#slander fic

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“New skirt?” 

You look down, brushing a crumb off your lap. “Mhmm,” you manage, swallowing the huge bite of doughnut you just took. 

“I like it. Maybe I should get one too,” Lois Lane smiles, then looks down at her attire. “I love wearing pants, but that looks like a skirt that’s actually comfortable without looking too…” she trails off. 

“Frumpy?” You laugh. 

“I was going to say ‘too much like an old secretary’, but yeah, that works.” 

A tall man with glasses towers over your desk, catching your attention.

“Morning Kent!” 

He smiles and places some papers on your desk. “Sam told me to get these to you right away,” he thumbs through some of the pages. “This isn’t more LuthorCorp shade, is it?” 

You practically snatch it out of his hands. “Oh yes. This is amazing.” 

He folds his arms, and you swear you can see the seams of his shirt tighten. “You should be careful, writing about LuthorCorp like that,” he says.

A smile spreads across your face. “So you read my article.” 

He tilts his head, glasses sliding down his nose slightly. “Maybe. Still. Be careful.” 

You look at your doughnut, then back at Clark. “Don’t worry. I’m using a pen name. Besides, people want to know what Luthor is really up to. They’ve been my most read articles. I’m dying to get another out soon.” 

Clark nods, then goes back to his desk. 

Strange, you think to yourself. Why was he being so protective over you? Was there something he knew that you didn’t? 

You planned to ask him about it later. Right now, it was time to read some new documents Sam had gotten for you.

Now, Sam wasn’t your source. In fact, you had no idea who your source was. You’d just spent hours on the internet, digging through archives, looking through anything remotely publishable, until you found them. 

An anonymous dealer with highly classified documents from dozens of corporations. As far as authenticity, they seemed like the real deal. You paid the dealer much less than they should have received, but then again, they didn’t know what they had on LuthorCorp. You promised them a cut from your article’s payout if they kept to feeding you intel. 

Totally trustworthy. 

As much as you were vying for your big break, this wasn’t going to be it, necessarily, especially if you were using a pen name. You had worked at the Daily Planet for a few years now, and all the journalists were pretty competitive with each other. But you could sense something was off with one of the tallest buildings in Metropolis. They just seemed too influential. Too formidable. 

There had to be something amiss. Whether it was the inner workings of their technology sector, or maybe even the CEO had a fault. 

Whatever it was, you were going to unearth it, bring it to the surface, and show the public that you can’t believe everyone.

You flip open the first page of the documents. It’s about a LuthorCorp manufactured computer chip, nothing extraordinary, nothing the public doesn’t already know. 

One coffee, two doughnuts, and about ten pages later, you’ve got the headline for your next column. 

LuthorCorp May Be Watching From Inside Your Apartment  

“Yes!” You spin around in your chair, nearly spilling your mug. 

Clark lifts an eyebrow from across the bullpen.

But you miss it. Your fingers are already flying across the keyboard.

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“James!” 

A man at the desk jumps to his feet. “Yes, sir?” 

An infuriated Lex storms right up to his face. “I need you to find the author of this article and kill them.”

James blinks, mouth gaping open. “You want me to… what?” 

Lex leans closer, icy blue eyes piercing the poor man’s very soul. “You heard me. You brought this article to my desk, so surely you’ll be in charge of taking care of things, right?” He snaps. 

“Yes sir, b-but may I suggest-” 

The CEO closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. 

“I’ve been thinking, p-perhaps we could bring them in. We could ask them questions-”

“Ask them questions?!” Lex roars, slamming his hand on the computer monitor to his right. The screen goes dark and cracks form across the glass.

James lifts a finger and continues. “We could get them to write differently. They obviously have a large following now, and if they suddenly stop writing, then people will get upset, they’ll want to know what happened. Maybe instead we can switch the narrative.”

The tantrum stops for a moment as Lex actually thinks about James’ suggestion. He places a hand on his shoulder. 

“I knew there was a reason I hired you. However, if they do not comply, then we will kill them. I want their name, address, and personal information in an hour. I’ll be back.”

Without another second passing, Lex Luthor storms out of the room, leaving the rest of his employees speechless with the whiplash of his mood swings. 

“He’s… joking about the killing thing, right?” 

A woman to his right shrugs. “He did just kill my computer.” 

James turns back to his computer and gets to work immediately.

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In a matter of minutes, he’s traced your name, phone number, email, and even the name of your cat (you had posted pictures of him on your personal social media account). He prints out a paper of your information, somewhat reminiscent of a “WANTED” poster. 

He gets up and right as he’s about to go to Luthor’s office, the man himself bursts into the room. 

“I’ve got it, here.” 

“Alright. I’m going to strangle-” Lex grabs the paper of James' hands and immediately his eyes go to the picture at the top corner. 

“Her.” 

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The music is just a little too loud for your liking. As much as you loved your coworkers, this Thursday night tradition of you all hitting the bar was just not your thing. Plus, everyone was always exhausted for Friday. 

It was also half off drinks on Thursdays, hence why none of them wanted to wait for the weekend. 

You adjust the necklace around your throat, getting anxious and ready to leave. 

“Come on, don’t you wanna drink tonight?” Jimmy Olsen nudges your arm, but you laugh and push him away. Jimmy was one of your best friends at the Daily Planet, thanks to being completely unattracted to him. He already had enough women falling head over heels for him, and you were a breath of fresh air, keeping things one hundred percent platonic. 

“I do, but I'm designated driver, remember?” 

“We can just walk home, or take a taxi. We should be celebrating your article!” 

You furrow your brows. “You read my article too? Clark!” You look around for black hair and glasses, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Must have managed to escape the function tonight. 

“Nah, he didn’t make me read it. It’s just gotten a lot of buzz online. Congrats, it could’ve been your big break if it wasn’t under a pen name.”

“That’s kind of the point,” You shook your head. “If I uncover something dangerous, I’d rather not be personally attached. I can write everything I need to say when it’s more anonymous, you know?”

Jimmy nods his head and throws back a shot. “Fair. You’re not worried at all though?” 

“No… should I be?” You laugh thinly. That’s the second time today someone’s mentioned being worried or scared for me. 

“Eh, it’s probably no big deal. Lex Luthor just doesn’t seem like the type to let stuff like this slide easily.” 

A blonde girl sneaks up behind Jimmy and taps his shoulder. He’s now distracted with her drunken gibberish and in moments she whisks him off, leaving you alone and even more anxious than before. 

Fingers tighten around the glass of water in your hands. Sure, LuthorCorp may seem sketchy, but they didn’t have anything alarming to hide. 

Right? 

Two hands grip your shoulders from behind and you yelp. A voice whispers in your ear. 

“Don’t yell, don’t panic, don’t call your friends, if you want to live.”

“What the f-” 

A man towers behind you, breath cold on the back of your neck. His hand presses something sharp just below your ribs. 

Blood drains from your face and your vision starts to blur as you realize what’s happening. 

“Walk,” he steers you so you’re walking in front of him, and he moves his hands to constrain your wrists, ensuring zero escape. 

A million thoughts are running through your head. Your fingers are numb and you dropped your water moments ago. Your legs feel like lead and your heart feels like it's going to rupture through your chest.

Once outside the bar, cool air hits your face, snapping you into reality. There’s a suspicious black car on the street the man is pulling you towards, and you attempt to wiggle out of his grip.

“Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be,” he mutters, grip tightening.

Tears stream down your flushed cheeks. “Please, let me go, you don’t want me.” 

He shoves you into the backseat of the car and slams the door shut. You try to open it, but it’s locked from the outside. He leans up to the window. 

You barely make out the sound of his voice between the glass and the blood rushing in your ears.

“You’re exactly who we want.”

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You flinch when he swings it open and grabs you, tossing you to the ground like you weigh nothing. 

He pulls you to your feet and drags you to a chair and handcuffs you to it. You’re so paralyzed with fear, no sound comes out of your lips, just a small whimper when the handcuffs click shut. 

The man, to your horror, gets in the black car and drives away, leaving you alone in the… dark tunnel? You still have no clue where you are. Fluorescent lights shine coldly over your features. There’s no windows, no clock. 

A few minutes pass by. Yes, you’ve already tried wriggling out of the cuffs but it’s no use. 

It’s just you. And the sound of a door unlocking behind you. You sit up straight now. 

It opens slowly, and you can hear footsteps echoing faintly off the concrete walls. You can’t turn to look, not with your wrists bound behind you. The footsteps are slow, calculated, unhurried. As they grow closer, you can feel a bead of sweat drip down your back.

He doesn’t speak at first. 

You can feel him before you see him. A presence, somehow heavier than the silence. He walks around your chair until he’s in front of you. 

Lex Luthor. 

There’s no mistaking the icy poise in his expression. The sharp cut suit. The way his blue eyes rake over you like he’s analyzing a file and not a person. 

You swallow dryly, and meet his fierce gaze. Chills run down your spine. 

A smile curls at the corner of his lips at the sight of your fear. 

“Don’t worry now. If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t have made it past page one.”

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CHAPTER 2 ➠

TAGLIST: @hsgvhhi @warmestsugarcookie @idratherbesleepingrn @boy-eater11

You blink, then look down. Lex is holding out a crisp white cup to you.  

“Latte. Plus caramel. With extra cream, just how you like it.” 

Being a pawn… has its perks. 

“Thanks.” You trade it for the paper copy of your latest article, a column about a suspicious phone call concerning a new fighter jet LuthorCorp was designing. Lex had taken a liking to showing off just how expansive his company could be. 

The CEO had finally agreed to stop getting access to your work computer and only reviewed your work that you brought in. 

And you finally stopped all contact with your “source” from the internet. You made up some excuse to them that because of work rules, you couldn’t use their information anymore. Fear of getting them in trouble with Lex led you to cutting them off.

You told yourself it was safer this way, for them. 

What you didn’t know was that your source had stopped being real weeks ago.

Now Lex had complete control of what information you gathered and used for your articles. 

It was difficult, for both of you initially. You’d complain that he’d change too much of the integrity of your articles. He’d argue that you were giving away too much, giving away too little, not positive enough, not negative enough, and on and on. He was a picky editor, and you were highly opinionated and arrogant. 

Eventually patterns were learned and you started to tolerate Lex. You could withstand his egotistical comments and he learned to smooth-talk you when you were resisting. 

Today, was different. 

“This is sharp. I like it.” Lex says softly, placing the paper down on his desk. 

You nearly choke on your latte. “Really?” 

His eyes meet yours, then a sinister smile pulls at the corner of his lips. “Except for the part where-” 

“Oh come on!” You cut him off, plopping your cup on the table. 

“I’m kidding,” He laughs and leans forward. “This is your best work.” 

Rolling your eyes, you pick up your drink again and slowly turn it in your hands. “Whatever. You’re just saying that so I keep writing for you.” 

Lex shrugs. “I don’t mind having a personal connection to the Daily Planet. And I’m sure you don’t mind having your best headline run for your entire career.”

You sigh. It’s true. Both of you mutually benefit from the arrangement. Your work is rising in popularity faster than Lois’ articles now. 

He flips to the last page, skims it for a moment, then passes it back to you. “Publish it.” 

“Yes, sir,” you grin, taking it from him. 

Okay. It was a little satisfying for you to make the article just how Lex Luthor liked them. 

Maybe he got the same satisfaction when he delivered the lattes to you, just how you liked them. 

He stands, and makes his way to the door. “I don’t have anything new for you this week. When you’re finished up with this article, you can work on something else you have.” 

You follow him out the office, heels rapidly clicking against the marble floors to keep up with him. “Nothing? Seriously, nothing Lex?”

He doesn’t stop walking and makes his way down the hallway, turning his head to you and raising a quizzical eyebrow. “Yes, nothing. But I’ll have something for next week. Enjoy the time off.”

“Does this mean I don’t have to come in?” 

You both stop at the elevator and he presses the button to go down. 

“Hm. I guess so.” 

You huff. “Wow. I can have my life back.” 

He smirks. “Careful. You might miss me.”

Crossing your arms, you scoff at him. “Bold of you to assume I enjoy this at all.”

Lex glances sideways as the elevator dings open. “You haven’t quit yet.”

He steps inside, then adds lowly, “and for someone so eager to have her old life back, you look a little… disappointed.” 

“I am not disappointed!” You retort, following suit and entering the elevator. He stifles a laugh. The doors shut. 

After week two, Lex started personally escorting you out of your meetings. It was sort of an unspoken thing, although it surprised you the first time it happened. 

You tell yourself that he walks you out because he’s controlling. Because he likes knowing exactly when you leave. 

But then again, sometimes he lingers at the exit a beat too long. 

Now it was simply part of the routine. 

It’s silent on the descent. You lean against the side, and Lex stands straight and tall, eyes forward. You keep yours trained on him, scrutinizing every fold and pleat of his pinstripe suit, the pressed collar of his shirt down to the gold and obsidian signet ring on his pinky. 

As much as you hated the dynamic between you two, at least Lex wasn’t half bad to look at. His perfectly tailored attire fit perfectly over his tall, strong body. 

You miss when his eyes flick toward you in the reflection of the elevator wall. 

Just once. 

Then forward again, 

Your staring isn’t subtle, at least not to a genius like Lex Luthor. 

But he enjoys the attention. 

Your attention. 

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“Hey, Jimmy! Ooh whatcha got there?” 

Your coworker has dozens of photographs strewn across his desk. They're blurry shots of a man flying in the sky, fighting a strange monster. 

“Another Superman fight this week, I got some shots off of the building next door. So cool, right?” Jimmy glances up to you from his seat. 

You pick up one of the pictures. “Was your camera not focused all the way?” 

“Shut up.” He huffs. Then quieter, “Yeah it was. But I think it adds something. What do you think?” Jimmy pulls up a mockup of the article headline with the picture. It does look admittedly attractive. It’s like one of those “UFO” sighting type pictures. 

“I like it,” you hum, and leave him for your seat. 

As you settle in and start to tidy your desk, Jimmy rolls his chair over to you. “So, your Luthor Leaks…” he starts. 

“Mhmm,” you power on your computer, avoiding his gaze. 

He leans in a little. “How are you getting this stuff? Seriously. The intel’s insane. People are obsessed! Finally some juicy insight into LuthorCorp.”

You shrug, keeping your tone even. “Good sources.”

Jimmy lets out a low whistle. “No kidding. Feels like every piece you drop peels back another layer. Kinda makes you wonder what else he’s hiding.”

He wheels his chair closer to yours and you turn to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “What?” You ask.

“You know, you’ve been disappearing a lot lately. You haven't joined us for drinks in three weeks. Plus you leave work right at five.” he speaks quietly. 

You freeze for a half second, then casually sip your coffee. “I have a life, I go places.” 

“Places like… LuthorCorp tower?” he’s watching your expression carefully, eyes glinting with mischief. “You leave, then Lex Luthor’s name ends up in your column, again.” 

“Jimmy-” you roll your eyes. 

He looks around the room. Then in a loud whisper, “are you… sleeping with him?” 

Your head snaps towards him.

“No!” You blurt, then cover your mouth. 

A few heads swivel. 

“No, I’m not. That’s crazy, Jimmy!” You hiss back to him. 

He throws his hands up in the air defensively. “Sorry! But you’re not denying you’ve been meeting with him.”  

You give him a withering look “I can’t really talk about it. It’s.. complicated.” 

Jimmy leans back in his chair, folding his arms. “Okay, fine. Whatever deal you’ve struck with him, seems like it’s paying off. Your pen name is trending on Twitter these days. Harper McNeil has her own fan club, let me know if he wants to work out a deal with me.”

“Ugh,” you groan. “Trust me, you do not want to,” you manage through gritted teeth. 

He taps his freckled nose. “Taking your word for it. Just… be careful, okay?”

You nod. “Thanks, Jim.” 

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It’s Thursday. 

It had been weeks since you were dragged by Cat Grant to get absolutely hammered before work on Friday. 

And for the first time, you’re actually excited to join your coworkers for cheap happy hour. 

But first, you’re running around the Daily Planet, trying to get a short brief on Hawkgirl, a new metahuman, published before your lunch break. 

Phones are ringing, reporters are typing, and Clark is asking again how to use the printer. 

You’re posted next to the machine, Clark on your left, seconds away from giving it a good kick. You checked the paper tray twice already, but it still won’t budge. 

“Are you kidding me-” 

You’re cut off by a sudden hush in the room, followed by whispers and the scuttling of people going back to their desks. 

Clark is distracted too, no longer helping you solve the printer mystery of the day. 

You stop and stand up straight, looking around the room to see what caused the sudden shift in the typically chaotic atmosphere. 

But before you see him, you recognize the clicking of his shoes on the ground. 

Oh great. 

He’s here. In your territory. 

You blink, hoping it’s a hallucination, But no, Lex Luthor is very real, and very much walking straight toward you. 

The room stills around you. Reporters sit back at their desks, pretending not to stare. Landlines stop ringing. Even the printer decides now is a good time to finally work, humming back to life in the awkward tension.

Lex doesn’t acknowledge anyone. Not Perry White, who hurries to greet him with an outstretched hand and a strained “Mr. Luthor! what a surprise -” only to be breezed past without so much as a glance.

Nope, Lex has a target, and it’s you.

As he nears, Clark shrinks to the side, not completely deserting you, but enough to let you take the limelight of the CEO’s glory. 

He stops and without greeting, pulls a folded copy of the Daily Planet from beneath his coat. 

He slaps it down on the printer beside you. You swear you can hear it shatter like glass inside. It’ll be broken for the next month.

“Care to explain this?”

It’s a seemingly normal copy of the newspaper, but upon skimming the lines, a word circled in red ink on one of the columns stands out to you. 

PlanetWatch. 

Your stomach knots. “I didn’t. That’s not my-”

“Oh, I’m well aware it’s not your byline.” He leans in just enough that you catch the faintest trace of his woodsy cologne, his words meant for you alone. “But you are the only one outside my company who’s ever seen those files. Which means either you’ve been… careless-” his gaze flicks over your entire body like a challenge, “or someone very close to you has been talking.”

Your pulse is racing, and you’re struggling to maintain composure. 

You grit your teeth and manage, “LuthorCorp is huge. There are a thousand ways this could’ve gotten out. Don’t pin this on me.”

He grimaces, and scoffs at you like you just said something naive. 

"Let’s get one thing straight, Lex,  I don’t like being accused of things I didn’t do,” you bite out finally. 

You can’t deny knowing about PlanetWatch. But you would've been senseless to write something about it based on how particular Lex was about what he wanted you to publish. He had never mentioned it, so you kept quiet, secretly hoping one day that you’d learn more. 

Lex straightens, smoothing the front of his jacket, his tone cooling even further. “Careful, Miss McNeil. I only give warnings once.”

As he takes a step back he adds, “and you may not like being accused of things you didn’t do… but I like being lied to even less.”

He turns on his heel and storms away, the circled word “PlanetWatch” still glaring up at you, a silent promise that this conversation isn’t over yet.

“Okay…” Clark chuckles nervously to you once Lex is outside the building. “What was that all about?”

You head towards your desk, painfully aware that the regular commotion of the Daily Planet is back. Everyone was a witness to your public embarrassment. 

“A misunderstanding.” 

Jimmy pipes up now. “You sure? That looked like a threat to me.”

“No-” you cut him off, yanking open your drawer in your desk. You ruffle through some of the files and find the weeks old faxed document there, sitting untouched. 

The exposé was not your fault. 

Your pulse spikes. You shut the drawer, grab your bag and stand. 

Jimmy blinks, “Um, where are you going?” 

You sling the strap over your shoulder. “To get answers.” 

“What about happy hour?” 

Halfway across the bullpen, you toss over your shoulder, “Rain check.” 

The Metropolis city air hits your face warmly. Across the skyline, LuthorCorp tower rises, sleek, glassy, and smug. 

“So much for getting my life back,” you mutter, eyes locked on the building. “I hate this guy.” 

Your heels snap against the pavement as you march, ignoring taxis and bus stops. You want him to hear the anger in every click of your steps. Maybe the walk will burn it out of you. 

It doesn’t.

By the time you shove through LuthorCorp’s revolving doors, you’re a ticking bomb ready to go off. The receptionist at the front desk gives you a knowing look, you’re the girl who comes in every afternoon, the one who leaves with Lex Luthor in an uncharacteristically good mood. She doesn’t stop you, but picks up her phone and dials it right when you’re out of sight. 

You don’t slow down. 

The elevator ride is a blur, your reflection stares back at you in the mirrored walls, with flushed cheeks, wind-tostled hair, and a fire in your eyes. 

Slam.

His office door swings open under your hand, hitting the wall with a satisfying crack. 

Lex looks up from his desk, pen paused mid-signature. That infuriating calm spreads over his features like he’s been waiting for you.

He gestures lazily to the papers in front of him. “You’re not on my schedule today.”

You step forward, planting yourself in front of his desk. Arms crossed. Unmoving. You’re not giving him the satisfaction of sitting. 

“Make room, then.” 

Lex’s mouth curves, just barely. Amusement. 

He sets the pen down with deliberate care. “What are you here for?” 

Your eyes lock on his, steel blue meeting yours. “PlanetWatch.” 

“Hmm. Thought you’d never ask.” Lex leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers together, eyes never leaving yours.“What would you like to know?” 

You plant your hands on the desk. “Everything.” 

“That’s a tall order, especially for someone who can’t keep my name out of gossip at her workplace.” 

Your jaw is clenched, tight. “I didn’t-”

He dismisses you with a wave of his hand. “Shh. I’m not in the mood to fight. Let’s do what we do best, collaborate.” 

You narrow your eyes. “I don’t like to collaborate with people who threaten and accuse me in front of my coworkers.” 

“And yet,” he pauses, and stands. “Here you are.” 

He makes his way over to the coffee table in the corner of the room, and swipes an envelope off of it. 

“I think it’s time for Harper McNeil to make an appearance,” he hands you the letter.

It’s been opened already, and you slide the paper out of it, briefly noticing a military insignia printed at the top corner. 

“What is this?” You ask before reading it. Lex simply nods, allowing you to find out for yourself. 

You freeze. “A press conference? With the United States military?” 

Lex adjusts his tie. “Yes. In Steel City. It’s tomorrow. And you’ll be accompanying me.” 

You blink. “Why?” 

“To watch. Take notes. Get the inside scoop so you can create the perfect leak people won’t be able to stop talking about.” He pulls an itinerary out of his suit jacket and hands it to you, and you take it with a free hand. “Small crowd of around a hundred people. You’ll be Harper McNeil, maybe you’ll meet a few fans.” 

You’re skeptical. “Why do I need to be there in person? Can’t I just-”

“No.” His tone is final. “You need to be in the room. I want the public to hear it from your column, from your mouth. And I want the military press to have the confidence that their plans are confidential.” 

“So you want me to spin it for you,” you say, raising a brow.

He begins to pace the room. “I want you to tell the truth… as I see it.” 

Your gut twists. “So you can control what people believe about PlanetWatch.”

“Control,” he stops at the window, looking out at the view, “isn’t a dirty word. Narratives naturally run wild. People are inevitably going to find out about this. I need you. They trust your words the most.” 

One final stand. “And what if I don’t join you?”

He glances back. “You will. It’ll be fun.”

Lex makes his way, right up to you. “I’ll even get you a new dress to wear. Do you prefer red or black?” 

His eyes sweep over your entire body, as if mentally measuring your size, imagining what you’d look like with it on. 

Your cheeks burn hot under his gaze. “Pick whichever you like, I won’t be smiling for you.” 

He leans in, lips nearly brushing your ear. “Black it is.” 

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TAGLIST: @hsgvhhi @warmestsugarcookie @idratherbesleepingrn  @boy-eater11 @purplefluffycows @high-functioning-cosplayer @amndstuckinwonderland @boba-is-a-soup @indigo703 @otakusimp1 @ihatecaloriez @selfishlycalculatingvisitor @leo4242564 @fictionalmutt @thebeatupgeneration @senatorpadmeamidala @sadgrayrainbows @cultven @biodegradable-glitter-fest @diasnohibng @lovely-seb @caren05 @thebeatupgeneration @vtektty @a-lovers-card @cherryheairt @drin707

The oven door slams and you turn to face him. “Look. Last time I went there, I almost died, someone found out about my powers, and I ended up in the worst situation of my entire life. I don’t want to come.” 

“Powers?” Lex asks cynically. 

“Yeah, powers. Like Superman,” you grab your phone and unlock it, showing him the latest posts on Superman's defeat of an intergalactic entity. 

“You don’t have powers, and neither does he,” Lex spits, glaring at you. He refuses to even glance at the screen. “What he is, it’s an insult.”

You laugh. “An insult? Lex, he’s saving lives.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t get it, do you? He’s not from here, and his abilities are just a hair away from taking down all of humanity. Who knows what agenda he has? People are far too trusting of him. Metahumans like him are just trouble for humanity.”

Your stomach churns. Is he referring to you too? Does he see you as one of them?

Lex reads your silence, but doesn’t address the elephant in the room. 

“PlanetWatch. The pocket universe is set up. No more explosions.”

“I’m not coming.”

He takes a sharp breath in, then lets it out like it pains him. “Please.” 

The corners of your lips twitch. “What was that?” 

He straightens. “You heard me. The driver will be ready at ten. Bring a jacket. And don’t wear heels.”

The oven chimes and you turn away from him, now able to smile to yourself without him seeing. Did Lex Luthor actually say please?

You grab the tray without thinking and it burns you, eliciting a hiss from your lips. 

Lex watches as you shake your hand and it heals in seconds. And you miss the look on his face of disgust. 

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You don’t say much on the drive. Lex rides in silence beside you in the back of the car, staring out the window, the faint reflection of Metropolis lights flickering across his face. His jaw is clenched the entire way, like he’s grinding down deep thoughts with his molars. 

By the time you arrive, the camp is bigger. More Raptors. More scientists. More… Hawaiian shirts. 

You step out of the car and pull your jacket tighter around you, shielding the wind whipping off the ocean. You’re grateful you’re not in heels, though you still tread the sand carefully to avoid it kicking up in your shoes. 

The tents sprawl out over the horizon, and the hum of the generator permeates the air. Floodlights cast sharp shadows through early dusk. 

“Love what you’ve done with the place,” you say. “It’s so inviting, so warm-”

Lex glances sideways. “This is the final setup now that we’ve stabilized the portals. Operations are running smoothly.” 

You quirk an eyebrow. “Like what kind of operations?” 

He gestures toward the large tent at the end of the camp, the one that had been ripped to shreds in the last explosion. “Shall we take a tour?” 

The machine glows faintly blue, with an unfamiliar buzz that you can feel vibrating in your chest. 

Your palms feel sweaty. “You’re not saying we’re going inside…”

He smirks. Then starts walking directly towards the portal. 

You groan and follow him. 

A technician in a teal floral shirt spots Lex approaching and hurries over to a lever, the one that had initiated the failure before. He types a few lines of code into the computer adjacent, then yanks down hard, and the portal roars to life. Sparks fly out, but Lex stands, unflinching, waiting. 

Through the blinding light, you can see a window, no, an opening large enough for a few people to walk in. On the inside is a dark world, what looks like outer space, combined with colorful glowing lights dispersed randomly. 

He steps in, and turns back to you. “Hurry up. It’ll close in a few seconds.”

“What?! I’m not going in there-ah!”

He grabs your arm and yanks you towards himself, and the portal powers down, the sandy beach gone on the other side. 

Your chest heaves and your heart pounds, and you realize you’re clutching Lex’s suit jacket in panic. 

You release the fabric quickly and take a step back, coughing before taking another stabilizing breath. “Sorry.” 

Lex steps up to a platform and you gasp. There’s a tall ghostly humanlike creature standing at the edge, ready to maneuver the device. It’s disgusting, and you’re struggling to not look away. You follow Lex, but stay behind him, away from the thing that pushes a rod forward, lurching the platform into motion. You glance over the edge, and see nothing but darkness. 

“What the hell,” you mutter, taking in the bizarre world around you. 

“Hell’s a strong word for this place. But it may be for some.”

You turn to face a mountain of glass cells. They’re stacked together, all complete with a metal toilet inside. 

“We’ll house criminals from governments all over the world. The ones that can't risk getting out. Plus a few metahumans who cause… trouble. And any personal foes.”

You glare at him. “So this is it? The great Luthor legacy, controlling people who are different?”

He turns back, eyes sharper. “No. Protecting people who aren’t.”

That shuts you up. Not because he’s right, he’s definitely not, but because you see it now. The fear. The loathing. Not just for people like Superman. It’s for you, too. 

“Lex,” you start, softer. “You can’t protect the world from everything that scares you.”

He takes a step towards you. “I can try.”

The hideous creature stops the hovering platform at the edge of what looks like a science laboratory, but without any rooms. Just one big facility, hovering in the pocket universe. 

His hand brushes yours briefly, deliberately. A silent order to follow. You do. 

Towards the center of the lab hangs a hologram of Earth, tilted and spinning slowly. There’s a few red dots scattered around the globe, and below it, you see names and numbers. You stand and observe it while Lex walks to the other side, his face obscured in the digital static. 

He’s tracking metahumans. 

“Is this what PlanetWatch is really about?” you ask quietly. “Capturing and building cages for people like me?” 

Lex studies your face through the hologram. “You’re not like them. You didn’t ask for what’s in you.” 

“Neither did he,” you shoot back angrily. 

“Don’t compare yourself to him.” 

The silence stretches between you as the scientists in the lab clamor around.

Lex continues the circle around the globe till he’s back at your side. 

Finally, you exhale, giving him a grimace. “You know, if you hate Superman so much, maybe you should just make your own. Give him the morals you have. He’s invincible anyways, the only way to stop a Superman is Superman himself.”

Lex freezes. Just for a second. Then that look, the half smirk, half revelation spreads across his face. 

“Build my own,” he repeats, almost to himself, the words rolling off his tongue seductively. 

You raise an eyebrow. “It was a joke.” 

“Was it?” His tone is dangerously thoughtful. “Imagine it. A being with all his strength, none of his sentimentality. No hidden agenda. Loyal. Obedient.”

Your eyes shift around nervously. “You’re talking about creating a person.” You eye the grey figure standing on the platform. “Looks like last time you did that it didn’t end up so well.” 

Lex waves a hand dismissively. “I made Mr. Handsome when I was young. Cloning is much harder in a petri dish than it is now for me.” 

His eyes lock on yours. “Hmm.” 

He doesn’t need to say anything more. You can see it on his face, in the way his dark brows are slightly furrowed together. Whatever seed you just planted, it’s already growing. 

You sigh. “Remind me to stop trying to be funny around you.”

He’s already heading out of the science lab and back to Mr. Handsome platform. “You’d be surprised how often humor inspires progress.”

“Or disasters,” you muster, tailing behind him. 

He doesn’t disagree. 

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The car hums softly, pulling away from the now darkened camp. It’s late, time seems to have warped in the pocket dimension. Outside, you spot Metropolis, lights in the distance blurring into gold and blue in the tinted windows. 

Lex sits beside you, half-turned toward the view. You can feel the static in the air. The charge of his mind that won’t stop running. 

You could bet every Daily Planet dollar that he’s still thinking about what you said earlier. 

“You’re quiet,” you finally say, voice smaller, attempting to stop the machinery in his mind. 

“So are you.”

You give him a squinted side eye. “I didn’t think you’d take my joke about cloning Superman seriously. It’s a stupid one anyways.”

“I take everything seriously,” his mouth twitches into the ghost of a smile. “You should know that by now.” 

“That’s your problem. You don’t know when to let something stay hypothetical.” You cross your arms defensively now.

“Could be true. But I wouldn’t have built half this city if I let things stay hypothetical.”

You roll your eyes at his ego and turn to the window, though you can feel his gaze on the back of your neck. “Yeah. But what happens when you build something that you can’t control?” 

“I don’t.”

Your pulse skips. “Sure.”

Lex chuckles under his breath, reclines slightly, arms folding. The movement pulls his fitted coat open just enough for his cologne to drift between you. His left leg is almost touching your knee. The proximity is so natural you barely notice how close he is. 

Then you catch him watching you again. “What?” 

“You should wear that black dress again,” he says suddenly, out of nowhere.

You blink.

“Excuse me?”

“There’s a gala tomorrow night,” he continues, tone casual, but his expression isn’t. “WayneTech, politicians, investors. I need you there.” 

You scoff, now fully facing him. “Need me, or want me?”

“Both.” The answer is immediate. Simple. 

Honest. 

You bite the inside of your cheek, thrown off by his candor. “Why me? Don’t you have a whole department of PR who love smiling at cameras? Some smart scientist to show off?”

He lifts his head to look down at you, with an infuriating smirk. “None of them make headlines the way you do.” 

“You mean the headlines that get me kidnapped?” 

His jaw tightens, the briefest flash of guilt slipping before he masks it with his words. “You’ll be safe. I’ll make sure of it.” 

You close your eyes, head shaking, “Lex, I don’t-”

“Please.”

It snaps you alert. 

The same word as before. Hushed. Weighted. Strange coming from him. 

You stare at him, searching his demeanor for any trace of sarcasm, but come up dry. The mere word alone has caught you so off guard that you can't protest his request.

“...Fine.”

The car slows as it reaches the familiar tower. He steps out first, then pauses, holding the door open for you. 

The night air hits your skin, cool against the heat in your chest. He holds out a hand, and for the first time, you take it, allowing him to help you out of the car. 

“Good,” he says, voice low. He leans down to your ear. “Don’t worry about what to wear. I won’t have you wearing the same dress twice. I’ll have something sent up before tomorrow night.” 

You roll your eyes, letting go of his hand and brush past him toward the lobby. “Of course you will.”

He stands and watches you enter his apartment building, eyes lingering for a moment, taking in …you.

You, beautiful, genius, you.

Lex Luthor has everything he needs now. You just made it all click.

CHAPTER 14

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Your footsteps fall into an easy rhythm on your way to the bus stop. Because of the ride schedule, you’re often one of the first journalists to peep into work, so you take your time. 

There’s no urgency at work, deadlines are set far enough in advance for you to keep up, and you’re fairly self motivated. 

Flowers are just beginning to bud on the sidewalk trees, and a singular robin whistles from a roof.

Halfway down the block, your phone vibrates. 

You try to ignore it, but it pesters you. 

UNKNOWN NUMBER.

Your heart skips a beat, a familiar feeling rushing into your chest.

“Hello?” 

There’s a pause on the other end. 

“Are you okay?” 

You close your eyes at the sound of Lex’s voice. 

“Yes,” you respond softly. “I’m fine.” 

A beat of silence follows, as if he’s waiting for more. 

“I read your article.” 

“Mhmm.” 

“Munincipal zoning and procurement oversight.” 

You exhale a breathless laugh. “Riveting, I know.” 

“Almost as exhilarating as your old headlines,” he continues. 

There’s a pluck of longing in his words. 

Like he misses your old headlines. 

You resume walking, slower now. 

“How’s the new positon?” He asks. 

You shrug even though he can’t see. Your body can’t help it. It’s convincing itself that this call is even real. 

“It’s nice,” you say. “There’s not a whole lot that happens in this town. There’s more complaints about parking permits than metahumans flying around.” 

“Hmm,” he grunts, you’ve clearly struck an acquainted nerve. 

A wistful smile spreads across your face. 

“How’s the apartment?” He asks next. 

You blink, surprised at his question.

Then you realize he’s avoiding something in the conversation. 

“It's… small. But cozy. The bakery downstairs sometimes wakes me up in the morning but they give me free stuff all the time.” 

“Is your health okay?” 

“If you’re referring to my healing abilities, no, they haven’t come back. Unfortunately. I burned my hand on the stove yesterday. But other than that, I’m fine.” 

Another pause. 

“Good.”

You tighten your grip on the phone. 

This isn’t why he called. 

You know it. 

And he does too. 

Neither of you are wanting to steer the conversation in that direction. 

You touch the pendant that rests at your throat. 

“Lex.” 

The way you say his name stops whatever question he was about to ask next. 

“Yes.” 

The single word is quieter now. 

You stop walking. And the world seems to freeze for this moment in time. 

“I miss you.”

“Inconveniently, so do I.”

Your eyes begin to well with tears. 

“I love you.” 

Silence.

On the other end, you hear him draw in a breath, restrained, as though containing something that might escape if he allows it. 

For a brief second, you think he might say it. 

You wait. 

The line clicks.

You lower the phone slowly, staring at the screen until your dark reflection replaces the call timer.

A tear slips down your cheek before you can stop it.

You don’t wipe it away.

Behind you, the bakery door opens, releasing a rush of heat and cinnamon into the cold morning air. Someone laughs. A delivery crate thumps against concrete. It all brings you back to reality.

You release the grip you had on the necklace.

Listening to the ordinary sounds of the street as if they might steady you, you drop your phone back into your pocket. 

No one stops. No one notices. The world continues like the weight of the conversation never happened.

There won’t be a record of this call.

No headline.

You meant to expose his secrets. 

You never meant to become one.

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You pull the door shut behind you and open the garment bag fully, letting the dress spill into your hands. The fabric unfurls like liquid glass, cool and heavy, catching the light in shifting emerald waves. Sequins bloom across the bodice and skirt in the shapes of tiny flowers and ivy-like leaves, curling and crawling over one another as if they’re alive. When you tilt the dress, the embellishments shimmer in gradients, gold to green to nearly black.

You turn it over and your breath catches. The back dips low, held together by a delicate lattice of thin, gleaming straps. It’s elegant. Bold. A little dangerous. 

Very Lex Luthor.

It’s stunning. And for the first time today, you feel a spark of excitement buzzing beneath your ribs. You actually want to try this one on.

You glance at the clock. Two hours until the gala. Plenty of time, but you know Lex. The man would rather arrive early than arrive human.

You set the dress carefully across the bed, smoothing it out to avoid creases. Then you begin to prepare. Should you do an updo? Leave your hair more natural? Pinned back? 

You opt for a more subtle makeup look and hair, wanting the dress to be the center of attention. 

Finally, with your pulse quickening, you step into the gown. The fabric whispers up your legs as you pull it into place. The sequins kiss your skin, cool at first. When you put your arms through the thin straps and tie them together in the back, the dress settles perfectly against your curves. 

You open a cabinet where you’d seen a few bottles of perfume. No doubt Lex picked these out himself. They were double the price you’d pay for anything in your bathroom, and you made a mental note to look up the actual value of them later. 

A black sleek bottle catches your eyes and you take a short sniff to make sure you’re not putting anything vile on your skin. Hints of bergamot, jasmine, and smoky rose. It smells divine. You spray it sparingly on your collarbone and wrists, enveloping you in the fresh and seductive scent. 

One last glance at the clock reminds you that it’s almost time. Lex is in his own room, probably finishing his own preparation with a similar dose of cologne. 

You grab a clutch purse from the closet, a beige color that doesn’t steal away the attention from you, and you step out into the main living area. Your eyes watch the glittering sunset against the water on the horizon, surrounding the coastal city. 

For a moment, it’s almost…domestic and you’ve forgotten that Lex is the mastermind of a giant corporation and the demise of all metahumans. 

And that in your veins runs a mysterious power, and that the entirety of Metropolis isn’t sure if you’re a sellout or a genuine reporter. 

To Lex, you’ve become his muse and his aversion. 

“Wow.” 

The word snaps through the room, low and unrestrained. 

You turn sharply at the sound. Lex stands in his doorway, paused mid adjustment of his cufflinks. His eyes sweep over you, slow and meticulous before his expression cools off and lands back on your face. 

He’s dressed in a black dinner jacket with a custom white vest underneath. You’re surprised at the simplicity of it, no embellishments, no accents of colors, just pressed and deliberate. 

Maybe he chose subtlety on purpose. So that you’d stand out in the dress he put you in. The sequins, the straps, the color that perfectly compliments him. You’d be the first thing anyone would notice when you walk in beside him. 

For all his arrogance, Lex Luthor doesn’t often yield the spotlight.

He takes a few steps forward. “I think it’s missing something.” 

You look down at the dress briefly. “I think it’s too late for alterations.” 

Lex shakes his head and smirks, pulling out a thin velvet box out of his pocket. He passes it into your hands. 

“What’s this?” You ask before you open it. 

“The final touch.” 

Inside the box sits a thin gold chain with a singular emerald pendant. The dark tone of the jewel matches the rest of your outfit perfectly. 

“Here.” Lex reaches for the necklace, lifting it carefully. His fingers brush the gold, and he unclasps the chain. Then he pauses. Waiting.

You turn around without a word. 

He steps closer, enough that you feel the whisper of his breath against the back of your shoulders. The world narrows to the soft metallic click as he fastens the clasp behind your neck. His hands linger there for a second too long. 

When he finally releases the chain, the pendant drops against your skin with a cool, icy kiss. You inhale sharply. 

Lex doesn’t say anything but you feel the weight of his gaze on the back of your neck. The tension feels thick as you realize he’s waiting for you to acknowledge not just the necklace, but what it means. 

A gift. His final touch. 

You spin around and touch the necklace intuitively. 

“Thanks.” 

“Now we’re ready,” he says abruptly. He was expecting a snarkier response from you.

As he brushes past you, you notice in better detail the cufflinks on his wrists. They match the necklace like he ordered them in a set. 

He wants you, together, with him. 

Lex offers his arm as you both step into the hallway. It’s less an offer and more a silent expectation of ritual and chivalry. You take it anyways, refusing it would only amuse him. 

The ride down the elevator is quiet, but tension buzzes in the air. Your perfume and his cologne mix, moody and sophisticated. 

He rests his hand lightly over yours where it loops through his arm, thumb brushing once. He doesn’t look down or acknowledge the movement, though you can’t help but feel like it was deliberate. 

Instead of a usual black sedan, a limo drives you both to Metropolis Grand Hall. 

The flashes begin immediately. Reporters swarm, a few you recognize from the Daily Planet. They’re shouting variations of your name or his. It’s overwhelming and you want to shrink back into the shadows, but Lex’s hand on your lower back pushes you forward. Firm. 

Inside, the gala is an opulent cathedral of glass and gold. Politicians, other CEOs, and the occasional celebrity swirl together in expensive fabrics and shoes. 

Conversations hush as soon as Lex Luthor walks in. 

Then all eyes land on you.

“Lex,” a senator drawls, then turning to you with admiration,” and who might this be?” 

Lex’s hand slides a little higher on your back, fingers grazing the straps lightly. “My guest,” he says simply, but the way he says it makes the senator lift an amused brow. 

Your cheeks feel warm. 

The room proceeds after the initial moment of your entrance. Compliments flow nonstop from the affluent guests around you. 

“What a stunning dress.” 

“The color is magnificent on you.” 

“You two look incredible together.” 

You issue a few timid “thank yous” and on the occasion glance at Lex at his reaction to all the attention. 

He’s deflecting more of the compliments, as if every word is simply confirming what he already knew. 

A table ornate with a champagne bar catches your attention, and you drift towards it, needing space to breathe. Lex is in a conversation with another CEO, and the other man ignores your presence entirely, so you make an escape. 

Lex follows, predictably. Like gravity. 

You take two flutes and hand one to him.

“Relax,” you tease. “I’m not running away.” 

“Good,” he mutters, taking a sip, then leaning closer. “I’d hate to lose sight of you in a crowd of people like this. They don’t deserve to even look at you.” 

He reaches up and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear with a slow, deliberate sweep of his fingers. Your heart flutters. 

“You’re being very-”

“Honest?”

Your breath catches. “You… honest?” 

His lips twitch. “Don’t get used to it.” 

You pretend to scoff. 

As the night goes on, you nurse your drink consistently in an attempt to keep your throat capable of speaking. There’s so many people wanting to talk to you too, not just Lex. 

Waltz music floats down from a skilled string quartet positioned on a platform in the center of the room and a few people begin to sway and dance. 

Lex places a firm hand on your shoulder and you eye him, in the middle of a conversation with a young model with a bubbly attitude and streaky blonde hair. 

“Come,” he says once, then leaves your side. 

You wrap up the conversation with a few apologies then with heels clicking underneath, you catch up to Lex. 

“Yes?” You say, then your fingers betray you, unwilling to ignore the slight tilt of his tie. You reach up and fix it, and his eyes drop to your hands, then back to your face. Something dark flickers there. 

He clears his throat, touching his tie softly as to ensure that you did an adequate job. 

“I wanted to say-”

The music dips and an announcement begins, cutting him off before he can say anything. Dammit. You both turn to face the balcony where a taller man in a suit reads off a card. 

Lex’s hand on your spine returns, warm and steady. He’s been awfully touchy the entire night, not letting you get further than a few feet before pulling you back into his proximity. Anyone watching would think you’re his date or partner, not a random journalist like you were before. 

The thought burns through you. 

And what exactly was he about to say? You’re praying for the announcement to end quickly when-

A shout. 

A crash.

A chair skids across the marble. 

You spin just in time to see a man lunging through the crowd, face wild, a gun drawn and aimed directly at Lex. 

“LUTHOR!” 

Gasps ripple. And security is moving too slowly, the man is practically sprinting over tables and chairs in your direction. Lex’s body tenses, calculating the trajectory, taking steps away from the advancer. 

It’s like life moves in slow motion. 

You don’t think. 

You move. 

Your heels skid on the floor as you push Lex behind you and throw yourself between him and the gunman. The shot rings out like thunder. 

A white hot explosion erupts across your chest and the entire room rises in screams and chaos. You choke, stumbling backward into Lex’s arms. 

Everything is blurry except the pain, as usual, sharp and burning. Lex’s voice cuts through the fog. 

“No. Stay with me, stay with me.” 

As guests scramble the room, he pulls you behind a column as guards tackle the shooter. The world spins violently, but you can feel the blood stopping already. 

The wound crawls under your hands where you cover your chest, skin starting to knit together. It’s slower. 

The deeper and more intense the wound, the slower the healing. Hopefully your lungs and heart didn’t take too much of the force. 

“What the hell were you thinking?!” 

You give him a lethargic smile. “I’m fine, see?” You lift up a hand covered in your own blood, and show that the wound is already stitching itself up. 

Lex grabs your face in both hands, furious. “You are not fine. You were shot, you-”

“But I lived!” you argue back, voice thin. “Lex, I’m okay, my powers, if I hadn’t”

“I don’t care about them!” He snaps.

You freeze. 

He’s shaking. Actually shaking. He never loses control, but now he looks like a man witnessing his worst nightmare come to life. 

“If you died…” he warns, voice low in wrath. “I-”

He cuts himself off. Looks away. Breathing heavy. 

You shake your head, chest throbbing now from phantom pain. You can feel your body push out the bullet that was still in your chest, the healing process almost complete. 

“I jumped in front of you because you wouldn’t have healed,” you whisper. “You would have died!” 

His jaw flexes, blue eyes dragging back to your face with something unguarded and devastating. 

“I have security, he wouldn’t have shot me.” 

“Then why are we still here? I saved your life-”

“And you think I want that?” he hisses. “You think I want to watch you bleed for me? Take a bullet for me?”

Your heart stutters. Maybe it’s just the final veins and arteries wiring back into place. 

Around you, the world is shouting, panicked and in terror. But in this tiny bubble behind the column, it’s only you and him, and the jagged reality of the moment. 

And the truth hangs in the air. 

He could’ve lost you. 

You could’ve lost him. 

Without your healing powers, the night would have been a catastrophic tragedy. 

And neither of you knows how to handle that.

CHAPTER 15

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You realize just how filthy you are when he sets you briefly on the edge of the bed. Your clothes are torn and dusted with dirt and grime, your skin streaked with dried blood. You smell like iron, smoke, and sweat. Lex’s eyes sweep over you once, jaw tight, and he mutters, “Not like this.”

Before you can ask what he means, he’s already tearing off his tie, tossing it aside. He pushes up his sleeves, movements brisk but purposeful, then bends to hook his arms under you again.

“What are you-”

“You need to be cleaned up.” He states, voice short. “I’m not leaving you like this.

Hm. Normally, such a statement would have resulted in a snarky comeback from you, but you were too exhausted to even bicker. And he was right. 

“Let’s go” He guides you towards the bathroom, ignoring your swearing with every step. 

Lex sets you down on the edge of the closed toilet, then makes his way to the shower, pushing up his sleeves more, and turning on the water. You watch as he sticks his hand under the stream, pulling it out when it reached a decent temperature. 

He turns back to you, then narrows his eyes, as if calculating just exactly how this was going to work out. 

“I can handle myself,” you say, as if reading his mind. 

He glances at your bruised wrist. It’s halfway healed.

Then to the buttons on your shirt. 

You huff and start undoing them with your good hand, awkwardly but slowly. “See?” You try to prove, but unfortunately they broke your dominant hand. 

Then he steps forward. He crouches down to your level, and lifts his hands to your chest. “Let me.”

He doesn’t give you options. You drop your hands and exhale, avoiding eye contact with him as he undoes your shirt in seconds. 

Your heart is hammering in your chest. 

“I-I can do the rest,” you stammer once he finishes, leaving your chest partially exposed. Your face feels hotter than normal, and you’re desperate for some distance. 

“Fine.” He takes a step forward and turns around so his back is to you. 

You realize he’s not going to leave you alone. It’s a silent invitation to undress. 

Although you’d never admit that a small part of you wants to undress for Lex, you just didn’t expect it to happen under these circumstances. 

You clumsily peel off the rest of your clothes, eyes fixed on his broad back in case he decides to whirl around. The act of sliding off your skirt sends a bolt of pain through your broken leg, and you bite your cheek hard enough to stifle the cry that wants to escape. 

The skirt hits the floor with a muted thump.

“Ready?” He asks, as if he hasn’t been listening to every tiny sound you make. 

“Can you hand me a towel or something at least?” 

Lex exhales like you’re the one being difficult. “I won’t look.” 

But he grabs one anyways, extending it behind him without a glance, and you snatch it quickly to wrap around yourself. 

He turns around just as you cover yourself adequately, then helps you back to your feet and to the shower. He slides the frosted glass to the side, then averts his gaze, allowing you to slip off the towel and hand it to him as you step under the stream of water. 

Lex lingers just outside the glass without another word. 

You lean against the shower wall and let the hot water run over your body, washing off the harsh environment you were rescued from. You pass a foamy hand over fading scars and bruises, and while most of them aren’t in any pain, you play back the moments, recoiling slightly at the memory. 

Your shin is… starting to heal. You can sense it. But like your broken wrist, it’s taking its sweet time recovering. 

A sharp knock raps against the glass. “Enough.” 

“Ugh,” you groan, but turn off the faucet obediently. 

His silhouette waits outside, clutching the towel. As you crack open the shower door, you start to wobble, and he grabs your arm to keep your balance. 

“Careful, he rumbles, and while keeping his eyes trained on the space above your head, he wraps the towel around you in one smooth motion. Once you adjust it under your arms, his eyes shift back to yours. 

He doesn’t lift his steadying hands off of your shoulders. His gaze flickers to your glistening collarbone, then back up.  

“Wait here. I’ll get you some clothes.”

He allows you to lean back against the wall as he disappears back through the door, then returns with a neatly folded pile. 

“Thanks,” you mumble, taking the pile in your one good hand. “I think I got this.” 

He gives you a calculating look, as if assessing if you were capable of dressing yourself, then shakes his head doubtfully and leaves the room. 

Once the door shuts, you pull the clothes on as best as you can, grateful he picked out sweatpants and a simple shirt, biting back a hiss as your leg protests every movement. 

When you finally emerge from the bathroom door he lifts his head ever so slightly, his eyes looking down at you. 

“You’re still limping,” he says flatly, approaching you. “Must take a while for you to recover from broken bones.” 

“Excellent observation, Sherlock,” you mutter, adjusting the hem of your oversized shirt. 

He ignores your comment, and instead, steps into your space. Without another word, he slips an arm familiarly around your waist like before, lifting you off your broken leg. He’s slightly hunched over to reach you, and his hand rests warmly on your waistband. 

A rush of nerves tingles through you. 

“Bed.” He orders, then guides you forward to the mattress. 

You want to argue with him. You should argue, but when you take your first step and a sudden flash of pain shoots up your leg, he’s there. Lex practically lifts you off the floor, and guides you across the room till you’re at the edge of your mattress. 

He doesn’t just abandon you either. Lex lowers you gently, letting you first sit on the sheets, then lifts your broken leg gently on top, with the utmost reverence as to not cause any more suffering to you. 

You watch him through heavy eyes as he adjusts your pillows, slides another beneath your knee to ease the swelling, his hands lingering on your leg longer than necessary. His brows are furrowed, every movement deliberate. 

He knows you’ll be healed by the morning. 

He knows that the pain will be over soon once your body reverts. 

And yet, he’s here, hovering over you, with an expression you hadn’t actually seen before without the guise of jealousy. 

There’s no arrogance in his face. And he’s not drunk either. 

Knuckles graze your calf as he adjusts the blanket over you. You feel the heat of his hand after he pulls back. 

His hand lands on the headboard above your head to steady himself before making one last adjustment to your pillow. 

Then his eyes lock onto yours 

It’s completely silent in the room. 

“Lex,” you whisper, fighting to keep your eyes open, voice frayed at the edges. 

His hand curls tighter on the headboard, muscles straining as he leans closer. His gaze flicks to your lips, just for a second, and for a heartbeat you’re certain he’ll break. That he’ll let go of control. 

The room is suffocating. The weight of his breath, the gravity of him looming over your defeated body. 

But then he exhales sharply, and releases the headboard. He rises slowly, and keeps his eyes trained on you. 

“You’ll be fine by the morning,” he says flatly, stripped of any softness. “Try to not get kidnapped again until then.”

He turns on his heels and aggressively rolls down his sleeves, leaving you staring after him. 

Your chest aches, and before you can name the feeling, you’re blacked out. 

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By morning, every sharp pain in your body is gone. 

Erased. 

The scientists hanging over you, their vile grins and academic excitement at your pain and healing process, well… that remains clear as day. 

And last night. Lex Luthor, helping you undress, guiding you to your mattress, hanging just inches away from your face…

You sit up in bed. Around you are the pillows he propped up, and over your body rests the blanket he gently laid over yourself. 

Where is that Lex now?

Probably calculating his next move with the military force he has full reign over. 

Or maybe figuring out a way to reverse your healing abilities. 

A darker thought crosses your mind for a second. 

…Or maybe he knew. He knew and he let them take you. After all, Lex Luthor is driven by innovation, by science, by intelligence. Maybe he wanted them to test you, for him. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time Lex bent the world to get exactly what he wanted. 

The way he not only carried you out of the lab, gunning down every single scientist, with rage in his eyes, but also delicately helped you take a shower, and put you down in your bed… it didn’t fit the picture. 

Still, you can’t shake the suspicion. 

But in the end, he’s probably not actually thinking about you. 

You as in, the normal you. The you that causes his control to slip, just even for a second, to reveal the sliver of humanity underneath his well-tailored armor. 

Roll out of bed, landing on your newly healed leg, you exhale. Wiggling your toes, enjoying the freedom from torment. 

You make your way out of the guest room. 

Lex… is home. He looks up at you from the couch. There’s no phone in hand, no distraction, he’s simply waiting for you. 

You take a step closer into the living area, and perch on the arm of a sofa adjacent from him. 

“I’m all better,” you say, pointing to your leg, and showing it off. 

His eyebrows are practically fused together in deep, intense thought. 

“What?” 

He speaks up finally after a long sigh. “The medic that helped you. I traced your kidnapping back to her. She mentioned the phenomenon to a friend, someone who worked for Cale-Anderson Pharmaceuticals. They have a branch just outside Metropolis. That’s how they found out. How they found you.” 

Your heart drops. As a journalist, you know first hand that word spreads fast. But damn, you didn’t expect it to be that fast. 

“Lex, that’s impossibly fast,” you muse, sliding off the arm of the sofa and standing. “Too fast.” 

His blue eyes narrow. “What are you suggesting?” 

You swallow, and fold your arms, like you’re defending yourself. “Of all people, you’d be the first to experiment and test on something, someone like me.”

Lex’s lips curl at the corners. “And?” 

Your blood runs cold in your veins. Is he baiting you?

“And… so maybe the kidnapping was your idea.”

The smirk stays spread on his face as he pushes off the sofa and rises to his feet slowly. He takes a step towards you. 

“Is it true?”

Lex lets out a low chuckle. “No. If I wanted to get all the data from your new DNA, I wouldn’t let some inferior scientists in a warehouse do it. I’d get it myself. That’s what we were going to do today, but luckily I scraped their databases for all the test results they ran on you. I have everything I need, for now.”

He tilts his head and continues, “and don’t worry darling, I wouldn’t have been so cruel. I'd've put you under a heavier sedative for the rest.”

This absolute, son of a-

Your hands clench in fists tighter than the slick necktie around Lex’s collar. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” 

“Not better, just more informed. You accuse me of orchestrating your abduction, but then you give me too little credit.”

You gawk at him. “So you don’t care that they strapped me down like a lab rat and tortured me. All you really care about is just getting your answers.”

He doesn’t flinch at your accusation. If anything, he seems entertained. 

“They proved that your body is worth more than you realize. And that makes you a liability. A dangerous one. One obviously where people would go to lengths to kidnap you.”

“A liability?” You’re almost fuming. 

In one swift motion, Lex catches your hand. His thumb drags slowly across the inside of your wrist, the one that had been broken yesterday, now fused back together. He studies it like it’s proof of a secret only he knows. For a moment, he’s captivated. 

Then he drops your hand. 

He closes the space between you with deliberate calm. One hand lifts, settling against your cheek. His palm is warm, his touch startling gentle for the same man who killed an entire team of scientists just to save you. He caresses your skin the same way he did your wrist. 

Curious.

Controlling. 

Reverent. 

“Yes,” he says quietly, blue eyes piercing yours. “A liability. But not one I’m willing to lose.” His thumb lingers just beneath your lips, sending your pulse racing. His voice drops lower. “I won’t let anyone take you from me again.” 

The words hang heavy, the weight of his confession pressing down on you. Something human, no, passionate flashes in his eyes before it vanishes behind the usual steel. 

You feel it in his touch, in his words. You belong to him, and he knows it. 

And maybe worse, you want it. 

Abruptly, he pulls back, hand leaving your skin like a sudden chill. He snatches his pinstripe jacket off the sofa, movements clipped, precise.

“Get some more rest,” he tosses without looking back, his tone back to business. “Don’t even think about leaving the penthouse. We’ll decide what to do with you tomorrow.”

CHAPTER 13

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“Oh,” you laugh, faking a smile. “I went for a drive after the bar to clear my mind. I’ve been thinking a lot about some columns I want to write and I guess it kept me up late.” 

Lois nods. It doesn’t seem like she believes you, but at least she drops the conversation. 

You both trudge back into the bullpen and drop into your desks. 

Clark shoots a smile your way, but you’re oblivious to it, already engrossed in Lex’s folder you brought to work. 

You stare at it for a moment, and then open it. You’ve discarded the extremely personal information in the first half of the folder in your apartment, no one, not Lex or your coworkers need to be seeing all of that. Now it’s just your article. 

You read over each line, taking more time on the lines that were altered or added in to see how different they were than the rest of your writing. 

Did Lex edit this himself? Did he have some other minion work on it for him? How invested was he really in protecting his reputation?

The clock ticks on your desk. Only six more hours till your meeting with him. Time seems to move faster as you were dreading seeing Lex again. 

You don’t have all day. Better to get this tabloid over with sooner than later. Heaven forbid you get docked points by turning in your assignment late.

LuthorCorp May Be Watching From Inside Your Apartment, you open up the file saved on your computer. It hits you that someone’s hacked in so that Lex Luthor could get access to it and make his edits.

“You’re awfully quiet today,” 

Jimmy’s voice right in your ear almost makes you jump out of your seat. 

“Geez. You scared me,” you scoff, turning in your chair to face him. 

“Sorry. You’re scaring me more. What’s got you all tight lipped?” 

“Enjoy the silence for once. Maybe you can actually get a headline done in time now.” 

Jimmy gasps and clutches his chest in fake shock. “I do get my work done on time.” 

You shake your head. “I’m joking. I’m trying to get this article out by today.”

He peers over your shoulder. “More Luthor Leaks?” He fails to see the manilla folder in front of you that has your writing, accompanied with red text typed out every other paragraph.

You tap your chin. “Hey. That’s not a bad name for a section.” 

“Give me some credit at least if you use it!” 

“Nope. It’s mine now.” 

He rolls his eyes, then strolls back over to his desk, ignoring you for the rest of the day. You’re relieved he didn’t pry more. You were dying to tell someone about last night, and you would’ve let everything out had Jimmy prompted. 

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. Without thinking, you pull it out and check the notification. 

“Writer’s block?”

It’s a random number, but you don’t need to be a genius to know it’s definitely Lex. 

“Seriously?” You mutter under your breath. Get a life.

You ignore the text and go back to typing up the changes to your column.

An hour passes by, and it’s all done. It was verbatim to the version Lex gave you. 

How bad would it be if I changed one or two lines? 

Would he notice? Probably. But you couldn’t be completely subject to his demands. After all, it’s still your article. And you didn’t plan on changing much. Just maybe omitting a line or two that was more on the complimentary side of LuthorCorp’s innovations. 

There. It’s not perfect, but better than letting him have absolute control.

You forward it to your reviewer, and now wait for the final OK. 

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“Have a great weekend everyone!” You wave, grabbing your jacket and heading out of the Daily Planet. You get a few “goodbyes” and waves back, no one questions your punctuality for leaving at the end of the work day. At least for now. 

As you pass through the revolving door, you glance at your watch. 

5:01 p.m.

Another text buzzes through. “You’re late.” 

“Ugh! Give me a break,” You sigh, throwing your head back.

“I’m worth the wait.” You text back quickly, hoping that Lex understands you’re completely joking. 

You spot a black car pulling up to the curb out of the corner of your eye. A man with sunglasses, an earpiece and black LuthorCorp jacket steps out. He says something quietly into his comms, then opens the back door for you to get in. You trudge over to him and step in the car, shooting daggers at the driver. The car door closes and you’re whisked away, the Daily Planet and the city around turning into a blur of cars and traffic. 

“What do you think about Lex Luthor?” You ask the driver. 

No response. 

“Yeah me too,” You grumble, leaning against the window. 

LuthorCorp’s headquarters is only a ten minute drive from your office. The driver pulls into a parking garage. Two men wait at the corner and open your door. They’re wearing bulletproof vests and have weapons strapped to them. 

You’re flattered that Lex thinks you need all this…security. 

I can’t be that much of a threat.

To your surprise, one grabs your hands and you flinch, not expecting your movement. In milliseconds, there’s handcuffs on you, again. 

“Is this necessary?” 

“Listen ma’am, we just follow instructions.” You turn around. It’s your driver that spoke. 

Before you can respond, your two body guards shove you forwards, leading you down hallways, through biometric locked doors, up elevators, until you arrive at the CEO’s office. 

One of the guards knocks on the door, and from the inside you hear a faint, “come in.” They push open the door and let you enter first.

Lex’s office is high up in the building, with large glass windows overlooking the city of Metropolis. You can see the big Daily Planet sphere from here, but it’s small in comparison to the loftiness of LuthorCorp. Wooden bookshelves line the back wall, flanking a large screen that displays a serene landscape. An oddly peaceful touch in a building with such an icy atmosphere. 

And the billionaire himself sits patiently at his desk, fingers clasped together, watching you walk in. 

He rises to his feet when you get closer and shoos the bodyguards away, leaving the two of you alone together. 

“Have a seat,” he chirps, motioning for you to sit in one of the beige leather chairs across his glassy desk. His eyes stay trained on you as you awkwardly sit on the edge of the seat, unable to fully relax with your hands fixed behind you. 

“Let me get that,” he circles the table and stands right behind your chair. He pulls keys out of his pocket and lifts your wrists with one hand, unlocking the cuffs with the other. His touch is disarmingly gentle as he slips them off. Goosebumps prickle the skin on your neck, and you’re begging internally that he can’t see them. 

He tosses the cuffs on his desk, and they clatter loudly. Although you could sit more comfortably now, you don’t fully ease up now. You’re tense, sharp, waiting for Lex’s next game. 

“How was work today?” Lex asks lightheartedly, taking a step away from you. 

“Let’s just get this over with.” 

“Oh,” he sneers, “Impatient, aren’t we.” 

He starts to pace around the room. 

“Well you see, you didn’t follow my instructions.” 

You refuse to meet his gaze. “Yes, I did, I published the article.” 

Lex pokes a pendulum on one of his bookshelves, setting it off into a slow rhythmic swing. The steady clicking fills the silence - and grates against your nerves. 

His lack of urgency is maddening.  

You anxiously twist the bracelet on your wrist, fingers restless, trying to ignore the suffocating tension in the room. 

“Hm, you published your article, not ours.”

He walks back over to his desk, and settles into his chair, leaning back. “I don’t appreciate it when you disobey me.” 

“I can make my own decisions, you know. Besides, I didn’t change that much.”

Lex smirks. “How defiant. I like that. I honestly expected you to just publish it exactly how it was, but you’re bolder than you let on.” 

He sits forward in his chair, places an elbow on the table and perches his chin atop his hand. “But don’t worry. You’ll get used to doing things my way. Most people do.” 

“I’m not used to my work being reviewed by a billionaire. Don’t you have more important things to do, like running your company?” You retort, folding your arms. 

He said it himself. 

Lex Luthor likes defiant.  

“Your articles are gaining quite the following online, and unfortunately, it’s bad for business. But since you’ve proven to be influential, we’re going to put your words to better use.” He slides his chair closer and adjusts his cuffs. 

“We’ll meet after you’re done working, every day. Your new source will be me, I will give you what I want you to write about. I’ll review your columns once you’ve written them and we’ll outline future pieces during off days.” 

You blink. “Every day?” 

“What? Do you have somewhere else to be?” He laughs in counterfeit disbelief. 

“I have a life! This is… torture!” You snap, standing so quickly your chair nearly topples over. 

Lex stands too, much more calmly. 

“Torture, is what will happen if you don’t agree,” he says flatly, making his way over to you. “I promise it won’t be as miserable as you think.”

As he closes the distance between, you spin to face him. Even with your heels, he towers over you, leaning down slightly to reach your level. 

“Consider it an opportunity, to work with the most successful billionaire in the world. I think you’ll find my accommodations, comfortable.” 

You straighten your back. “Go to hell, Luthor,” you hiss, struggling to maintain eye contact with him.

Lex smiles menacingly, cleverly aware that despite your words, you’re trembling ever so slightly. 

But yet, managing to stand up to him. 

“This will be fun,” he muses, satisfaction dripping with each word. 

As if on cue, the two body guards burst into the room. Lex hands them the handcuffs on the desk, and they snap them back onto you, and drag you away. You remain silent, but keep your eyes trained on him as they pull you out of his office, scowling at him till you’re no longer in his view. 

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It was as if you blinked and the weekend was over. 

A chime dings from your computer, breaking your dazed stare from the muted newsfeed playing above your desk. .  

It’s them. Your anonymous dealer. 

“This just in. New LuthorCorp initiative, PlanetWatch.”

You minimize the message just as Lois walks by, oblivious. In seconds, the fax machine in the corner of the bullpen whirs on. You casually make your way over, glancing around as you snatch the fresh sheets before anyone else notices. 

It’s not a lot of pages, but you’re a journalist, used to working with scarcity. There’s a vague mission statement. Intel on some high tech suits and weaponry. It’s unclear what it’s actually for, but anything military related coming from LuthorCorp would be riveting. 

You tuck the packet under your arm and walk back to your desk, where your inbox chimes again. 

From: [email protected]

Subject: University Column

“Draft something constructive. A LuthorCorp-sponsored institution is launching in the fall. It’s a surprise since you and I are the only ones who know about it. STEM-focused. Attached outline included.” 

You roll your eyes. What a convenient distraction. 

The “PlanetWatch” tip was far more exciting. He could at least have given you something more dramatic than… a school. 

You huff, and open a new file, beginning the draft. Reluctantly of course. It doesn’t take long to get through the university plan’s documents and start to form an outline for the column. 

Your words are dry, uninspired, factual. Then you sharpen the tone slightly. Just kicking it up a notch. Like rather than describing the new university as “visionary”, you use “ambitious”. You poke at the lateness of the announcement, after all, how were worthy candidates going to apply if the word didn’t get out fast enough? 

There. Balanced, praiseworthy and a little skeptical. 

You print the draft and slip it into a folder. The PlanetWatch documents stay hidden in your desk drawer, for now. 

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Same driver, same car. But thankfully no handcuffs this time. They were more humiliating and inconvenient over everything. 

You’re surprised when the elevator doesn’t stop at Lex’s office floor. Instead the doors open at a lower level, leading to a rooftop courtyard between the building’s towers. It’s a small space covered with simple flowers, a couple benches, and glass architecture. 

Lex waits by the glass railing, staring out at the skyline. 

“Change of scenery,” he says, not turning, blue eyes fixed on the concrete jungle landscape.  “I thought it might help you think more clearly.” 

You approach him cautiously, following the cement trail towards him, printed draft in hand. 

“New college initiative,” you muse dryly. “How thoughtful.” 

He turns to you and looks at the paper in your hands. Without a word, and keeping his steel gaze trained on you, he grabs it and immediately skims the front, and without hesitation, drops it into a trash bin that’s sitting against the railing. 

You blink. “What-” 

He remains emotionless, reaching into his smooth charcoal suit and pulling out his own copy, your draft. 

But edited.

“I thought this was a collaborative effort.”

Lex breaks. “It is,” he smirks. “I already made the changes I want to.” 

Okay. If you weren’t sure before, now you know, he definitely has access to your computer. You swallow, thinking about the message you got from your anonymous source. 

Mental note: I’ve gotta cut off ties with them.

He starts to saunter around the path of the garden. You follow him. 

“I like to stay ahead,” he says, handing you the new draft. You scan it quickly, almost relieved that there’s only a few changes. 

Lex catches the quiet sigh that leaves your lips and smiles to himself. He wants cooperation, not to break you. It’s becoming far more satisfying to win your mind than to completely drag you along unwillingly. 

“We make a great team, can’t wait to reach it in the newspaper tomorrow,” he adds, nudging your shoulder gently.

You grit your teeth. “You mean, I do all the work, then you get all the credit in the end.” 

He ignores your comment, and stops at the other end of the courtyard, and leans against the railing calmly. “So the university, what do you think?”

Shrugging, you place your hands on the edge of the rail and allow yourself to lean over slightly, looking down at the busy small streets below. “It’s different.”

“That wasn’t a compliment, was it?” 

You don’t answer. He takes a step closer, and you avoid his gaze, looking at his flawless shiny shoes. 

“What, do you think I’m completely evil?” he laughs. 

Your eyes dart up to his, cocking your head narrowly. “Is that a trick question?”

He folds his arms, looking amused. “Unless… there’s something else on your mind.” 

A trap. He’s waiting for you to slip. Making you give away your source. 

You might not be as intelligent as the Lex Luthor, but you’re no dummy yourself. 

“No. Nothing else on my mind,” you remark smoothly. “Just thinking about how lucky I am to work with someone as generous as you, funding a bright future for the next generation."

You flash him a smile. All teeth, all fake.  

He stands a little straighter, eyes narrowing. Something unreadable flickers across his face, gone before you can really notice.

It’s the first time he’s seen you smile. Even if it’s a fake one, it makes him feel…

Disarmed. 

CHAPTER 4

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TAGLIST: @hsgvhhi @warmestsugarcookie @idratherbesleepingrn  @boy-eater11 @purplefluffycows @high-functioning-cosplayer @amndstuckinwonderland @boba-is-a-soup @indigo703 @otakusimp1 @ihatecaloriez @selfishlycalculatingvisitor @leo4242564 @fictionalmutt @thebeatupgeneration @senatorpadmeamidala @sadgrayrainbows @cultven @biodegradable-glitter-fest @diasnohibng @lovely-seb

Lex turns abruptly, striding down a sand path. “I suggest you keep up,” he calls back to you over his shoulder. “You don’t exactly have the clearance to be here. Trespassers don’t fare well.” 

You clutch your heels tighter and jog after him, muttering under your breath. 

“I’m pleased you actually took the medication.” 

You frown. “Why?” 

Lex chuckles. “It’s actually only been tested on monkeys. You’re the first human subject.” 

“What?” You shout, shaking your head in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?”

“Relax. You’re still alive, right? And you’re not sick. It worked.” 

You flip off his stupid bald head. 

He doesn’t look back. 

“Put your shoes on.”

“Have you ever tried walking on the beach with heels on?” You fire back, enraged by his sheer audacity. 

He hums. “You’ll need something more practical. You’ll be coming back here again.” 

It’s not a suggestion. It’s an order. 

And you groan. 

The camp unfolds around you. Soldiers pitching tents, technicians running cables into huge generators, guards pacing the perimeter. It's controlled chaos. 

A glint of metal to your right catches your eye. From a smaller tent, emerges a towering figure, clad in green and black armor, weapons strapped to every inch. The helmet closely resembles a spider’s face with multiple “eyes”. 

You falter as three more follow, their heavy suits clattering. One removes their helmet. 

Officer Ludlow. 

You were surprised you still remembered his name.

He spots you immediately, a grin splitting his face as he jogs awkwardly in the armor. 

“Miss Harper,” he greets you, ducking his head in a short bow. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” 

“I wasn’t planning on being here, but congrats on the upgrades,” you eye his suit. 

He beams. You notice his dimples and your face feels just a few degrees warmer. 

“Check it out,” he turns in a circle slowly, allowing you to admire the suit. “Raptor unit.” 

You can’t hold back a short giggle. “You look ridiculous.” 

Ludlow reads your sarcasm. “Come on. I know you’re jealous. Maybe ask Mr. Luthor to make one for you. Though they might not make them in your size.” 

You open your mouth to speak- 

And someone behind you clears their throat. 

Ludlow snaps to attention. You don’t even need to turn around to see who it is. 

“I apologize for my secretary’s… behavior. I assure you she won’t be distracting you for the rest of the evening,” Lex sneers, taking a step forward. 

He dismisses Ludlow. He hurries off back to his three fellow Raptors. 

Once the officer was out of sight, Lex clasps his hands behind his back and turns to you. 

You whirl on Lex. “Secretary? I am not your secretary.” 

That damn smirk. “Though I’m sure you’d like to be.”

Your mouth gapes open. 

“You’ve been begging for it.”

It hits you again. Just like that night at the press conference. His hand brushing against yours. 

He’s marking his territory. 

He won’t admit to kissing you, but he sure as hell won’t let anyone else touch you. 

Two can play that game. 

“But you’re too scared to make me your secretary,” you counter, letting your words land deliberately. “You’d have to actually promote me. A reward for all my…hard work.” 

Your gaze slides down Lex’s perfectly tailored suit. Slowly.  

And you give him a rare sight: a smile. 

Lex glowers back. 

Victory tastes sweet. 

But before you can really savor it, he changes the conversation. “We’re testing the pocket dimension tonight.” 

You tilt your head in confusion. “Am I supposed to know what that is?” 

He straightens his tie. “If you were any accredited scientist, yes. But they’re only theoretical. Until I started making them.” 

“Okay…” 

Lex points to the largest tent, the furthest from the water. “We have one there-”

Then he jabs his finger west. “And one about a mile that way. We’re testing a full scale version of them now as we continue to set up camp.” 

He checks his watch. “We’re about five minutes to demonstration. Come.”

He strolls to a red cooler, popping it open, and tosses you a beer bottle. You catch it one-handed. 

“Let’s get a good view,” he hums, heading towards a half ring of chairs facing the tent. 

You sigh, barefoot in the sand, beer in hand, and follow.  

Sitting in the vacant seat next to Lex, you look around nervously at the other scientists waiting. Some are in white lab coats, others are in… patterned Hawaiian shirts. You’re not sure what the vibe exactly is, but at least you don’t stand out among the conglomerate of personnel. 

You lean over to a scientist with thick glasses. “What’s a pocket universe?” 

He looks at you like you just asked the stupidest question on planet earth. In Lex’s world, you most certainly just did. 

“Fine,” you groan to yourself, shifting away from him. 

Two technicians open the tent flap, revealing a circular structure, about the height of the Raptors. One of the techs starts flicking on switches, and the machine powers to life, a low hum vibrating the sand beneath your feet. 

You glance at Lex. He’s calm, watching the setup unfold intently. 

“Is this safe?” You ask him, voice raised over the noise of the camp. 

“We’ve tested it on a smaller scale hundreds of times. There shouldn’t be any issues.” 

A scientist scribbles numbers down on their clipboard and says something under their breath. 

You’re not convinced. 

The second technician in the large tent holds up three fingers, then after a moment, yanks down the biggest lever. 

A low hum swells into a roar. The machine's inner ring flares up, blue lights sparking and pulsing. It grows brighter and brighter-

Too bright. 

“Stop!” Lex lunges out of his chair, but it’s too late. 

The machine explodes. 

The blast rips across the camp, blowing over tents and hurling bodies into the sand. The shockwave slams you into the ground backwards and suddenly you're flat in the sand.

Everything goes dark. 

You cough, spitting grit, trying to push up on your arms. A stabbing pain shoots down your right arm, hot and sharp. Your legs are shaking and scream when you move. 

You try to cry out, but all that comes is a hoarse squeak. Sand has coated your throat down to your lungs, and you gag, coughing harder until there’s stars dancing in your vision. 

Through the ringing in your ears and blurred eyesight, you make out Lex. He’s already on his feet, brushing himself off. A Raptor soldier to his left stumbles to the side and you can see his suit is scorched from the blast. He must have thrown himself in front of Lex. 

He’s unscathed. 

Around you, the camp is in disarray. Soldiers groan, scientists drag themselves to their feet, and medics are rushing to pull people off the ground. Someone beside you cradles a broken arm, another bleeds through her lab coat. 

You glance at yourself. A jagged gash runs down from your shoulder to elbow, and you’re bleeding, a lot. The pain finally registers, and it’s unbearable. 

You bite your tongue, fighting the urge to scream. 

A medic sprints to Lex. He barks something at her, and her head snaps over to you. She abandons him immediately, racing over to… you.

“Luthor wants you treated, now.” She crouches, reaching her hand out to you. “Can you stand?” 

You nod, even though you’re only fifty percent sure. She hauls you up, your legs nearly buckling. White-hot pain slices your arm again. 

“Sorry,” she mutters, wrapping a steady arm around your waist, half-dragging you to a nearby tent. Inside, there’s a few other medics tending to scientists, presumably important to Lex. 

She sits you down on a bench, opens a kit, and presses a pre-soaked towel to your arm. 

You yell, jerking away, but she holds down your arm. 

“Stay still, I know it hurts, but I need to clean out the sand. You’re lucky this is pretty surface level” 

Tears sting your eyes as she continues to press the cloth, alcohol searing the gash. 

She stops. “There. Worst part’s over. I’ll bandage you, then we’ll transfer you to LuthorCorp’s labs. Luthor doesn’t want this incident to go public.” 

You sit up straighter. “Why not a hospital? This really hurts.” 

She nods and shuffles through the first aid kit. She pulls out a syringe. 

“Painkiller,” she says before sticking it into your shoulder. The prick of the needle is incompatible to the pain you’re already feeling. A few moments later, the throbbing starts to subside. 

“S.T.A.R. labs is racing him to the pocket-universe tech. He wouldn’t want them finding out that he had a failure. He’d rather they experience it themselves too,” she starts, while unwrapping gauze for your arm. 

“In my opinion, it’s a stupid idea, I’ve heard of the dangers of opening a pocket universe but-” She’s still rambling when suddenly she freezes. 

Her eyes widen. 

“What the hell-”

Your heart stops. “What? What’s wrong?”

She drops the gauze into her lap and grabs your arm, moving it to get a better look at the gash. 

“The cut, it’s… closing.” 

You whip your head down. The torn skin is knitting itself together. As the edges pull tight together, it leaves a thick scar. Within seconds, the gash is gone. 

The pain is gone too. Probably in part from the shot, but mostly because your wound is healed. 

You press a finger to the scar, skeptically. 

“Hey!” The medic snaps, batting your hand away, but then she mimics your action, poking the scar. Her eyes dart to yours. “That doesn’t hurt?” 

You shake your head. 

At the same time, you look around the tent to the other victims of the blast. No one else’s wounds are healing miraculously. Just yours. 

The medic looks paler. “Has this happened to you before?” 

Your throat goes tight. “No, never. I swear.” 

As time continues to pass, even the aching in your leg diminishes and the ringing in your ear has subsided. 

The atmosphere stills when the tent flap snaps open. 

Lex strides in, flanked by a Raptor. His eyes rake over the scene, till they land on you. 

He approaches and the medic steps back, hands half raised. “Sir, I don’t understand.” 

He steps right up to you, looks down at your arm, and freezes. You shrink, fearful of his next reaction as his face remains emotionless. 

“Everyone out.” 

“No, Lex, it’s fine-”

“Out, now!” He roars. 

Medics help the other victims to their feet and they all file out, till it’s just you and him, alone. 

Your hands are instinctively clenched in sweaty fists. You stare at him, as his eyes follow the last medic, then he turns. 

“Let me see.” His voice is hushed. And there’s actually a touch of curiosity in his tone. 

You raise your arm enough for him to get a good look. He slides a warm hand under your tricep, holding you steady to inspect. 

“Lex, I-”

“Don’t.” 

Oh no. 

“Do you have any idea what this means?” He drops your arm, squeezing his eyes shut, then pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“I didn’t ask for this,” you mutter. His head snaps back to you. 

“No one ever does.” His lips curl. “This is the type of thing I’m eradicating from this earth. Abnormalities. Outliers. Metahumans,” he spits like it’s a slur. 

“I am not a metahuman! What the hell do you have against them anyway?” 

He laughs poisonously. “Oh. Just the fact that they cheat humanity in every way. They’re offensive to the progress and capacity of our species.” 

You shake your head. “You’re insane.” 

“I’m right. Now, how did this happen…” he begins to pace the area in front of you. 

Then it dawns on you. 

“Lex. The medication. You said it hadn’t been tested on humans before, if you’re serious, then maybe this is a side effect.” 

You see it register in his face too. He accepts your hypothesis. 

“You did this to me.” 

You wish you hadn’t said anything. 

Lex lurches forward, grabs the front of your shirt, and yanks you off the bench, forcing a sharp yelp from you, his face is inches from yours, fuming.

“I gave you a remedy, not a mutation,” he hisses in your face. “Now you’re not a PR liability, you’re a science experiment gone wrong. The formula was meant to accelerate immune response. Nothing more. It went too far.” 

“What?” 

He continues. “Your body reacted. Something in your chemistry, or genetics, triggered the effect. If I gave the medication to someone else, it might do the same thing, or nothing, or even kill them.” 

The implication sinks in. “So, I’m what? A freak accident?”

“Not a freak,” he says quietly. “An anomaly.”

You don’t know if that’s any better. 

Lex leans in closer. “Do you even understand what this means? If I released this formula to the public, every opportunist, every warlord, every pathetic senator would scramble for it. Half would die, the other half, if they survived, would wield a power none should have.” 

Your mouth dries. “You’re not gonna give it to them.” 

He scoffs. “Of course not. I don’t hand out godhood to the undeserving.” 

There’s a flicker in his gaze. Hunger, fascination with you, something has struck a personal chord in him, and he’s not hiding it. “Which leaves me with one problem.”

You stiffen. “Me.” 

Lex gives you a bitter grin. “You.” 

Your lips quiver, voice hushed. “So what then? You’re gonna lock me up? Treat me like a test subject then throw me away when you’re done with your research? Pretend you don’t care, even after last night?” 

His jaw flexes, and he finally releases your shirt. He looks away, like the sight of you is unbearable. 

“I don’t get attached to liabilities.” 

But he doesn’t sound sure of himself. It sounds more like he's trying to convince himself than you.  

His blue eyes meet yours, and he takes a deep breath. 

“I’ll need to fix you.”

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a/n: guys would this even be in the dc universe if we didn't get some metahuman type stuff in here? sorry if it kills the vibe, it's not going to detract from the story, i promise. hopefully lex lives up to his promises lol

CHAPTER 11

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