“What’s this?” he mutters, barely glancing at it, too busy skimming the numbers glowing on his tablet.
“My two weeks' notice.”
His expression sours as he slowly lowers his tablet. You already know you’re in for a lecture, a tirade, but soon you wouldn’t have to hear another one of those again. Not a peep. It’d be someone else’s problem.
“I’m… you’re what?” he forces out through gritted teeth. You hadn’t seen him this mad in a while. And when Lex is really mad—when he’s quiet, seething beneath the surface—he’s like a volcano on the verge of eruption.
“I don’t think you need me to repeat—”
“Do you have a death wish?” he cuts in, voice low and deceptively calm.
Or
After everything he's put you through, you've finally had enough of Lex Luthor. So you finally give in and quit him and your job. But Lex won't give you up that easily and is determined to bring you back to him.
Tags/Warnings: 18+ Explicit Content, oral sex, kneeling, teasing, meeting the parents, Lex being a little shit, power dynamic, face slap
WC: 3.6k
A/N: I got a lot of requests, so I finally wrote a part 2 to Hell on Earth (linked below), hope you enjoy :)
Part 1 | Part 2
***
It’s been two months since you and Lex started sleeping together, and you can’t take it anymore.
Sure, he’s good in bed, and the sex is addictive, but the possessiveness and constant surveillance have been working your last nerve.
The last time you tried to go grocery shopping by yourself, a car pulled up, scooped you inside, and dropped you straight at his penthouse, where he was waiting on his couch like a king on a throne.
"Who told you you could go grocery shopping?" he reprimanded. Then he went through your bag, questioning all your choices, threatening to get you a dietician since you’re “incapable of making good choices.”
All because you bought a packet of Oreos.
In some ways, this was worse than the yelling you were used to as his assistant, because it was now all too personal.
It’s pretty clear that he’s even trying to move you into his place. The comments and digs aren’t exactly subtle.
“That shoebox you live in is an embarrassment,” he’d scoff. Or, “If I had to live in your apartment, I think I’d actually lose my mind,” he’d remark casually, all the while absentmindedly tracing patterns on your skin with one hand, scrolling through quarterly reports with the other.
Sure, it wasn’t the biggest apartment, but it was yours. Cosy, private, and charming, just as the real estate agent said when they were showing you the place. And most importantly, it was not his.
Which led you here, and now. Finally, at your wits’ end, you are more stressed than ever. Every facet of your life was Lex, Lex, and more Lex. No dental plan, no chauffeur, no designer wardrobe or charity gala swag bag was worth the psychological breakdown looming on the horizon.
You slide a piece of paper across his desk and wait for the chaos to unfold. Today might be the day you find yourself by one of the creatures he has in his labs and torn apart.
“What’s this?” he mutters, barely glancing at it, too busy skimming the numbers glowing on his tablet.
“My two weeks' notice.”
His expression sours as he slowly lowers his tablet. You already know you’re in for a lecture, a tirade, but soon you wouldn’t have to hear another one of those again. Not a peep. It’d be someone else’s problem.
“I’m… you’re what?” he forces out through gritted teeth. You hadn’t seen him this mad in a while. And when Lex is really mad—when he’s quiet, seething beneath the surface—he’s like a volcano on the verge of eruption.
“I don’t think you need me to repeat—”
“Do you have a death wish?” he cuts in, voice low and deceptively calm.
And oh no. He was smiling now.
A terrible, razor-edged thing you’d learned to spot back when you were just his assistant. The rule was simple: avoid him at all costs when he was smiling while mad.
The last time you saw that smile was just last week, come to think of it. A board member he’d been talking to was taken to the pocket universe prison so fast it made your head spin.
He stands up, invading your personal space, his presence overwhelming. “Why are you doing this? It makes no sense. You have a stable job with benefits and perks and—” He trails off, not saying the obvious: “you have me.”
If only he knew that was the biggest issue.
“I woke up one day and realised if I didn’t quit, I’d be doing coffee runs until the day I die.”
“The day I die?”
“Realistically, the day you die is the day I’ll be free,” you say, letting a chuckle slip. Clearly not the best timing for humour, because if looks could kill, your head would be splattered all over his very expensive mahogany desk.
***
It's been a month, and you're unemployed.
Unemployed but happy.
You’ve gone home to your parents to lounge around and recover until further notice. Leading up to your departure, he had already started to bombard you with gifts and thinly veiled threats to lure you back to work and his bed, so this seemed like the best course of action.
The last two weeks of work were enough to dissuade you of ever crawling back to him, though. He was very dedicated to making them a living hell. Well, more than usual.
You had never been called an idiot so many times in such a short span of time.
Though if anything, it only made you more determined to leave. You managed to help train up a replacement and free yourself from Lex Luthor’s grip. The next poor sucker didn't know what they were in for. You’d miss your little midnight rendezvous, sure, but no dick was worth this.
He had you running up and down Metropolis, errands piling on top of one another like some sadistic obstacle course. He was back to his old ways before all the great sex. And you knew exactly what it was.
Lex Luthor doesn’t lose.
He didn’t want to relinquish the power he had over you.
And maybe you deserved more than just being a pawn in his game.
As you ponder life and all things good from your place on the couch where you’ve hardly moved from all day, the doorbell rings.
“I'll get it,” you chirp in a sing-song voice.
Skipping over to the door, expecting the mail or maybe a delivery you forgot about, you swing it open without a second thought.
You open the door with a lazy smile, only to be met with your worst nightmare.
It cannot be.
You must be dreaming.
“Lex,” you spit out like it hurts.
“Let me in,” he demands, but you stand your ground. Your legs might be shaking a little, but you’re strong enough to tell him no.
“Fuck no! Don’t you have important things to do? Like ruining lives on a global scale?”
“Sure, I do, and yet I’m here to see you, in the little hovel your parents call a home.”
“Lex—”
“I’d hate to see it reduced to ash. Let me in.”
He moves forward, but you throw your arm out, slamming your hand flat against the other side of the doorframe. The crack of skin against wood startles even you. From the way his eyebrows raise, he’s surprised to see you acting like this. A month away from him has done wonders for your self-confidence.
“You’re not setting foot in this house. How did you even find me here? Have you been tracking me?” you sigh, already knowing the answer.
Lex smiles thinly, like a predator humouring prey.
“Find another hobby. Can’t you busy yourself with trying to kill Superman?” you continue.
You push harder against the door, trying to slam it shut, but his foot wedges in the gap like iron. No matter how much pressure you apply, the door doesn’t budge.
“How rude,” he drawls, as if this were a dinner party you’d just spoiled, not a confrontation on your parents’ porch. “I send you wonderful letters and gifts, and you can’t even acknowledge me?”
Wonderful letters and gifts?
Diamond earrings paired with “Stay, or I’ll personally oversee the slow, public death of your once-promising career – Lex” wasn’t exactly what you’d classify as wonderful.
You're about to unload a year’s worth of resentment and humiliation when a softer voice breaks through the tension.
“What’s all the trouble?” your mother asks gently from behind you, the floor creaking as she steps closer.
“It's nothing—”
She forces her way past, eyes widening as she recognises him instantly.
“Isn’t this that Lex…?”
“Luthor,” he finishes with a charming smile.
“That’s it! Lex Luthor, you used to work for? Oh, come in!” she beams, her voice full of that natural hospitality you’d prayed she’d put on pause for once in her life.
“Mom—” you protest, but it’s useless. She’s already ushering him inside with all the excitement in the world.
“Honey, it’s Lex Luthor, from the TV!” your mom shouts down the hall to your dad, who’s in his recliner, flipping through a book.
“It’s who?”
“I said, Lex Luthor from the TV!”
You feel your stomach twist as Lex steps over the threshold, triumphant smirk tugging at his lips. He doesn’t even need to say it. You’ve already lost the first battle.
***
You’re stabbing your food with a fork, the tines squealing against the plate, as you watch him charm your parents with his easy smile and too-smooth words.
“What a fine daughter you have raised,” he says warmly, like he hasn’t just threatened to burn the house down an hour ago.
“Well, she turned out fine, considering she was such a hellraiser as a kid,” your mom laughs, glancing fondly in your direction.
“Is that right?” Lex asks, turning that pointed look on you, the kind that strips you bare in front of everyone at the table.
“She was a menace,” your mom continues, oblivious. “You should’ve seen the way she would ride her bike around the neighbourhood, even caught her trying to take off the brakes. In fact, I think I have pictures. Go get the photo album, honey.” She nudges your dad, who’s already rising from his chair.
Your chest tightens like a vice. This is spiralling.
“This is wholly unnecessary,” you cut in sharply, your voice carrying a brittle edge. “Mr Luthor is a busy man—”
But Lex leans back in his chair, spreading his arms in mock leisure, that smug half-smile playing on his lips.
“On the contrary,” he says smoothly, eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve cleared my evening.”
You grumble to yourself, but it’s overlooked by your Dad, who brings out the photo album.
If you could burrow into the ground and stay there, you would.
“Doesn't she look cute?” your mom coos at the picture of you dressed like a ladybug for a school play, not one of your finer moments in life. All the while, you can feel Lex’s presence; he’s eating up your embarrassment like it’s a five-star meal.
“Isn't it a shame our little angel is single?”
“Dad—”
“She is pretty and smart and…can cook a mean lasagna. Are you perhaps single yourself, Mr Luthor?”
You wanted to scream. Were your parents really that desperate to get you off their couch that they'd offer you to a billionaire?
Lex chuckles, that smooth, amused sound that somehow manages to be both flattering and unnerving.
“Well, I am single,” he says, looking at you with a spark of interest that makes your skin prickle, “but I didn’t expect matchmaking to be on tonight’s menu.”
Your mom beams, and your dad claps him on the back like they’re old friends.
“That’s not a no,” your mother nudges you, making your eyes close in frustration. If only she knew.
“It is nice to have an intelligent conversation with one of your friends,” he laments before turning to Lex to embarrass you further, “Her last boyfriend…not exactly a mental giant.”
“Dad!” you scream so loud the whole neighbourhood might have heard it.
“Well, it's the truth, you like them dumb.”
***
After enduring embarrassment after embarrassment, you pull him by his sleeve, dragging him into your childhood bedroom, away from your parents’ oblivious chatter. His arm resists just enough to be difficult, but not enough to stop you.
“Careful,” he drawls, tugging his arm free with deliberate slowness, “the cufflinks I’m wearing cost more than your house.”
“I need you to go,” you snap.
“When we’re having so much fun?” he mocks, pressing a hand dramatically over his chest. “Not to mention your mother is about to break out the apple pie.”
“You called my parents’ home a hovel,” you bite back, eyes narrowing. “I would think you’d be trying your best to get out of here.”
“Oh, but why would I?” His voice drops low, conspiratorial, leaning in close enough that you can smell the faint spice of his cologne. “This is the perfect opportunity to find out all the little details about my favourite little employee.”
“Former employee, don’t forget that.”
He sighs, like your protests were a mere inconvenience to him, and drifts his gaze around your room. It’s a claustrophobic nightmare, posters lining the walls, a medal here and there, notably none for first place and all gathering dust. He picks up a framed photo of you, the sight of your smiling face making him feel unreasonably annoyed.
“What do you want then?” he counters smoothly, tossing the photo on the floor. You scramble to pick it up, but he continues with his little sales pitch. “We can… negotiate. Money? A promotion? I’ll increase your salary, just come back to work.”
You laugh, bitter and sharp. “Money? After everything you put me through?”
His smile doesn’t falter, though his eyes glint with something darker. “So what, then? You want me to suffer? You want me on my knees?”
The words hang between you, too heavy, too intimate. He sees the flicker cross your face. Curiosity.
And then he’s actually lowering himself, sinking to one knee, his expensive suit creasing against the worn carpet.
“Stop,” you whisper harshly, panic fluttering in your chest. “We’re at my parents’ place—”
“Not until you agree,” he cuts in, commanding even from below you. “Dinner. Tomorrow night. My place.”
You hear your mother’s cheerful voice drifting from the living room. “Pie’s ready!”
Your pulse hammers in your ears. “Get off your knees,” you hiss, glancing nervously toward the kitchen doorway.
But instead of obeying, he takes your hand in his warm grip. “Not until you say yes.”
You can feel yourself thawing despite yourself. The absurdity and, more importantly, the sheer power of seeing Lex Luthor on his knees for you and all people. It rattles something loose inside you. He looks so damn good.
Thighs gift-wrapped in those suit pants of his, tie loosened, shirt clinging to his biceps—it should be a crime to look so good in black.
“Please…”
Please? You’re not sure if you’ve ever heard him say the word please, and mean it. Unless you’re thinking about one of the many times you messed up at work and he said, “Please, remind me why I hired you—to spout bullshit in my face? Honestly, you’d function exactly the same if I gave you a lobotomy.”
So, the word please didn’t come easily to Lex Luthor. It cost him something, you could see it in his eyes, and it made you feel things you thought were long buried.
“Fine, fine,” you mutter, giving in just to end the madness. “Just… get up.”
His smile is slow, triumphant, as he rises to his full height, towering over you again as if the kneeling never happened. He leans in, but stops just short of kissing you in classic Lex fashion.
“Don’t be late.”
***
Against your better judgment, here you were. Back at his penthouse after only a month away from him. You would kick your own ass if you could.
But you also knew if you went back on your word, he’d probably do a lot more than crash a family dinner and charm your parents into wanting him as a son-in-law.
So you obliged, but that doesn’t mean you couldn’t be difficult.
You pick at your food, swirling it around the plate as he asks you questions, which you only give one-word replies to. The sooner he gives up, the sooner you'll be back in your pyjamas, with all the Oreos you can eat, far away from him.
“You’re not going to eat? I flew the chef out just so they could make your favourites,” he says, with a smile, though you can see how annoyed he is underneath it all.
“Not hungry. Your presence is a natural appetite suppressant.”
“How can you treat me like this? I mean, your parents love me. More than the usual brain-dead idiots you’ve brought home before.”
You slam your fork down, the sharp clang ringing through the otherwise elegant dining room, and give him a glare that would work on most people.
“They don’t know what you really are.”
“Which is?”
“A serpent.”
“How biblical.”
You let out a huff and shake your head. For someone so smart, he could be so impossibly dense.
“Even now, you don’t seem to understand why I left. It’s not about money, or power, or your reputation. It’s about respect. You were running me into the ground, and then the moment we started having sex, you started taking over my life.”
His smirk falters, the mask slipping just a little. “That’s not—”
“It is,” you snap, cutting him off before he can spin it into one of his charming half-truths. “You weren’t just my boss anymore, and it wasn’t just sex. I became your project, and it was exhausting. I mean, I like getting degraded as much as the next girl, but…,” you trail off, looking out the window.
The city lights blur into memories, long nights spent together, the quiet frustration of always chasing his approval; in fact, he had just fucked you against that very window five weeks ago to prove a point. What that point was, you can’t remember, but that’s how it always is with Lex’s rants.
“How can I fix it?” he asks, as he leans towards you.
Your eyes snap back to him.
Was he…cooperating?
“I don’t need you, but…I’d prefer to have you back.”
He sounded sincere. You didn’t know he could do that. Must be a new update to his operating system.
“You can’t just ‘fix’ me like a problem on your desk, Lex,” you say quietly.
“I’m not trying to fix you,” he replies, voice softening. “I want to fix us, and believe it or not, I miss having you around. The new assistant is twice as incompetent but not nearly as entertaining.”
“Almost a compliment,” you murmur.
“And not nearly as beautiful,” he adds, taking your hand and brushing a kiss across your knuckles.
Your heart jumps in your chest, “I’m not that easy to win over.”
“Let me try.”
***
You were breathless and aching before you could even think. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he lavished you with kisses. Stripping one another of your clothes like you were running out of time.
Though if you were going to be honest with yourself, some part of you wanted this. The confrontation, the drama, the final word.
“Looks like nothing’s changed,” he sneers, eyes raking over you. “Still as desperate for me as ever.”
Something downright primal overcomes you, and before you can stop yourself, your palm connects with his cheek. The sound cracks through the room.
You see it instantly, the flicker of disbelief when he turns back to you slowly. The look on his face is delicious: pure shock laced with something darker. His eye twitches once, a dangerous tell. Never in your life did you think you’d slap Lex Luthor in the face. You certainly didn’t expect to still be standing after doing it.
“Did you just—?”
“What are you going to do about it?” you shoot back without hesitation. Your heart is hammering, but you won’t let him see it. This is a rare opportunity, and you’re going to use it to the fullest.
“You want me back, don’t you? So…”
You square your shoulders, puffing out your chest with fake bravado, meeting his gaze head-on like you’re daring him to make the next move.
“Get on your knees.”
He smirks, but gets on his knees regardless, pulling your legs to the edge of the bed to rest on his shoulders.
“How much have you missed me?” you ask.
“Enough to behave,” he says, eyes locked on yours, “and that should terrify both of us.”
He tugs down your panties to reveal your soaked pussy. If you were being honest with yourself, you got wet the moment he kissed your hand.
“Looks like you missed me too.”
“Not as much as you missed me,” you snap back, refusing to look away.
“Debatable,” he chuckles, even though he knows damn well just how much your leaving inconvenienced him, professionally, personally, maybe even emotionally, though he’d never admit it.
Before you can fire back and continue your verbal sparring, he shuts you up with his mouth. His tongue toying with your clit as he starts finger fucking you, not holding back in the slightest.
You don’t manage to bite back the whimper in time. Fuck, you’d forgotten how good it felt.
“Lex…” you moan, as you tighten your legs around his head, almost forgetting he needs to breathe. A few moments later, he forces your thighs apart and looks up at you, breathing heavily.
“You’re about to suffocate me. Do you want me to die?”
“Kinda.”
“Unbelievable,” he scoffs at you before going back in for another taste. Something tells you he didn’t mind it as much as he let on.
***
Lying in bed together after a long, restless night, your head resting against his chest, maybe you were fooling yourself, maybe you really were doomed to be dragged into Planet Lex’s orbit. But right now, the tension that usually crackled between you felt a little less sharp, a little softer.
“So you’re coming back to work?” he asked, voice deep and almost comforting.
“For now. With a pay rise and some of those perks you promised. Like you said, or I’ll quit again.”
“Okay.” He sighed, running a hand along your outer thigh.
“Oh, and no more showing up at my parents’ house. I won’t tolerate that. It’s all about boundaries, Lex.”
“I understand,” he agrees all the while gritting his teeth.
“And no more coffee runs to Jitters. You always make me throw it out, and it’s so wasteful.”
“Alright.”
“And I swear, if you hack my smart fridge again—”
He shuts you up with a kiss, all smug and unapologetic, like it’s the perfect way to dodge accountability.
I wish I could stay, my love. How should I have earned such a doting wife? (Greta meows, purrs) Ellen, I told you not to let her into bed. Everything I wear, absolutely covered in it. But Greta loves it here. She wishes you to stay, too.
Note: This is a request I agreed to fulfill because I found it very sweet, and as I imagined it, this came out. So here it is. I couldn’t quote it with the message because it was too long, but I hope you like it.
Clark Kent x female hero reader
Synopsis: A life marked by the elements and an inescapable destiny led you straight to him. Clark Kent—the man behind the symbol—didn’t just find an ally in you, but his greatest weakness of all: love. When Lex Luthor unleashes a plan involving clones, traps, and chaos, you must discover the true limits of your powers and how strong the bond that ties you to Superman really is.
Warnings: action, angst, heavy romance, clone!Clark, battle, fluff ending
WC: 16,500 words approx.
════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ════
They say life is a mystery impossible to decipher, that every person carries a different connection with the world. But you felt it more than anyone. From your birth, the stars seemed to lean toward you. The moon, they say, shone with a unique intensity the night you came into the world, and the sun cast golden rays as if it wanted to claim you for itself.
You were human, yes, but also something more. From a young age, when your hands touched someone, their exhaustion faded, their tears calmed, their sadness found comfort. Your parents held you in awe, convinced you were special—and you were. You had been born with the essence of the elements around you: the warmth of fire, the stillness of earth, the tenderness of water, the immensity of the sky.
Destiny was already written, though you didn’t know it. And you discovered it that winter afternoon. You were running to catch the train, the snow falling in tiny flakes that melted when they touched your skin. You turned the corner in a hurry and collided with a firm chest. The impact knocked the breath out of you. You lifted your gaze and saw him: blue eyes as deep as the sky itself.
Clark Kent.
He smiled with a faint blush on his cheeks, and in that instant, the entire world stopped. You, so used to calming everyone, felt for the first time how someone calmed you. The winter cold dissolved into warmth. The sun, hidden behind the clouds, broke through to bathe Clark in golden light, as if the universe recognized him. And he didn’t look away from you, as if he had been waiting his whole life for that encounter.
Destiny had united you, but deep down you knew it instantly: it wasn’t a beginning, but a reunion. You had been connected long before Earth’s history began, since the very explosion of the universe, when galaxies were still being born. Two halves destined to meet in any time, in any world.
Clark had his weakness: kryptonite. But soon you discovered that you were one too. A word from you, a caress, a dark and steady gaze, and he would stop any battle. His heart, as strong as the beating of an entire city, matched yours. At your side, Superman was not a hero, nor a symbol, nor a myth. He was Clark: a man in love, vulnerable only with you.
His eyes, which shone with fierceness in the face of danger, softened when they looked at you. His nervous smiles reminded you that behind the hero, there was someone who also needed to be held. Together you were a whole impossible to explain, a bond so powerful that many would envy it, because there was no greater force than two souls that had finally found each other.
“Clark!” you ran down the hallways of your building, heart racing, dodging neighbors until you reached your door. You opened it forcefully and called him again, your voice loaded with fear. “Clark!”
He was there. Standing in the middle of the living room, suit damaged, cape torn, and a trace of blood at the corner of his lips. His blue eyes met yours, and in that instant you forgot how to breathe.
“For God’s sake… you’re alright,” you said, your voice breaking as you slammed the door shut.
Clark didn’t answer. He only walked toward you with heavy steps, and within seconds he had you in his arms. He lifted you with ease, as if you were as light as a leaf, his firm hands clutching your waist. You hovered just inches above the floor; he closed his eyes and buried his face in your hair, breathing in your scent as if he had been lost for far too long.
“I missed you,” he murmured, barely audible, his voice trembling with relief and exhaustion.
You hugged him with all your strength, feeling the warmth of his chest against yours.
Clark never wanted to involve you in fights. For him, the mere thought of you in danger was unbearable. But you were a metahuman, like him, and your power didn’t lie in flying or shooting beams from your eyes. You were something else.
Your existence was balance.
You could heal wounds with a touch, restore calm to a frantic heart, make the very air still around you. And more: you could see the lines of time as shining threads crossing in front of you. You didn’t read minds, but you never needed to. With a glance, you could know what wounds a person carried, what future opened before their steps, what past marked them. That’s how you recognized him the moment you first saw him: in every line, in every time, Clark was there.
He knew it. That’s why, even though he had seen you in battle, he always insisted on protecting you. Because your power also made you a target. No one recognized you in the crowd—no one except him—but Luthor had discovered it: with just a touch, you could restore Clark’s strength instantly; with a raised hand, you could make the sun shine directly on his skin and strengthen him.
You were his strength, but also his weakness.
“I didn’t beat him…” Clark suddenly whispered, interrupting your thoughts. His voice sounded broken, as if it hurt to admit it.
You looked at him, still held against his body, and caressed his cheek tenderly. He opened his eyes, tired but still glowing with that spark that always left you speechless.
“Clark…” you whispered. “You saved all the people. That’s what matters. Enemies will always return, again and again, but life does not come back. And you know it.”
“I know… but I’ve never felt anything so intense before,” Clark murmured, broken, still holding your gaze. His breath shook as if the words came out with effort. “That thing… it was as strong as me.”
You shivered at those words. You held him tenderly, though your own thoughts crowded in. “We both know the world can bring us surprises like that,” you answered softly, trying to calm him as he had calmed you so many times.
It was true. Though you could see futures, read possible paths, yours was almost always a blur. A haze that anguished you. You feared it meant your life had no written end, that your destiny was condemned to silence. But deep down you knew: you didn’t see it because you yourself were the future, because your arrival in the universe had not been a mistake, but a necessary move. A spark placed by forces even the gods could not understand. You yourself had become present, past, and tomorrow.
To you, it was a burden. To Clark, however, you were a miracle. From the first second he found you, he knew he wanted to build a future with you, even if you couldn’t see it in your visions. You loved him, yes, but deep inside you feared you wouldn’t be able to hold what he dreamed of: a life together, a family, a home.
Clark lowered you to the ground carefully, still holding you in his arms as if you were fragile. “If you go out… please tell me where you’re going. With my intervention in the war in Boravia and Jarhanpur, chances are I’m being followed.”
Your lips parted in surprise. He rarely asked you for something like that; he had always respected your independence, your choices. Now, instead, there was fear in his voice.
“Clark…” you whispered, staring at him.
“You know you have every right to go wherever you want, without asking me for permission,” he continued, his eyes glowing with a mix of tenderness and anguish. “But now I don’t know… I feel fear. Fear that because of me something might happen to you.”
You brought your hand to his cheek and made him look you straight in the eyes.
“I’ll tell you,” you nodded firmly.
Clark still held you against him when his lips pressed softly to yours. The kiss was warm, needy, as if he wanted to erase the battle from just hours ago. And he was succeeding, until a bark interrupted it.
You both turned. At the hallway door, ears perked and tail wagging furiously, was Krypto. You couldn’t help but smile, and Clark let out a soft laugh at the sight of you. The weight of battle seemed to fade little by little with that simple smile of yours.
“I’ll make dinner,” Clark said, as if trying to occupy himself with something domestic could make the exhaustion disappear.
You stopped him immediately, taking his wrist. Before he could ask, you rose on your toes and kissed him more deeply, your hand caressing the back of his neck while the other stretched toward the window.
The dying sun on the horizon answered your call: rays pierced the glass and concentrated on you, flowing across your skin until they reached him. The energy coursed through your body like a golden river and flowed directly into him, repairing what the Fortress of Solitude hadn’t managed to complete.
Clark felt it instantly; his body, worn from the fight, filled with strength again. A shiver ran down his spine as your energy invaded him.
His breath grew ragged against your lips, and his arms wrapped around you tighter, as if he never wanted to let you go. When you finally parted, you were panting a little, and he looked at you with flushed cheeks and a smile that felt like a ray of light.
“Now you’re better,” you whispered conspiratorially.
Clark gave you a short kiss, his eyes still shining with surprise.
“You always make me feel like nothing could stop me.”
“Today I didn’t make it in time… I wasn’t there as always, helping civilians, giving you strength in the middle of the fight.”
He shook his head gently, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear with a gesture full of tenderness.
“You don’t have to apologize, sweetheart. You always do. You’re always there. And this time…” he looked at you seriously, his voice dropping to a murmur, “it was better this way.”
“Better?” you asked, raising an eyebrow with slight disbelief.
“Yes,” he replied with a half-smile. “Because if you had been in that battle, you would have been in danger too. And the truth is…” he paused, lowering his gaze as if it was hard to say, “I don’t know what I would’ve done if something had happened to you.”
Not many days passed until what Clark feared the most happened. Everything seemed fine. You were in the apartment, with Krypto following you like a shadow while you prepared something to eat. The calm sound of music filled the kitchen, and you smiled at the sight of the furry one wagging his tail enthusiastically.
“It’s a deal, you know?” you told him as you scratched behind his ears. “Clark let you stay here, but only if you keep me company while he’s away.”
The dog stuck out his tongue and rested his muzzle on your leg, as if he understood perfectly.
You turned on the television to distract yourself while you ate, before your shift at the library. But the calm was shattered all at once: a newscast interrupted the broadcast. There was Clark, in his suit, fighting… and the most terrifying part was that he was alone.
Your heart skipped a beat. The smile vanished immediately. You looked at Krypto and stood up abruptly.
“Go to the Fortress, Krypto. I’ll go with him.” The dog watched you, tilting his head. When you took a step toward the door, he gently bit your shoe, as if trying to stop you.
You sighed, crouching down to pet him.
“You’ll be fine, little buddy. But I can’t leave you here. Go straight there, okay? No detours. Can I trust you?”
Krypto let out a small bark, like a promise. His paws lifted off the ground and in the blink of an eye he flew out the window, disappearing into the sky.
You also ran, down the building’s stairs until you reached the streets of Metropolis. Chaos was everywhere: people running in all directions, sirens in the distance, smoke rising from the buildings.
Your senses sharpened. A woman was on the ground, trembling and sobbing, unable to move. You ran toward her, knelt down, and placed your hands on her neck. Her pulse was erratic, racing with panic. You focused and felt your energy surround her, calming her like a warm breeze. Her tears stopped, her breathing steadied.
“Come on, get up and go somewhere safe,” you whispered, and she looked at you with glassy eyes, obeying as if your words were the only truth in the world.
You kept moving forward. Every person you touched changed. A boy who was crying, hidden between cars, stopped trembling when your hand stroked his hair. An old man shouting in desperation regained strength in his legs when he felt your energy flow through him. With each gesture, the chaos around you organized itself, as if your presence was an axis that returned a bit of balance to the world.
Then you saw him. Clark crashed against the asphalt, gasping, his hands pressing the ground to get up. He was exhausted. Your heart tightened in your chest.
“Superman!” you ran through the crowd, helping him to stand. Your hand touched his chest and, with an inner whisper to the sun, you asked for its light to descend discreetly. The star responded; a wave of invisible heat coursed through your body and you transmitted it to him. Clark closed his eyes and placed his hand over yours, absorbing the strength.
“Get out of here,” he said through clenched teeth, still weak but determined. “Get the others out.”
“Clark…”
He looked at you intensely, and that moment was enough for you to understand: he trusted you, but he also feared for you.
“Do it. Please.”
The sun shone brightly, almost blinding, and for a moment you feared it was too much for the people. You stopped it, lowering your hand, controlling the flow of energy. Clark needed light, but the others wouldn’t withstand that heat.
While you evacuated, a piercing scream came from a nearby building. Without thinking, you ran. Clark’s allies had already arrived, that disorganized group still arguing over a name, but you were faster.
You climbed the stairs of the ruined building, dodging dust and beams about to fall. The hallway was empty. Your breathing grew heavier.
“Hello?” you called, your voice echoing against the empty walls.
And then it happened.
A strange noise, metallic, as if the very air was breaking, filled the place. The sound was so sharp it pierced your head like a needle. You clutched your temples, staggering. The world spun, lights danced before your eyes. You tried to cling to the wall, but your knees gave out.
The last thing you saw before losing consciousness was a shadow approaching, and you realized, too late, that you had fallen into the trap Clark feared the most.
The pain in your head was a constant buzz, like an echo repeating against your temples. In the distance you heard distorted voices, muffled laughter, and a murmur that made you frown.
“She’s waking up,” someone said.
You blinked several times until your vision cleared. The first thing you noticed was the light: a huge window covered almost the entire wall in front of you, showing Metropolis hundreds of meters below. You were at the very top of the LexCorp building.
The office was spacious, modern, with metallic walls and polished marble floors. A long glass table stretched near the window; on it were folders, lit-up tablets, and crystal glasses. Everything impeccable, as if each object had been placed to impress and intimidate at the same time.
You tried to move, but you were tied to a chair with straps that were too tight. You turned your head and saw him. You recognized him immediately. Clark had told you about him many times, always with that grave tone he reserved only for warnings.
Lex Luthor.
His figure was impeccable: tailored black suit, perfectly adjusted tie, the calculating gaze of someone always three steps ahead. You had seen his face on magazine covers, heard his name in debates about technology and politics. You knew of his role in the Jarhanpur war, you knew he couldn’t be trusted. But you didn’t understand what you were doing there, in that position, in front of him.
Lex checked his wristwatch and barely turned toward the suited men accompanying him.
“Keep him busy a little longer,” he ordered in a calm, almost indifferent voice. Everyone nodded and left, leaving you alone with him and a shadow in the corner.
You didn’t need to ask who he meant. Your heart skipped a beat: Clark.
Then his green eyes fixed on you, as if you were the most fascinating discovery of his life.
“So it’s true,” he said, and that egocentric smile drew on his lips.
You frowned, keeping silent.
“I could see you,” he continued, walking slowly toward you, hands clasped behind his back. “And I still don’t quite believe it. I won’t give you hints, you’ll figure it out yourself.”
He approached slowly, and the sound of his shoes echoed on the smooth floor, spreading too far. Abruptly, he pulled at the strap binding your wrists, making you wince at the pain cutting through your skin.
Suddenly, a larger hand stopped his with a swift movement.
You turned your head, and your gaze met another figure. The man’s face was covered by a black mask that completely hid his features, making it impossible to identify him. His presence was imposing, but what unsettled you most was that instead of hurting you, he leaned down and began loosening the straps that bound you.
You didn’t know whether to feel relief or fear. The ropes slipping free left your skin sensitive, and the confusion unsettled you more than the pressure on your wrists. Why was he freeing you?
When you looked up, you saw Lex’s smile widen, as if that action didn’t bother him, but rather the opposite. He watched every movement of the masked man with unsettling satisfaction.
“Perfect,” he murmured to himself, almost savoring the words.
Your hands were free, but relief wasn’t enough. Your breathing was quick, your eyes shifted from one face to the other, and the tension of the place felt heavier than the ropes that had bound you a moment ago.
Lex moved to his desk, pressed a hidden button on the panel, and the nearby floor vibrated slightly. A metallic hatch slid open revealing a dark circle, a kind of void suspended in the air, a space outside of reality, designed to hold what neither bars nor weapons could contain.
“Do you know what this is?” Lex asked, though he didn’t wait for an answer. “They call it ‘the pocket hole.’ A space outside time. Ideal for storing things I don’t want Superman to find.”
The man in the black mask stepped toward you. Instinctively, you backed away, heart pounding hard. You didn’t know whether to fear him or trust him; his gesture when untying you had been almost human, but the mystery behind that mask was unbearable.
“Just walk, woman,” Lex ordered with false courtesy, his lips stretching into a mocking smile. “Neither he nor I will hurt you… yet. I can’t let my game end so quickly.”
Your breathing grew shallow as you took slow steps, your feet heavy as if the floor itself wanted to hold you. The place was unlike anything you had seen: the distorted space confused you, as if time passed slower inside. Your thoughts scattered, and a strange tingling ran through your skin. You knew something was wrong, something inside you reacted. And Lex, of course, knew it.
He had observed you. He had studied you. He had made theories about you. He didn’t want you just because your closeness strengthened Superman, nor because you saw hope where others only saw chaos. He wanted you there because you were the Man of Steel’s weakness. Lex had seen the photographs. In every accident, every rescue, every public appearance… there you were. Your hand on Superman’s chest, your gaze fixed on him seconds before he flew away. For you it was a natural, almost unconscious gesture. For Lex, it was the confirmation that you were more important than you had ever thought.
The masked man moved again. This time not behind you, but in front. You felt him close something invisible at your back, and when you turned you realized: you were trapped in a cube. Its transparent walls glowed as if made of reinforced glass, though it seemed like something else: a material impossible to break. Your heart raced and you trembled as you realized you were imprisoned.
A dry clap interrupted your thoughts.
“Now that we have more privacy,” Lex mocked, with an exaggerated bow, “I want to show you my creation. Let’s see if you guess why. I present to you the Hammer of Boravia. Beautiful, isn’t it? It cost years and millions to achieve.”
His voice filled with pride, as if he were showing you a work of art instead of a weapon.
At that moment, the masked man before you raised his hands to his face and slowly removed the mask. Your breath caught. You had to blink several times, convinced your eyes were deceiving you.
They were Clark’s eyes. Clark’s jaw. That same face you had caressed so many times. Only it wasn’t him. His hair was longer, messy, and his expression… wasn’t your husband’s. There was no kindness, no hope, no warm glow that made you feel safe. In his gaze you saw only confusion, anger, and a strange, dark desire that made you shiver.
He stepped toward you, his eyes fixed on yours, but stopped when he noticed your silent plea, your desperate beg for him not to come closer. And then, again, the sound of applause filled the air.
“There it is… that… just like the other fool,” Lex laughed, satisfied, with that cold laugh that made your skin crawl. “He won’t hurt you because you ask him not to. It’s incredible.”
His eyes gleamed with a mix of triumph and amusement. He walked around the cube.
“Isn’t he identical?” he asked, pointing to the clone with a theatrical gesture.
You looked first at Lex and then at the man in front of you. He was identical to Clark. Too much. And you understood: Lex had studied everything. He had analyzed you. He had discovered what you represented to Superman.
Lex clicked his tongue with feigned surprise.
“Not even I managed to program him for that… for not hurting you. And you just proved it to me. It’s not code or design. It’s you. Superman and you are connected. And even if I investigate the reason later, for now it’s enough.” He smiled maliciously. “It’s too fun to see how he and his copy react when it comes to you.”
He sighed with exaggerated annoyance and checked his wristwatch.
“By now your hero is already being humiliated by everyone.”
You frowned, confused.
“What are you talking about?” you asked in a faint voice, unable to imagine what that could mean.
Lex smiled like someone holding an ace up his sleeve.
“That’s right, you left before the surprise. Well, I’ll make it simple: Superman had a video of his parents in his hideout… practically saying he had to take many women and dominate Earth.”
His smile widened as he saw your face pale.
“And the best part,” he continued, savoring each word, “is imagining the face of Clark Kent, that obnoxious journalist, when it’s published.”
Your heart stopped. Blood roared in your ears.
“His little girlfriend did fall into the trap,” Lex went on cruelly. “She signed up to be one of Superman’s women. Now it all makes sense… that’s why Clark Kent gets interviews with his idol. Because Superman visits his girlfriend as… payment.”
He laughed hard, as if he had discovered the cruelest joke of all. The clone, however, looked at him seriously, his dark eyes fixed on Lex as if something in those words bothered him.
“Oops… I struck a nerve,” Lex said with false innocence. Then he gave an order, his voice sharp. “Put her in the cell and come back with me. We’ll put you back to sleep for a while, okay? Sweet dreams.”
He walked away without looking at you again, as if you were already a solved matter.
The man before you remained motionless as the cube began moving slowly down the hallway. Around you, more cubes appeared: in some there were strange figures, people with vacant stares or creatures you had never seen before. All prisoners, all trapped in the same translucent prison.
You didn’t say anything at first. Your throat was closed, your mind confused. Until a name rose in your mind: Krypto.
“Do you… have a dog here?” you asked barely in a whisper, as if you feared the answer would confirm your worst suspicion.
The man identical to Clark tilted his head, studying you in silence. His eyes scanned you, but not with your husband’s kindness, rather with a confusion that seemed to break him inside.
“Yes,” he finally said, his deep voice carrying a strange echo, as if the words cost him.
You lowered your gaze, feeling a lump in your throat.
“Is he important to you?” he asked after a few seconds, almost with childlike curiosity.
You lifted your eyes and nodded firmly, though your hands trembled.
“Yes… please, don’t let anything happen to him.”
Your words weren’t just a plea, they were a silent scream from the depths of your soul.
“I can’t bring him,” he replied harshly, though his eyes said something else.
A small trembling smile escaped your lips, the first since you’d been there.
“Then… just take care of him.”
He didn’t answer immediately, but for an instant his eyes shone with a strange, almost human glimmer. You lowered your gaze again.
The cube’s glass opened slowly, with a low hum that made the floor vibrate. The clone stepped out and, before the panel closed again, he looked at you one last time.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, and his voice was so soft you could hardly believe it came from him.
Suddenly, the sound began. That same sharp, unbearable sound that had broken your resistance before. It was more than noise: it was a vibration shaking your bones, piercing your head until it tore away your balance. Your knees gave out, and before losing consciousness, you saw flashes like suns, moons, and stars blending in a brilliant chaos.
The vibration pierced your inner axis, as if tearing you from your very center, and you fell to the ground unable to fight.
The clone watched you from the entrance, motionless. His gaze, once hard, softened with you. He didn’t understand why, but something in him resisted seeing you suffer. He opened the cube again, ignoring the order he should follow to the letter. He approached and, carefully, brushed aside a lock of hair that had fallen across your face. His fingers stopped halfway, as if afraid to touch more than necessary.
He remembered your frightened gaze, the plea asking him not to come closer, and something inside him broke. That’s why he didn’t touch you further. He only placed your body in a more comfortable position, making sure your breathing flowed calmly.
For a moment, he stayed there, watching you with a tenderness he didn’t understand. It was as if, against everything Lex had programmed, there was something stronger inside him: something far too much like Clark.
When he was sure you were stable, he left the cube and closed it behind him. He walked toward where Lex awaited him.
You didn’t know how much time had passed. Your hands kept trembling, and the cold sensation on your skin forced you to regulate your own temperature as best as you could. You tried to stay balanced, but the echo of the sound that had knocked you unconscious before kept resounding in your head. Your brow furrowed without you being able to stop it; it was as if every vibration still pierced through you.
You tried to gather a bit of energy, but something was blocking it. You didn’t know if it was the place… or if it was you.
“And one more surprise… guess what?” Lex’s voice cut through like a knife. You opened your eyes slowly, and there he was, right in front of you, with that triumphant smile that seemed to stab into your chest. He stepped aside theatrically.
Your heart stopped. You saw him. Clark. In the Superman suit. He was on the ground. You didn’t understand why until your eyes landed on the strange man next to him. His skin wasn’t normal; his hand was transformed into green kryptonite.
You gasped, your eyes glassy.
He lifted his gaze to you, his face twisted in pain.
“She has nothing to do with this… not her! Leave her alone, Luthor!” he shouted with all his strength, trying to stand.
But as soon as the man brought the kryptonite closer, Clark fell to his knees, suffocated. The shine of his cape wrinkled against the floor, as if the very symbol of hope was collapsing.
Lex laughed cruelly. You tried to move, to crawl to the barrier to touch him, to give him even a ray of strength, but you were empty, powerless, with nothing left.
“A great scene for two depraved lovers,” Lex sneered. “I can’t believe it, Superman. Do you betray Clark Kent with his own girlfriend? Is she that good that you fulfill Kent’s whims of interviewing you while sleeping with her?”
“Shut up, Luthor!” Clark roared, his voice breaking, and then he looked at you.
Your eyes were clouded with tears, but even so you smiled faintly and shook your head. You wanted to reassure him, to stop him from falling apart.
“If you think I’ll let you two be together… no.” Lex snapped his fingers and leaned closer to you. “In fact, right now I’m taking her. So say goodbye, Superman. Maybe in a while Clark Kent will share the same fate.”
“Don’t hurt her!” Clark screamed, his voice torn apart. The kryptonite weakened him so much that sweat and saliva dripped from his face, his muscles shaking. Even so, he didn’t give up. “She didn’t do anything, Luthor! You already have me… leave her alone, please, I beg you!”
Tears rolled down your cheeks as you saw him like that. The man who had always been invincible was now on his knees, vulnerable, and only thinking of you.
Lex smiled with satisfaction.
“He really is obsessed with you, woman.” He leaned a little more, until his shadow covered your face. “We’re leaving.”
Clark tried to rise again, his hands trembling against the floor.
“No!” His scream thundered through the place, more powerful than any blow. “Don’t take her, Luthor!”
His blue eyes burned with desperation, fixed on you, as if with just his gaze he was trying to promise you that he would find a way to save you.
So they took you again to a place you didn’t even recognize yourself. They had pulled you out of the cube, then the pocket hole, and once more they put you to sleep. This time the sleep was longer, heavier than before, so much that when you woke up, your body still ached.
You opened your eyes slowly, and the first thing you noticed was the change of environment: you were no longer in a transparent cube or metallic hallways. Now you were in a closed, spacious office, with windows covered by thick curtains. The air smelled of paper and dust, and you were resting on a cold leather couch that creaked every time you moved.
The silence was broken by the sound of footsteps. The door opened, and you saw someone enter: the same clone. This time he wasn’t wearing the mask. He carried a crumpled plastic bag in one hand and a juice in the other. He approached without a word, placed them on the table next to you, and stood there watching you.
Then, a voice came from his chest, metallic, as if a message was being transmitted through him:
“Where are you? Luthor’s been going crazy since yesterday when Superman escaped. Come quickly, the plan is about to start, and they want you in position.”
Your breathing quickened. That voice wasn’t his. It was an order from somewhere inside the LexCorp tower. But the important thing was something else: Superman had escaped. Clark wasn’t there. A spark of hope lit up inside you.
“Don’t go,” you said suddenly, your voice a thread that turned into a plea. “If you leave… Lex will kill me.”
The clone froze and looked at you. His expression didn’t change, but his eyes seemed to analyze every word you spoke.
“He can’t. He needs you for his plan,” he replied in a deep voice, as if repeating something he had been told a thousand times.
He turned halfway, ready to leave. But in an impulse, you grabbed his arm. Your fingers clung to his warm, hard skin. He tensed instantly, surprised. He didn’t pull away. For some reason, he didn’t. And that contact unsettled him.
“Superman is the plan,” you said desperately, looking into his eyes. “If there’s no Superman, he doesn’t need me anymore. I… I can make him strong, anyone strong. Lex sees me as a threat. And when he doesn’t need me anymore… he’ll kill me.”
He frowned.
“He’ll kill you?” he repeated, as if he needed to be sure you had really said that.
Your eyes filled with tears at the memory. You lowered your voice, fear dripping from every syllable:
“He will.”
The clone held your gaze, and although his face remained expressionless, you felt that he sensed your fear. As if he absorbed it, as if something inside him reacted to it.
Finally, he spoke:
“Go to the top floor of the tower.”
He turned and left, closing the door behind him.
You didn’t hesitate. You jumped to your feet and ran. The elevators were deactivated, so you took the stairs. Your legs burned with each step, but you didn’t stop. You climbed floor after floor, your lungs aching, until you reached the top level.
You pushed open the emergency door, and the world changed. Fresh air hit your face immediately. The high-altitude wind whipped your hair, and the sun… the sun stamped against your skin with a heat that coursed through your entire body. You closed your eyes and sighed in relief, letting yourself be enveloped by that light that had always been your refuge.
The sky opened before you, immense, as if the entire universe was embracing you.
“You’re here to protect me…” you whispered, looking at the sun, raising your hand as if you could touch it. “But protect Clark. Wherever he is… keep him safe.”
You opened your eyes. The air around you stilled, obeying you as if the entire world were responding to your voice. For a few seconds, you felt a strange calm: the wind stopped blowing, the city noise was drowned out, and all that remained was the heat of the sun on your skin. Your heart slowed for a moment.
But when you looked down, you saw the reality: chaos. In the distance, cracked streets, flickering lights, buildings trembling as if the city itself were broken. You knew the cause: the pocket hole. That aberration in time and space couldn’t hold forever. Sooner or later, it would bring consequences that not even Lex could control.
Then you saw him. The clone was there, watching you silently. His gaze was fixed, as if he were trying to decipher something from you. He approached, and you hesitated. Every fiber of your body told you to back away, but you also knew this was your only chance. You pressed your lips together and took a step toward him. Then another.
He extended his arms awkwardly, almost unsure, and when you reached him, he received you.
Heights didn’t scare you; you were used to flying in Clark’s arms. But with him, it was different. His hands on your waist, your fingers clutching his shoulders… everything made you feel nervous, insecure, as if you could fall at any moment. There was no tenderness in his touch, only strength. And still, you needed it.
You flew together. The air hit your face, the sun shone on your hair, but your breathing was uneven. He wasn’t Clark. He would never be. And yet, you were trusting him to survive.
When your feet finally touched the ground, you sighed in relief. You felt the firm concrete beneath you and looked around. You were free.
“Thank you…” you murmured, looking at him with a thread of gratitude.
He didn’t reply. He just stood in front of you, his hair tousled by the wind, his dark eyes silent.
Suddenly, once again, the metallic voice came from his chest:
“They’ve located Superman.”
The clone turned his face toward you, as if the voice were also an order pushing him. He looked at you one last time, and without another word, he turned and left.
Once there, you looked around. There was no one. You focused, and you could sense the heartbeats of thousands of people, distant, fleeing to safer zones. That gave you a small relief. But the calm didn’t last: the ground vibrated beneath your feet, and you fell to your knees roughly. You got up quickly, just in time to see several buildings collapse in the distance as if they were made of paper.
Your breathing quickened. You were only a few streets from the rift: that glowing wound in space, the pocket hole that was distorting everything. You ran without thinking, and being outdoors felt like it restored part of your strength. The sensation of the sun on your skin, the air hitting your face, everything reminded you that there was still something inside you Lex hadn’t managed to break.
When you arrived, you saw him: Mr. Terrific. You recognized immediately the floating chair he worked from, surrounded by translucent screens filled with constantly changing data. His hands moved quickly, adjusting formulas and codes, until he looked at you. His eyes widened in surprise, though he didn’t stop working.
“What are you doing here, woman?” he shouted over the roar of chaos. “Clark’s been running around like crazy looking for you!”
You couldn’t help but smile. For the first time in a long while, someone recognized you.
“And on top of that, you’re smiling… you two really are sadists,” he growled sarcastically, though there was real relief in his tone.
“My apologies, Mr. Terrific. I’m here now. How do I help?” you asked, stepping closer to the edge of the rift.
He snorted as his eyes kept scanning the screens.
“Humans thinking they’re gods, opening portals stupidly and unleashing chaos.” His sincerity was raw. “Do you think you can close it with your powers? I’ve tried everything I know, but… something’s missing in the codes.”
You swallowed hard.
“I don’t know. When I was inside, my powers shut off,” you confessed.
He turned toward you, frowning.
“Woman… you practically control the world. Maybe it’s time you explore what you can do beyond calming crowds and acting like a silent protector. Stop fearing what you might cause. If you don’t hold the reins of your future… then take it and do it.”
For a moment, he went silent, as if he had revealed more than he should. Then he sighed.
“Too many words for someone like me. Do what you want. I’m going to try closing this thing from another angle.”
He tapped a panel on his chair and pulled out a small device, which he tossed toward you. You caught it instinctively.
“With this, I’ll communicate with you. Do you hear me?”
You placed it in your ear and smiled faintly.
“Unfortunately, Mr. Sermon, yes I hear you.” You joked with a hint of mockery. “I’ll try. Just… tell me if I manage anything.”
“Count on it,” he replied, and hurried off toward another part of the rift.
You approached the edge cautiously. What you saw took your breath away: flashing lights, like entire galaxies spinning, fragments of stars suspended, and beyond, a void that seemed to call you. It was beautiful and impossible, but also terrifying.
Then you looked at the sun. You felt it differently, as if it wasn’t just energy but a bridge to something greater. The air, the heat, even the vibration of the ground responded. You exhaled, focusing on the depths of the rift. And suddenly you understood: you weren’t connecting with the same elements as always, but with others, ones you had never touched before.
You stepped back, closed your eyes, and visualized what you had just seen seconds earlier. Your hands began to vibrate. The tingling turned into pressure, and without realizing it, you opened them forcefully, pushing as if you wanted to join them. It didn’t work. It still wasn’t connecting with the rift.
You understood: you had to look at it directly. You opened your eyes, and in that instant, your pupils glowed light blue, like the sky at dawn. Your body lifted effortlessly, floating over the void. The wind swirled around your figure, and without realizing it, you were right above the rift. You pointed at it and extended your hands, as if the universe itself bent to your will.
“It’s working,” said Mr. Terrific’s voice in your ear. “That’s it… my code is syncing with your power.”
You smiled without looking away. In front of you, the rift began to show lines, paths of light that seemed to intertwine. You saw entire universes, infinite possibilities, people you didn’t know but somehow felt vital in their worlds. And among all that, you saw yourself. In every reflection, in every universe, Clark was there, holding you. That vision gave you strength, and your hands burned with pure energy, slowly closing the edges of the portal.
But a distant rumble broke your concentration.
Your heart skipped a beat. You recognized two identical heartbeats. Clark… and his clone. Your hands trembled. Your gaze drifted from the rift, and your eyes, once sky-blue, deepened into an intense blue, like his. You saw him… Clark, vomiting as if he were being poisoned.
“No!” you whispered, fear stabbing through your chest.
“Keep going!” Mr. Terrific’s voice ordered urgently.
You raised your hands again, forcing your mind to focus. The rift stirred, responding to your power, but then another sound, closer, shook you: a metallic crash from a nearby building.
Your senses expanded involuntarily, and you felt Clark’s heartbeat… but not only his. The clone’s as well. They were so close you could tell them apart, but the similarity was unbearable.
“Go with him,” said Mr. Terrific seriously, resigned. “He needs to see you well. They told him you were being tortured. I’ll take care of things here.”
You looked at the destroyed building and descended, your feet firmly touching the ground. You ran among the debris, your heart pounding in your chest, until you saw him: the clone.
He approached with slow but steady steps, and your breathing quickened. There was something in his eyes… it wasn’t tenderness, it was possessive desire, as if he had been waiting for you. He stopped just inches away and, without asking permission, raised his hand to your cheek. His fingers brushed your skin with a softness that contrasted with the hardness of his gaze.
“Stay away from her.”
Clark’s voice thundered with force, even weakened. You turned to look at him, and in that instant your tears almost spilled. He was there, doubled over in pain, gasping, but his gaze fixed on you.
You stepped back, pulling away from the clone, and gave Clark a weak smile.
“You found me…” he whispered, him voice breaking.
“Always…” you replied with a smile.
You took a step toward him, but the clone stopped you. His hand closed tightly around your arm, forcing you to look at him. He shook his head, and in his voice there was no trace of doubt:
“You’re mine.”
Your heart stopped. You looked at him with fury and fear at the same time.
“No,” you said firmly, trying to break free. “I don’t belong to anyone. I was made to be one with him… not with you.”
You managed to free yourself, and your words left him stunned, as if they had struck harder than any punch.
You ran to Clark. His arms wrapped around you as soon as you reached him, trembling as he breathed in your scent, as if confirming you were alive.
You stood in front of Clark, shielding him, as the clone’s eyes turned red, aimed directly at Superman. You knew what was coming: the heat of laser vision ready to strike.
“Do you see it?” Lex’s mocking voice sounded, coming from the device on the clone’s chest. “Superman, you know what’s worse than making me angry? Making an idiot angry who thinks he can replace you.”
Clark tried to push you aside, but you acted first. You raised your hand, and a gust of wind rushed with such force that it sent the clone flying against the remains of a building. Silence took over the place for an instant.
Clark blinked, surprised.
“That’s new…” he whispered with a weak half-smile.
You turned to him, tears in your eyes and determination on your face.
“Go save the world.” You cupped his face with both hands and pressed your lips to his.
The contact was deep, desperate, but full of love. At the same time, you raised your other hand to the sun. The rays descended, directly toward Clark, not passing through you, not harming anyone. The heat surrounded him, charging him with energy.
You felt it the moment his strength returned: his embrace tightened around your waist with certainty, his body stood tall again, and a spark of hope shone in his eyes.
“That’s what he doesn’t have,” Clark whispered, referring to the clone. “He’ll never be able to kiss you.”
You laughed softly, tenderly.
“Actually, I can give you power without kissing you… like always. But I like it better this way.”
He smiled, and that smile was all you needed to keep standing.
“I have to finish him. He’s gone crazy seeing you here… with me.” His voice lowered, full of determination.
You gave him a short kiss, a reminder he wasn’t alone.
“Do it, Clark. And come back to me.”
He left, and just at that moment you felt the vibration of a voice in your ear.
“Are you done making out? We can go back to closing the portal,” said Mr. Terrific with irony.
A laugh escaped you.
“Were you so entertained listening to our kisses that you didn’t stop us?” you teased.
On the other side, a sound of disgust was heard.
“Ugh, don’t remind me. Focus on the rift.”
You took a breath and looked again at the impossible glow of the pocket hole. You rose gently, energy tingling in your hands, ready to try once more to close it.
Meanwhile, Clark fought against his clone. From the ground he could see you floating over the rift, and even weakened, his chest swelled with pride. Seeing you master your power was more beautiful than any of his triumphs. But reality hit him: each attack from the clone weakened him more, and Lex never stopped reminding him, through speakers and cameras, how he had created him.
“A single strand of your hair, Superman,” Lex mocked from his ship, watching him through the cameras. “A strand of hair and the obsession needed to perfect it.”
Clark, gasping, could only smile.
“You and your stupid smile,” Lex scoffed, seeing him through the screen.
Clark didn’t speak to him. His eyes were fixed on the clone, on that twisted version of himself.
“You’re not going to have her,” he said firmly.
The clone frowned, his eyes glowing red.
“Never,” Clark continued, never looking away from him. “Because you only desire her without reason. But me… I love her.”
The echo of his words resounded even above the roar.
“I love her so much that her peace is my peace, her happiness is mine. Her heartbeat is mine and her love is mine, because my whole heart is for her. And you have nothing of her. Because you want to possess her… and with me, she is destined. No pressure. Just love.”
The clone, furious, threw a direct punch at his face. Clark took it, staggering, but still smiling.
“Do you know what’s the best part?” he added with a spark of mischief. “That there’s someone else even angrier at you… for having captured his second favorite person.”
He whistled softly, and in the next instant a red streak swooped from the sky. Krypto, with his cape billowing, slammed into the clone with all his canine strength and knocked him down, freeing Superman from the immediate pressure.
You didn’t see it: you were too focused on the rift. But you felt the trembling beneath your feet, the difficulty of your task. You closed one side, and another opened; every second was a battle against the universe itself.
“Krypto, fetch the ball!” Clark shouted with a smile.
The dog barked in response, happy to obey. He leapt high, straight at the hidden cameras from which Lex controlled the clone’s movements. One bite and a brutal tug were enough to destroy them.
Sparks flew through the air. Lex’s screens shut down one by one, leaving the room in silence, lit only by red emergency lights. The control over the clone broke. Clark, gasping, took advantage of the moment: with a precise blow to the face of his double, he made him stagger, and with a second impact to the chest he sent him flying back.
The clone lost balance, growling with fury, and for a moment seemed to regain composure… but then Clark grabbed him, lifted him with all his strength, and hurled him directly into the rift. The void swallowed him in a blink. The clone disappeared among galaxy sparks, devoured by the pocket hole.
Silence was total. Clark breathed heavily, his body tense, but Mr. Terrific’s voice pulled him out of that pause.
“We need the code. Your wife won’t be able to close that thing alone unless she drains all the power. And we both know she’s barely starting to control it.” His tone was grave.
Clark lifted his gaze to you. He saw you, floating above the rift, your brow furrowed, energy emanating from your body like an aura. His heart stopped for an instant: you were giving everything, too much, and he knew it.
Without thinking, he flew straight toward LexCorp’s ship. Mr. Terrific, with Krypto’s help, intercepted the defense systems, taking down turrets and barriers to clear the way.
Lex was waiting. The billionaire stood before the destroyed screens, his face twisted with rage.
“You’re not human!” he shouted, his voice dripping with hate.
Clark landed with force, his boots thundering against the metal floor. He looked him straight in the eyes.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Lex. I’m human. I always have been. I wake up every day knowing everything I can do… and still, I fall. But I get back up. And I feel. I love. I suffer. Everything a human feels… I do too.”
Lex laughed cruelly, though his voice sounded broken.
“Superman loves? Aren’t you the one sleeping with the girlfriend of the man who interviews you?” he spat, mocking.
Mr. Terrific, connected to the channel, smiled silently. No one, neither Lex nor the world, knew that Clark Kent and Superman were the same person. And that ignorance was his friend’s greatest advantage.
“And you still say you’re human.” Lex spat on the floor. “Well, she’s nothing but a slut who spreads her legs for—”
He couldn’t finish. A ferocious growl resounded, and Krypto leapt on him, knocking him down with a brutal impact. Lex fell to the floor, groaning.
“Krypto, stop!” Clark ordered, grabbing the dog by the collar so he wouldn’t tear him apart.
Meanwhile, above, you had done it.
The portal trembled when your energy synced with the rift. With a final effort, your hands sealed the luminous fracture. The roar of the void faded little by little, and as soon as everything closed, your arms fell heavily at your sides.
You sighed, exhausted. Your hand rose weakly, and immediately nature responded: the wind caressed your skin, the sunlight filtered directly onto you, giving you warmth and strength. Your eyes still shone blue, like the clear sky after a storm. You blinked, and slowly they returned to their normal color.
You took a deep breath, your body trembling, and finally let out a sigh of relief.
You had closed the rift.
“Good day for pizza?” —Clark’s voice came softly, with that tone he only used with you.
You turned immediately and saw him floating just above the ground, his cape waving in the breeze. You didn’t need to think: you ran toward him and hugged him tightly. Clark, unconcerned about onlookers, lifted off with you into the sky, holding you against his chest before anyone could see you from below.
Laughter escaped you when you looked at him.
“Now it seems like I can fly on my own…” —you commented, remembering what you had just done in front of the rift, though you didn’t let go of him.
“I prefer it this way,” —Clark whispered in your ear, adjusting you by the waist, so close you felt his breath against your skin.
You laughed again, warmth on your cheeks impossible to hide. But suddenly he grew serious, with that vulnerability he rarely let show.
“You recognize me, right?” —he asked with a hint of fear.
You looked at him, not fully understanding.
“What?”
His eyes narrowed, as if he still needed to make sure.
“If that man had looked exactly like me… would you have recognized me?”
You smiled tenderly and shook your head.
“Clark… I recognized you the moment you fell. It’s not your appearance that guides me. It’s your heartbeat.” —You placed your open palm on his chest, right where his heart pounded—. “There could be thousands like you, but I would always find you. Maybe you’d be blushing or showing those dimples when you smile.” —You said it with such certainty that he couldn’t help but smile, confirming your words.
“I love you,” —Clark said, and it wasn’t just a declaration: it was a promise. His eyes shone like when you first met him.
“And I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
You looked straight into his eyes and, like the first time you met him, it happened again: the lines of time appeared before you. It was as if the universe had decided to open once more in his gaze. You felt the same vertigo of that first occasion, when destiny seemed to unfold before you like an endless map of possible futures.
Normally, that line that belonged to you with him had always been blurry, confusing, as if the universe itself insisted on blocking your vision. But not now. Now, in the midst of the chaos defeated, with the calm air and the sun bathing his features, you saw it clearly.
One timeline stood out above the rest, strong, luminous, vibrant like no other. There you were. There he was. A future in which you walked together, where falls and victories were shared, where nights were peaceful and mornings full of hope. You saw him smiling at you like now, with those dimples you loved so much, saw him wrapping you in his arms, protecting you in silence and laughing with you in the everyday. And in that instant you knew it didn’t matter about the shadows, the clones, Lex, or the cracks in the universe: that future was real, because it was woven into the essence of both of you.
“We will spend the rest of our lives together,” —you affirmed, with a firm voice, and he smiled as if he had just won the greatest battle of all.
A beep sounded in your ear.
“So much romantic garbage… are you coming down or are you going to keep putting on a show up there?” —Mr. Terrific’s voice was heard, annoyed.
You couldn’t help but laugh. You took the device from your ear and tossed it into the void.
“Let him wait a little longer,” —you said, amused.
Clark laughed with you, lowering his forehead to yours.
“He’s going to be furious when we get back.”
“Then he’d better learn some patience,” —you whispered, and kissed him again.
Your hands tangled in his curls, and the whole world became secondary. The sunlight bathed his shoulders, the air wrapped around you softly, the earth below seemed calm, and the fire of the kiss kept you together. Everything was balanced, because you had done it: you closed the rift, saved the city, and now you understood that your powers were more than you had ever imagined.
But none of that mattered more than him.
You looked at him with your heart racing, and you knew with absolute certainty that your future was in your hands, and in them was Clark’s as well.
And in that future, the only name written next to yours… was his.
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This work is mine. Copying or translating this fic is strictly prohibited. Any issue must be notified directly to me. Thank you.
You always enjoyed nights like these with Lex. The quiet company, the view of the Metropolis skyline from his penthouse, the dim light of a lamp illuminating the book in your hands. As much as you loved the luxurious lifestyle he brought, spending time with him like this was like a breath of fresh air.
With your knees tucked into your chest, you read silently to yourself, content only to share each other’s presence. Lex sat on the other side of the lamp, looking out onto the city, certainly thinking about something you couldn’t begin to understand. There was no need to talk, the two of you engrossed in your own venture, but you still shared the night together.
Lex wasn’t even on your mind as you focused solely on the pages, imagining the opulence of Jay Gatsby. That was until you heard a click, one so loud in the silent room it made you jump. Your eyes shot up from the book, finding a small, orange flame in Lex’s hand. A lighter.
He lifted it, bringing it to the cigarette he held between his lips. Your eyes lingered on his hands, following the shape of his deft fingers as the end caught the flame. When he returned the lighter to his pocket, pulling the cigarette from his mouth with the opposite hand, he tilted his chin and parted his lips, letting the smoke disperse into the room.
Your breath caught. You’d seen him smoke before, a frequent activity of his at public appearances, but this was different. Your eyes were fixed to the rise and fall of his chest, the way the dim light caught the grey cloud that left his lips when he exhaled. The smell of tobacco hit your nose, making you light headed.
Then his gaze met yours, his head turning only slightly to look you in the eye. Your body froze, as if being caught doing something you weren’t supposed to be doing. But a smile spread across his lips, his eyes flicking down and back up, an amused hum following.
“Come here,” he said, the tilt of his head gesturing you over, a knowing smirk on his face. You obliged, slowly setting down your book and letting your bare feet touch the cool floor. His eyes followed you as you stood, tracing your form in the pink slip you had on that left little to the imagination.
“Sit.” He patted his thigh with his free hand as you lingered awkwardly in front of him. “Here.” You did as you were told, like you have many times before. Not out of fear, no, you weren’t scared of him like others were, you did it for that little hum of satisfaction as you sat in his lap.
The hand that delicately held the cigarette grazed against your thigh, guiding your legs up and over his as his other hand slid across your back and settled on your waist. You stared into his icy blue eyes, captivated as he took another drag of the cigarette, blowing the smoke out of the side of his mouth to avoid your face.
“Want some?” He asked, gesturing to you with the cigarette between his fingers. Silently, you nodded, wanting to do anything to see him satisfied. But as you went to reach for his hand, he pulled it away, a simple bend of his arm. You withdrew, eyes wide and confused.
You watched as he took another drag, never breaking his eye contact with you. Your heart fluttered, his eyes holding something intense as they usually did. His fingers slid across your jaw before he leaned into you, thumb skimming over your bottom lip. Your eyelids fluttered closed as your lips parted, ready to accept the kiss he seemed to want. Though he stopped just short of you, leaving you open-mouthed and wanting.
Then you felt his breath, heavy against your tongue. That alone was enough to make your heart skip a beat, but when the distinct taste of tobacco hit your senses, you gasped. As the smoke quickly filled your lungs, you broke away from him, coughing into your hand. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, one you were able to feel.
“You can’t gasp like that, sweetheart,” he said, though it was clear he was amused by your inexperience. Heat spread across your cheeks as you began to breathe normally, your gaze now fixed to the floor. He didn’t let you linger long, his fingers finding your chin and guiding you back to him.
“Again?” he asked, though you weren’t sure it was a real question. You nodded anyway. “Inhale slowly.” He repeated his movements, staring into you as he took the drag. But as he exhaled this time, you breathed him in slowly, letting the smoke into your lungs at a much preferred pace.
He leaned back into his chair, watching intently as you breathed the smoke back out. It wasn’t often you held his full attention, his mind typically preoccupied by something more important than you. However, in those moments where he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered, you felt a warmth unlike any other. You felt significant.
“Good,” he cooed, his eyes wandering your face as if studying you, as if trying to convert your features to memory. His lips were parted in a soft, mesmerized smile. He was captivated. By you.
The night went on, the ticking of the clock never stopping. Though, for the two of you, that sound fell ignored. There wasn’t a shred of worry, a drop of obligation, nor a bit of doubt. All that mattered, even just for the night, was each other.
Hello, I truly, deeply love your way of writing. It's simply amazing. I have just one idea, only if you feel comfortable writing it: what if the reader had some kind of postpartum anemia and somehow managed to hide it from Clark? And I can't stop saying how much I love your writing. I hope you have a great day, afternoon, or night (depending on when you're reading this)!
Sorry if my English is terribly written, honestly, it's not a language I'm very good at.<3
Here’s this request, I absolutely loved writing it. I’m still accepting more requests of any kind, so feel free to send yours! ✨
Two Missions
Clark Kent x female reader
WC: 5,300 words approx.
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The arrival of little Meredith into Clark’s life and yours had been a true blessing. After so many doubts and difficulties during the pregnancy, finally seeing her in your arms, breathing strongly and crying with healthy lungs, was like hearing the sweetest melody. Her cries were a sign of life, of strength, of being well. Clark couldn’t take his eyes off her: he held her with tenderness, covered her forehead and cheeks with soft kisses, and at the same time tried to take care of you, making sure you lacked nothing. In his eyes shone an immense love, so pure, that all you could do was smile as you looked at him.
For your part, the feeling was different. Though your heart overflowed with joy, your body felt weak and exhausted. The pregnancy had been hard, much more than you expected, and bringing into the world a baby who inherited the nature of a metahuman had meant an enormous effort for you, still being human. That difference weighed on you as a disadvantage. When Meredith was born, you lost too much blood. The doctors acted immediately thanks to Bruce’s contacts, and thus no one discovered that the girl had come into the world with the same extraordinary gifts as her father. That secret kept Clark calm, though you knew the concern for you still lingered.
When you were discharged, you said with a smile that you were fine, that you felt stronger. But the truth was different: your body needed time, your energy didn’t return, and the long nights with the baby’s crying only worsened your exhaustion.
Clark spent many days staying with you, caring for you with infinite patience, but work also called him. The Daily Planet needed him, and he had to continue being Clark Kent before the world. So you took on the routine of caring for Meredith with Martha’s help, who had decided to visit you from time to time so you wouldn’t be alone.
One quiet afternoon, as the light softly entered through the dining room curtains, Martha watched you closely. You were barely pushing the food around on your plate, your dark eyes surrounded by deep circles.
“The little one is just like Clark, isn’t she?” she asked with a tender smile, tilting her head a little.
You nodded slowly, letting out a sigh.
“I try to get her to sleep… but lately it’s been getting worse,” you confessed, moving the fork between your fingers.
Martha narrowed her eyes and then fixed them on you. She saw the tremor in your hand, even though the utensil weighed nothing.
“And you? How are you, dear?” she asked softly, in a maternal tone that pierced you like an invisible hug.
“Tired,” you admitted bluntly, lowering your gaze. “But I’m fine, I just need a little rest.” You offered her a weak smile, as if wanting to reassure her.
Before she could answer, a small cry sounded from the adjoining room. Your instinct was to get up immediately, but Martha stopped you gently, placing a hand on your arm.
“I’ll take care of it, dear,” she said firmly, looking at you with sweetness. “Eat something and then go to sleep. It will do you good.”
The little one was difficult to calm. It took Martha several minutes of rocking her, walking back and forth through the room, and singing softly until the sobs finally faded and Meredith’s small body relaxed against her chest. With Clark or with you it only took an instant for the baby to find comfort, as if she recognized in the two of you the security of her world. But with patience, Martha succeeded.
When you went up to the bedroom to rest, she returned to the dining room table and noticed your empty plate. She looked up at the baby, already asleep, and couldn’t help but feel a knot in her chest. You had eaten, yes, but she saw you so weak that the unease didn’t leave her.
Hours later, the front door opened. Clark came in, taking off his jacket and leaving the briefcase to the side, with a tired smile at seeing his mother waiting for him.
“Mom,” he said softly, approaching her.
“Clark,” Martha replied, returning the smile. She hesitated a moment before speaking. “Your father is waiting for me, I must go… but first I wanted to ask you something.”
Clark frowned curiously.
“What is it?”
Martha faltered. She didn’t want it to seem like she was criticizing her daughter-in-law, but she loved you too much to stay silent.
“Do you know if your wife is eating well?”
Confusion reflected on Clark’s face.
“Well… I think so. I’m not with her all day, but when I leave in the morning I prepare her food, everything you told me was good for her. And when I come back I make dinner. She always says she’s fine…”
Martha interrupted him gently.
“And does she really eat it?”
Clark lowered his voice, thoughtful.
“The truth is… I always find the food almost untouched. She says she had a snack, that she wasn’t hungry. Why do you ask?”
Martha sighed.
“Today I was with her almost all day. She’s very pale, Clark, and exhausted. The baby cries too much and she barely sleeps. Her body is more fragile than you imagine. I think you should take her to the doctor, son.”
Clark’s heart tightened at hearing her.
“I will, Mom. I promise,” he replied seriously, kissing her forehead before saying goodbye.
When Martha left, the silence of the house grew heavier. Clark slowly climbed the stairs, his steps almost unsure. He carefully opened the bedroom door and saw you there, lying on the bed, wrapped in the sheets. Your breathing was calm, but your skin looked even paler under the dim light of the lamp. In the crib, Meredith slept deeply, for the first time in a long while.
Clark left his shoes by the door and approached quietly. His gaze went first to the girl, making sure she was fine. Then, inevitably, he focused on you. His soul shrank at seeing how your body seemed smaller in your sleepwear, as if you had lost weight in just a few days.
With an almost involuntary gesture, he used his vision to look inside you. He checked your lungs, your liver, your heart. The image struck him: your heart was beating with a slow, weak rhythm. The exhaustion was leaving real marks on your body.
You stirred at feeling a weight on the bed. You opened your eyes slowly and saw him sitting next to you, watching you in silence. You smiled weakly and sat up carefully. Clark smiled too and leaned down to leave a kiss on your forehead, another on your cheek, and finally on your lips, making you let out a small laugh.
“Did Martha leave already? What a shame… I fell asleep,” you said softly, and Clark shook his head.
“She told me you haven’t been eating,” he replied bluntly.
You nodded without trying to hide it.
“I’m not hungry. I’ll eat later,” you said in a murmur.
At that moment, a small babble came from the crib. The baby had felt her parents’ presence. Clark immediately stood up, went to her, and picked her up carefully. You looked at him tenderly, though a slight furrow of your brows betrayed you: a dizziness ran through your body again, forcing you to blink hard.
“Are you okay?” Clark asked when he noticed, his voice full of concern.
You opened your eyes with effort and nodded, forcing a smile that didn’t fully reach your eyes.
Clark didn’t say anything else, but the way he looked at you was clear. You knew he wasn’t convinced. You knew he wasn’t going to let it go.
And so it was. The next morning, Clark got up early. He dressed quickly, combed his hair simply, and then gently caressed your arm to wake you up.
“Love, change into something comfortable,” he said softly.
Although you were still sleepy, you nodded and obeyed. While you got dressed, Clark prepared the semi-elastic wrap he had bought weeks earlier to carry Meredith. He placed the little one against his chest, settled her with patience, and covered her carefully, knowing that outside the air was cool. The scene was so tender that you couldn’t help but smile, despite how tired you were: your husband, with his daughter asleep against him, looked like the perfect image of a protective father.
The three of you went out together. Clark walked by your side, keeping a calm pace so you wouldn’t get exhausted. They finally reached the hospital. The day became long between white hallways, waiting rooms, and medical tests. You had blood tests done, and in the middle of everything, you had to feed the baby. Clark helped you settle, holding your bag, offering you water, giving you space. When you finished, he even stepped out for a moment to bring you something to eat: a milkshake and a sandwich.
“Just the milkshake…” you said, refusing the solid food with a tired smile. Clark didn’t insist out loud, but in his eyes, a growing concern was clear.
At last, the doctor received you. Clark came in with Meredith asleep on his chest, adjusting the wrap as if it were natural. The doctor looked at you both and smiled kindly.
“First-time parents, right?” he asked as he greeted you.
“Yes,” Clark answered with a proud smile.
“It shows,” said the doctor amused, then he grew serious. He took the test results and reviewed them in silence. Clark instinctively took your free hand while holding the baby with the other. His fingers pressed yours gently, as if trying to give you courage.
The doctor sighed before speaking.
“Well, Mrs. Kent…” he looked up at you. “The results show that you have anemia. It’s quite common in women who just had their first baby, especially if there was blood loss during childbirth. But it’s important to treat it.”
You felt your cheeks warm, and you turned your gaze toward Clark, who was now watching you with a furrowed brow.
“Tell me,” the doctor continued, “have you felt dizziness, fatigue, or shortness of breath?”
You lowered your head, nervously playing with your fingers.
“Yes… when I carry the baby, I lose my breath, and… sometimes I have to stop to calm myself because I feel like I’m going to faint,” you confessed. “And I don’t have much appetite…” you added in a lower voice.
You noticed how Clark let go of your hand to adjust Meredith’s position in the wrap, but it felt more like a gesture of contained anger than a necessary movement. You had no doubt: he was upset that you hadn’t told him anything before.
The doctor took notes and nodded firmly.
“All right. The important thing is that we know now. We’ll start a full treatment. I’ll give you B12 vitamins, an iron supplement, and also a medication that will help increase your appetite. Don’t worry, it’s safe for breastfeeding. Also, you must rest much more and change your diet a bit. Eating red meat, green vegetables, and iron-rich foods will be essential.”
Clark listened carefully, every word seemed to sink into him. Finally, the doctor also looked at him.
“And Mr. Kent, it’s vital that you support her. She needs someone to take care of her so she can recover soon.”
Clark nodded immediately.
The walk back home felt heavier than usual. You barely spoke, and although you didn’t dare look at him directly, you felt the warmth of his hand intertwined with yours, hidden inside his sweater so you wouldn’t feel cold. Clark didn’t say a word; he just walked by your side, his silence full of thoughts.
When you arrived, the first thing he did was place the baby in the crib. You sat on the bed, eyes fixed on the floor, feeling that the silence weighed even more than the walls around you.
“Sorry,” you finally whispered, your voice breaking. “I should have told you… you’re angry, right?” Two tears ran down your face before you could stop them.
Clark knelt in front of you and quickly wiped each tear with his thumbs. He immediately shook his head, looking at you tenderly.
“I will never be angry with you,” he said firmly, his voice a little shaky. “I’m angry at myself. You’re my wife, I swore to take care of you when I married you… and I didn’t do it as I should have. I should have noticed, I should have looked beyond your smiles and not just rushed off to work.”
“But you already do too much, Clark,” you answered in a thread of voice. “The food, the work… and besides, I…”
Clark didn’t let you finish.
“And you carried our daughter for nine months, endured every movement, every kick. You went through the pain of childbirth, and still, you smile. We both knew it would be hard, but it doesn’t weigh on me. Because this—” he leaned closer to you, taking your hands between his “—is what I always dreamed of. Having a family with you. I just don’t want you to get sick. I’m going to take care of you more, and I need you to do your part too.”
Your eyes filled with tears again, but this time you nodded.
“Thank you…” you whispered, caressing his face with your palm. Clark covered it with his hand, warm and firm, and you leaned in to kiss him. The kiss was slow, full of love and relief, and luckily Meredith let you enjoy that moment without interrupting.
That diagnosis was enough for Clark to act immediately. That very afternoon-evening, he went out and came back loaded with several bags: fruits, fresh vegetables, vitamins, medicines, even bottles —even though they didn’t need them yet— and even small heat patches to ease your muscle pains. He had thought of every detail, everything that could help you feel better.
From then on, Clark never let his guard down. He cared for you every moment: he had breakfast with you before leaving, video-called you at lunchtime to make sure you were really eating, and always had dinner by your side, even if he came home exhausted from work. In less than two months, thanks to his consistency and your effort, your energy began to return. Your face regained its natural glow, your body looked stronger, and even your smiles were more genuine.
Clark noticed, and in silence he gave thanks every day for being able to see you standing, recovered, with Meredith asleep in your arms. For him, it was clear that he had two missions in life: to take care of his daughter… and to take care of you.
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This work is mine. Copying or translating this fic is strictly prohibited. Any issue must be notified directly to me. Thank you.
so i’ve been contemplating on making a secretaryesque (oc of course but you can insert your name if you want) x lex luthor chaptered fanfic canon adjacent to the movie since im so hungry for content … but! this is my first fic and it’s bound to be terrible fyi. IT WILL NOT BE GOOD☠️ to my standards at least.
since this is honestly a practice run so it’ll be here to read eventually and maybe i’ll even do request to further improve. I haven’t had a hyper fixation in a while. James really reignited my love for lex, clark & the dcu in general so i’m trying to enjoy it while I can.
germansingergirl
pixelskylines
tangentwithtanner
kianamaiart
origamiaround
yousharknotpass
discoholicmusic
