as long as you're mine
clark kent x fem reader
summary: smallville gave you clark kent. metropolis tied you to lex luthor. what was once everything became just a secret in the shadows—fighting to keep a love that survives only in whispers, fragile, forbidden.
word count: 8.0k
warnings/moods: angst, fluff, yearning, cheating —justified since is on lex—, simp!clark (or as it would be called in my country "migajero"), clark is taller than reader, reader is a little mean to clark (she's hurt, sorry), clark and reader had a relationship before lex, lex as a boyfriend should also be a warning. english is not my first language, and it's rlly bad, but i tried my best. as always, google translate and i are besties but lmk if you see any grammatical errors plsss, i think that's all???
a/n: this really took me so long, classes were killing me so much that I would write a paragraph and stop for a week, so i apologize if there are inconsistencies, it's not edited yet.
i'm currently watching peacemaker and smallville and TOM WELLINGGG the man that you are!!! and like the lunatic that i am, i'm LONGING to write about smallville!clark or adrian chase, there just isn't enough content from these men here, and i have some ideasss, would you like to read?
hope u like it!!!!
The nightlight slipped through the tightly closed curtains, the cinnamon scented candle still flooding your senses, and your lover’s warmth shielding you from the cold outside.
The moon seemed to shine brighter on the nights you spent with Clark—or at least, that’s what he said.
And he could see the moon up close.
“You going to the gala tonight?” you asked, just as he was about to close his eyes and drift off.
“Yeah. Perry wants me to cover it.” Clark smiled as he felt your fingers tracing idle patterns on his bare abdomen.
“I wish you wouldn’t…” Your words made his expression shift immediately. You weren’t demanding anything—not even asking. It was just a quiet thought, because you knew it was his job.
“Why? It’s another chance to see you.” He looked down, trying to meet your gaze, but you kept your cheek pressed against his chest.
“It’s another chance to see me with him.”
Oh.
Poor Clark Kent, he almost forgot that the woman of his dreams was another guy’s girlfriend.
You grew up with him in Smallville. You were his first kiss, his first girlfriend, his first everything. His first love. He was all of those things to you too.
He sat through the crummiest movies if you liked them, brought you flowers just because, saved every dollar to buy you anything you wanted, and even used lines like “When we get married…” or “When we have kids…”
But that was before.
Before distance pulled you away, and not even his super speed could close the gap.
And although he never stopped looking out for you even though you were in France, he couldn’t prevent the fateful day you moved to Metropolis and, instead of reuniting with Clark, you met Lex Luthor—and he won you over.
So after everything, he still wondered how on earth you’d ended up in his bed again, curled against him like no time had passed.
Because one moment he’d finally gathered the nerve to ask what the hell you were doing with Lex Luthor, and the next he was kissing you, just like those days he’d skip college classes to fly to Paris and see you.
“Clark?”
“Sorry, sweetheart. I was... thinking.”
You sighed against his skin and lifted your head to place a kiss on his jaw.
“I know it’s your job, I get that. I don’t mean to be cruel bringing him up, but… I just can’t stop thinking about how hard it’s gonna be.” The uncertainty in your voice went straight to his heart, and Clark held you tighter, as if you might slip away at any moment.
“I know, but you don’t have to worry,” he assured you, lowering his head to look at you and giving you a reassuring smile. “I know we can handle this… we’ve already had some practice.”
You sat up a little, leaning your elbow on the mattress and your forearm on his chest. Then you raised an eyebrow at him, amused.
“You mean that time we bumped into each other at the coffee shop on 11th, or when we pretended we didn’t know each other in chemistry class just so we’d end up on the same team?” You let out a chuckle that the man echoed, then placed a kiss on your lips.
“Both. We’ve been amazing actors since high school.” You gently hit his shoulder with your hand as he laughed and wrapped you in his arms again. “We can do this.” He whispered against your hair, and you smiled.
“Okay…”
ꫂ❁
Actually, Clark had only seen photos of you and Lex—photos that had ended up burned in his hands. And he had completely underestimated what he would feel that night at the LuthorCorp gala: from what he’d feel seeing you dressed up, to what he’d feel seeing you with another man.
But when you walked into the place, he could no longer deny it. Not when everyone around him stopped, not when the air left his lungs and the cruel feeling your presence caused tightened his chest and made his mouth dry.
He tugged at the tie around his neck.
Clark’s first mistake was seeing in you the girl who used to steal his flannel shirts and kiss him in the back of his truck in Smallville, not the woman you’d been ordered to project: a woman who belonged to someone else.
So forbidden, but so his.
Even if you walked in on the arm of another man. Even if that man was the one who hated him most in the whole world. Even if that man was Lex Luthor.
You loved Clark.
Yet he found himself wishing time would move faster so he could escape the torture. But all it did was drag, every second stretching longer as he watched Lex put his hands on you.
And he felt his soul crumble every time.
Clark hated it. And he hated him. He knew it the moment his blood heated, his skin burned, and he had to physically restrain himself from burning someone with his eyes.
Jealousy, envy, hatred. The only feelings he’d been told he could never give in to.
But he kept thinking that he should be the one holding you.
He kept telling himself that it was all fake. You didn’t love Lex Luthor.
He saw your tired eyes, the backless green dress that obviously left you cold, the diamond necklace weighing heavy on your neck—your fingers never leaving it, as if it might stop being uncomfortable if you touched it enough.
Your forced smile that trembled when Lex’s grip tightened on your waist because you stopped laughing with his associates for a moment.
Lex wasn’t hiding you anymore, he was displaying you like a trophy. Lex didn’t love you either.
His heart beat wildly, with sadness, longing, anger, love.
When you separated from Luthor, with the excuse of going to the restroom, you walked past Clark without even a glance. You didn’t hear him faintly call your name.
Your indifference hurt him to the soul.
It was all fake. It was all pretense. You couldn’t afford to be associated with him in any way. That was the deal.
But that didn’t make it hurt any less, not when he felt the soft breeze as you walked by, your scent sinking into his bones, reigniting the desire he never stopped feeling for you.
He didn’t even know when his feet started moving. Clark only knew that he heard your shaky exhale in the distance, and his body was already following it.
He found you halfway down a corridor. A couple of people lingered nearby, but you turned around as if you could sense him even before he arrived.
One arm leaned against the wall, a glass of champagne dangling from your hand, the other resting at your side. It was clear you hadn’t gone to the restroom—unless you were a hallucination of his.
And he kept walking, slipping quietly to your side of the corridor.
He could hear your sigh, your heart betraying you, pounding uncontrollably.
But you both knew he wouldn’t speak to you.
Clark didn’t look at you, you didn’t even look at him.
The only thing you could do when the man you loved walked past you as if he didn’t know you, was to tilt a finger toward his, reaching for something, anything. The air caught in your lungs, and when his hand brushed against yours, you almost wanted to cry.
You wanted to hug him, to kiss him, to hear him shout in front of everyone that you only loved one man—and that man was him, Clark Kent.
But he kept walking. You had to turn your head slightly to catch a glimpse of him entering a small room down the hall, some kind of supply closet.
Inside, all he could do was slip off his glasses and let out a shaky breath, as if your perfume had reminded him he was alive and you weren’t just a dream
For your part, you waited three minutes, making sure no one was watching, before following him. And it became clearer than ever that you weren’t a dream when you opened the door and found his lips on yours.
The world tilted on its axis as he kissed you. Quick at first, desperate, messy, chaotic, but full of love. A testament to how much he’d longed for you. One hand cradling the back of your neck, the other cupping your cheek, unsure how to pull you closer, unwilling to let go.
Your hands clung to his biceps, as they had since you met him. He was the one who kept you upright, who filled your chest with warmth and made you dizzy just from the feel of his body against yours.
He was your Clark.
“I can’t stand it. I can’t stand seeing you with him, the way he treats you.” He pressed his forehead to yours, both of you squeezing your eyes shut.
“I’m sorry. That’s why I didn’t want you to come. It’s harder to pretend when you’re here,” you murmured, your voice thick with his pain.
“I know, I know… I’m sorry. But Perry wanted me here.” His hands slid down to your waist as yours curled around his neck; you felt his racing pulse. He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes lingering on your bare arms and the bright green of your dress. “No coat or anything?” he asked softly.
“No. Lex insisted it would be better if I showed the dress.” You looked away, shrugging slightly. You were already used to the ridiculous things your boyfriend made you do. Clark’s blood boiled at every one of them.
But he only rolled his eyes before you stopped him with a touch. You felt him tense under your hands. “It’s okay. It’s not that cold anyway.”
"But you’re cold,” he shot back, tightening slightly his grip on your waist.
It was silly, he knew. You wouldn’t die from a little of Metropolis’s icy wind. What really bothered him was not being able to do something as simple as give his jacket to the woman he loved—or maybe not having to hide with her in a supply closet.
“It doesn’t matter anymore.” Your soothing voice reached his ears, and he let out a soft sigh, trying to shake off his frustration.
“I know we have a plan, and we just have to stick to it, but…” his voice cracked with exasperation. “I feel like I’m dying a little every time I see you with him.”
“Hey, he’s getting tired of me. We just have to hold on a little longer.” Your hands framed his face, making him look at you. As soon as you met his eyes, you smiled softly. “Then it’ll just be you and me. Public, private, and forever.” You rose on your tiptoes to kiss him again, softer, gentler, just to remind him of the amount of love for him you held within you and the amount left over.
“That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day.” He pulled away slightly, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “At least I got to see you… And you’re beautiful as always.”
Your lips curve and your cheeks heat. Clark always managed that.
“You saw me this morning,” you teased.
“It's never enough,” he murmured, stealing a shorter kiss, your smile widening as your hands slid down to meet his, still resting on your waist.
“Good. Because later I won’t be cold at all when I’m curled up in bed with you.” Your sly smile drew a nasal chuckle from him, and he shook his head, utterly smitten.
It was the perfect mix: unbearably weak and yet the most powerful man in the universe.
“You’re right.” He kissed your knuckles.
“I’d better touch up my makeup before anyone gets suspicious.” The words left your lips reluctantly, and the atmosphere dimmed a little—but not enough to shadow the moment.
“Okay… I love you,” he said, smiling with those dimples you adored. He said it with the same ease as he’d felt since he’d met you, when he still didn’t know its meaning. And it still made your heart race like the very first time.
“I love you too.” Your arms looped around his neck as he lifted you, kissing you tenderly, slowly, with the certainty of someone who knew they were loved by the person they loved.
When you pulled apart again, your hands rested on his shoulders. Clark gave you that bright smile that almost hid the pain beneath, but you forced yourself back into reality.
“Is it clear?” you asked, turning toward the door. He squinted, watching through the walls for a moment and nodded.
“Yes.” He smiled softly, and you gave him one last kiss before stepping away. The absence of his touch burned immediately, but you had to go.
At the door, your hand froze on the handle. You turned back to him.
“Clark,” you called. He was already looking at you.
“Yeah?” His smile softened.
“Don’t forget… it’s you I’m coming home to at the end of the night. Just a couple more hours.” You asked, looking at him with glassy eyes, a lump forming in your throat and your feelings on full display.
“I’d wait forever.”
And you wondered if the guilt might one day kill you.
ꫂ❁
Sometimes you wondered if the universe was against you, if fate itself didn’t like you.
Not like having a bad day and assuming everyone hated you. More like meeting someone who seemed like a decent guy only to find out he was a lunatic involved in shady, illegal things he wouldn’t let you know about, or... never being able to match schedules with the man you actually loved.
Usually, it was just small things. Different lunch breaks. You leaving work way earlier —thanks to Lex—, Clark staying much later. And on that one shared day off, he almost always had to save someone as Superman or you had to be at Lex’s side.
And when you added it all up, you couldn’t help but feel like the universe just hated the two of you.
But then you’d step out of the shower and see him at your table—petting your kitten, waiting with breakfast, humming one of your favorite songs—, you couldn’t stop thinking you were the luckiest woman alive.
How could you not be, when every time Clark slept over you got to wake up like this?
“Hey, pretty...” His voice pulled you out of your thoughts, and you smiled instantly. “Lost you for a moment. What were you thinking about?” he asked, giving your legs a playful squeeze where they rested on his lap. He always dragged his chair closer whenever you ate together.
And your kitten, Tiana, curled up on your lap too.
He was already in his suit for work. You were in one of his blue t-shirts. And your cat, wearing a tiny Superman cape. That was the kind of peace you wanted forever.
“Just that I love you,” you admitted without hesitation. He smiled, showing his dimples and tilting his head slightly as his cheeks flushed.
“I love you too.” He took your hand and pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles, warming your heart.
You sipped your coffee from the ceramic mug—Clark had made it for you years ago in a class he had joined out of boredom.
It was a little crooked and had some slightly misshapen flowers and hearts he'd tried to paint, but the coffee didn't taste as good in another cup.
Still, despite his words, you caught him licking his lips and glancing away. The silence between you was as comfortable as always… but the uncertainty was there.
“But you do have something else on your mind…” you said, raising an eyebrow at him.
“Yeah, well…” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck before absentmindedly poking at his fried egg. “I don’t know if it’s appropriate.”
“You can tell me whatever you want, babe,” you assured him with a soft smile, your thumb brushing over the back of his hand as confusion swirled in your chest.
“It’s just… I know you don’t like talking about this, but I can’t get it out of my head, and…” He sighed, looking away before forcing his eyes back on you, gathering his courage—because you already knew where this was going. “Did you ever… you know… have feelings for him? Like… love?”
Your heart stopped for a moment the instant you heard those words.
You weren’t used to Clark being so direct—especially on this topic. The only other time had been when you first reunited, when he confronted you, and back then you had refused to answer him.
Since you had started your new relationship, it had become an unspoken rule between you both to not talk about your boyfriend, and pretend you were a completely normal couple.
But Clark had kept that to himself for quite some time. From the first event he’d attended with you and Lex, to now, after it had already happened several times.
So you answered without hesitation.
“No.” You sighed, launching into the explanation that had haunted you for a year. “I liked him. For a while I even appreciated him—otherwise, I wouldn’t have gone out with him.” Clark nodded with difficulty at your words, and you braced yourself for the disgust that would settle on your tongue when you continued speaking.
“I thought that maybe, one day… I could love him, that I knew who he was. But… he ended up being everything I didn’t want to believe.” You swallowed, feeling that wave of shame wash over you. Clark squeezed your hand lightly, the only way he could think of to show support, even though the mere thought of you loving Lex made his blood boil.
“He made me feel valuable. Everyone told me how lucky I was, how special I must be for Lex Luthor to notice me.” Bitterness twisted your laugh into something graceless, resentful. “And it had been so long since I felt special.”
You couldn’t even look at the man you loved without feeling like the most pathetic person alive. You missed the way his jaw clenched, but you felt the sudden tension in his body.
You didn’t know about the shady people he surrounded himself with, or the secrets his PR team still kept under wraps. You thought his sudden rude comments about Superman back then were simply mistrust, something everyone had a right to feel.
All you knew was that he was a genius and a millionaire; a man who used both to serve the planet instantly caught your attention.
So you didn’t realize what you’d gotten yourself into until it was too late.
“You know you’re valuable, right?” His gentle voice pulled you from your thoughts. You looked up, eyes glazed. “You’re special, and none of those guys see it cause they’re too busy flattering Lex.”
You met his gaze with tenderness, and he answered with a soft smile.
“You’re only saying that cause you love me.” You looked down with a small smile, absently caressing your kitten. Clark squeezed your hand again.
“And because I know you.” The conviction in his words made that familiar lump rise in your throat. “I know how you make people laugh when they need it. How passionate you are about the things you love. How you make me feel special, and you make me forget that sadness even exists, every single moment I spend with you.”
That was the moment you had to bite your lip hard to keep from crying.
Sometimes you forgot just how much Clark Kent knew you, probably better than you knew yourself. He’d known you since you were kids, loved you since before he even understood what it meant. You moved away, you changed, but his feelings never did.
And every day you wondered why—after all the mistakes you’d made, after ending up with his worst enemy—he still looked with love, when all you saw in the mirror was someone you despised.
He’d just given you the answer.
“Clark, I could never love someone like him when I’d loved you.”
ꫂ❁
The opening of LuthorCorp’s new Metropolis hotel had drawn in every reporter in the city.
You were in a corner, representing Lex, listening to the spokesperson repeat the same tired lines about “progress” and “tourism that would benefit everyone” that you’d heard rehearsed a thousand times back at the office.
You’d gotten used to these kinds of events by now. As Lex Luthor’s girlfriend, showing up at anything tied to LuthorCorp had become routine.
What wasn’t routine was being there without Lex.
And it wasn’t hard to guess why… At least, not for anyone who knew about you and a certain Daily Planet reporter—that, well, it was just the two of you.
Clark Kent was at the opening. Lex Luthor wasn’t. Which meant, of course, that you were.
But you weren’t really paying attention.
Your eyes kept finding the same place: Clark.
Across the room, lost in the sea of journalists with notebooks and recorders, he’d occasionally raise his head, scribbling notes with that practiced seriousness. No one else seemed to notice, but every couple of minutes your eyes would catch. Just a second. Barely a spark. And yet, every time, your breath caught in your lungs.
Because every time you looked up, he was already watching you. Barely a second, maybe two, but enough for the air to seem thicker. Clark would quickly look down, pretending to write, though you knew every scribble was just an excuse.
He was impeccable in his role as a journalist: glasses straight, tie discreet, expression focused. But you knew those tightly pressed lips too well. You knew what hid behind the formality. And it killed you not to close the distance.
You didn’t usually take this much risk. Sooner or later, Lex would find it odd that you kept showing up to his company events when he wasn’t around, no matter how many times you assured him it was “to make sure everything was in perfect order while he was away.”
But you loved watching Clark work.
He looked so handsome in his glasses and suit—just awkward enough to pass unnoticed, yet sharp enough to get under the skin of Lex’s entire team with his pointed questions and the bite he’d started using ever since you’d taken on the title of “Lex Luthor’s girlfriend.”
There was also something in the rush, the danger of being there, of someone catching the way you looked at each other as if you meant something more.
You knew no one would dare make assumptions about the girlfriend of someone as important as Lex anyway. So in the meantime, you allowed yourself to fantasize about the man you really loved.
You, tangled in the sheets with Clark, Clark showing you the stars from his barn in Smallville, the first kiss after you’d reunited. Your memories were safe.
You dressed in white, Clark waiting for you at the end of a hallway. Your fantasies were safe too.
Your secret was safe in your mind and heart.
How could they accuse you of cheating if you couldn’t even touch him?
You were fine with that. No one had to know you loved Clark Kent. He was yours, body and soul. That was enough.
You. Were. Fine. With. That.
You watched cautiously from a corner. You would love to focus on what they were talking about, what they were saying about gentrification, and why Clark’s partner, Lois, seemed so passionate about the topic.
But then he took off his suit jacket and… Well, you couldn’t think anymore.
Fortunately for Clark, he was better at hiding it than you. Sure, he kept an eye on you as always, but he was perfectly tuned into the conversation about what your boyfriend’s new hotel would mean for Metropolis.
What you didn’t notice was Lois tapping his shoulder again and again, trying to get him to pay attention. You were taking up too much space in his head for anything else to fit.
You sighed, leaning back against the pillar. It was torture: not being able to throw yourself into your beloved’s arms in front of everyone, not being able to feel his skin against yours, or breathe in the cologne that always sent you straight to heaven.
When the round of questions and applause ended, the audience was invited to the main lobby for a toast. The atmosphere relaxed, glasses of champagne were poured, and people began to mingle in groups, chatting about contracts and international politics.
You stayed where you were, glass in hand, eyes fixed on him. And when you saw him slip away from the crowd toward a side table, you knew it was your chance.
You crossed the room with the calm poise expected of you, pretending you were only after another canapé.
And just as your arm brushed close to his, you spoke.
“Mr. Kent. You looked busy riling up the staff over there.”
“Not too busy to notice you, miss.” You suppressed a smirk at his words and shook your head, pretending to be very interested in the buffet in front of you and not the gorgeous man next to you.
“Feeling daring today, huh?” you teased, keeping your eyes fixed on anything but him.
“What can I say? There's someone who makes me feel that way.” His voice warmed your heart, and the butterflies flutter in your stomach.
“Any hints?” You grabbed another glass of champagne with feigned nonchalance. He adjusted his glasses, and the blazer dangling from his forearm moved as he took a canapé and took a bite.
You saw him out of the corner of your eye. He looked as handsome as ever, but with his shirtsleeves rolled up and his unusual attitude… God, your legs were almost shaking.
“Well…” He blushed, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “She’s wearing a black dress that I’m sure wouldn’t look as stunning on anyone else.”
You still marveled at how he could make your heart race with just a few words. How he made you feel the same way you had when he asked you for the first time if he could kiss you when you were sixteen.
You let out a low chuckle and shook your head slightly. Clark wasn’t just some guy trying to pick you up with a speech he’d made hundreds of times with other women. You could still sense the shyness behind his words, but he sounded confident in the things he said because they were genuine words that came from his deepest longing and love for you.
“This isn’t exactly what I meant when we talked about keeping a low profile,” you murmured, sipping your drink without any real reproach.
This time, he couldn’t settle for a glance. He turned his head slightly, scanning your face, his eyes lingering on your champagne damp lips.
That aching desire clouded his eyes, missing the warmth of your hands, the weight of your body beneath his. But with you, it had always been more than lust. Since you had reunited, desire had only grown—loud and endless that expressed itself like a book filled with endless words that could never be spoken.
You noticed the way his entire body faltered, how he licked his own lips, and his irrational mind screamed at him to come closer. His body had to use every ounce of strength in him to stay in place and look away again.
He couldn’t move away, because he couldn’t even get close, and it hurt physically.
You knew it happened in a matter of seconds, maybe no more than five; you couldn’t afford more. But you also couldn’t help but feel that small gesture lasted an eternity, one you wanted to immerse yourself in for the rest of your days.
He swallowed hard, and you saw him turn slightly to look around. It didn’t take long for you to realize what he was doing when he fixed his gaze on a fixed point on one of the walls on the ground floor of the hotel.
“You know…” Clark cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses. “I’m curious about the supply warehouse. It seems like such an interesting and… lonely place.” You giggled at his ridiculous speech, but you still felt your heart race “I was wondering if you, miss, could tell me more? Just for work, obviously.” He shrugged and finished eating his canapé.
“Of course, Mr. Kent. Always so committed to your work.”
“I think it would be best if you go first—“ His words were cut off when someone interrupted him.
“Excuse me,” a sweet, overly animated, feminine voice practically made you jump as you took a step to your right, moving away from your the man, as if his closeness burned you when actually it was his distance that was killing you. “Clark Kent, right?”
You didn’t blame the girl for not addressing you—or even noticing you. She probably assumed you weren’t talking at all. After all, what business would Lex Luthor’s girlfriend have with the only journalist who interviewed Superman?
And you certainly couldn’t blame her for the flirtatious smile, or for shamelessly sizing up a man who wasn’t your boyfriend. Anyone with even a sliver of sight could see how handsome Clark was—even if he didn’t believe it.
You couldn’t blame her.
“Yes, that’s me,” Clark replied politely.
You didn’t even need to look to know he was masking his irritation at the interruption, at the fact that he could no longer drag you into some empty warehouse to do God knows what.
“I read about you in the Daily Planet,” she said, leaning in slightly. “We should talk! When... we’re not working… maybe grab a coffee?”
Your stomach twisted.
Clark’s eyes widened. You could practically see his discomfort. He definitely wasn’t used to being asked out—least of all with you standing right there.
But he forgot, just for a moment, that people once knew you two were meant for each other, that they used to hear him talk endlessly about how wonderful you were.
Now, all people knew was that you belonged to completely different worlds.
And that girl kept looking at him as if he were available—because, for everyone else, he was. You tightened your grip around your glass, fighting the urge to turn and shout that he already had someone to have coffee with. That he had you.
But did he, really?
Awkwardly, he managed a nervous smile and cleared his throat.
“I appreciate it, really… but I’m pretty busy these days.”
She pressed on, lightly placing a hand on his arm. And that’s when your insides began to burn. You couldn’t resist looking at them anymore, and when you saw he was about to glance your way too, you knew you had to leave.
You felt like a coward. He had put up with far worse when it came to you and Lex. But you knew that if you stayed there another second, you’d scream at her that Clark Kent and you loved each other, that you were together.
But then everyone would know the secret you’d tortured yourself to keep hidden.
Though you knew that wasn’t the only reason.
Would it be fair? Would it be fair to take away Clark’s chance to be with someone he could love not just in the dark?
You headed down the first secluded hallway you could find, your head spinning with a thousand thoughts at once.
For him, there was no one else. For him, there was no one else. For him, there was no one else.
But was that good? Or was it bad?
Your heart sank the moment you heard him call your name. He’d always find you, wouldn’t he?
“Hey…” he leaned closer, hesitant. He didn’t know exactly what was racing through your mind, but he knew it wasn’t good, and that scared him. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know…”
“Don’t apologize…” you let out a shaky breath, forcing a smile. “I…” You searched desperately for the right words—anything to keep from sounding pathetic.
You couldn’t find them.
He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off.
“Clark, how do you stand it?” you blurted out, exasperated. He looked down, instantly realizing what you meant. “You see me at all those events with… Lex. The photos, the headlines... Clark, that woman touched your arm and I felt like I was going to throw up.”
His attempt at a smile was better than yours, but it looked more like a grimace. And it destroyed you more than any real smile ever could; because there was no mockery, no pity. Just understanding.
The man you loved most in the universe shouldn’t have understood the jealousy tearing through you.
But reality hit with brutal force.
He didn’t just understand. Clark knew that agonizing jealousy even better than you did.
He lifted a hand, reaching for you, but you pulled back just as his fingers grazed yours. He looked at you with that flicker of pain in his beautiful blue eyes, and you nearly burst into tears.
“It’s fine… I turned her down immediately. I'd never say yes, sweetheart.” He said, still confused. You crossed your arms, hugging yourself as if to hold onto the words you were about to blurt out.
“Maybe that’s the problem.”
Clark’s heart dropped to his stomach. He swallowed hard and shook his head, certain you had to mean something else.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, fear edging into his voice more than caution.
You swallowed and looked away. The air grew heavier with every passing second.
“It means maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to go on a date that didn’t involve hiding in my apartment.”
He frowned instantly, your words slicing through what little happiness he’d been holding onto.
“What do you mean? Should I just accept the date then?” Clark asked incredulously, still trying to brush your words off as some kind of sick joke.
You shrugged, still refusing to meet his eyes.
“I don’t know. You could.”
He stepped back, unable to believe what you were saying. Your words cut like a knife, and you saw it written all over his hurt expression.
You didn’t want to be cruel. You couldn’t bear to see him hurt. But you needed to say it. You didn’t want to tie him down forever and make him as miserable as you felt.
But the very thought of losing him again terrified you.
“Clark, I don’t even know if we’ll ever have a future! I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to kiss you in public again, or hold your hand, or even talk to you!” You were about to cry, trying to justify why you were hurting the man you loved with words.
“We have a future!” he burst out, though he couldn’t tell if it was a statement or a plea. The truth was, even if there wasn’t a future, it wouldn’t matter to him. “We have a plan. You said it was working—that Lex was drifting further and further away—you said...”
“But what if it doesn’t work?” you asked, despair choking you, the guilt threatening to crush you entirely.
“Don’t say that.” He pointed a finger at you, visibly hurt. You swallowed hard and looked away again. “That’s not…”
And then your phone rang: the last person you wanted to hear from at that moment.
Lex.
You sighed, swallowing the lump in your throat, fighting the urge to collapse into his arms, the only place you wanted to be.
“He probably wants to know what happened at the opening,” you muttered, your head bowed. “I’d better… go.”
Clark said nothing. He didn’t trust that what would come out of his mouth would be words instead of sobs. He only nodded slowly.
When you looked up, he wasn’t looking at you. And it was devastating.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered weakly, before forcing your legs to move and brushing past him.
He shook his head and dared to answer.
“It’s okay,” he said, barely above a whisper. You froze instantly. “I’ll… see you tonight?” He turned toward you, and your heart softened at the sight of his glassy eyes and trembling voice.
“Sure.” You tried to smile, but couldn’t. And it felt so strange not to be able to smile back at him.
You left. He followed minutes later. When Clark rejoined the crowd at the inauguration, he caught sight of you politely thanking a man as he handed you your green coat.
His heart sank as you walked away, unable to shake the feeling that you were drifting further than he’d ever feared.
ꫂ❁
Lex’s office was silent, except for the low hum of the air conditioner and the soft rustle of papers being flipped through. You sat curled in the armchair in the corner, pretending to scroll aimlessly through your phone while he pored over files at his desk.
Every so often, you let your eyes flicker toward him.
And you thought that maybe, sometimes, you wished you felt guilty.
Well, you already carried the guilt of what you were doing to Clark—of keeping him hidden all the time.
But sometimes, you wished you felt guilty about cheating on Lex.
You’d grown up hearing everyone say how terrible infidelity was. You knew it was wrong. If you loved Clark this much… did that make your sin any less?
You remembered your first dates with him: the elegant restaurants you’d never dreamed of stepping into, the sports cars he’d pick you up in, and his penthouse in the most exclusive part of Metropolis.
But it wasn’t just that. He was a gentleman, making sure from the very beginning that you wanted for nothing—not to mention how handsome he was. For a while, you almost believed you’d finally found someone who could live up to the impossible standard Clark had left behind.
And still, when he wasn’t angry, he could be disarmingly charming. Sometimes, you even had to remind yourself why you didn’t feel guilty at all.
Other times, Lex himself was kind enough to remind you.
Yes… it was the sharp thud of papers hitting the desk that made you flinch.
“Idiots,” Lex spat, his voice laced with that dangerous calm that always came before an outburst. “Those Daily Planet reporters never miss a chance to take a shot at me.”
He glared at the documents with barely contained fury, while you sat frozen on the couch, phone still clutched in your hands. You didn’t know whether to move, to speak, or just vanish.
You sighed quietly, bracing yourself for one of his tirades. The silence stretched, heavy, until he finally lifted his eyes to yours, icy, probing.
“By the way…” he asked, his tone suspiciously gentle. “What exactly were you doing talking to… Clark Kent?”
Your breath hitched sharply, panic rising in your throat.
“W-what?” you stammered, feigning confusion. You felt yourself go pale for a heartbeat before forcing yourself to study his expression.
You’d long since learned how to read Lex. He was complicated, razor sharp—but at least you knew when his anger wasn’t aimed at you
It seemed like mild suspicion, not about an affair with the Daily Planet reporter, but more about some imagined alliance that had nothing to do with your lips on Clark Kent’s.
And no. His distrust didn’t come from love or loyalty. You knew Lex simply thought you were far too foolish to ever orchestrate a plan against him.
“Someone from the PR team said they saw you,” he murmured, leaning back in his chair. “And I doubt Kent walked over just to exchange pleasantries.”
Even knowing all that, your heart still pounded in your ears. You swallowed hard, praying no one had seen too much.
“Oh… I think he just came up to me, trying to ask a question—you know, journalist stuff. But I brushed him off.”
You fought the tremor in your voice, hoping your words sounded convincing.
Lex studied you for a moment longer, as if trying to pierce through you with his gaze. Finally, he exhaled sharply through his nose and turned his attention back to the papers on his desk.
You almost let out a sigh of relief, until the door opened. Ben, Lex’s assistant, shuffled in nervously, balancing a folder in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other as he approached your boyfriend’s desk.
“Mr. Luthor, here are the—“
He never finished. In one clumsy motion, the cup tipped, sending dark liquid spilling across the desk and bleeding into a stack of important papers.
The air seemed to freeze solid.
Lex pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long, controlled sigh. You watched from the couch, your eyes wide.
Ben went pale, stammering apologies as he fumbled with a napkin to wipe the mess. Lex remained motionless, watching him.
Then, with terrifying calm, he rose to his feet and yanked the folder from Ben’s hands.
“Get out. And find someone to clean this up.”
“P-please, sir—it was an accident.”
“You’re fired,” Lex repeated, his voice pitched just high enough to be more terrifying than a scream.
The boy cast one last glance at you before swallowing hard and hurrying out, ears burning red, eyes glassy.
Ben, the guy who’d been Lex’s assistant for three years.
You’d only been with Lex for one.
What would Lex do if he ever found out what you’d been doing in bed with his greatest enemy?
You swallowed hard, but your voice came out sharper than you intended before you could stop yourself.
“Don’t you think that was… a little extreme?”
For a split second, you thought Lex might lash out at you too. But instead, he turned with a cool, almost pleasant smile.
“Darling… hearing your voice would be lovely—if only I’d asked for your opinion.”
You bit the inside of your cheek, fighting the urge to roll your eyes, then sighed and dropped your gaze back to your phone.
And what were you saying about wanting to feel guilty? Yeah… you took it back.
“You’d better go,” Lex spoke again. “The receptionist has the clothes you’ll be wearing to dinner tonight.” He sat back in his chair, eyes falling on the coffee stained papers.
How had you gotten yourself tangled up in this?
“Fine…” you muttered, rising to your feet and leaving his office. Anger boiled in your head—the frustration of not being able to scream at him for being such an idiot ate away at you. But you tried to let it all dissolve with one thought: Clark.
Soon you’d be with him again, in his arms, where no one else existed. Not even Lex.
ꫂ❁
Hours later, Clark Kent was counting the minutes until he could see you. His mind kept replaying the argument you’d had, over and over, as he tried to figure out how to make things right.
The nerves your uncertainty stirred in him were unbearable. He already knew your relationship had been balancing on a tightrope from the very beginning. Always in secret, always cautious, always afraid.
Of course, he knew that wasn’t a way to live, nor to love. But he held on to the hope that one day he’d be able to write your name across the sky and shout how much he loved you, holding your hand in front of the world.
Because if his parents had taught him anything, it was that doing the right thing always came with a reward.
And nothing had ever felt more right than loving you.
Whenever he saw you at night, and the moon and stars seemed to shine brighter, he reminded himself of the truth: it was your presence that made everything worth it. Loving you was worth it.
Still, he hadn’t expected your text so early. You usually met just a few hours before midnight—or even later—but the moment Clark read the words “I’m home” from you, he saved his work and shut the computer down.
He was sure he’d never moved so fast in his life. Clark didn’t usually use his super speed for everyday things, but in the blink of an eye he had his shoes on and his hair tamed with just enough product—not so much that the smell would bother you, but enough to keep him from showing up completely disheveled at your apartment.
He hadn’t even grabbed his suit jacket before he was already feeling the icy wind against his cheeks as he flew toward you.
Clark was always extra careful when arriving at your place. He didn’t want security cameras to catch him, didn’t want anyone else to see him, and he wanted only you to hear him.
So there he was, tapping on your balcony door from inside your apartment. Waiting for you to open it could risk someone seeing him—but even then, he still kept his manners.
It took him five seconds to spot you; and only two more to realize something was very wrong.
The apartment was completely dark, which made him frown. He spotted you sitting on the floor, leaning against the front door. You looked more elegant than you had at the opening earlier that night, still in the same green coat he’d last seen you in when you left.
What truly caught his attention was your face: makeup smeared, eyes red and brimming with tears. They locked on him the moment he stepped into your line of sight.
“Clark…” That single whisper from you was all it took for him to move toward you—quickly, though not abruptly.
“Honey, what happened? What’s wrong? Did he hurt you?” He dropped to his knees in front of you, his attempt not to overwhelm you crumbling instantly as he could practically feel your sadness pouring over him.
He was about to cup your face, searching for any sign of harm, when you shook your head and spoke in a frail voice.
“Don’t come closer.”
He frowned, torn between confusion and hurt, but obeyed, though he didn’t retreat completely.
You sniffled through your sobs, and Clark’s heart twisted painfully. He couldn’t bear to see you cry, let alone stand by helplessly, unable to do anything.
“Baby, I…” His words were swept away by the silence as you pulled your left hand from your coat pocket and showed it to him.
In that instant, his entire world collapsed around him.
Maybe it was the light catching on the diamond of your ring that made him feel like he was burning alive, or as if he’d been thrown straight into the flames of hell.
He didn’t know. Maybe he never would.
“Lex… he proposed to me.”
This time, he staggered back, his weight collapsing onto his palms as if his very soul were being torn apart. The agony radiated through him like a physical blow, so sharp it made him want to vomit.
All this time, the two of you had been placing your bets on the losing side.
He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the brilliant diamond on your finger. It looked enormous—he couldn’t guess how many carats—but just enough to carry an elegance fit for royalty. More than that, it was a brutal reminder of Lex’s wealth. Not that that mattered to Clark.
It was something else.
Something that didn’t make Clark doubt he was yours, but did make him doubt that you were his.
When had he become a castaway of his own nostalgia, longing only to return to the past and mend what had been broken?
What would be left of him if he lost your love again?
















