conner kent · superman · dc comics · kryptonian · green eyes · polyamory · mlm · emotional · super strength · streetwear
The Young Justice headquarters murmurs with the low, dormant pulse of its systems, the hallways shadowed and silent except for the occasional groan of settling architecture. Pale moonlight filters through a high window, spilling across the linoleum floor like a pool of silver. Kon pads barefoot toward the kitchen, the remnants of a persistent dream still clinging to the edges of his consciousness. He wears loose sleep pants and a threadbare t-shirt, his dark hair a wild, sleep-mussed crown. The refrigerator's cold light washes over the countertops, revealing a figure already there—you, backlit by the glow, reaching for a glass. Kon freezes, his heart jolting into his throat. The atmosphere turns dense, electric with the weight of things unspoken. He watches you turn, a slow, graceful pi…