favorite lois lane looks -> season 6
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favorite lois lane looks -> season 6
lois lane → every episode ↳ 6.03 “wither”
Clois One-Shot Fanfiction #3
I lost you once, I'll Lose You Never
Author's note: This is my one-shot clois fanfic from the smallville prompt I posted in X. Please do note that the events that took place here is different from the actual series. I hope you guys like it :))
--
Six months felt like a lifetime when someone you deeply care and realized you love is gone. Clark Kent learned that the hard way.
The world had ended once already. Not in fire, not in a single catastrophic scream, but in fractures: In the way Metropolis rebuilt itself with steel and stubborn hope; in the way the sky looked the same after Doomsday and yet never felt safe again; and in the way Clark learned how silence could be louder than screams.
Lois Lane had vanished in that silence. It was supposed to be her story. She’d chased Doomsday into the wreckage of the city with a camera and a notebook and the kind of reckless bravery that terrified him. When the explosion came, Clark found blood instead of a body. Found her jacket burned through at the shoulder. Found the echo of her heartbeat and then…nothing.
Zod was gone. Doomsday was gone. And, the most fearful thought, Lois was gone with them. But Clark searched anyway. He searched until the planet felt small. He searched across oceans and deserts, through ruins and warzones. He searched through space, through abandoned Kryptonian outposts that still whispered in a dead language. He listened for her heartbeat until his ears rang and his chest felt hollow. He listened until hope hurt worse than grief. Six months… six months of waking up every day knowing he could save the world—but not the one person who anchored him to it. He stopped smiling.
The Daily Planet tried to move on. Chloe watched him with worry she didn’t voice. Martha hugged him a little longer every time he came home to the farm, as if she could keep him tethered with her arms.
And then, on a peaceful Friday afternoon, Lois Lane came back. It was almost insultingly normal. The sky over Smallville was clear. The wind moved gently through the cornfields. Clark stood in the barn doorway, sleeves rolled up, grease on his hands, listening to the rhythm of the farm, when the world shifted.
It wasn’t a sound at first. It was absence.
A silence where there shouldn’t have been one.
Clark froze. His heart slammed so violently against his ribs, his senses flared instinctively, spiraling outward, desperate and terrified and…
there, a heartbeat!
Familiar. Fast. Controlled. Alive.
Clark was gone in a blur of red and blue.
She stood at the edge of the Kent farm like a ghost made real. Lois Lane wore black.
Not mourning black. Tactical black. Her jacket fit too well, reinforced at the shoulders and elbows. Her boots were worn like she’d walked miles in them. Her hair was longer and her posture was rigid, disciplined, and coiled.
Clark stopped ten feet away, afraid that if he moved any closer, she’d vanish again. He won’t let that happen again. “Lois,” he breathed, she turned. Her eyes locked onto his—and whatever he’d hoped to see there shattered instantly.
No recognition nor relief. No sarcastic remark about him stalking her or standing too close.
Just calculation. Target acquired.
“Kal-El,” she said calmly.
The name hit him like a punch. She now knows was what he thought. But that doesn't matter to him at the moment, because standing few feet away from him, is the woman he never expected to fall in love.
“Lois,” he tried again, stepping forward. “It’s me. You’re— you’re safe now.”
Her mouth twitched, not into a smile, but something colder.
“You tried to kill me,” she said, cold.
Clark stopped.
“I would never—”
“You destroyed my world,” she continued, voice flat, rehearsed. “Zod showed me everything. What you are. What you become.”
She moved faster than he expected.
A flash of motion. A weapon drawn. Kryptonian tech, humming faintly with red energy. Clark barely dodged as the blast scorched the air where his head had been. He didn’t retaliate.
Didn’t even raise his hands.
“Lois!” he said, louder now, grounding himself in the sound of her name. “Zod lied to you.” Her jaw tightened.
“Of course you’d say that.” Another shot. He let it hit his shoulder this time, absorbing the impact without flinching. Her eyes narrowed.
“You’re not fighting back,” she observed.
“I won’t,” Clark said. “I won’t hurt you.”
“That won’t stop me from hurting you.” She lunged.
Clark caught her wrist mid-strike. The contact sent a shock through him that had nothing to do with force. Her skin was warm. Real. Her pulse raced beneath his fingers. For half a second, just half, something flickered in her eyes.
Confusion. He saw it. She ripped free with a snarl and spun, sweeping his legs. Clark went down hard, more from shock than impact. She stood over him, weapon trained on his chest.
“You hesitate,” she said quietly. “That’s your weakness.”
“No,” Clark replied, looking up at her. “Losing you are.”
Her finger tightened on the trigger. And then sirens wailed in the distance. Lois’ head snapped toward the sound. Tactical assessment. Exit routes. Risk evaluation.
When she looked back, Clark was standing again, but he hadn’t moved closer.
“I’m not your enemy,” he said. She studied him for a long moment. Then she vanished. Clark didn’t chase her, it nearly broke him not to. Instead, he stood in the empty field, heart racing, replaying every second of the encounter. Every word. Every flicker of hesitation he’d seen in her eyes. She was alive. And she wanted him dead.
That night, Clark stood on the roof of the Daily Planet. Metropolis glittered beneath him, alive and stubborn and unaware that one of its fiercest defenders had become its most dangerous weapon. Lois Lane moved through the city like a shadow. He could feel her now, her presence threading through the urban noise. She stayed just far enough away to avoid detection. Close enough to remind him she was there. Watching. Waiting. Zod hadn’t just taken her. He’d rewritten her. Clark clenched his fists.
He would undo it. No matter what it cost him.
Lois watched Kal-El from across the city, her breath steady, her mind disciplined.
Zod’s voice echoed faintly in her memory: calm, persuasive, absolute.
He will beg. He will lie. He will weaken you.
And yet, her hand trembled where she hadn’t expected it to. She remembered blood. Fire. Falling. She remembered someone screaming her name. She didn’t understand why that memory hurt. Or why, when Kal-El looked at her like she was the last good thing left in the universe, her chest felt tight in a way no conditioning could erase. She pushed the feeling down. Mission first. Always.
Clark Kent stopped sleeping after Lois came back. Not because he didn’t need rest, his body still regenerated, still endured, but because sleep invited dreams. And dreams invited memories. Lois laughing in the bullpen. Lois stealing fries off his plate. Lois standing far too close, chin lifted in defiance every time she challenged him. Lois bleeding in the rubble.
Lois calling him Kal-El with someone else’s certainty.
So Clark stayed awake. He listened.
He learned her patterns. Lois Lane moved through Metropolis like a professional predator. She didn’t linger in one place long enough to be tracked conventionally. She used rooftops and maintenance tunnels, abandoned buildings and shadowed alleyways. She avoided cameras, not by destroying them, but by slipping between blind spots with uncanny precision. Zod had trained her well. Clark felt her presence at night, a low hum beneath the city’s noise. Sometimes she circled him deliberately, letting him know she could reach him whenever she wanted. Sometimes she vanished for hours, and the absence gnawed at him worse than fear. He made a decision on the third night. He would stop running.
The ambush came at dawn. Clark stood on the bridge overlooking the river, hands resting on the railing, eyes on the horizon as the sun bled gold into the sky. He didn’t bother pretending he didn’t know she was there.
“You’re predictable,” Lois said behind him. He turned slowly. She stood ten feet away, silhouette sharp against the rising light. No weapon raised this time. Just her gaze, steady and assessing.
“I wanted you to find me,” Clark said.
“That’s your second mistake.”
She moved fast but Clark was ready. He sidestepped, letting her momentum carry past him instead of countering. She adjusted instantly, spinning, elbow aimed for his throat.
He caught it. Again, the contact sent something electric through both of them.
“You won’t fight,” she said, breath close now.
“Why?”
“Because fighting you won’t bring you back,” he replied.
Her eyes flicked to his mouth before she could stop herself. A fraction of a second.
She broke contact violently, shoving him back with enough force to crack the pavement beneath his boots.
“You don’t get to decide that,” she snapped.
Clark straightened, dust settling around him.
“I know you’re still in there.” Her laugh was sharp, humorless.
“You don’t know anything about me anymore.”
“I know you hate being told what to do,” he said.
“I know you never take a shot unless you’re certain. I know you don’t pull the trigger unless you believe you’re right.”
She hesitated. Just a beat. Zod’s voice surged in her mind, cold and corrective. He weaponizes emotion. Terminate the threat. Her hand snapped up. Clark didn’t dodge.
The blast hit him square in the chest, knocking him back into the bridge railing. The metal bent around his spine with a shriek. Pain flared—sharp, Kryptonite-laced energy—but he stayed upright. Lois stared.
“You should be dead,” she said quietly.
“I know,” Clark answered. Something inside her twisted. She lowered the weapon.
“Why?” she demanded. “Why won’t you fight back?”
“Because I love you, I'm sorry I realized it too late but I can’t live without you Lois. For the past six months, I was living but not alive, you are my lifeline Lois. I lost you once, I'll never lose you again.”
The word hung between them, raw and unguarded.
Lois recoiled like he’d struck her.
“That’s not real,” she said. “That’s what he wants you to say.”
“No,” Clark replied softly. “That’s what I want to say.”
Her head shook once, violently, as if trying to dislodge the sound of his voice from her skull.
“Stop,” she ordered.
He took a step closer.
“Lois—”
“Stop saying my name.” Clark stopped.
She breathed hard, chest rising and falling beneath the tactical jacket. For a moment, she looked less like a weapon and more like a woman standing at the edge of something terrifying.
“Zod showed me the future,” she said. “Cities burning. Worlds falling. You standing at the center of it all.”
“He lied.”
“Then why does it feel true?”
Clark swallowed.
“Because fear is easier than hope.” Her gaze snapped back to his.
“Hope gets people killed.”
“I know,” Clark said. “But so does giving up.”
The silence stretched. Then she was gone.
--
Chloe Sullivan slammed her laptop shut and looked up just in time to see Clark appear in a rush of displaced air.
“You let her shoot you?” Chloe demanded.
“I didn’t let her,” Clark said. “I just didn’t stop her.”
Chloe crossed her arms. “Clark, this isn’t Lois being stubborn or confused. She’s conditioned. Zod turned her into a sleeper agent with feelings.”
“I can reach her.”
“You think you can reach her.”
Clark met her gaze. “I know I can.”
Chloe sighed. “Then you’re going to need help.”
Lois didn’t sleep either. Sleep was dangerous. Sleep loosened discipline. But when it came, it came violently. She dreamed of cornfields and warm sunlight. Of a red jacket draped over a chair. Of hands—gentle, careful—bandaging her legs. She woke with a gasp, fingers curled around nothing.
Zod’s teachings surged to the forefront of her mind, pushing the images away. Emotion is weakness. And yet, Her heartbeat wouldn’t slow.
Three nights later, she cornered him. Clark didn’t sense her approach until she was already inside his space, blade at his throat, pinning him against the wall of an abandoned train station.
“You wanted me to find you,” she said. “Now I have.”
Her body was close... too close. The scent of metal and rain clung to her. Her breath brushed his jaw.
“You could kill me,” Clark said calmly.
“Yes.”
“But you won’t.” Her grip tightened.
“Give me one reason.”
“Because if you wanted me dead,” Clark said, voice low, “I wouldn’t still be breathing.”
Her eyes searched his face, anger, doubt, something dangerously like longing flickering beneath the surface. Zod’s voice thundered in her mind. End him. Her hand trembled.
Clark lifted his hand slowly, deliberately, and covered hers.
The contact shattered something inside her.
A memory slammed into her consciousness, Clark pulling her out of wreckage, whispering her name like a prayer. His arms around her, unbreakable. She gasped.
“Get out of my head,” she hissed.
“I’m not in your head,” Clark said. “I’m right here.”
Her blade clattered to the floor. For a moment, she looked terrified. Then furious.
She shoved him away and fled, leaving Clark alone in the echoing station, heart pounding, not from fear, but from hope. Zod watched through her eyes as she collapsed onto a rooftop miles away. The conditioning strained.
The human emotion fought back. He would correct it. Soon. Clark stood in the quiet afterward, breathing in the place where she’d been. He knew now. Zod hadn’t erased Lois.
He’d buried her. And Clark would dig her out, no matter how deep the grave.
Zod chose the Fortress of Solitude for the final correction. It was poetic, in a cruel way.
The crystalline structure rose from the Arctic ice like a blade driven into the earth, humming with ancient power. Kryptonian glyphs glowed faintly along its spires, responding to Lois’s presence as she approached responding to the trace of alien technology threaded through her nervous system. She didn’t question why her feet carried her there. She didn’t question the pull in her skull, the command buried beneath layers of discipline and pain.
She only knew one thing: End Kal-El.
Clark felt it the moment she crossed the ice. The Fortress sang differently when she arrived, its harmonic resonance shifting, uneasy. Clark stood at the center platform, breath fogging in the cold air, heart pounding so hard he felt it in his throat.
“She’s here,” he whispered. Jor-El responded in a voice too calm for what was coming.
“Zod has activated a secondary control protocol.”
Clark clenched his fists. “I won’t fight her.”
“That decision may result in your death.”
“Then I’ll risk it.”
Ice cracked beneath his boots as Lois emerged from the corridor, framed by light refracting through crystal walls. She looked almost unreal, dark against the luminous blue, eyes sharp, movements precise. But something was wrong.
Her jaw was clenched so tightly her teeth ground. Her breathing was uneven. One hand pressed briefly to her temple, as if holding something back. Zod’s voice poured through the chamber, amplified and omnipresent.
“Kal-El,” Zod intoned. “Observe the perfection of my creation.” Lois’s eyes snapped to Clark.
“Don’t listen to him,” Clark said immediately, stepping forward. “Lois, whatever he’s doing—fight it.” Her lips parted.
For a heartbeat, he thought she might answer him. Then her expression hardened, shutters slamming down. She attacked.
Clark barely moved in time. She drove him backward with a series of precise, brutal strikes—Kryptonian-enhanced strength amplified by tech. Ice shattered beneath them, fragments skidding across the floor. Clark blocked, redirected, absorbed, but never struck.
“Stop!” he shouted as she pinned him against a crystal pillar, forearm pressed to his throat.
“Why won’t you fight me?” she demanded, voice shaking. “Why won’t you just end this?”
“Because this isn’t you,” Clark said hoarsely.
“And even if it were—I’d still choose you.” Her arm faltered.
Zod’s voice sharpened, “She is weak because you allow her to be.” Lois screamed.
She staggered back, clutching her head as the tech inside her flared violently, glyphs burning to life along her jacket and skin. Clark was at her side in an instant.
“Lois—look at me,” he pleaded, hands hovering, afraid to touch her and afraid not to. “I’m right here.”
“Make it stop,” she gasped. “He won’t—he won’t let me—”
Zod’s laughter echoed through the Fortress.
“You belong to Krypton now,” he declared. “Your memories, your attachments—they are liabilities.” Clark made a choice. He pulled her into his arms. The moment her body collided with his, something broke. Not the tech. The wall around her heart.
Lois froze, breath hitching as Clark held her—firm, unyielding, real. His arms wrapped around her like they always had, like they were meant to.
“Remember this,” Clark whispered fiercely, forehead pressed to hers. “Remember the farm. Remember the bullpen. Remember the way you never gave up on me—even when you should have.”
Her hands fisted in his shirt.
Images exploded through her mind.
The Kent kitchen at dawn. Coffee and sarcasm. Clark’s shy smile when she caught him staring. The way they banter. The way Lois hates that she loves him.
“Clark,” she breathed.
Zod roared, “No!”
The glyphs flared violently, then cracked fractures spiderwebbing through the tech as Lois screamed, memories flooding back too fast, too sharp. Clark held her through it all.
“I’m here,” he repeated. “I’ve got you.”
The Fortress shuddered, Jor-El spoke urgently. “Zod’s control matrix is destabilizing.”
Lois gasped as the final restraint snapped. She collapsed against Clark, shaking, sobbing, her face buried in his chest.
Zod’s voice fractured, distorted.
“This is not... possible—”
The light dimmed. The presence vanished.
Silence fell over the Fortress. Clark sank to his knees, still holding her, pressing his face into her hair like he might disappear if he let go.
She pulled back slowly, eyes searching his face.
“…You look terrible,” Lois said hoarsely.
A laugh broke out of him, half-sob, half-relief. “You tried to kill me.”
“Yeah,” she said faintly. “I’m gonna need you to unpack that later.”
He cupped her face carefully, reverently, as if afraid she might shatter.
“You remember?” he asked.
Her eyes filled with tears, “Everything.”
The way he looked at her then—raw, undone—made her breath catch.
“I thought I lost you,” Clark whispered. “Every day.”
Lois swallowed hard. “I was screaming your name,” she admitted. “I just… couldn’t hear myself.”
Emotion surged between them, thick and electric, the space suddenly too small to contain it. She reached for him first. Her hands slid up his chest, fingers curling into his collar as she pulled him down to her. The kiss wasn’t gentle.
It was desperate. Months of fear and loss and longing crashed together as their mouths met—hard, sure, undeniable. Clark responded instantly, hands framing her waist, drawing her closer as if he could fuse her back into his bones.
She kissed him like she was proving he was real.
Like she was reclaiming something stolen.
Clark kissed her like a man brought back from the dead.
Their lips parted and met again, slower this time, deeper breaths mingling, foreheads touching, the world narrowing to the warmth between them. Lois’s fingers slid into his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan softly against her mouth.
“You’re here,” she murmured between kisses.
“You’re actually here.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, brushing his thumb beneath her eye, wiping away a tear. “Not ever.”
She kissed him again—longer, surer—until the tension finally eased into something warm and grounding. When they finally pulled back, they stayed close, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other in.
“Next time,” Lois said quietly, “maybe don’t let me shoot you.” Clark smiled—a real one, for the first time in six months.
“No promises.” She rolled her eyes and leaned into him, and the Fortress glowed softly around them, no longer a battleground but a witness.
The Fortress of Solitude was quiet in a way that felt earned. Not the cold, echoing silence it usually held, but something gentler. The crystals pulsed faintly, their glow steady instead of sharp, as if the structure itself had relaxed now that the conflict was over. Lois sat on the ice floor, knees drawn to her chest, staring at her hands. They were still shaking. Clark knelt in front of her, close but careful, as though she were something fragile and precious he wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch yet. The adrenaline had drained from his body, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion he hadn’t felt in years.
“You’re safe,” he said quietly. “Zod’s gone.”
Lois nodded, but her eyes didn’t lift.
“I remember everything,” she said. “All of it. And… I remember what he did.”
Clark’s jaw tightened. She glanced up then, catching the flash of anger in his eyes.
“Hey,” she said, reaching for his wrist. Her fingers wrapped around him firm and grounding.
“Don’t do that.”
“I should’ve found you sooner,” he said, voice rough. “I should’ve—”
“No,” Lois interrupted sharply. “You don’t get to do that either.”
She tugged him closer until he was sitting in front of her, their knees touching.
“I fought it,” she said. “Every day. Even when I didn’t know what I was fighting. So don’t you dare take that away from me by blaming yourself.” Clark swallowed hard.
“You were so strong,” he whispered.
Her mouth trembled into a small, sad smile. “Yeah, well. I’d rather not have to be.”
Without warning, she leaned forward and pressed her forehead into his chest.
Clark froze for half a second, then his arms came around her fully, wrapping her up like he’d been holding himself together just long enough to do it right. Lois exhaled shakily.
“I’m really tired,” she admitted.
“I know,” he murmured, rubbing slow circles into her back. “I’ve got you.”
Her fingers twisted into the fabric of his shirt like she was afraid the ground might give out again.
“I hurt you,” she said softly. “I tried to kill you.” Clark’s grip tightened.
“You came back,” he said. “That’s what matters.”
She pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes shining.
“You didn’t fight me.”
“No.”
“You could’ve.”
“Yes.”
“Why?” she asked, even though she already knew.
“Because losing you once nearly broke me,” Clark said honestly. “I wasn’t going to survive doing it again.”
Her breath caught. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek soft, lingering, and reverent. Then another near his jaw. Not desperate. Not frantic.
Just grateful.
When she finally kissed his lips again, it was slow and tender, like a promise instead of a lifeline. They stayed like that for a long time—touching, breathing, healing. Eventually, Lois rested her head against his shoulder, eyes drifting shut.
“Don’t let go,” she mumbled.
Clark kissed her hair, “Never.”
Metropolis didn’t notice the shift right away.
The city was used to surviving impossible things. But Chloe did. She noticed it in the way Clark walked into the Watchtower without that haunted look in his eyes. In the way Lois followed him, coffee in hand, leaning into his space like it belonged to her again.
“Okay,” Chloe said slowly, watching them from behind her screens. “Either the world ended again and I missed it, or you two finally stopped pretending.”
Lois smirked. “Wow. Took you long enough. Clark smiled, embarrassed but happy. They didn’t talk about Zod publicly. They didn’t talk about the conditioning or the nightmares or the scars Lois still carried beneath her jacket. They talked about work. About corruption and stories that mattered. About late nights at the Planet and bad takeout and the city that never quite gave them peace, but gave them purpose.
Sometimes, Clark would wake up in the middle of the night, heart racing, expecting silence where Lois should be. Every time, she was there.
Sometimes shaking. Sometimes muttering. Sometimes just breathing softly beside him.
And every time, he pulled her closer.
One evening, they stood on the roof of the Daily Planet, the city glowing beneath them.
Lois leaned against him, arms crossed, chin tilted up at the stars.
“You know,” she said, “I’m still mad at you.”
He glanced down. “For which part?”
“For thinking you had to carry everything alone.”
He nodded. “Fair.”
She turned to face him fully, hands gripping his jacket. “We save each other,” she said. “That’s the deal.”
Clark smiled, the kind of smile that came from being known completely.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “That’s the deal.”
She kissed him then, unafraid and certain, the city watching and not understanding how close it had come to losing them both. But they understood. And this time, they weren’t letting go.
###
lois lane → every episode ↳ 4.04 “devoted”
Clois Multi-Chapter Fanfiction #1
"imgonnagetyouback"
Author's note: Here is Chapter 3 (and Chapter 4 😉) of imgonnagetyouback! Sorry if it took a while, I was having a hard time writing Chapter 3. And so, as a compensation, I also wrote Chapter 4 heheng~~
💬 6 🔁 3 ❤️ 24 · Clois Multi-Chapter Fanfiction #1 · "imgonnagetyouback" Author’s note: Here is chapter 2 of imgonnagetyouback! Since it
PS: the link above is the link of Chapter 2 where the link of Chapter 1 is already attached so you can find them easily :))
--
Chapter 3
The next morning, Lois Lane arrived at the Daily Planet five minutes early, a rarity that immediately made Clark suspicious.
Clark looked up from his desk just in time to see Lois breeze in, coffee in hand, hair slightly windswept, cheeks flushed from the cold. And right behind her, like a very well-timed shadow, was of course Chase Grant.
“Morning, Lane,” Chase said, matching her stride with a grin that was way too bright for this hour.
“Grant,” Lois responded with a half-glare, half-smirk. “If you’re going to tag along, at least walk quieter. You clomp like a Clydesdale.”
Chase blinked. “A… what?”
“Big horse. Big.” She gestured widely. “Feet. Stompy. Keep up,” she said rolling her eyes, like what she always does to me before Clark thought. He watched the exchange with a tightening jaw. That was his kind of banter with Lois — the insults with affection tucked between the syllables. The sparks hidden beneath sarcasm.
Now it was Chase who got that.
Not him.
Lois caught Clark’s stare and quickly looked away, cheeks tinging pink. Chase smirked because he noticed, his eyes flicking between them with sudden, quiet interest.
“Morning, Kent,” Chase said.
“Chase,” Clark responded neutrally.
Then Lois shoved a file against Chase’s chest. “Come on, Grant, we’ve got interviews.”
“We?” Clark repeated, standing, before he could stop himself.
Lois froze, so does Chase.
Clark blinked, willing himself not to sound like he was interrogating her. “I mean... usually Tess assigns partners for—”
“I volunteered,” Lois cut in. “It’s fine.”
Clark nodded, trying to look casual while internally he felt like someone had yanked his heart sideways. Chase’s eyebrows rose slightly, as if putting one more piece of the puzzle in place.
“Let’s go,” Lois muttered to Chase.
And they were off, walking side by side, bickering lightly all the way to the elevator, the familiar Lois rhythm, now with a different partner.
And Clark hated it.
--
Lois pushed open the door of the press venue and immediately groaned when Chase bumped her shoulder.
“That was intentional,” she accused.
“It was proximity,” Chase shot back. “Try having spatial awareness.”
“Try walking without leaning into people like some rom-com lead.”
“I don’t lean,” Chase said, leaning.
Lois shoved him, hard.
Chase laughed under his breath. “You always this violent with coworkers, Lane?”
“Only the ones who annoy me, Grant”
“Oh good. So I’m special.”
Lois rolled her eyes, but she wasn’t entirely annoyed.
And from outside the venue, Clark Kent, camera in hand for backup shots, saw it too. He swallowed. This was supposed to be his spot next to her. His shoulder she shoved, his jokes she batted away, his space she filled with irritation and warmth. But now she kept him at arm’s length.
Except when Chase was around, then she kept Chase close enough to shove.
Clark lowered the camera and looked away, that simmering inside him rising again, slow and unwanted.
---
“Group dinner. No excuses.” Chloe was unstoppable when she wanted to be, which was why Lois, Clark, and Jimmy soon found themselves at a cozy booth at their favorite Metropolis diner.
Lois was already on her second drink. Jimmy and Chloe were glowing, finally healing and happy. Clark sat across from Lois, trying not to notice how she avoided meeting his eyes.
Conversation flowed easily until Chloe, without meaning to, dropped a verbal bomb.
“So, remember our wedding day?”
Lois choked on her drink immediately.
Jimmy perked up. “Oh boy.”
Clark froze.
Chloe continued, oblivious. “It’s wild thinking about how everything happened at once like Lana coming back, the explosion, all that chaos—”
Lois stiffened. Clark’s shoulders tightened, the memory a flicker of pain.
“And Clark,” Chloe went on, smiling at him warmly, “you were dealing with so much. Lana returning, the break—”
“Chloe,” Clark cut in, his voice gentle but edged.
She blinked. “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t—”
“No, it’s fine,” Clark said quickly, trying to steady the air before it cracked Lois in half. “It’s just… that was a long time ago.”
Lois stared into her glass, expression unreadable.
Jimmy, noticing the situation decided to spice things up. Maybe someone would grab the opportunity to saym something, directly or indifectly. “But Lana was, like… the Lana. I mean, you must still—”
“No,” Clark said immediately, both Chloe and Jimmy surprised with the amount of confidence and surety of his response. Lois didn't show any reaction, she refused to be on that position again -- the one where she thought they're finally moving towards something past friendships. But still, she watched Clark.
Clark held her gaze, steady, sincere, careful. “Some things… they’re like old photographs. Important when you took them. But eventually you put them in a box, because they don’t match the life you’re living anymore.”
Clark wished so hard that Lois could pick up what he meant, that he wasn’t talking for himself, but that he was talking to her.
But she looked away, shrugging lightly, “Good for you, Clark,” was what she said, like a good friend would say. Let's see once she comes back though, she willed herself not to let her intrusive thoughts win.
He swallowed. She didn’t believe him, or didn’t want to, he thought.
Chloe mouthed sorry at Clark. Jimmy sipped his milkshake loudly.
And then Jimmy, sweet, oblivious Jimmy, struck again.
“So, Lois,” he said brightly, “who’s this Chase guy you’ve been hanging around with?” he ashed as Lois was taking a sip of her drink. This caused Lois to choke violently, coughing and nearly spilling her drink.
Clark instantly reached out, steadying her elbow. “Lois, you okay?”
She swatted him halfheartedly. “I’m fine! I'm fine guys,”
Jimmy blinked. “I didn’t know it was that serious.”
“It’s not!” Lois said, voice cracking like glass. “Not," cough "serious, or anything. He’s just… a coworker. A coworker who is new. And annoying. And tall. And—”
Chloe raised an eyebrow. “Tall?”
“Shut up.”
Clark looked down at his plate, jaw tight.
Lois cleared her throat, regaining her composure. “Chase is just a guy who happened to be on my flight. And now he’s here. That’s all.”
Clark didn’t miss how her eyes darted away when she said it.
Chase didn’t miss it either, because at that moment he was entering the diner, spotting them by accident, and pausing at the door.
He watched Lois laugh nervously at Jimmy’s teasing, watched Clark watching Lois like she was the only person in the room, watched Lois pretend she didn’t feel Clark’s gaze burning through her barriers.
And Chase’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
Ah, this is getting interesting, Chase thought, smirking, a plan in mind.
---
Lois stepped outside first, the night air cooling her flushed cheeks. Clark followed more slowly, clutching the leftover pie Chloe forced on him.
“Lois,” he called softly.
She turned, not meeting his eyes. “Clark… don’t. I’m tired.”
“I just wanted to say… you don’t have to avoid me.”
Lois stiffened. “I’m not avoiding you.”
He smiled sadly. “Lois, you haven’t called me Smallville except once by accident.”
She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again.
“I just…” she exhaled slowly, “I don’t want to make anything more complicated than it already is.”
Clark stepped closer, carefully and respectfully, but close enough for her to feel the sincerity.
“It’s only complicated,” he said gently, “if we pretend we’re strangers.”
Her breath hitched.
Before Lois could reply, a voice cut in.
“Lane.”
Lois turned. Chase stood there, hands in pockets, expression unreadable but eyes sharp.
Clark stiffened.
Lois blinked. “Chase? What are you doing here?”
“Was picking up takeout.” His gaze lingered on her, then slid to Clark. “Didn’t expect to see you two… like this.”
Clark’s jaw tightened.
Lois forced a smile. “Oh uhm, we had dinner with our friends. We were just leaving actually," Lois clarified. And Clark hated how Lois had to clarify that to Chase.
Chase nodded slowly, a knowing edge in his gaze. “Right. Good night then.”
He walked off, but Clark caught the look on Chase’s face.
He recognized something now.
Something about Lois and Clark that she was trying very hard to hide.
And Clark realized with a sinking weight... that he was running out of time before Chase, the charming and confident Chase, figured out everything Clark had only just begun to admit to himself.
Lois shoved her hands in her pockets. “I’m heading home, Clark. See you tomorrow.”
He nodded, watching her walk away again.
Still slipping through his fingers.
Still calling him Clark.
Still not knowing that the photograph he boxed away…
…was because the picture he wanted now was of her.
Chapter 4
The bullpen had never felt so loud.
After two months of avoiding complicated feelings and even more complicated men, Lois Lane walked into the Daily Planet expecting a normal day. A sarcastic comment here, a spilled coffee there, mild existential dread sprinkled in between.
What she did not expect was Tess Mercer standing at the center of the newsroom like a redheaded thunderstorm.
“Lane, Kent, and Grant,” Tess barked. “My office. Now.”
Three heads snapped up at once, Lois freezing mid-sip, Clark straightening in his chair, and Chase closing his laptop with a grin sharp enough to slice tension.
Lois groaned silently. Here we go.
Tess didn’t wait for them to get comfortable before launching into the briefing.
“Metropolis has a new underground medical exchange. High-tech equipment, no traceable funds, and someone with serious resources backing it.” She gave Chase a look. “Your hospital connections might give us a lead. However—” she turned her gaze on Lois “—a source requested to speak only to a ‘couple.’ So two of you are going undercover, while the other one can try getting information from the other med personnels in the hospital," Tess finished.
Behind Lois, she felt the temperature spike. Clark stiffened. Chase perked up.
Tess continued, oblivious to the emotional minefield she’d just activated. “I don’t care which two of you pose as the couple. Choose quickly. And don’t destroy my newsroom in the process.”
She left the room without another word.
Three seconds of silence followed.
Then—
“I’ll do it,” Clark said.
“No way, Kent, I’m doing it,” Chase said at the exact same time.
Lois stared between them. “Oh goodness,” she muttered.
Clark crossed his arms. “I’ve known Lois for years. We already have a believable dynamic.”
Chase scoffed. “Sure, if the assignment calls for posing as estranged siblings,” he teased provokingly.
Lois nearly choked. Clark’s jaw tightened.
“And besides,” Chase continued breezily, “Lois and I have been getting close. We’ve worked together a lot recently. It makes sense.”
Clark’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve known her for two weeks.”
Chase smirked. “Quality over quantity, Kent.”
Lois interjected, “Hey, you two don’t have to fight—”
But Chase wasn’t done.
“And let’s be honest. Don’t you have a girlfriend somewhere? Wouldn’t she get jealous watching you pretend to be Lois’ boyfriend?”
The words hit Clark like a punch.
Lois felt it—saw the flicker of shock, then irritation, then something darker.
Clark stepped forward, voice low. “Chase. My personal life isn’t—”
“—anyone’s business?” Chase finished, tone deceptively light. “Funny, considering you make my business your business every time Lois and I talk.”
Lois winced. Okay. This is getting bad.
Clark’s voice sharpened. “If you think—”
“Hey!”
All three turned.
Oliver strode across the bullpen like he walked into bar brawls every day, which knowing Oliver, he probably did.
And he looked ridiculously handsome doing it.
---
Oliver raised a brow at the two men, each inches away from throwing a punch. “Did I interrupt a testosterone competition or is this a Planet team-building exercise?” he teased.
Before Clark or Chase could answer, Lois practically launched herself toward him.
“Oliver! Oh my goodness hi!” She threw her arms around him in a hug that was way more dramatic than necessary, "thank you came just right in time," she whispered before pulling away from him.
Oliver blinked. “Uh. Hello?”
Lois spun toward Clark and Chase, tightening her grip on Oliver’s arm like he was a flotation device. “You know what, boys? I think it’s best if Oliver and I go undercover. He can handle me as a girlfriend.”
Oliver, catching on instantly, smirked. “Well, she’s not wrong.”
Lois tugged him toward the hallway. “Great! Settled! Behave you two,” she said. Clark and Oliver looked at each other, Oliver smirked because the last few words uttered by Lois were exactly the same words she said t him and Clark the first time they met.
Once they were safely out of sight, Oliver burst into laughter.
“Handle you as a girlfriend?” he repeated. “Wow, you must’ve been desperate.”
Lois groaned. “Desperate doesn’t even begin to—ugh!” She dragged her hands through her hair. “They were about to duel or something. Clark was two seconds away from heat visioning Chase.” She said dramatically, Oliver smirked, if you only knew, he thought.
Oliver’s eyebrows shot up. “So Clark was jealous?”
“NO,” Lois said instantly, and far too defensively. “He was just… being Clark.”
Oliver gave her a knowing look. “Right. And I go to board meetings for the coffee.”
Lois glared. He raised his hands in surrender but couldn’t stop smiling.
“So,” he said, “wanna tell me why you’re avoiding letting either of them play pretend boyfriend?”
Lois sighed, letting the weight settle. “Because… it’s messy. The whole thing. Clark’s acting weird. Chase is acting weirder. And I’m… I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Oliver softened. “Lois. You don’t have to figure it out today. You just have to get through one undercover act without your life turning into a soap opera.”
Lois snorted. “With my luck? Impossible.”
Oliver chuckled and nudged her forward. “Come on, girlfriend. Let’s plan our date.”
---
Chase was the first to cut through the heavy silence. “Well,” he said with a low whistle, “that was dramatic.”
Clark didn’t respond. His eyes were still fixed on the hallway Lois and Oliver had vanished into, his jaw clenched.
Chase shoved his hands in his pockets. “You know she didn’t pick Oliver because she actually wanted him, right?”
Clark’s head snapped his way. “What are you talking about?”
Chase shrugged with infuriating calm. “She picked him because she didn’t want to deal with us.” He cocked his head. “Or rather… with you,” he teased.
Clark felt his pulse spike. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”
“It means Lois Lane doesn’t run unless something’s chasing her,” Chase said, voice smoothing into something almost knowing. “Or someone.”
Clark stiffened, not trusting himself to respond.
Chase started to turn away, but Clark stepped forward, “Hold on.”
Chase stopped on his track, raising a brow.
“Lois mentioned you and her met on the plane,” Clark asked, struggling for neutrality. “How did that happen?”
A slow smile pulled at Chase’s mouth. “You really want to know?”
Clark didn’t look away. “Yes.”
Chase decided to start executing his plan, half lie and half truth is not bad he thought. Hhase leaned casually against a desk, like he had all the time in the world. “She sat beside me, and I tried saying hi. She brushed me off. Completely..." typicall Lois, Clark though. "...but then turbulence hit, she grabbed my arm, and—” he shrugged, “after that, she let me talk to her.”
Something in Clark tightened, jealousy prickling sharp and unwelcome. Chase watched it with interest.
“You know,” he continued lightly, “she kept insisting she didn’t want to talk, but her eyes said something different. She was… distracted. Like her mind was somewhere else. Or someone else.”
Clark swallowed. “Lois doesn’t get distracted.”
“With most people? No.” Chase pushed off the desk, stepping closer. “But she does when she’s trying not to think about someone she actually cares about.” Clark, whether he admits or not, hates that he's able to read Lois like that.
“And honestly,” Chase added with a small, provoking smirk, “a woman like Lois? She deserves someone who’s sure about her. Someone who actually knows what he wants.”
Clark’s hands curled into fists.
Chase kept going, tone deceptively casual. “She’s too extraordinary to wait around for a guy who can’t figure himself out.” His gaze flicked over Clark, evaluating, challenging. “If someone wasn’t sure about her? I’d say they’re about one step away from losing her.”
Clark’s heart thudded hard and uneven.
“And if there were someone who was sure about her…” Chase let the sentence hang, his smile widening just enough— “…well. He’d be smart to take his chance.”
Clark’s breath froze. He knew exactly what Chase was implying.
Chase gave a small, polite nod, like they’d just discussed the weather. “Anyway. Thought you’d want to know how we met.”
He took a few steps away, then paused and looked back over his shoulder.
“Just a piece of advice, Kent,” he said softly. “Feelings don’t stay unspoken forever. Someone always says them first.”
Then he left Clark standing alone, pulse pounding, the hallway where Lois disappeared suddenly feeling much farther away.
And for the first time… Clark wasn’t entirely sure Chase Grant wasn’t going to go after her.
###
"The best ones always start that way."
SMALLVILLE, S04E02, S10E10
Clark Kent and Lois Lane. Who knew?
I did.
Clois Multi-Chapter Fanfiction #1
"imgonnagetyouback"
Author’s note: Here is chapter 2 of imgonnagetyouback! Since it may be hard for you to find chapter 1 on my page, here is its link:
💬 4 🔁 8 ❤️ 25 · Clois Multi-Chapter Fanfiction #1 · “imgonnagetyouback” Author’s note: As promised, here’s Chapter 1 of the prompt I
PS: idk how to post a story in ao3 so I will use tumblr as my primary medium of posting. I hope you guys like this and let me know your thoughts :))
—
Chapter 2
The bullpen was still buzzing after Chase Grant’s dramatic entrance, but Lois Lane heard none of it. Her ears were ringing too loudly with one word, moron!
Chase gave her a knowing little nod, the kind that translated to, relax, I’m not going to spill your in-flight confessions to the entire newsroom, but she didn’t trust that expression. No, not for a second.
Tess scanned the room then said, “Since Mr. Grant is new to Metropolis reporting, I want one of our senior staff to bring him up to speed. Show him the ropes, help him adjust to our workflow.”
Clark, the ever-righteous Clark Kent, took an instinctive half-step forward, but before he could open his mouth, Lois’ voice cut through the room, “I’ll do it.”
Clark froze mid-breath. “You… will?” The shock in his tone was an understatement, he was dumbfounded.
Dozens of heads swiveled toward her. Chase blinked, eyebrows raised, pleasantly surprised. Tess didn’t even try to mask her shock.
“Well, then” Tess said after she recovered from the shock, “that’s settled.”
Lois plastered on her brightest, fakest smile. “Welcome to the Planet, Grant.”
Chase grinned. “Looking forward to it, Lane.”
Clark stared at her like he was trying to solve a calculus problem. “Lois, are you sure? I mean, it doesn’t have to be—”
“It’s fine, Clark,” she said, pointedly not calling him Smallville. “Totally fine. Perfectly fine.”
Chase, unfortunately, picked up on the oddity immediately.
“Clark?” he repeated, glancing between them. “That what you call him now?” he teased.
Lois stiffened. Clark blinked, confused. And that was Lois’ cue.
“We’re leaving,” she barked, grabbing Chase by the elbow and dragging him toward the conference room, “Orientation time. Let’s go. Chop chop Grant!”
Chase followed, amused. Clark watched them go, jaw tightening after hearing that last familiar phrase Lois would always utter to Clark.
When the door shut behind them, Lois spun around, “Listen very carefully,” to which Chase raised both hands. “Should I be scared?”
“Yes,” she said flatly. “If you say one thing — I mean ONE — about the plane, I swear I will bury you under the archives room where even the cockroaches don’t go.”
Chase chuckled. “Relax, Lois. I’m not going to mention your metaphorical farm boy.”
“Good,” was what Lois only said.
He leaned against the table, he just can't pass the opportunity to tease one Lois Lane, “Though you should know, I didn’t orchestrate this.”
“Oh please. You expect me to believe you just happened to show up in my newsroom?”
Shrugging, Chase answered “I applied for the job months ago. Tess called me two days ago with an opening. You being here is a bonus.” He gave her that infuriatingly smooth smile again. “And I didn’t even know your last name.”
Lois blinked.
"You didn’t?”
“Nope. You introduced yourself as Lois. No Lane. No Daily Planet. No Pulitzer-candidate aura.”
She swallowed, now feeling slightly stupid. “Oh.”
“But now,” Chase said, “things make a lot more sense.”
Lois folded her arms. “Nothing from the plane leaves this room.”
“Scout’s honor.”
“You were never a scout.”
“You don’t know that.”
She groaned.
---
Couple days had passed and Clark noticed immediately.
Because Lois Lane had always called him Smallville. In irritation. In fondness. In habit. In everything in between.
But now? It's always, “Clark, hand me that file.” or “Clark, we’re late.” or “Clark, not now.”
Every time she said his first name, she flinched, subtly, but enough for Clark to see it. Of course he would see it, he knows her.
And every damn time Lois calls her Clark [and not the nickname he once hated but grew fond of being called by one Lois Lane], Chase was within a ten-foot radius.
Clark didn’t know why, but that pattern sank its claws into him more than he wanted to admit.
Chase, meanwhile, took to the bullpen like he'd been born in it. He was charming, fast-thinking, and irritatingly good at making Lois roll her eyes, just like what Clark has been good at doing for years.
“Seriously, Grant?” Lois said one afternoon, snatching a draft from his hands. “You spell-check with your eyes closed?”
“They’re beautiful eyes, though,” Chase said with a grin.
“Not relevant,” she shot back.
Clark’s jaw tightened from his desk.
Because that was his dynamic with Lois. The bickering, the sparks disguised as arguments, that belonged to them!
He tried not to watch but he failed. Whenever Lois pretended not to hear something Chase said, whenever she stifled a smile, whenever she nudged Chase with the same exasperated shove she used to give him…
Clark felt it.
A slow simmering burn.
And then there was the coffee machine incident. Clark approached the machine just as Lois and Chase were already there. Chase held two cups.
“Black, two sugars?” he asked Lois.
“That’s Clark’s order,” she snapped, a little too fast.
Clark’s heart stuttered.
Chase blinked. “Oh, my bad.”
Lois grabbed her own cup and muttered, “I take mine however I want to take mine.”
Clark’s lips quirked. “That so?”
She glared at him, cheeks pink. “Don’t.”
Clark took a sip of his coffee. “Didn’t say anything.”
But his eyes said everything.
Chase looked between the two of them and smirked and Clark so hated that smirk.
---
Clark Kent prided himself on being calm under pressure. Alien invasions? Manageable. City-wide disasters? Red and Blue Blur saves the day. Two reporters bantering over coffee? Normally harmless.
But Lois Lane avoiding him like he was made of kryptonite dust? Plus another guy getting under her skin the same way he used to That was, new, unwelcome, and honestly, kind of torture.
Clark watched Lois from his desk as she leaned over Chase’s shoulder, pointing sharply at a paragraph on his screen.
“No, Grant, burying the lede isn’t a stylistic choice. It’s a crime.”
Chase chuckled. “You say that like you’ve never done it.”
“I don’t do crimes. I expose them.”
Clark smirked. Always has the last words, he thought. He tried to refocus on his article, but his eyes kept drifting back to them. But if he be honest, that’s what irritated him the most, how natural Lois' and Chase's rhythm was. Tsk, their names being mentioned together do not even sound pleasing, he pettily said in his mind.
But he recognized it. That was their rhythm. Clark and Lois, Lois and Clark. From before everything got complicated. Before the wedding. Before Lana. Before the hurt. Before Lois left for Star City to accompany Jimmy.
He remembered the parking lot conversation before Chloe’s wedding, the way she’d looked at him, cautious but open, the way she let him in without realizing she was doing it.
And then he’d messed it up. He. Had. Just. To. Mess. It. Up.
He’d broken something he didn’t even know they were building.
And now, he's watching Lois, laughing lightly at something Chase said, laughing in a way she hadn’t laughed at Clark in weeks.
And there it was again, that simmering inside him. He refused to call it jealousy. Because jealousy implied Lois belonged to him. She didn’t. Not then, not now, but he wouldn't want it to be not forever.
But the feeling was still there. A knot in his stomach every time Chase made her smile and a pressure in his chest whenever Lois called him “Clark” instead of “Smallville.”
He missed that nickname more than he’d ever admit. Smallville meant he mattered to her in a way no one else did.
Now she wouldn’t even say it in front of Chase. Clark wasn’t stupid. He noticed the pattern instantly.
Lois was hiding something. Something that had to do with that plane. Something that made her stiffen every time Chase was around him. Something Clark wasn’t part of. And he hated that most of all.
The bullpen had gone silent. Chase had left. The night crew had clocked out. It was finally just the two of them.
Lois typed furiously, pretending she didn’t notice Clark walking toward her desk with that determined stride she recognized too well.
“Lois?”
She stiffened. “What is it Clark?” she asked, without lifting her eyes to look at him.
Even her voice had walls now, he lamented.
Clark winced but pushed on. “We need to talk.”
“No, we don’t.”
“But we do,” he said, gesturing toward the empty room. “It’s quiet. No distractions," a pause, "No Chase," he uttered quietly.
Clark caught how Lois’ eyes twitched at the name. She sighed and stood abruptly, grabbing her coat, “Five minutes. That’s all you get.”
They walked to the far windows overlooking the city’s glow, neutral ground, the unspoken Lois-and-Clark negotiating table.
Clark exhaled. “How did you two meet? You and Chase,” he started.
Lois blinked at the unexpected question. “Seriously?”
“Lois, he knew you. Before he walked in here. Before Tess introduced him. And you’ve been… weird around him... and me. So I just want to know what happened.”
Lois rubbed her temple with a sigh. “He was just bothering me on the plane, okay? That’s it.”
“Bothering you?”
“That’s all you need to know.” Too fast. Too sharp. A dead giveaway.
Clark studied her, concern tightening his brow. “Lois, if he made you uncomfortable—”
“He didn’t,” she cut in quickly. “He was just, talkative,” then she forced a dismissive wave. “End of story.”
Clark didn’t buy it for a second. But he knew Lois. He knew that if he pushed, she’d bolt. Hence he shifted, eyes softening.
“Lois… about Chloe’s wedding—”
“Nope.” She stuck a finger out immediately, practically stabbing the air. “We’re not doing this.”
“We need to talk about it.”
“No we don’t.”
“Lois.”
She froze, jaw tight, bracing herself.
Clark lowered his voice. “You left to attend Jimmy. And when you were there, you never called me. I had to get updates from Oliver. And when you came back… everything was different. And then Lana—”
“Clark,” Lois cut in fast, louder this time, “I’m sorry.”
He blinked. “What?”
“For your—” she made a vague gesture between him and the air around them, “breakup. Again. For the thousandth time. Chloe told me what happened.” Deep inside, Lois knew she needed to cut off whatever Clark would've to say about Lana because she does not trust herself and she doesn't trust her lacrimal glands in not producing tears with whatever she would've heard from Clark.
Clark’s stomach knotted. Lois offered a small, sympathetic smile, the kind she reserved for real hurt. “Hey… I know it sucked when Lana came back and then things fell apart. But you’ll be okay. You guys always find your way back.”
Clark’s heart dropped, “No, Lois—”
She laughed suddenly and punched his arm in that teasing, familiar way of hers. “That’s what you thought before, Smallville.” It was too late when Lois realized the words that came out from her mouth.
The nickname slipped out so naturally she didn’t even catch it. But Clark did, for the first time in a couple of weeks, she called him Smallville.
His breath hitched. A smile, nvoluntary, warm, and hopeful tugged at the corner of his mouth. Lois froze when she saw it, gulping down the lump in her throat.
Then rolled her eyes. “See? There you go. Smiling again. Just be patient.”
Patience. The worst possible advice for the wrong situation.
Because she didn’t understand. She didn’t realize. She still thought Lana was the reason behind his sadness.
When the truth was standing right in front of him, refusing to meet his eyes.
Clark opened his mouth. “Lois, that’s not what I—”
But she bulldozed right over him again, stepping forward without even realizing it. The general's advice kicking in, always have the upper hand.
“And seriously, Clark, thank you,” Her voice softened, all teasing gone, “for saving Chloe. For being there when it mattered most. I never got to tell you that.”
She was close now, close enough to hug him. Her hand twitched at her side, like her body moved instinctively toward him.
Clark held still, breath catching. But Lois stopped abruptly, something flickering in her eyes. A sudden, sharp memory of the way his smile a moment ago had twisted something deep in her chest.
Instead of the hug she clearly almost gave, she smiled at him, lifted her hand and just rubbed his arm gently. A ghost of contact. A safe distance.
“Really,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
Clark swallowed, overwhelmed, “You don’t have to thank me for that.”
“I do.” She stepped back, wall sliding right back into place. “Anyways… it’s late. I should head home.”
He nodded, even though he hated watching her slip away again. Slip, goodness he hated that word.
Lois walked toward the exit, pushing the glass door open. Clark lingered behind, hands in his pockets, mind spinning.
But then, Lois stopped in the doorway. Clark saw her freeze, shoulders tensing. Then he saw why, Oliver Queen stood waiting just outside the bullpen. Hand in pocket, suit immaculate, smiling at Lois.
Clark’s chest tightened as Lois stepped out to meet him. Oliver greeted Clark and he greeted back. He knew the two were friends regardless of their history.
The glass door shut between them, Lois’s silhouette framed beside Oliver’s as they walked down the hallway together.
###
—Tom Welling as Clark Kent, Smallville
Clois Multi-Chapter Fanfiction #1
“imgonnagetyouback”
Author’s note: As promised, here’s Chapter 1 of the prompt I posted in X: What if, when Lois returned from Star City, tagging along with her was a reporter she met on Star City who just loves to tease & challenge Lois? Clark saw the familiar banter between Lois and this new guy. The question is, why does he feel threatened?
PS: idk how to post a story in ao3 so I will use tumblr as my primary medium of posting. I hope you guys like this and ket me know your thoughts :))
—
Chapter 1
Two months. That’s how long it had been since Lois Lane left Metropolis, since she packed her bags, tucked away her pride, and flew to Star City under the guise of helping a wounded friend. In truth, she had been helping herself, or trying to.
Now, seated by the oval window of a commercial flight cruising above the clouds, Lois wasn’t sure if she’d done much healing at all.
She could’ve accepted Oliver’s offer for a private jet, but something about being alone with her thoughts among ordinary people sounded better. Less suffocating. No pitying glances. No reminders of what she’d left behind.
Her fingers toyed with the boarding pass tucked into the seat pocket. The engine hummed steadily beneath her boots, the soft chatter of passengers fading into white noise. She leaned back, closed her eyes. That’s when someone dropped into the seat beside her.
“Guess this one’s mine,” came a smooth, amused voice.
Lois opened her eyes.
The man sliding into the seat was the kind of man that made even seasoned reporters pause mid-sentence. Tall, broad-shouldered, and sculpted like he’d been carved out of some smug Grecian marble. His dark hair fell in casual waves, his jaw sharp enough to make headlines of its own. The sleeves of his navy shirt clung to his forearms in a way that suggested he didn’t need a gym membership to keep that build.
Great, Lois thought dryly. Just what I need flying coach with a walking Calvin Klein ad.
He smiled at her, confident, easygoing, the kind of smile that could charm an entire press room. “Chase,” he said, offering a hand.
“Lois,” she replied, shaking it briefly before returning her gaze to the window.
Silence hung between them for a few minutes, thankfully. Then, predictably, he started talking.
It wasn’t the usual small talk. Chase spoke about things people normally save for midnight confessions, how he’d quit a job that paid well but hollowed him out, how he didn’t know what he was chasing anymore (pun unintended, he swore), and how sometimes, it’s easier to talk to strangers than to people who think they know you.
Lois didn’t mean to listen. She really didn’t. But his tone which was honest, almost disarming cracked something open.
“Funny,” she said after a while, her voice quiet, eyes fixed on the fading horizon outside. “That’s exactly why I don’t talk to people.” She meant it to shut him up but of course he didn’t.
He turned to her, curious. “You don’t?”
Lois internally rolled her eyes but decided to just go with it. She’ll never meet him anyways. Besides, they just know each other by first name basis. She shook her head. “People… they have this tendency to disappoint you. The moment you let them in, they find a way to hurt you. So, I stopped letting them in.”
Chase studied her. “So, someone hurt you?”
Lois huffed out a bitter laugh. “Yeah. You could say that.”
He didn’t push, he just waited as if inviting her for a confession.
“There’s this guy,” she began, the words spilling before she could stop them. “I’ll just call him Smallville. It’s a nickname.”
Chase smiled faintly. “Let me guess, farm boy?”
Lois’s lips twitched. “Bingo. Sweet, awkward, sometimes infuriatingly noble farm boy.”
Her voice softened despite herself. “We were partners. At work. Always bickering, but it worked. And then… there was this moment. At my cousin’s wedding. We almost kissed.”
“Almost?” Chase prompted gently.
“Yeah.” Her throat tightened. “Almost. Until his ex walked in, which he claimed he was in love with since he’s 5. And just like that, he looked right past me. Like I’d never been there.”
She blinked rapidly, keeping her eyes on the window. “Something tragiv happened that same day which made me leave the town. Told myself I was just helping my injured friend, but… I know it’s more than that. I think I was just running. Staying in Star City longer made it easier to pretend I didn’t care anymore.”
Chase’s voice was quiet when he asked, “Do you?”
Lois didn’t answer. The seatbelt light blinked on, and the captain’s voice filled the cabin, announcing their descent into Metropolis.
She felt Chase’s gaze linger on her, but she didn’t look back. The moment the plane’s wheels touched the runway, she grabbed her bag, muttered something about being late, and disappeared into the crowd before he could even say goodbye.
---
The newsroom buzzed as always, clacking keyboards, ringing phones, the low hum of chaos that Lois usually thrived in. But lately, she’d been moving like a ghost between desks, always vanishing just before Clark Kent, the man she would love to strangle and hug at the same time, entered the bullpen.
If he arrived at nine, she was already leaving to meet a source; if he stayed late, she’d turn in early; even when they crossed paths at the coffee machine, Lois suddenly remembered an urgent call to make. She does everything just to not stand in the same room with him.
Clark noticed. Of course he did.
Every dodge, every sidestep, and it stung more than he wanted to admit. He’d hurt her, even if he hadn’t meant to, gosh he never wanted to hurt an independent, does-not-settle-for-less Lois Lane. And now, the walls Lois had built around herself were taller than ever. And this time, they were built against him. And somehow, Clark thought, this was way worse than standing in a room full of kryptonite.
He’d been waiting for the right moment to talk to her, to explain. But the right moment never came — and maybe it never would, unless he made one.
The following Friday, Clark made up his mind. He spotted Lois across the bullpen, her hair catching the light as she typed, pretending not to notice him. He crossed the room, determination in every step.
“Lois, we need to talk.”
Her eyes flicked up, wide, like a cornered animal. “Smallville, I can’t right now, Tess called a—”
Right on cue, Tess Mercer’s sharp voice cut through the noise from the mezzanine above. “Everyone, listen up!”
Reporters looked up from their desks.
“We’re temporarily assigning a new reporter to the Daily Planet’s city desk,” Tess announced. “He’ll be joining us starting today.”
A tall figure stepped out from her office, flashing that same confident smile Lois had seen from a plane window two days earlier.
“Everyone, meet Chase Grant.”
Lois froze.
Clark blinked, glancing between them.
Chase caught sight of her and smirked, clearly amused. “Well… small world.”
Lois’s jaw dropped. “YOU?!”
The bullpen fell silent, everyone turning to stare.
Clark’s brows furrowed in confusion. “You two know each other?” Lois concluded that the jealous and somewhat irritated tone she heard from Clark was just pure hallucination. But she could only gape. Of course the stranger she’d spilled her heart to at thirty thousand feet had to show up here, in her newsroom, standing next to her unresolved disaster of a partner.
Somewhere deep down, Lois Lane swore and cuss the guy out. One thing just entered her mind – that moron must’ve known who she was and masterminded his way to talking to her and spill her guts to him, and now she’s screwed.
###
This proposal gets me every time 😍😍
I really really hope Gunn directs a romantic proposal scene with DCU Clois too!
Clois One-Shot Fanfiction #2
“Too Late?”
Author’s note: This was a prompt I BADLY want to read on fanfics but I have not seen one. So I made one to satisfy myself. I hope you guys like it :))
—
The creak of the screen door at the Kent Farm had never sounded so sweet. Clark Kent stood in the doorway, anticipation coursing through his veins faster than any burst of superspeed ever could. Two months. Two long months since Lois Lane walked out of Metropolis, two months of silence, of excuses through Chloe, of absence he felt in his bones. He had rehearsed this moment over and over, of how he would smile, of how he would apologize, and most importantly, of how he would finally admit what he should have done on that night at Chloe’s wedding.
When Lois finally appeared, standing there with her hair swept by the autumn wind, Clark felt the familiar comfort of home returning. He felt like standing too close at the yellow sun, his yellow sun.
Until his eyes dropped to her left hand, a shining shimmering diamond ring can be seen. A bold, brilliant declaration that Lois Lane already belonged to someone else. The world tilted. Clark’s breath caught, his pulse hammered like he’d been hit with kryptonite.
“Smallville,” Lois said casually, though there was a nervous flicker in her eyes. “Miss me?” She teased, because when did she not? Clark forced a smile that felt like glass cutting his face. “Always.” She stepped inside, brushing past him, the scent of her perfume making his heart ache with everything he’d lost before he even had it.
***
Later, over coffee at the worn wooden table, Lois dropped the bombshell that twisted the knife deeper. “I need your help. With Richard.” Clark blinked. Richard? His jaw clenched.
“Richard White,” she clarified, stirring her mug as if she hadn’t just crushed him with those two words. “He’s… well, he’s my fiancé.” She held up her hand, the diamond catching the light, stabbing at him again. “We’re working on something big. But we can’t do it alone.” Clark heard the words, but his mind caught on just one. Fiancé.
He swallowed. “So, you’re… engaged.” He said, rather than asked.
Lois leaned back, folding her arms. “You sound surprised.” Surprised? No. Devastated? Completely!
Clark tried to laugh it off, but it came out brittle. “Guess I just didn’t see that coming.”
“You and me both, Smallville,” she said with a smirk, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
***
The days that followed were torture. Clark found himself stealing glances at Lois whenever she wasn’t looking, his heart twisting tighter each time he saw her brush her hair back with that ring glinting mockingly. He tried to focus on “helping”—whatever vague investigation Lois and Richard were chasing—but every time Richard called Lois “baby” or placed a hand on her back, Clark had to fight the urge to crush steel in his fists.
One evening, after Richard had stepped out, Clark finally cracked. “You really love him?” Clark asked, his voice tight.
Lois looked up, startled. “What?”
“Richard. You really want to spend your life with him?”
Her eyes softened for a split second before the walls went up. “That’s usually how engagements work, Clark.” Clark, not even Smallville.
He wanted to scream. He wanted to shake her. Instead, he muttered, “He’s not right for you.”
“And you’d know?” she shot back, her voice sharp. “You’ve made it crystal clear who was right for you. Or did you forget you ran right back to Lana the second she showed up?”
The words hit like a punch. Clark opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Because she was right.
***
After days of Lois ignoring Clark and Clark trying to talk to her, to tell her the truth even if he’s too late, the truth of the matter unraveled in the most Lois Lane way possible—loud, messy, and completely by accident.
Clark overheard Richard on the phone, whispering: “Yeah, the story’s coming together. Lois is playing the fiancée part perfectly. We’ll blow the roof off this corruption scandal once we publish.” Clark froze. Playing the fiancée part.
The ring wasn’t real. The engagement wasn’t real. Richard wasn’t her fiancé!
Lois walked in just in time to see Clark’s expression shift from heartbreak to fury.
“You let me believe—” His voice trembled with anger and hurt. “You let me think you were engaged this whole time?”
Lois crossed her arms defensively. “It was undercover, Smallville. A cover story. That’s what reporters do. I didn’t exactly think you’d—”
“Didn’t think I’d what? Care?” he snapped, slamming his hand against the wall hard enough to rattle the frames.
Lois flinched, but her chin jutted out stubbornly. “Why would you? You had your chance. You didn’t take it.”
Clark’s chest heaved, every repressed word clawing its way out. “Because I was stupid. Because I thought Lana was the one. But the truth is, Lois, it’s you. It’s always been you. And watching you with him—watching you with anyone—kills me!”
Lois’s eyes shimmered, anger and longing tangled together. “Then why didn’t you say that before I had to leave? Before you broke my heart without even realizing it?”
“I’m saying it now!” Clark shouted. His voice cracked, raw and desperate. “I love you, Lois. I don’t want to waste another second pretending I don’t.” The silence that followed was electric, charged like a storm about to break. Lois stared at him, her breath shaking, then finally closed the distance between them.
“Idiot,” she whispered, before crashing her lips against his. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t careful. It was two years of banter, of missed chances, of buried feelings exploding all at once. Clark pulled her closer, his hands tangling in her hair, and for the first time, he didn’t hold back.
That night, the walls of the Kent farmhouse bore witness to something neither of them would ever admit in the light of day, but neither could forget. Two souls colliding, after years of denial. And in the morning, neither ring nor Richard mattered anymore.
Only Clark and Lois did.
***
The sun was barely cresting over the Kansas horizon, painting the fields in golden light. Clark leaned against the porch railing of their farmhouse, staring at nothing, but feeling everything. Last night still pulsed in his veins, the kiss, the fight, the way Lois had curled into him as if she belonged there all along. The screen door creaked behind him.
“Smallville,” Lois’s voice came, rough from sleep, but still carrying that trademark edge. “Brooding isn’t a good look on you.”
Clark smirked faintly but didn’t turn. “Guess it’s hard to shake old habits.” She padded over, barefoot, her arms folded. For a moment, they just stood there, the quiet stretching between them. Finally, Lois held out her left hand. The ring. That damned ring.
“I should probably explain this,” she said, her tone softer than usual.
Clark swallowed hard, his eyes glued to the glittering diamond. “You don’t have to.”
“Yes, I do.” Lois slipped it off, holding it between her fingers like it was nothing more than costume jewelry. “You heard Richard. It was cover for the story. But…” She hesitated, her gaze flicking to him. “That’s not the whole truth.”
Clark’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
Lois sighed, biting her lip. “I kept it on around you because—well, part of me wanted to see if it mattered to you. If I mattered to you. I know, manipulative, sneaky, not my best moment. But I was tired, Clark. Tired of waiting for you to notice me when you only had eyes for someone else.”
Her voice cracked on the last words, though she quickly covered it with a scoff. “So, yeah. I wanted to see if a ring on my finger would make you jealous. And it did.”
Clark stared at her, stunned. The weight of guilt and longing pressed down on him. “Lois…”
She waved him off, trying to act casual, but her eyes betrayed her vulnerability. “Don’t get all mushy on me now. Point is, I wasn’t really engaged. Never was.”
Clark reached out, gently taking the ring from her hand and setting it on the railing between them. Then he took her hand in his, holding it firmly.
“You don’t need a ring to make me jealous,” he said, his voice steady, almost fierce. “Lois, the thought of losing you—to anyone—kills me. You’re not second choice. You’re it. You’re the one.”
Her breath hitched, her bravado crumbling as she met his gaze. “Took you long enough, farm boy.”
And then she leaned in, sealing the words with another kiss, this one slower, surer, but no less passionate. It might’ve taken him long enough to realize the right woman was just in front of him all along, but one thing is for sure to him: it’s not going to take long for him to ask her to spend the rest of her life with him. And Clark Kent can’t just wait.
###
Clois One-Shot Fanfiction #1.1
Heartbeat (Part 2)
Author’s note: This is going to be the last part for the heartbeat one-shot.
—
I’d gotten good at hiding things from Lois. Or at least, I thought I had.
But Lois Lane had this frustrating habit of noticing things I didn’t want her to. And she didn’t let go until she had answers. That is Lois Lane, infuriating but I somehow enjoy it. I enjoy her.
Like now.
We were at the Talon, late evening, half-empty with just the hum of the espresso machine in the background. Lois had commandeered the couch, boots up on the table, a stack of papers spread around her from whatever story she was chasing. I was pretending to read a book, though really, I was listening.
Not to her words. Not even to her complaints about “lazy editors.”
Her heartbeat.
It was steady, a rhythm I’d come to know as well as my own. And every time it skipped, fluttered just a little when she got excited about some lead, I felt my stomach tighten.
But tonight, I lingered too long. Focused too intently. And Lois caught me.
Her eyes narrowed. “Okay, Smallville. Spill. You’ve been staring at me like I’ve got a third eye. And before you say you weren’t, newsflash! You’re about as subtle as a tractor in a cornfield.”
Heat rushed to my face. I scrambled for something… anything, that wasn’t the truth. “I wasn’t staring. I was just… thinking.”
She arched a brow. “About?”
I swallowed. About how I can hear your heart beat from three miles away. About how it calms me down in ways nothing else does.
“Chores,” I lied lamely. “You know, farm stuff.”
Lois snorted, tossing a pencil at me. “Farm boy excuse number 27. Seriously, Clark, you’ve been jumpier than usual lately. First you show up at my apartment last week out of nowhere when I had that little run-in with those goons—”
“You called me,” I interrupted quickly.
Her eyes narrowed further. “Actually, Chloe called you. And funny thing, you showed up before she even finished dialing. Care to explain that one?”
Panic surged in my chest. My grip tightened on the book until the spine creaked. “I told you I was around there when she called. Shouldn’t you be thankful I saved you?” I said, trying to change the subject.
Lois leaned closer, eyes sharp, searching. “You’re hiding something.”
The words hit like a direct strike. Because she was right. She always was.
I forced a laugh, but it sounded hollow even to me. “Lois, you see conspiracies everywhere.”
“Maybe,” she said, sitting back, crossing her arms. “But I also see when someone’s keeping a secret. And you, Clark Kent, are practically screaming it.”
Her heart skipped—a single, fluttering beat—and my own chest squeezed tight.
I shouldn’t have been listening. I knew that. But hearing that subtle change in her rhythm made me ache to tell her. To explain that the reason I always seemed to show up when she needed me wasn’t luck, it was because I could never not hear her anymore. Funny how the table’s turned. Before, I wouldn’t even want to hear her sarcastic remarks (though I enjoyed bantering with her, but I will never admit that to her). But now? I can’t even go by my day not listening to her heartbeat. Creepy as it may seem, but I wanted to know, I needed to assure myself that she’s safe.
I sighed and whispered, softer than I meant to: “I just worry about you, Lois.”
The banter faded from her face. Her expression softened in a way that made my throat go dry. “You don’t have to.”
“I can’t help it,” I admitted before I could stop myself.
Her heartbeat quickened, barely, but enough for me to notice. Enough to make me sit perfectly still, afraid I’d given myself away.
Lois tilted her head, studying me. “You’re such a mystery, Smallville.”
And before I could say something—before I could ruin everything—she smirked, broke the moment by punching my arm, the thing she always does when things get “unusual” between the two of us, and went back to scribbling notes like she hadn’t just unraveled me with one look.
But I sat there, book forgotten, still hearing that heartbeat.
Still wondering how long I could keep this secret before it broke me.
Because every time I tuned in, every time I heard that steady rhythm from miles away, I realized the same thing:
Lois Lane had become my anchor. And I wasn’t sure what terrified me more: losing that sound or her finally finding out.
—
Time changes a lot of things.
The way Lois looks at me now, for one. She still calls me “Smallville” with that same teasing lilt, but there’s a warmth behind it that wasn’t there before. A softness she doesn’t show anyone else.
Dating Lois Lane is both the most terrifying and the most natural thing I’ve ever done. Terrifying, because she’s Lois. And natural, because… well, it just fits.
But if there’s one thing that hasn’t changed, it’s the sound of her heart.
I still listen for it. Every day. Every night. I can’t help it.
Which is how I knew she was in trouble tonight before my phone even buzzed.
Her heartbeat spiked—fast, panicked, sharp in my ears like thunder—and I dropped everything. The world blurred until I was in Metropolis, racing down an alley where two men had cornered her.
Lois was holding her own, of course. One thug was already doubled over from a well-aimed knee, and the other looked like he regretted every choice that brought him here. But when she saw me, her eyes widened.
“Clark?!”
I stepped in, disarmed the second guy with ease, and made sure they’d think twice before bothering her again. Then it was just us, the alley suddenly too quiet. Too intimate.
Lois crossed her arms, still breathing hard, eyes narrowing on me. “Okay, farm boy. You’ve got some explaining to do.”
I tried to play it off, reaching for calm. “You called me. I came.”
Her heartbeat steadied—slower now, more deliberate. She wasn’t buying it. “No, I didn’t. I didn’t even have my phone out yet.”
I froze. She had me.
Lois stepped closer, her gaze sharp but searching. “This isn’t the first time, either. You always show up, Clark. Always. Before anyone else even knows I need help. So tell me…” She tilted her head, eyes softening in a way that cut through every excuse I had. “How do you always know?”
My mouth went dry. The truth hovered on the tip of my tongue, terrifying and liberating all at once. Because I can hear you, Lois. Because I can’t not hear you. Your heartbeat is the only sound I’ll never ignore.
Instead, I swallowed hard and said the only thing I could manage: “I just… know when something’s wrong.”
Her eyes searched mine, her heartbeat quickening again. Not fear. Not anger. Something else. Something that made my chest ache.
“You’re a terrible liar, Smallville,” she whispered, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she reached up and hugged me, resting her head on my chest, grounding me in a way nothing else could. “But… whatever the reason, I’m glad you’re always there,” she said and kissed my cheek. I gave her a peck and hugged her back.
Her heart thudded steady against the quiet night, and I had to close my eyes for a moment, because if I looked at her any longer, I might actually confess everything.
And maybe one day I will. Maybe one day, I’ll tell her the truth about her heartbeat—how it’s become my compass, my anchor, the one thing I can’t live without.
But not tonight. Tonight, I just held her close, memorizing the sound of her heart, hoping she couldn’t hear how hard mine was racing in return.
###