( I found this gorgeous fan art on Pinterest, it's by valeskase on Twitter ! ( thank you anon for helping identifying the artist! ) Writing is mine)
Dark! Yandere Superfamily X Reader
Today's people say don't fall in love, especially not to the point it ruins your life and takes it over. It was really a shame that you never listened.
“ I don't need you to wait for me outside my workplace everyday-” You said, picking up the tie from the desk, your knuckles grazing the wood in a clatter. The smell of paper and ink was mixed into the air, you moved over to the side, looking at yourself in the mirror once before facing him.
There he stood just a meter away.
Dressed in the whitest shirt with not a wrinkle in sight. His mother would be proud.
“Clark.” His blue eyes dimmed at your words before he turned over, his mouth turned upwards just by a bit - the wrinkles near his eyes becoming more visible and those dimples that should've made your heart stir, didn't.
His face at current moment resemble more of the man you saw on the TV while he was interviewing one of the elites.
" I'm not joking.” your brows arched.
“...I know you aren't.” he said, lowering his gaze into a softly manner, walking closer,
“ Then,” Your eyes flickered to the window, people were leaving to head to their work places while students made their way to their schools, laughter and yawns muffling in between, “...why aren't you… listening?” you said, staring at the desk.
He moved even closer, till you both just fell apart, His hand gently caressed your cheek, making it face him, stammering over your skin like you were a precious being, like a mere flicker of force could ruin you.
And you wanted to believe that.
Maybe you were precious.
But you wished he didn't treat you like a fragile piece of glass. You were his and Lois's junior, having joined but a year ago. (And then quitting later on)
They were… something.
Maybe, lots of things.
Headstrong
Decisive
Loving
Controlling—
Caring
Having started seeing both Lois and Clark, you wondered when you became less like a human and more like a porcelain doll that had to stay where she was or under supervision, in their eyes.
Clark knew that you wanted space. His wife knew that too. Lois and he just had a talk about it last night. No matter how much it had spiralled.Still Clark knew that even if you thought you didn't need to be treated like you deserved, he still needed to show it.
Besides, he really did have to adjust his strength with you.
If he applied even a little more force, even lost a little control of the strength he'd forged after years, years of painful teaching by his adopted parents - you'd have not a bone left to identify you.
His thumb moved over to your lips, the sound of your breaths being too loud for your staggering heart. “ I am listening.” He said.
“ Then…..stop waiting outside my workplace.”
His hand over your face pulled away slowly and you wondered what you had said. Didn't you ask for something normal?
“ It's not safe.” He said not quiet looking in your eyes.
You paused before speaking. “ Safe... This is Metropolis?” wondering whether to laugh or scream. You wished Lois hadn't left for work early today. Jimmy had to give her a scope of interesting news this very morning.
He seemed to want to say something yet he stopped, and with every tick of the clock that you couldn't hear his voice, you knew he had already decided what he wanted to hear and believe.
His hands trailed over from your shoulders to your neck, swooping in closer he adjusted your collar - warm breath grazing your neck. “ I'm hearing you, Y/n. You don't like me waiting down there, it's embarassing-”
“ That's not what I mean! Clark-” you tried to argue, taking a step back.
He moved a step forward.
“...Why don't we talk more about this-” he pulled the tie down at just the right point , at just the professional standard. “-When Lois is here?”
You could see the still reflection of yourself in his eyes. Unmoving, in place, just like his perception of you.
You sighed, pushing his body away. And you'd be lying if it didn't take you to mutter all your strength for him to be pushed even a little further.
“ Clark- it's not about you or Lois waiting for me outside my workplace. I love you both for caring so much- for loving me–”
“ Then why-?”
“ Because I need space, Clark! I'm a human. So are you! You don't stop Lois and she doesn't stop you either but I'm the one with restrictions! Why can't I be given time to be on my own too?” Your voice had raised to a volume that made your neighbors take a double take.
“ Y/n.”
Droplets of salt water had begun to form and fall from under your eye. You had stopped them, wiping a few, not wanting to look like a mess for work. Your coworkers were a hell to be around now that you'd quit daily planet and went to work for a smaller newspaper.
He stayed where he was. “...”
You grabbed the keys of your scooter and walked out.
Clark stood there for minutes.
A small feeble little ladybug flew in, fluttering its tiny wings and sat at his shoulder. Suddenly it jerked and fell to the ground with fumes of heat leaking out.
The boot pressed over it, squishing the little robot into bits. “ Kara.” He said, the colour of his eyes becoming a crimson red.
The woman who sat in the blizzard on another planet, laughed joyfully, hiccuping with a red face. Her punch landed on another furry alien. “ What do…you need, Ka-El?” she hiccupped, her body moving wobbly but she held her ground.
“ That technology of brain waves altering ancient Krypton, the one you told me and Louis about-”
Her Blue eyes opened, blond hair ragging like a stormy thunder. “ What about it?”
“ Lent it to me.” he said looking at your figure through his vision.
She raised her leg and thrashed the head of one of the aliens that tried to attack her in retaliation. The snow covered the sharpness of her gaze. “ Finally using it on that one. Y/n? Lois and the bratty monster are fine with it?”
“...She shouldn't have a problem. As for them, Jon and Conner suggested months ago, I was the one that wanted to give it a try.”
Kara bummed, “ It's gonna cost you a good penny, Kal.”
“ I'm a reporter on payroll of THE white knight of Gotham. I have more than enough.”
She rolled her eyes, “- Where is she?”
“ On the way to work.”
Kara cut through the call by smashing a rock with blood pooling out of the furry thing. “ I'll be there in an hour.”
Clark would have to send a message to Jon and Conner to stop and handle her till then. He stammered over the bug once more. Lex needed to stop with these stupid ideas.
( another art from Pinterest)
A/n : I got interested in yandere! Dark superfamily after a comment on some Tumblr post mentioned them. And I was like, you know what? You right fam! 😤 so I did it! Enjoy and tell me what you all think! Comments and kudos are most welcome 😼
Clark starts showing up in Gotham more often; no League business, no emergencie. Just there. At first, Bruce brushes it off, Superman dropping by during patrol? Suspicious, but not unheard of. But then it's every night.
He doesn't say much, just watches from rooftops, eyes glowing faintly in the dark, hovering just out of reach. Bruce jokes about it "Are you patrolling or shadowing me now?" but Clark just smiles, quiet and unreadable.
Then the boundaries start to slip. Bruce finds a repaired gauntlet in his gear that he didn't fix, he cave's firewall flags an attempted intrusion. So precise it could only have come from someone with super speed, and when he gets shot during a takedown, Clark is there in seconds, face storm dark with rage, voice low as he tells the shooter: "You touched something that you shouldn't"
After that, Bruce finds a file in the Watchtower labeled only "Wayne" and it's encrypted, he deletes it without opening it. Two hours later, it's back. Updated.
Clark never admits anything. He's affectionate, attentive, always sweet. But his gifts become… weirdly specific. A rare first edition copy of a book Bruce mentioned once in passing, a watch made from melted down remnants of Bruce's parents' car.
Bruce doesn't ask how Clark got them. He doesn't have to. He knows.
And yet, every time he hears the flutter of a cape behind him and feels a warm breath at his neck and a kiss on his cheek he still says nothing.
Maybe a part of him wants to be 'treasured' like this.
(Well, I think that is clear now that I really like writing about dark/obsessive Clark 🥺)
a/n: lowkey made the beginning too long whoopsie, and I meant to post this earlier but ochem is kicking my ass
masterlist
Rain makes everything softer, even screams.
Metropolis breathes in neon and exhaust. Gutters filled to the brim with runoff that slithers between cobblestone and cigarette butts. Somewhere above, the city is still humming. Office lights, sirens, late night clatter of thousands of sleepless lives. Although, down here in the alley, it’s filled with shadows and the wet slap of fists against flesh.
A gunshot rings out, too close to your ear. You don’t flinch.
The bullet whines past and lodges itself in the brick next to you. Too close to sting where it grazes your shoulder, but the skins already knitting together by the time you spin on your heel. You don’t give them time to reload, your elbow connecting to their jaw. Knee to the ribs. Efficient, brutal, and cheap. Each move you make designed to finish what they’ve started.
One of the men scream as his wrist snaps under your grip. The other staggering back, blood pouring from his nose driven sideways by your knuckle. It spatters against your fist, hot and metallic, yet you wipe it away absently on your thigh before driving your boot into the third mans gut. He goes down hard, slumping against the cold wet ground in an instant. By the time the fourth tries to bolt, his feet slide out from under him on the slick pavement, and you’re on him before he can blink.
It’s a dirty fight, dismantling them.
And you’re enjoying it.
“—enough.”
The voice cuts through the chaos, low yet even. You don’t have to look up to know who it is. The shift in the air gives him away first, the faint ripple of wind that follows his landings. Then the red and blue at the edge of your vision.
Superman.
Three of them are already down, slumped unconscious against the brick, and the last one’s wheezing under your boot. You press a little harder, just to hear the sound he makes.
“Thats enough,” he repeats, stepping closer now. He furrows his brows, condemning your actions without a word. “They’re not going anywhere. You can stop.”
You glance over your shoulder at him. “They were moving weapons, military grade. You want me to ask them nicely to stop next time?”
“I want you to show some restraint,” he says, calm but firm. “You’ve already made your point clear.”
But you don’t stop. You never stop. The guy beneath your boot groans, tries to crawl, and you kick him square in the side, sending him sprawling into the utility poles against the building with a clang. His scream echoing down the alley.
Thats when he moves.
It’s quick, in a colorful blur. One moment you’re reaching for the next target, the next his hand is wrapped around your arm, iron and unmovable.
“I said enough,” he grows, and then you’re airborne, weightless for a heartbeat before the brick wall slams into your back.
The impact knocks the air out of your lungs, and you crumple to your knees, gasping.
“I don’t take orders from a prick like you.” you spit.
By the time you pull yourself upright, he’s already taken out the last of them. Its ironic, the single punch that drops the man like a rag doll. The alley is silent once more, except for the hiss of rain against the asphalt and the ragged sound of your shallow breaths.
Superman turns back toward you, steps slow. Water beads along his jaw, tracing the sharp cut of it as he closes the distance. There’s something different in his eyes now, not the warm glow metropolis loves him for.
The gleam is darker. Heavier. Something humming beneath the surface, untamed and dangerous.
“You really don’t know when to stop,” he says softly, and the corner of his mouth twitches, not quite a smile.
You begin to realize, with a shiver crawling up your spine, that the fight might not be in your favor this time. And yet you push yourself up from the ground, rain pouring off your suit, already fully healed.
The scrapes that had burned along your forearms? Gone. Your knuckles, split and raw a moment ago, are smoothed over. Even your ribs, the ones that should be bruised, ache only faintly.
“Cute trick,” he mutters when you square your stance again. “But thats enough for now.”
“You keep saying that stupid shit,” your tone steady. “And yet, here I am.”
You launch first this time. Pivoting on your heel, elbow hooking, and he blocks easily. But you’re not backing down now, you can’t. Another jab, swing, and knee to the side. He grunts when it lands, more surprised than hurt. Adrenaline pumps through your veins, and you swing while he’s stunned. A sickening crunch rings through the space as your fist connects with his nose.
His head snaps to the side when you come down, blood already gushing from the break. Concrete cracks under your boots, and the faint hiss of displaced air follows your movement.
The surroundings still for a moment, before a punch sends you skidding through a puddle, knees scraping agains the ground. You rise without hesitation. Another catches your jaw, splitting your lip, his eyes widening as it seals before he blinks.
“What are you? Another meta human?” He breathes, half to himself.
“Yeah, and Im everything you’re too afraid to be,” you snap, driving forward.
For a moment, he just stares, chest heaving and pupils blown. Then the world narrows again. You duck beneath a swing, pivoting, and landing a hit across his cheek. It’s clumsy and desperate, but enough. He turns his head sharply, and when he looks back at you, there’s a thin streak of red tracing the corner of his mouth, joining the blood from his nose down his lips.
He pauses, then raises his hand to wipe it off. Dark red streaking across his palm. His eyes follow the smudge, filled with something unknown. Not anger or surprise. Intrigue. Hunger.
“Interesting,” he murmurs.
You don’t get time to process it. His next blow is faster, heavier, and you can’t dodge. The world slips sideways as you hit the ground. Your skull cracking against the pavement, a sharp, sickening sound, and light bursts across your vision.
Air rushes from your lungs. Your limbs feel distant, uncooperative.
“—hey.” His voice is closer now, lower, but not gentle. Hands grip your shoulders and then he’s on you. Weight pressed through his knees into your stomach. You gasp as the pressure pins you, your body too sluggish to respond.
Your arms twitch, trying to rise, but they’re too heavy. Your fingers curl uselessly against the wet ground as his shadow loons over you, and his gaze, the same dark and fascinated gleam, pins you even harder than his hands are.
“So you don’t break,” he says quietly, almost in awe. “But you do bleed.”
He comes closer, pupils blown wide until the blue around them is just a thin, trembling ring.
“I like that,” he murmurs. Not threatening, and not promising either, something in between.
The rain above you two pours harder. His weight is surrounding you now, palms braces on either side of your head as he leans in, gaze dragging over every feature. The rise and fall of your chest, the twitch of your jaw, the way your pulse kicks hard against your throat but doesn’t falter.
You taste iron on your tongue, and before you can think twice you spit, and a dark wet streak hits the line of his jaw and runs down the column of his neck.
For a moment, it’s silent. Then a low surprised sound slips from his throat, a deep, rough laugh.
“Still fighting,” he says, almost fondly. “Good.”
“As if id give up on you, asshole.” You scoff.
He drags a thumb lazily across your mouth, collecting the mingled rain and dried blood staining your lip. The pad of it presses forward, past the soft give of your lips, brushing against the edge of your tongue. Instinct takes over, and your teeth catch lightly around him. You suck once, slow and carefully, metal filling your mouth.
His eyes shine, a bit surprised, and wanting more.
“Up.”
His word is low and commanding, but not a demand. He waits. And even though your limbs feel heavy and your vision pulses faintly around the edges, you push yourself up to your feet. He doesn’t move to help you. He doesn’t need to. This is still a fight, after all.
“Good,” he says when you steady yourself, chest puffing in and out as you control your breathing.
You swing first, a quick jab aimed for his face. He blocks it without effort.
“Thats better”
Another hit, this one sharper. He twists away, sending a fist in your direction, and lets the momentum spin you off balance before nudging you back into place with the flat of his palm. Every blow you throw feels heavier, slower, like he’s wearing you out on purpose. Your lungs burn. Your muscles scream. And still, you keep pushing yourself.
“Perfect.”
It’s almost mocking, his voice echoing throughout the alleyway, as though he’s savoring every second you refuse to back down. You launch one more strained punch, and this time it lands. A clean hit across his jaw that forces his head back slightly.
Before you can register the small victory, his hand closes around your wrist. With a sharp yank, he pulls you forward, and you stumble into his chest. The world narrows to the space between you. His breath hot against your cheek, the hard, steady thrum of his heartbeat under your palm.
The kiss happens like another punch. Sudden, rough, and inevitable. There’s no warning, no gentle lead in, just the crash of his mouth against yours with too much force, the sharp sting of his teeth catching against yours and lips dragging against each other. Your fingers clutch at the fabric of his suit, and his on your skin. Both desperate for leverage, for something to anchor to in the storm of the moment.
It’s not soft. It isn’t sweet. It’s a challenge, a continuation of the fight disguised as a kiss. A battle fought breath to breath in this dark mucky alleyway.
You push forward, trying to claim it, to bend him to your will, and he pushes back, harder. You tilt your head to depend the angle, but he shifts and takes control before you can. It’s dizzying and infuriating, yet you’re addicted. You tug at his suit, and his hands pull you closer. Every time you think you’ve gained a bit of ground, he’s there, matching you, overwhelming you. Turning your defiance into something he can mold against you.
And through it all, his hands never still. They map you slowly, snaking up the sides of your ribs, grazing the back of your neck, anchoring at your mandible. They guide, they coax, they hold, but never trap. Every touch is a reminder: you could pull away. You can end this, swing at him once more. He’d let you.
Yet you don’t.
You pull him closer, the struggle intensifying. Each breath stolen from each other, each press of your lips against his, teeth and tongue drawing another line, another boundary blurred. Until you let your strength falter. Your knees buckle, your body sways closer, and an arm wraps around your waist. Much to your silent objection, he holds you effortlessly and your back hits the wall, jagged brick pulling at your top.
A gasp escapes your lips at the sudden contact, the dull gritty pressure digging through your clothes and into your skin. The strength at which he pushes you back burns, but it hurts so good. The small tears in your skin pulling together faster than you can process. It makes your heart slam against your ribs, how much you love losing. How much you crave it.
He cages you there without even trying, a hand braced at the side of your head, breath fanning over your lips.
“You’re the only one who can keep up with me,” the words brush against your mouth like another kiss. “Do you know how rare that is?”
You don’t answer, not with words. Your pulse is too loud in your ears, too fast. Instead, you tilt your chin up, and he slides his thumb against your bottom lip, pushing gently until it’s past your teeth. The taste of rain and copper lingers there, and you bite down just enough for him to feel it. a wordless surrender.
He exhales, the sound almost a growl, and his mouth finds your throat. the first kiss is soft, the next not so much. Teeth scrape against your skin, a sharp little sting that pulls a moan from you. Another follows, a bite that lingers just long enough to draw a bead of warmth from the surface before his tongue soothes it away.
Your body buzzes at the feeling. The rough brick against your back, the weight of his body pinning yours, the steady thrum of your heart against his chest, the heat slowly spreading through your abdomen. The dizzying feeling that for all the danger coiled between you, you haven’t once thought of running.
But maybe you should.
You’re supposed to hate him, or at least what he stands for. He’s the golden boy of Metropolis, the face of a justice system you’ve spent years undermining from the shadows. You’re a ghost in the alleyways, not waiting for permission to stop crime, and not withholding any force when necessary.
But you stay, the air between you is filled with energy. His tongue smooths over the tear in your throat as blood pools in his mouth, savoring the taste of you.
Your hands find the back of his neck, fingers threading into his damp curls, and you kiss him. Reckless, hungry, trying to burn away everything you’re supposed to be. The sudden surge of need makes him pause for a moment, his breath catching as he didn’t expect you to fight back with this kind of heat.
Something shifts. The restraint in him, the little control he had left. It snaps. His hands tighten where they grip you, grinding his hips into yours. You let out a moan against him, tugging harshly at the hair wrapped around your finger.
He lets out a groan, and grabs your wrist. The suddenness makes you lose your grip, and thats when he has you. Before you can protest, he spins you to face the wall. Your forehead knocks against the stone and sends a flash through your vision.
His hands pull at your suit, easily ripping the thick material. You jump from the sudden coldness.
“Hey—!” You toss over your shoulder. He pays you no mind, tugging off the bottom of his suit.
His length presses against your bare cunt, and your eyes widen. The abruptness of his movements is making you lightheaded, but you have no room to fight it. He wraps a hand around the base of your skull, tugging your neck to the side and sinking his teeth in. His bite is hard, teeth tearing the skin on the side of your throat and drawing blood quickly.
It burns brighter. A stinging sensation quickly following as he slips into you. You gasp from the sudden intrusion, hands pushing back to stop the strain. But he doesn’t let you. His hand grabs your wrist and pins it harshly against the wall, pushing in further to the hilt. You gasp as he buries himself in you, walls fluttering around the stretch of him.
“You think you can run from me?” he murmurs. But he doesn’t wait for you to answer. His breath fans over your pulse, leaving a sting that would mark you long after the night was over. His laps at the bite mark, tongue following and drinking up the blood pricking on your skin. You knock against the wall as he starts moving, hips snapping against yours, stone scraping against your temple.
His hand presses against the wall next to your head, fingers digging into the crumbling brick as if were soft. The wall trembles, and so do you.
“Thought you could take me?” He asks, and though his voice is a whisper, it’s heavier than the ground beneath your feet. “I can hear the flutter of your pulse every nigh across the city. Do you understand what that means?”
You want to spit something back, a curse, a challenge, but the words tangle in your throat as he pushes closer, driving his cock up against that gummy spot inside of you. You moan instead, the sound breaking as it leaves your chest. His other hand catches your chin, forcing your head to the side to meet his eyes.
“Im not giving you mercy,” he continues, head dipping until his breath brushes your ear. “i’ve run out of patience for you.”
His lips hover above the mark he’d left on your neck, skin knit together but bruised. He doesn’t touch, simply letting the warmth of his breath remind you who holds the power here. Your body starts screaming at you to push him away, but your hands betray you, pressing weakly against the stone as you try to hold yourself up against his pounding. Anchoring yourself to the danger you should have feared.
His hips snap against yours, harder, rougher, hands gripping your sides as he pulls you to meet them. Tears swell in your eyes as his fingers dig into your skin, grinding his cock into your cervix.
Moans slip past your lips, the sound reverberating through the alley and into his ears like a song. He wraps an arm around your front, feeling for your bud amidst his thrusts. You go slack as he finds it, adding to the pleasure rippling through your core.
Your lips part, breath gone, and whines catch in your throat as he forces your orgasm from you. Your walls spasm around his length, milking him for all he’s got. His hips sputter, and he presses his full length into you with a groan. He pins you against the wall, and the stone digs into your cheek one last time as his mouth finds yours.
His teeth prick your lip, blood invading his mouth in a quick spill, tongue lapping over it as he pulls sounds from your lungs. His hips rut into yours, riding out his orgasm as his fingers still circle your clit. Your legs twitch, and your hands push back against him, sensation becoming too much.
He doesn’t stop, hips pulling back and resuming their motion as you arch your back from his chest.
“Fuck— this is too much fun,” his hips snap against your ass, sending a wave of pleasure through you.
The sensation walks the line of pain and pleasure, the drive of his cock head against your walls sending sparks through your lower half, and his fingers against your clit adding overstimulation.
“You feel that?” He asks, palm pressing against your stomach. His tone makes the hair on your arms stand.
His words coil around you tightly as his hands are, sinking beneath your skin. The rain clings to your clothes, chilling you to the bone, but the heat of him presses closer, communing your thoughts, contradicting everything you stand for yet you can’t tear yourself away from it.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, cheek nudging against yours as his hips still. “All that defiance you wear… and now you’re trembling at the sound of my voice.”
His hands aren’t gentle, but not exactly cruel. His hips are pounding, snapping against the fat of your ass with deliberate force, reminding you who dictates the rhythm, the shape of the moment. Even as your body shakes, he holds you still, denying you the change to pull away now, to hide the storm pooling in your abdomen as you reach your peak.
“Pathetic,” he whispers, and yet there no hatred in the word, only something dark and heavy. “You swore you hated me. Swore you’d never let me close. And now?” His mouth hovers near your ear, a ghost of smile pulling at his words. “…now you need me to finish what we started.”
The rain still fell in waves around you, but it might as well have been miles away. His presence was the only reality left. Too close, too consuming, filling your focus. Beneath the chill in his voice, was something filled with desperation. His hunger not satisfied by control alone.
“Here you were, thinking you could resist me…” He asks laughs softly, voice threaded with possessive obsession that made your chest tighten. “you’re mine, you hear me?” It’s a whisper meant for only you, heavy and immovable. “And don’t think for a second I’ll let you forget it.”
The admission wasn’t mercy, it was another chain, another weight anchoring you to him. And even as the last of your strength faded, he stayed unrelenting. Hips snapping into yours as your second orgasm ripped through you. He watches every shudder, every breath, as you come undone under his dominion.
You grind your hips back against his, begrudgingly, sweet sounds spilling from your throat as pleasure courses through your veins. His thrusts don’t stop, chasing his own end once more. The wall scraps against your soft skin, cold against the warmth of him inside you.
When it was over, when the storm of tension and heat inside you reached its peak, he didn’t relent. Not immediately. Instead, he held you there, cock twitching inside as his heat filled you to the brim, sending it far into your womb and claiming you as his. He watched it, savored it, as if the outside world didn’t exist. Then, with a tilt of his head and that faint, predatory smirk, he stepped back just enough to move. Giving you barely a moment to catch your breath.
Then he was gone.
A shadow streaking across the rooftops and rain slicked streets, chasing his own obsession, leaving you slumped against the wall with the memory of his weight and unrelenting press of his hips. The alley felt colder, emptier, yet you could still feel him all around you. In the brush of the wind, the ache of your own heartbeat, knowing that he would always return for what was his.
Warnings: This will include dark elements. Please do not read if these elements or any dark elements make you uncomfortable.
Character: Clark Kent
Summary: Clark just wants to spend some time together.
Written for the Five Love Languages Mini Challenge
Please reblog if you enjoy and leave some feedback! Muah 💋
You shiver as the short heel of your shoe scrapes the ice. You let out a grunt as you slide back down to your ass, the cold wall and floor permeating through your skirt and blouse. You gnash on the length of fabric in frustration. You've lost count of how many times you've tried just to stand up.
It isn't easy with your ankles bound, wrists too. Not as you can't stop shaking enough to steady your feet. Your hands ache from the cold, your toes too. Your pantyhose aren't close to enough to ward off the temperature.
Your teeth chatter as your muscles ache. The longer you sit in the cave of crystalline ice, puffing out clouds from your nostrils, the more than pain fades to numbness. You won't survive if you stay.
A whoosh and a flap startle you. You look at the only opening you can find in the place. A shadow ripples through before a dark, towering figure.
As he turns, the light glowing across the ice illuminates his features. Blue eyes, square jaw, black hair. He's so familiar for a moment you can't believe it's him.
The red cape, the blue suit, the emblem on his chest. It's that hero, Superman. That's not what surprises you. How did you not see it before? You guess you never looked close enough at the TV.
"Clark?" You try to say around the gag.
"Yeah..." He strides lithely across the floor, as if he's floating. "No time to change. Not a lot of time for much, huh?"
He stops in front of you and looks down at you. He bends his knees and comes down closer to your level. His thighs are thicker as they strain and he leans his arms on his knees, his biceps stretching the blue fabric.
"I just... The world goes by so fast doesn't it. I've been dying just get some quality time. With you." He grins. It's strange. His tone, his words, are so sinister but he wears that same puppy dog smile. "Just you..." He reaches to brush your cheek. "And me."
ANOTHER MULTIVERSE FIC because I can't stop myself, apparently. An injustice!Superman one, this time. I imagine you were a small-time hero/vigilante in this one, so Superman knew (and liked) you before he turned bad, but you weren't super close, before.
-You wake up in an unfamiliar room, tied to a chair, not knowing how you got there. Kal doesn't ever let you leave the fortress. But you don't know how anyone else could have gotten in to take you here, wherever here is. Maybe it was Kal? But why would he do that?
-You spot a woman tied up in another chair next to you, it seems like she also just woke up. She reminds you of someone, but you can't remember who exactly... You want to ask her if she knows more about what's going on, when you realize you're both gagged. Shit. You can't even communicate with her!
-A man comes in, rambling something about how he's glad you're finally awake and about his plan finally taking shape. You feel like you should know this guy, but can't quite put a finger on it...
-Being unsure if you know who he is, as you're "not from here", he introduces himself. He's Lex Luthor.
-Wait. Lex Luthor? The Lex Luthor? The dead one, who was killed by Superman? Is this a prank? Because if so, it isn't funny at all. And quite dangerous for everyone involved.
-Luthor (if that is his real name) then focuses on the woman next to you. He addresses her as "Mrs. Lane".
-Lane as in Lois Lane? Like, Lois Lane from the Daily Planet? Clark Kent's, Superman's wife? Now you know something is extremely wrong. She's dead, too, and everyone knows not to mention her name unless they want to face Superman's wrath... You make a few muffled sounds beneath your gag, itching to ask about just what is going on here.
-Luthor says he's going to explain everything, don't be so impatient! He has a machine that can open portals to parallel universes, which is how he got you here. His plan includes kidnapping the person that is most important to Superman in his own universe (Lois Lane), the person most important to Superman in a second universe (You!) and then making the Supermen fight each other by threatening your lives. The only way to save you is if one Superman dies. This room is Superman proof, he can't hear or see anything that's happening in here, so they can't just swoop in and save you. After the fight, he's going to let the winning Superman enter this room, promising him that he can rescue Lois or you. Except not really, because he's going to try to kill the winner too, because that should be easier after he just fought another Superman, right? He hasn't opened a portal to let the Superman from your universe know about how he can save you, yet. He closed the portal he got you through immediately after kidnapping you, so he had more time to prepare everything. How he found you? Something about being able to detect kryptonian dna residue on you. And you were in Superman's fortress. Easy to combine that you must be important to him.
-That's... actually not a terrible plan! Sure, it might not work out exactly the way that Luthor is planning, but beating Superman with Superman is a great idea! Actually it'd be great if Luthor got a third one here. Two Supermen should definitely be able to defeat one Superman, right? Unfortunately you can't communicate any of this through your gag. Damn, you'd love to help him improve his plan...
-You wonder if he chose your universe completely randomly, or if he chose an evil Superman on purpose. You don't think he did, he didn't mention the regime with one word, and if it existed in this universe he wouldn't be working on this stupid plan. And Lois wouldn't be alive, probably.
-Before you can let your thoughts spiral even more, Luthor falls over. Huh? Is he unconscious? You spot Batman coming towards you. Ah. That explains that, then. Man, you haven't seen Batman in such a long time...
-"Are you two alright?" He quickly cuts through the ropes tying you to the chairs, freeing you. "Good thing you used your bat emergency-signal, Lois. I was able to get to you before Superman could fall for Luthor's trap." Wait, why would Lois contact Batman? Oh, right, sometimes you forget that he and Superman used to be friends, so obviously his wife would trust him too.
-He takes off both of your gags and then turns to you. "We figured out you're from a parallel universe, but don't worry, Nightwing is currently working on a way to get in contact with the Superman from your dimension, so-"
-"NO!", you scream, making Batman look at you in confusion. You quickly tell him to contact Nightwing, to make him stop trying to open a portal or god forbid, contact Kal!! Noticing the urgency in your voice, Batman quickly complies and lets Nightwing know to stop what he's doing, before asking you to elaborate. Phew! The last thing you need is an angry Superman wreaking havoc in a second universe.
-You start explaining to Batman about how your Superman started changing for the worse after Lois died (sparing the details, as she's kind of sitting right next to you), started to get darker, kill villains, everyone who did something bad, people who disagreed with him. Other heroes, even. People he used to be friends with. How everyone who didn't agree with him and join his regime, including you and Batman, had to go into hiding, trying to find a way to stop him. Clark, no KAL-EL found you at some point, but instead of killing you, he unexpectedly took you, basically imprisoned you. Kept you like a pet who's not smart enough to make their own decisions. (You never even knew he liked you like that at all, before that. Sure, he was always nice to you, but he had Lois!)
-Lois seems visibly shocked, whereas Batman just listens to you stoically. "All this to say, it's good to see you alive, Lois!" You smile weakly. She tries to smile back, but before she can respond, Batman cuts her off. "We should leave this place. I doubt it's very safe here. We should return to the Batcave, think of a plan." You spare one last glance at Luthor, who's still lying on the floor (Are we just going to leave him here? Huh. Ok.), then follow Batman outside.
-As soon as you're out of the building, something rushes past you. "Lois! Are you ok? Did he hurt you?" Not something. Someone. You try not to flinch as he fusses over her, while she reassures him that she's fine multiple times.
-After he's convinced she's not hurt, he turns to you with a gentle smile. "Hello! So you're close to the Superman in another dimension, then?" As he takes a step towards you, you instinctively take a step back towards Batman. Clark frowns at him quizzically. It's funny, he almost looks like a confused puppy. You would smile if you didn't know that this is all a facade to distract from his god-like, destructive powers.
-"Turns out the other version of you is some kind of evil dictator." Well, leave it to Batman to get straight to the point. Clark opens and closes his mouth a few times, thinking about what to say. "Well, I can assure you that I'm not like the Superman you know. I promise you, I'm a good person! At least I try my best to be one. You don't have to be scared." His voice is getting increasingly gentle, trying to reassure you.
-"Oh yeah? That's exactly what the Superman from my dimension would have said, before..." You don't mention his wife's death, not wanting to anger him. "The same thing could happen to you. You might be nice now, but who knows what the future holds?" As you're saying this, you slowly move slightly behind Batman. Just in case. He should have some kryptonite on him, right?
-Superman just frowns harder, then turns to Lois. "We should go home." He picks her up and turns to Batman. "Contact me as soon as you have plans for... handling the other me." With that, he takes off.
-Batman ushers you into the Batmobile, where Nightwing (another ghost, to you) is already waiting. You keep turning to look at him during the drive to the Batcave, while Bruce explains the situation to him. If they notice your weird looks, they don't mention it.
-You allow yourself to feel some hope. Maybe you can contact your Bruce? Help him out! Send a few still good Supermen! Your head is spinning with ideas, and you're sure Batman can come up with even better ones. You can't help but smile, your nightmare might finally be over...
Y/N watched as he was surrounded by Parademons. They clicked and chattered as they had their blasters raised at Y/N as he dodged and blasted some with a magical Ankh symbol. They flew above him, warily of his magic as they were closing in.
"HOLD!"
A voice boomed out as Y/N looked up in the sky and saw a flick of black cape, and Y/N was looking at Superman. His hair was styled perfectly, and his blue eyes were complimented by his black suit, but he was as beautiful as he was dangerous.
After Darkseid invaded earth and the death of Lois Lane, Superman was overcome by the Anti-Life Equation. The damage to Superman's psyche left him vulnerable, and he became susceptible to the Darkseid's influence, allowing Darkseid to use Superman as his new champion to rule over the planet. With Superman, his army, and the equation, Darkseid conquered Earth, destroyed the Justice League. But that was only the beginning of the story.
Superman betrayed Darkseid and killed the overlord, and took control of his army and his disciples. The former Man of Steel now ruled the earth with an iron fist, and Y/N happened to be on his list of people to capture and torture. Looks like he was going to get his wish.
Y/N watched as Clark waved the Parademons away from Y/N. "This one will be mine." He smiled cruelly at the young hero, who glared up in defiance at his former teammate, mentor, and secret crush.
"I belong to no one!"
Superman tilted his head and blasted his heat vision at Y/N, who created a fractal shield of magic to protect himself before launching full force at the Kryptonian.
