Summary: y/n meets someone new (sorry I’m just shit at summary)
The Fortress felt different without her.
Not quieter. Not emptier. Just... off. Like something small had shifted and thrown everything out of balance.
Y/N tried to focus on the screen in front of him, but his eyes kept drifting toward the door instead.
That was stupid. She had only been there for a few minutes.
Still, the memory of the way Kara had looked at him—sharp, curious, annoyed—refused to leave his head.
"Hey, Clark?" he called out.
"Does Kara... come around here a lot?"
The question slipped out before he could stop it.
Clark instantaneously turned his head, gazing at Y/N with a cheeky smirk.
"Once or twice a month," he said. "Really depends on how much she drinks."
He walked over and sat beside him. "Why do you ask? Missed her?"
Y/N scoffed. "What? No. I was just... curious."
"Curious," Clark repeated.
"Yeah," Y/N said quickly. "I mean—Krypto. She didn't even say goodbye. Just took him and left."
Clark smiled faintly. "She does that. He goes with her sometimes."
"Oh." Y/N nodded. "Right. I figured."
But his eyes still drifted toward the door.
Clark studied him for a moment. "Are you worried about the dog," he asked gently, "or about Kara?"
"I—" He cleared his throat. "Just the dog."
Clark didn't look convinced.
The glass doors of the Daily Planet slid open as Y/N stepped inside, and the familiar wave of noise hit him all at once. Phones rang, printers hummed, reporters shouted over one another, and somewhere near the copy desk, someone was already arguing about a headline. It was chaotic in the way only a newsroom could be.
Y/N looked around, he spotted Clark almost immediately, hunched over his desk, typing like his life depended on it.
"Hey," Y/N said, dropping his bag beside his chair.
"Good morning." Clark mumbled sheepishly, not moving his gaze off the computer screen.
When he finally finished typing, he glanced over and saw Y/N leaning on one hand, eyes dull with exhaustion.
"Rough morning?" Clark asked, rolling his chair closer.
Y/N glanced over. "You could say that."
Clark smiled faintly. "Didn't sleep?"
"That's the second time you've said that this month."
Y/N shrugged. "Guess I'm on a streak."
They both turned back to their screens, the soft clicking of keys filling the space between them. Y/N tried to focus on the article in front of him, but the words blurred together. He read the same paragraph three times without actually absorbing any of it.
When he finally managed to type something coherent, he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes.
Clark was still typing beside him. When he paused, he glanced over and noticed Y/N slumped slightly in his seat, dark circles under his eyes and his posture just a little too heavy.
"You okay?" Clark asked quietly.
"Yeah," Y/N said automatically. "Just tired."
Clark hummed. "You've been saying that a lot, too."
They worked in silence for a few minutes. Around them, the newsroom buzzed with movement—people rushing past, voices overlapping, and phones ringing nonstop. It was busy, messy, and alive.
"So," Clark said after a while, "how are you settling in? First year being a reporter and all... "
"Here?" Y/N asked. "It's... good. Overwhelming, but good."
"You're doing great," Clark replied. "Your last piece got a lot of attention."
A small smile tugged at Y/N's lips. "That's nice to hear."
"Hey," Clark said. "Why did you want to be a reporter, anyway?"
He stared at his screen, then slowly let his hands fall into his lap.
"When I was a kid," he said quietly, "I got blamed for something I didn't do. Something bad."
"It spread fast," Y/N continued.
"People at school. Neighbors. Even my own family believed it. They started looking at me like I was someone else." His jaw tightened.
"Eventually they just... left. Like it was easier to get rid of me than to deal with the truth."
The noise of the newsroom felt far away now.
"I was cleared later," he said. "They figured out it wasn't me. But by then, it didn't matter.Everyone had already made up their mind."
"So I guess that's why I like writing," Y/N added.
"Words don't twist the way people do. You can
Put the truth down, and it stays."
"That makes sense," Clark said softly.
"Hey," a voice said. "Sorry to interrupt."
Y/N looked up to see someone from another section standing there, holding two coffees. She had dark brunette hair pulled into a loose ponytail and a soft, friendly smile that made her seem way more confident than he felt.
"I grabbed an extra," they said. "I figured you needed one, you don't look so well today...so I thought this would make your day easier, you know?"
"Oh—uh—thanks," Y/N replied, taking it a little too quickly. "You didn't have to."
"I wanted to," she said, smiling. "So... lunch later?"
Y/N hesitated, eyes panicking before finding Clark, who made a teasing smirk, making Y/N even more nervous.
What the fuck should I do?
Y/N slowly opened his mouth and mumbled.
"I—yeah. Sure. That'd be... nice."
"Cool," she said. "See you." Before walking off with a smile, leaving Y/N staring after her for a second too long.
Clark watched him. "Well. That happened."
"Don't," Y/N muttered, face warming, looking away.
By the time lunch rolled around, Y/N was already a little tense. Y/N went on a few dates before, but because of his introverted personality, they all quickly became awkward, and Y/N is hoping this one doesn't turn out the same.
He found her waiting near the elevators, brunette hair still pulled back, fiddling with her phone until she noticed him, making him stiff.
"Oh—hey," she said, smiling. "Ready?"
"Yeah," Y/N replied, a bit too quietly.
They walked across the street to a small café, the kind that always smelled like coffee and toasted bread. It was busy, but not loud enough to drown out the awkwardness between them.
"I'm Jenna Ortega," she said as they sat down. "By the way. I never actually told you."
They ordered, and for a moment it was quiet again.
"So," Jenna said, resting her chin in her hand, "you're a writer?"
"Sort of. Reporter, mostly."
"That's cool. You don't seem like the loud, chasing-stories type."
He shrugged. "I like listening."
She smiled at that. "That's... kind of refreshing."
The tension eased a little.
They started talking more—about work, about the city, about random things neither of them cared much about. It wasn't electric, but it was easy enough.
Jenna laughed at one of his dry comments. "You're funny. In a quiet way."
"Thanks," he said, a little embarrassed.
By the time they finished eating, the café felt warmer and more relaxed.
Jenna leaned back in her chair. "See? Not so bad."
Y/N smiled. "Yeah. Not bad."
They kept talking for a while longer, drifting into easy, low-pressure conversation about work and random things. It wasn't intense, but it was comfortable.
When they finally stood to leave, Y/N noticed something that surprised him.
Like whatever had been weighing on him earlier had loosened its grip.
"That was nice," Jenna said as they headed back. "We should do it again."
"Yeah," Y/N replied, and meant it.
He didn't know why, but for the first time that day, things didn't feel quite so heavy.
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