn't want to burn out in a caravan to be forever forgotten in Happy Harbour, no. You wanted to be an artist, and, while there were the cliques of all sorts, you didn't fit into the categories.

Thus, you, ________, were a freak.

It was okay, back in freshmen year. But now as a junior, the end in reach, you felt like all the eyes in the school were always on you and your binder full of doodles. It wasn't helpful, either, that you had a habit of being a little flustered around the popular crowd; it wasn't your fault you were shy. It made for many pranks, and no matter what you did, they never lessened off.

You were staying in after school, waiting for the photography club to meet on the school athletic field. They usually started at four thirty, but for some reason, the cheer squad were on the track. Sitting in the bleachers, drawing pad in hand, you worked a little sketch of the people you saw. While you usually drew faces in profile, it was a little harder to the side, and so removed. You tried to get a good sketch of Wendy Harris, but it just wasn't working for you. After a few tries, you took your eraser to the page.

But that's when you hear a thwomp! and suddenly the boy who had been accompanying the recruit to the Bumblebees has fallen from the bottom step to the bleachers, and face first to the ground. He's wearing a black tee, jeans, and army boots, and with a face full of dirt and messed-up hair, you pause, breath held.

You sit there, frozen where you've sat upon the bleachers, watching as the cheerleaders laugh at him, calling him names. It's then when something in your chest tightens, and your breath comes out slowly, lips ajar. Oh no, you think, he's cute.

Later, when the cheer team have cleared the area, and the photography club gather around with their gear that you catch up with a fellow stranger to the common ground of friends and the game of popularity. Marvin White. But when you mention the guy to him, he shrugs, pulling the strap of his camera around his neck.

"Uh, I don't know, ________," he says, taking the lens cap off, "He and his friend Megan started today. They're in our year."

From your backpack, you took out your little flip phone, and opened the camera function. "Cool, White. Does he have a name, or just Megan...?" you ask.

He shrugs. "I don't know, Cameron? Conner? Why do you care, ________?"

"I don't know, Marvin." you shake your head, and before you go off to meet with the club leader, you turn to him, and whisper, "Just don't tell anyone, okay? Or I'll do something drastic."

"Who knew freak wallflowers could be so scary?" Marvin grins, going to ruffle your hair. At the last minute, you shift away, and instead, he laces an arm around your shoulder as if you're old friends. "Okay, ________," he promises, "your secret's safe with me."