summary: as a very dedicated journalist you start investigating a mysterious disappearance, but that only leads you to getting captured and put into prison, when one day, a very special man gets put in the cell next to yours.
tw and contains: some angst, fluff, reader gets k1dnapped, violence, Lex Luthor, character death (not reader), Clark is taller than reader, guns (mentioned), slight mentions of trauma, happy ending (cause, again, I'm a sucker for it), long fic.
a.n: this story took me much more time to write but I hope you'll enjoy it, it's set during the events of 'Superman' (2025) but Clark and Lois aren't dating. also, thank you all so so much for all the love you've given to my previous fic, I'm so grateful for your support angels 🤍
Way too many hours, too many minutes...
That's how long you've been trapped in that empty, soulless glass cell.
In a fucking pocket universe.
When you became a journalist you swore to yourself to fight for truth and help others. Writing articles wasn't just a part of your job, it was the thing that gave a meaning to your sleepless nights, tired eyes, cold or late night meals and ink stained hands. You became a journalist because you wanted to make a change, no matter the size, and you decided to do it in your favorite way: using pen and paper.
You had landed a spot at the "American Mercury" and despite having to deal with snarky and snobby colleagues, you loved your job. A nickname your colleagues had given you was "little humanitarian" cause of how your stories always tackled social issues or subjects: a heartwarming article about an opening nonprofit dog shelter? Yours. A deep dive on the objectification of women in advertisement campaigns? It had your name on it. An interview of a local firefighter that had rescued a toddler while not being on duty? You guessed it, you had written it.
You just couldn't bear the thought of writing something soulless or too frivolous (you did a fluff piece, once, on the best 10 underrated summer destinations near Metropolis, and you had sworn to never write such thing again).
What led you to your current situation?
One of the leads you were chasing.
You were certain that it would've been your breakout piece, because this was huge.
You had started investigating the mysterious disappearance of an influencer, Olivia Buckley, from all online platforms.
Buckley had released a video saying that she would've taken a break for an undetermined amount of time from social media, but what started as days, turned into weeks, then months. Months of absolutely nothing.
While you didn't follow her, she would often appear on your foryou page, since she was mainly known for her makeup tutorials.
But there was no trace of her online, no update or paparazzi photo published on gossip magazines or fan accounts.
Word spread that she moved to another country, but if she had, then why were there no photos of her at the airport? She wasn't that rich to be able to afford a private jet, and her content was followed by all kinds of people, not just the citizens of Metropolis. It just felt weird for someone so active like Buckley to never even write a small update tweet, or to never appear in a photo of her influencer friends while out clubbing.
Maybe you were spiraling, but something smelled fishy, so you started investigating.
Because, it felt so weird for her to do a 180 after all of the content she had published during her relationship with Lex Luthor.
You didn't like that man, not one bit.
He felt slimy. He had this meticulously curated public image, the one of a tech genius who put his intelligence into work, creating one of the richest enterprises in America, to improve the world through his technological inventions. You could resume his campaigns and mentality with the rule of the 3 'I's:
Innovate, Improve, Increase (his bank account balance)
He wasn't very active on social media, but what you did know is that he and Olivia had dated and eventually broken up, since Luthor was spotted attending Metropolis' annual charity gala with a new partner, another pretty, skinny and blonde model.
But Olivia's absence, online, in real life, the fact that so many of her fan accounts have been removed on social media...it was suspicious, too suspicious. It couldn't have been a coincidence...no, it most certainly wasn't.
So you begin investigating, spending hours and hours trying to find clues, contacting the influencer's friends, manager, anyone you could lay your hands on.
Just as you were about to meet a source on Luthor, you were grabbed, dragged into an alley, an hand muffling your screams. Your wrists got handcuffed, your feet were tied together. You tried to free your mouth to cry for help, biting your kidnapper's hand. Your attempt only resulted in getting your head slammed against the wall, the action being done with such cruel rapidity that it made you realize how they wouldn't have hesitated to hit you again, or worse...
You felt your blood grow cold at the thought of what they've could've done to you, and that left you with no other choice other than follow their commands.
The only thing that you remembered next was waking up in a glass cube, a cell, with dried blood on your temple and a man, looking at you with a smug, satified expression.
"Well well, look who we have here," he said with an infuriating grin on his face.
"Miss L/N, for someone who graduated top of her classes, I would've expected you to be smarter."
Despite your fear, his words made your blood boil.
How dare he mock you in that way?
"You're crazy," you bit back "you won't get a way with this, Luthor. They'll search for me and they'll arrest you."
The grin on his face didn't disappear, in fact, it only got bigger, his eyes darkening with a malicious amusement that made your stomach tighten.
"Oh, but that's where you're wrong, little miss Nancy Drew. Nobody will look for you, not when everyone thinks you're already dead."
Your face fell, you felt your heartbeat race while your eyes widened in disbelief, tears already forming.
"No, no, you couldn't-," he cut you off with a scoff, his grin fading and replaced with a stern, cold and emotionless look on his face.
"I can and I did. No one will come to search for you, they already think you're at the bottom of the ocean, lifeless."
You looked at him with tears streaming down your face, shocked that a human being could've even thought about this intricate masterplan to stop you from publishing an article.
And now, cause of it, everything you had and loved was gone: your friends, your job, your family, your life.
All gone, ripped out of your hands.
It was a day like the others: you were in your cell, sitting on the pavement and staring at your ring. It was the only possession that you had left of your family. It was a gold ring with an aquamarine stone, it had belonged to your grandmother before but she had given it to you on your 18th birthday cause she knew how much you loved that ring.
Now you felt as if it was the only thing that kept you from going insane. You could stare at it for hours, that light, shimmering blue giving you a small sense of hope that you could've seen the outside world again.
Yet, the normalcy and routine that you had unfortunately grown accustomed to was shaken when you heard noise, people talking. It was probably a new prisoner coming, after all, after being held captive there for an year you had seen your fair share of you newcomers. It saddened you to know someone was going to join your interdimensional captivity.
Your cell neighbor was a shapshifting man with the ability to change the texture of his body to resemble different materials, and in front of his cell was the cell of his baby. He had talked to you after 3 days of imprisonment, telling you how his captivity was the result of Luthor holding his baby hostage. Hearing his back story broke your heart and when you told him about your own experience you could see the sad look of empathy and resignation his eyes held.
Suddenly, you noticed how the prisoners started to sound shocked, some gasping, other turning dead silent, as if something grave had just happened. You looked up from your ring, and you couldn't stop your eyes from widening.
There, in handcuffs, in all his broad glory, was Superman.
You felt like your gut had just been punched.
Lex Luthor had managed to capture Superman.
There really was no hope left.
You looked at him desperately, like all of the air of the world had unexpectedly disappeared.
You watched him get shoved into that glass prison, but your terror only grew when Luthor ordered Metamorpho, your cell neighbor, to turn into kryptonite.
"No! No, don't- It'll kill him," you pleaded, without thinking twice. Something you were grateful for was the miracle that you had managed to stay yourself, hanging on your humanity, clinging onto it.
He had already stripped you from your freedom, you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of turning into a beast.
You stood up and kneeled, pressing your hands on the glass, looking at Superman.
You saw him struggling, his pain growing and his strength diminishing minute by minute, yet his eyes were still kind. You could swore he was almost grateful for having stood up for him, even if you had only pleaded to not hurt him.
The bald millionaire scoffed.
"A whole year, yet you haven't learned a thing," he looked at you as if you were the most disgusting thing on the planet.
"You don't want your little alien scum hero to suffer? Why don't you take his place instead then? You're already a dead woman to the outside world."
"Keep her out of this, Luthor." Superman grunted in pain, still laying on the ground.
The other man just snickered, he quickly ignored your presence and snapped his fingers, signaling his henchmen to bring in a man. He started bombarding the Kryptonian with questions, chaos erupted, you could feel your head spinning, shouts, panic, and then...
A bullet hitting the man's head.
You screamed in horror, crying, your chest heaving and your blood running cold.
You had just saw a man dying in front of your eyes.
After what you thought was half an hour, you had managed to calm down. You could hear Superman talking to his cell mate, still suffering from the kryptonite poisoning. He was growing week.
"Rex, please," you called out your cell neighbor with a frail voice "I know you won't transform back from kryptonite, but please, retreat your arm, at least an inch," you looked at the superhero then back at him. "He's struggling to breath," you whispered.
You knew Rex was human, so he distanced his arm a bit, letting his cell mate breathe.
Just looking at Superman's state made your heart ache, you scooted closer to the transparent wall.
"Are you okay? Oh...sorry, that was a stupid question, you clearly aren't feeling okay," the words rolled quietly off your tongue.
"Don't worry, I..." he stopped for a moment taking a deep breath "...thank you, for showing mercy."
You looked at him, confused.
"You don't have to thank me, I should thank you for everything you do for others. This is the minimum."
He didn't answer, just lifted his hand to touch the glass, a small sign of gratitude.
You forced a smile and stayed quiet, curling into yourself in a corner and falling asleep.
When you woke up, there were shouts all around you, a powerful light clouded your vision, making your eyes burn and close them instinctively, when you opened them back you couldn't believe your eyes.
Rex had recreated a sun, healing the Kryptonian from his previous weak state.
Superman broke the glass with a single powerful punch, you scattered urgently to your feet, almost tripping to yourself. In less than 5 seconds he flew to the cell in front of his, successfully saving Rex's baby from the arms of the armed henchman.
He then flew in front of your cell.
Was he about to free you too? Would you have finally been able to taste freedom?
"I'll come back for you, I promise," he said solemnly.
You tried to hide the disappointment on your face but nodded, standing there watching him fly away. Your eyes glassy and your heart hammering with the small, trembling hope that he would've kept his word.
Turns out, that Superman really did keep his promises. Along with a freshly published article published by the Daily Planet, the superhero had managed to take down Lex Luthor, sending him in prison and setting the hostages stuck in the rift free.
Despite your secluded state had lasted an year, Metropolis still felt the same. Still busy, still crowded, yet even more beautiful than you remembered. You almost cried again when you set foot on the streets you used to walk during your days off.
You were finally free, you could live again, who cared if you were legally deceased? You were back in Metropolis, still breathing and pulse still beating. You were walking towards the policemen to ask for help; you desperately wanted to contact your family, to see their faces again.
You didn't expect to find Perry White there.
You froze when you saw him again. He had followed you during your internship at the Daily Planet 4 years ago, he was stern, sure, but he had always encouraged you to keep going, said he could see that you had much potential and when he couldn't hire you cause all the positions were already covered he wrote a recommendation letter to every newspaper around. If you had gotten that job at the American Mercury it was also thanks to Perry's flattering words. You stumbled, reaching for him. As soon as he turned and saw you, the color drained from his face.
You were alive, you'd been alive this whole time.
You lunged yourself in his arms, not carrying if it was appropriate or not.
"It's me Mr White," you said between the sobs "it's me, I'm alive, I was imprisoned this whole time."
He slowly wrapped an arm around you, warm, solid, in spite of the shock of having you stand in front of him.
"I...I believe you, kid, it's you." He whispered, he distanced himself for a moment to better look at your face, making sure that he wasn't allucinating. "We all thought you were dead, even had a funeral for you. I'm not gonna lie, it stung to know that you were gone so early, kid. I'm glad it was all a lie."
You remained in his arms, letting the tears flow freely, because finally you weren't a dead woman anymore.
After five months your life started to shift back to the stressing but satisfying routine you had missed so much.
You still had a family, you still had friends and thanks to Perry you got a job at the Daily Planet.
After you were freed you had discovered, much to your horror, that your old apartment had been already been bought by another man and that a new set of hands were typing on what used to be your old work desk. You'd stayed with your family, who helped you rebuild a life after losing a year of existence. Thankfully Perry took the situation as an opportunity to hire you, because "you had a fire and commitment to the job that he couldn't have let slip away from his fingers" and in some time you were positive you would've been able to afford a new apartment.
You liked working at the Daily Planet, your colleagues were much nicer, and while some just viewed you as the survivor of a traumatic experience, some actually respected you for who you truly were. You became close friends with Lois, her fierce and determined personality helping you slowly regain self assurance in your own abilities. You also talked with Jimmy a lot, who, with his cheesy and ridiculous jokes, always managed to make you crack a smile and make the day feel a little lighter. After everything that had happened you were still weary around men you didn't know, the only the exceptions having been Jimmy (cause he just had this baby face and boyish aura that didn't feel dangerous or intimidating) and Clark.
You didn't know why, but from the moment you saw him you felt a strange feeling of ease and safety, which was pretty ironic given the fact that he was 6'4 with biceps as big as your face. And yet, there was something, maybe in his voice, in how delicate his touch was when he passed you a pen, or perhaps in his aquamarine colored eyes, that made your whole body relax and doubt dissolve into thin air.
He was thoughtful, observant and always alert. Having been held captive for so much time you've mastered the art of reading people, you could see past his clueless nerdy boy act, although he indeed was nerdy. And you found that to be incredibly charming.
Of course, you kept that consideration to yourself, carefully watching him from afar and talking to him when necessary. Even if your gut said that you could trust Clark, your mind was still cautious, needing to be reassured that he wasn't just a wolf in sheep's clothing.
It was a day like the others. The office was buzzing, interns running around careful not to spill coffee all over themselves, reporters searching for papers and documents that were scattered all over their desks, Perry's booming voice jumping off the walls...yes, everything was completely normal.
You were currently taking a sip of your iced cappuccino, taking a break from work.
"And that one is Daisy, she's ma's favorite mare, even won a prize at Grandville's fair last year," you heard Clark say, holding his phone up to show a picture to Jimmy and Lois.
The woman noticed your curious gaze and smiled at you.
"Oh right, you don't know about that, Kent here is a farm boy."
You tilted your head slightly, looking at him. Clark turned his gaze on you and offered you a shy smile.
"I grew up in Smallville, Kansas. Just a small town surrounded by cornfields."
"Wait, you grew up on a farm, in a small town called Smallville, in Kansas?"
"Jeez, how more stereotypical can it get?" you didn't know what came over you to say those words aloud, but the teasing had just rolled of your tongue naturally.
He was slightly taken back by your question, his cheeks tinted pink and a small smile appeared on his face. His hand reaching his nape to rub it in mild embarrassment.
"Well, now that you've pointed it out, it does sound quite cliché...but life's good back in Smallville. Ma and pa are healthy, the farm is doing fine and that's all that really matters."
You could feel your heart melt at his words, the glimmer in his eyes when he spoke about his parents made his eyes shine even more: his love for them was as clear as the color of his irises. It was comforting to see a grown man care so deeply about his family.
You felt your cheeks starting to burn and you smiled back, returning quickly to your draft, but your heart fluttered a little.
No, Clark Kent didn't seem like a wolf in sheep's clothing.
Over the past few weeks you and Clark got closer and closer. He learned your coffee order by heart, walked you home when it got dark to make you feel safer and he always made sure to listen and note to himself the little things you shared about yourself. In exchange you did some research on Smallville and on farming to better understand the childhood adventures he liked to narrate from time to time, kept some extra food in your bag just in case he got hungry (cause that man had the appetite of an entire army) and secretly bought a Mighty Crabjoys CD for his upcoming birthday.
You felt at ease with him and the feeling was reciprocated. You also knew that he was the only journalist in Metropolis to manage to land interviews with Superman. How did he do it? You didn't know, but you've also started thinking more and more about the dashing red capped superhero that had saved you from a cruel and rotten fate.
You hadn't thanked him properly.
So you started thinking, scribbling in your notebook on what you could do to thank him: bake him something? You weren't the best cook in town, and maybe he had a weird alien food regime...yeah, it was better to scratch that idea. Buy him flowers? They would wither in a swoosh of his cape. Make him a drawing? What were you? 5? Yeah, no, better not to.
After hours and hours of meditating, you settled for something basic, but still effective: you wrote him a letter, pouring your heart out on how grateful you were for his rescue.
"Hey Clark, am I bothering you?" you asked.
He looked up from his computer, a gentle look in his eyes and his lips stretching into a smile when he saw your face.
"Hi, no, not at all. What is it?"
"I was wondering if you could've delivered this-" you took the light blue envelope out of your bag, handing it to him. "to Superman if you ever manage to get another interview with him."
Clark looked at you stunned, taking the envelope gently from your hands as if you've just given to him the most precious thing in the world.
"Uh y-yeah, sure, absolutely...I'll give it him as soon as I'm able to meet him again." he replied, looking slightly flustered and confused, some blush coloring his cheeks and eyes studying the object he was holding in his hands.
"Ehm, not to be noisy, o-or rude, whatsoever, this is just a curiosity of mine but...why do you want to give Superman a letter?"
"I want to thank him, I haven't done it properly after he saved him. I...I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him and the article Lois had written, exposing...him..." you looked into Clark's eyes.
"He does so much for us," you continued, "he could just, I don't know, fly away to another galaxy, yet he stays here and fights for us. I want him to know that what he's done for me matters a lot. He might not read the letter, but my conscience would be at peace knowing I at least did gave him something in return, even if it's just words on paper."
His eyes softened even more, looking at you with a still stunned but now revelent expression.
"I'm sure he'll read and appreciate every word on that letter," he said, with a voice softer than ever before.
You murmured a small thanks and turned on your heel, ready to go back to your desk, when Clark bolted out of his seat.
"Wait! I wanted to ask you something."
You turned around, slightly curious.
He took a deep breath, fidgeting with his tie before loosening it a little.
"Well, I...I know we've known each other for only 6 months, Y/N, and I know all of the horrible things you had experienced in the past...but I can't help but feel my heart softening around you, while my blood begins to bump so fast I sometimes think I'm about to have a heart attack," he chuckled nervously, "b-but, what I'm trying to say is...I really like you, Y/N, and I was hoping that...that you'd like to go on a date with me."
Your eyes widened, blush creeping onto your face. Your head felt dizzy.
Was this a dream? Were you in heaven? Or was it all real and Clark Kent was actually asking you out?
You felt an immense joy just registering his words, but then the fear of ending up hurt again resurfaced, planting a seed of doubt.
You still weren't completely over that year.
"Clark...I...I would absolutely love that but...but I'm not completely healed, I still need time to get over what happened to me."
He took your hands, rubbing them gently and smiling understandingly at you.
"I know sweetheart, I know that you need time. I won't rush things, cause my only priority is for you to feel happy and safe. I promise you that I will give you all of the time and space you'll need. Whatever maybe your answer, I'll always be there for you."
It was now your turn to be stunned. Never in your life had you heard a man say such tender and beautiful words to you. You reached for his cheek and he immediately leaned into your touch.
"Yes," you whispered, "I'll go out with you Clark Kent."
He smiles so brightly you swore you'd been blinded by the light, he took your hand and pressed a soft kiss in your palm.
Sweet, reverent and full of longing.
"You've just made me the happiest man alive."
You both giggled and he pulled you into a hug. You melted completely into him, the warmth of his body circling you in the most soothing way ever. You felt protected and cared for, and, most importantly, joyous.
You were going on a date with Clark Kent.
Dating Clark was a dream.
He was the perfect boyfriend: caring, attentive and a true gentleman. His apartment rapidly became your second home, the scent of cinnamon and wood wrapping around you like a sweet embrace whenever you entered the place. You were now sitting on his sofa, blanket pooling at your ankles when you turned around to talk to Clark, who was currently cooking waffles for dinner. One of his favorite "celebrating" traditions.
He turned his gaze onto you, seeing that the short sleeved blouse you were wearing was too lightweight for the chilly night weather.
"Sweetheart, don't you have a jacket with you?"
"Oh, no...I left my blazer at home cause it was such a sunny day."
He chuckled, looking back at the bowl where he was mixing the ingredients.
"Go get one of my sweaters, they're in the second drawer."
You smiled, jumping onto your feet and quickly walking towards his room.
You loved wearing his sweaters.
You reached for the drawer, pulling it open and searching for the perfect sweater to wear. Your eyes caught a glimpse of a very soft looking maroon sweater and you instantly reached for it, just as your fingers grabbed it you felt paper brush your fingertips.
The letter that you had written to Superman and that Clark had given to him on your behalf. You were certain Clark had given it to the superhero, cause he had mentioned it vaguely in his next interview with your boyfriend. You were shocked.
You examined it better, there was something else written on the envelope, a small heart drawn near it.
'Sweetest girl ever, I love you so much Y/N'
You froze. Why would Superman even write such thing? And if Clark had written it why would he have done it if the letter was for Superman? But most of all, why did Clark have your letter, tucked in his drawer?
You started pacing around the room, trying to find an explanation to this.
Wait...no...it...it couldn't be
"Pretty girl did you get lost in my wardrobe while searching for that sweat-" Clark froze when he saw you holding that envelope in your hands.
"Y/N I-I c-can explain, w-well you see..."
You didn't answer, instead you reached for his glasses, your hands shaky and your heart hammering against your chest, taking them off before he could protest. Your eyes widened even more, realization hitting you like brick.
Now you knew why you'd always felt so safe around him. Because he was no stranger, from the very beginning.
He was the one that gave you back your life, the one that set you free.
"You're...you're him." you whispered.
Clark's cheek flushed red, panic visible in his eyes, he took a deep shaky breath and gulped.
"Yes..." he swallowed, "yes, I am."
"I didn't want you to find out this way...but I guess my plans got thrown under the bus by fate," he chuckled nervously.
Tears started to form in your eyes, with trembling hands you cupped his cheeks.
He wrapped his arms around you instantly, rubbing soft circles into your back to soothe you.
"I couldn't have done anything else. Not when you showed me compassion, even if it could've put you in danger."
He pulled back to look at you, reaching to wipe a tear that was travelling down your face.
"I didn't tell you sooner because I was scared that it could've put you in danger, and after everything you've been through I can't stand the thought of more harm being done to you, no matter how little," he brushed a lock of hair from your face, "I fell in love with you completely, not just with one of the sides that I saw with my two identities...and I hope that you'll stay with me even after discovering my secret."
You could see the uncertainty on his face, the fear that you could've rejected him cause of how dangerous his other life was. Yet you felt as if your love for him only grew: because your already incredibly perfect boyfriend was the most selfless man alive, and you now had even further proof of that.
With tears still streaming and a giggle bursting out of your lips, you pulled him down, kissing him with an intensity you'd never had before.
He pulled you closer and higher, moving an arm to settle under your glutes and pulled you up to better meet his height, and he deepened the kiss, breaking it off only when he could no longer go on without air.
You rested your forehead against his, closing your eyes while his other hand caressed your cheek.
"You're safe with me, darling. I'll always come to save you."
