#superman characters

2026's Bizarro: Year None Vol.1 #1 2nd printing variant cover by artist Paolo Rivera. Source

Summary: You are an anti-heroine, forged by corporate experiments and gifted with extraordinary abilities. Living outside the law in Metropolis, you steal from the powerful to serve your own sense of justice. When your path collides with Superman, a complicated bond forms, built on tension, attraction and a secret pact that ties you to the man who should be your greatest enemy.

Author's note: Yes, I just watched the new Superman movie. I don't know if this fanfic will continue, and I’m not sure if anyone will even like it. Reblog or like this fanfic if you want it to go on, and feel free to leave comments.

PREVIEW TWO

ONE

Another day begins the moment the first ray of sunlight touches your face. You shower to the background noise of the police channel you hacked some time ago and get ready to play the part of a reporter. The drive to the Daily Planet is quick—you take your car. On the way, you notice a man drop his briefcase on the sidewalk.

“Mr. Kent, so early in the morning and already losing your balance?” you say as you slowly drive past the street where Clark is crouched down, gathering the papers that spilled from his briefcase. He gives an awkward smile as he finishes picking everything up and glances in your direction.

“Accidents always seem to happen when I miss my morning coffee, apparently,” Clark says, standing upright and adjusting his briefcase. He looks at you like he’s genuinely glad to see you.

You watch him, silently wondering what it must be like to spend part of the day as a clumsy reporter and the other as a near-invincible superhero.

“I have an extra coffee in the car, if you're interested,” you murmur, unsure of how you want to come across—honestly, you're not even sure yourself.

“Is that your way of offering me a ride?” Clark asks as he makes his way toward your car, weaving through the morning crowd filling the street, each person heading somewhere with purpose. He adjusts his glasses, and you stop the car, unlocking the passenger door for him.

“Yes. Would you prefer a formal invitation to accompany me to our shared workplace, or is this satisfactory?” you ask as he slips into the seat and fastens his seatbelt.

Before turning your attention back to the road, you reach for the extra cup of coffee you had resting securely in the holder between the seats and place it in his hands.

“You really shouldn't accept a drink so easily from someone you don’t trust,” you say as you steer the car back onto the road, continuing the drive to the Daily Planet.

“That’s great advice. Do you usually give it to people you claim not to care whether they live or die?” Clark asks, taking a sip of the coffee you handed him. He seems a little too pleased with himself.

“I’m just being practical. If you go around playing the naive one with every villain you meet, you’re going to end up dead. And if you die, who’s going to clear my competition off the streets?” you say calmly, then glance over and smile at him. Clark doesn’t seem entirely convinced.

"I need a favor, since you're being so generous this fine morning," Clark says between sips of coffee.

"Finally going to ask for help with your wardrobe? Because I'm fully available," you reply with a touch of sarcasm as you pull into the Daily Planet's parking lot.

"I need you to interview Superman," he says casually, as if it were just a formality, something trivial.

"Absolutely not. First of all, the right person for that would be Lois. And second, we both know there can’t be any connection between me and Superman. Ever," you respond, your voice rising more than you intended.

The truth is, any connection between you and a superhero could never be safe—neither as a villain nor as a reporter.

"I need someone with personal reasons to question my methods," Clark whispers while the two of you are still inside your car.

"What do you mean by questioning your methods?" you ask as you unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face him. He unbuckles his as well, mirroring your movement.

"I mean you don’t see me as the guy who saves everyone. Because deep down, you believe I can’t save you. That’s why you’ve been doing a pretty good job avenging yourself—going after those who wronged you," Clark says, his gaze locked with yours.

It almost feels like a contest, to see who blinks first. And truth be told, he isn’t entirely wrong.

"Feeling guilty about something, aren’t you?" you ask as you glance at him, noticing his tie is completely crooked.

While he’s still trying to figure out how you knew, you reach out and fix it, redoing the knot. He doesn’t resist—just lets you.

"Our conversation last night, about me comparing you to the people who made you who you are... This morning I found out one of the men I helped put away was killed in prison. The theory is he was some kind of test subject and the whole thing was a cover-up," Clark explains, and you can almost see the weight of guilt pressing down on his broad shoulders.

When you finish tying his tie properly, you catch him looking slightly embarrassed. Your theory? Either the closeness between you or the fact that he knows he crossed a line comparing you to other villains is making the man known for being stronger than steel blush while holding your gaze.

"Nice way to warn me about a potential death sentence, by the way," you say, realizing that if some powerful corporation is eliminating its test subjects, you could easily be next.

"I wouldn’t say it so calmly if I didn’t know you’d know how to handle yourself if they ever came after you. And I—" You cover Clark’s mouth before he can finish.

"I dare you to finish that sentence, knowing that if you say you're going to protect me, I’ll shove my hand through your chest and rip your heart out," you threaten, and he laughs—as if he’s actually enjoying this.

"Your eyes light up when you threaten to kill me, you know that?" Clark says, as if trying to make you lower your guard.

You smack his arm and then look ahead, lost in thought about his proposal. It might be something you’ll regret.

"Do you say that to every villain you're trying to convince to do something?" you ask in a playful tone, meeting his gaze—almost like a flirt.

"Only the ones who deserve it," Clark replies with an easy smile, and despite his golden retriever charm, there's a glint in his eye that suggests he’s not entirely immune to the tension between you. He’s enjoying this—more than he probably should.

"You’re going to owe me for this," you murmur, stepping a little closer and grabbing his tie with a firm hand. "And you can be certain I’ll collect." Your fingers tighten the knot at his throat just enough to make a point, your eyes locking with his in a silent challenge.

Before he can say anything in return—something clever or infuriating, most likely—a sharp knock interrupts the moment. You both turn to see Jimmy Olsen peering through the window of your car, looking far too amused.

"Are you two together?" he asks, eyebrows raised.

"No!" you and Clark respond in unison, too quickly, too forcefully and far too rehearsed not to sound suspicious.

"I meant arriving at work together," Jimmy added with a grin. "Because if this is some kind of carpool, I want in."

You and Clark exchanged a subtle look of relief before you smiled. "Of course, Olsen. The three of us can totally start commuting together," you said kindly as you adjusted your bag and stepped out of the car.

"I'm just surprised you're here," Jimmy remarked, nodding toward Clark as both of you exited.

"Why's that?" you asked before Clark could respond. They both turned to you, and you gave a slight shrug. "I'm a reporter. Naturally, I'm curious."

Jimmy chuckled. "Apparently there’s an old factory that was filled with secret prisoners. Some rogue scientist was using them for experiments. Sounds like the kind of mess Superman would show up for. And since Clark here always seems to know everything about Superman…”

Your gaze shifted to Clark, fully aware of the excuse he’d have to come up with to slip away. You smirked. “It’s almost like they’ve got some kind of secret affair.”

Jimmy let out a laugh as the three of you walked toward the building’s elevator.

"Even though I’ve never met Superman in person, I don't think Clark’s really his type," Jimmy joked, nudging him lightly.

"People can surprise you, Olsen," you replied with a knowing smirk, stealing a sideways glance at Clark. "Besides, who’s to say Superman doesn’t have a thing for awkward charm and outdated ties?"

"I don’t think it’s fair to talk about Clark like that," Jimmy said with a chuckle. But as he turned to add something in Clark’s direction, he paused, confused. "Wait—where’d he go?"

You glanced around with an innocent shrug. "Probably ran off after his little boyfriend," you said teasingly, then smoothly shifted the subject. "By the way, congrats on that article about LuthorCorp’s shady investments."

Jimmy beamed at the praise. This was usually the part where you managed to act like everything was completely normal.

"Your piece puts mine to shame," he replied as the elevator doors opened on your floor. "That exposé on the secret nighttime activity down at the docks? Pure gold."

You both stepped out into the familiar hum of the bullpen, the sound of ringing phones and fast-typing reporters filling the air once again.

“Does anyone know where Mr. Kent wandered off to?” Perry White asks in his usual authoritative tone, pacing back and forth across the newsroom with visible frustration.

“He went after Superman,” you reply as you and Jimmy make your way to your desks.

“I hope he gets us a real scoop. Apparently, some people are trapped underground, surrounded by a rare type of stone or something,” Lois says, eyes fixed on the news playing across the television screen.

If it’s what you're thinking, Superman won’t be able to save the day.

“I heard there’s some kind of stone—an element—that cancels out Superman’s powers,” Jimmy adds casually, as if he were just making small talk.

“In that case, maybe he should call for backup from that justice group... or is it the Justice Club?” you muse, settling into your chair and watching the live footage near the incident area.

“They seem to be dealing with something out of town,” Jimmy replies, eyes still glued to the TV.

“By the way, congratulations to both of you on your articles,” Lois finally tears her gaze from the screen to look at you and Jimmy.

“A compliment from Lois Lane is more valuable than any award,” you say with a half-smile, rising to get coffee from the machine.

“It’s hard to tell if you’re being serious or sarcastic, but seriously—great articl… wait, what is he doing?” Lois begins to reply but cuts herself off, her attention snapping back to the screen.

It must be difficult for her, watching her ex risking his life in a cape.

Suddenly, your phone buzzes with a new message that makes your breath hitch.

“I need you.” It’s signed with an S. You know exactly who it is.

You reply quickly, “I’m not getting involved.” After all, you’re not a hero, and you have no intention of saving the day.

But the message that comes next makes your hand tighten around the phone.

“They’re going through what your family went through.”

Superman’s words strike a nerve. You pause. Maybe this is your chance to find the ones responsible for the experiment done to you. Maybe you can make sure there won’t be others like you—orphans with powers capable of wiping out small civilizations.

You take a breath, glance around, and murmur, “I’ll be right back. Bathroom." Everyone is too distracted to notice.

“Almost looks like he went to call in reinforcements,” Jimmy comments, still watching the screen beside Lois.

“Don’t you think, Y/N?” he asks, but when he and Lois turn to look for you—

You’re already gone.

Summary: You are an anti-heroine, forged by corporate experiments and gifted with extraordinary abilities. Living outside the law in Metropolis, you steal from the powerful to serve your own sense of justice. When your path collides with Superman, a complicated bond forms, built on tension, attraction and a secret pact that ties you to the man who should be your greatest enemy.

Author's note: Yes, I just watched the new Superman movie. I don't know if this fanfic will continue, and I’m not sure if anyone will even like it. Reblog or like this fanfic if you want it to go on, and feel free to leave comments.

AO3 LINK ONE

PREVIEW

It's not enough that damned hero came after you—he also managed to tear your suit. Your parents let a billion-dollar company experiment on you, turning you into a weapon. Super strength, agility beyond anyone else’s, a remarkable intellect that allows you to break into places with little effort, and most of your body is resistant to pain.

You can still get hurt, and you have to design your own gear, but you use the gifts you have in service of what you believe is right. And that means breaking into the homes and corporations of the ultra-wealthy and stealing from them—to share the wealth with yourself and those in need.

“Son of a bitch!” you shout as you try to recover from yet another clash with the so-called savior of the world—Superman. You had been breaking into the company of some millionaire, far from where Superman usually patrols, and the idiot came after you like a damn bloodhound.

“Is that the mouth you kiss your mother with?” You hear the voice of the man you see almost every day. When he’s not playing the hot nerd at the Daily Planet or pretending to be the nation’s caped savior, he’s out here disturbing your peace.

“Good to know you don’t know everything about me, since you’re suggesting I kiss a corpse,” you say as you finish climbing the stairs to your apartment. And there he is—Clark Kent, with his nerdy glasses and an awkward expression on his face.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Clark says softly, with a tone of regret that almost sounds sincere. Even behind the glasses, that sentimental look of his is impossible to miss.

“If you’re really that sorry, stop making me work at the Daily Planet and let me go back to being just the villain you pretend to defeat,” you murmur, stepping closer to him as you catch your breath and inhale the scent of his sweat. For some reason, his scent has become your weakness. You take a deep breath, closing your eyes, and it’s as if you can sense every place Clark has been, every feeling he’s ever had.

“You’re doing it again,” Clark whispers, standing still, allowing you to get far too close. You take a step back and nearly stumble on the stair, but Clark catches you by the waist in a flash.

“And you’re doing that thing again—trying to play the hero with me,” you say, steadying yourself, though you’re still far too close to him, his arms around you and your fingers resting against his chest.

“Someone’s coming our way,” Clark warns, but you’re too distracted by his lips for a moment—until your senses snap back. You quickly fake a kiss, brushing your lips near his and pushing him gently against your door.

Your neighbor comes down the stairs and lets out a disapproving grunt at what he assumes is just two adults getting handsy in the hallway.

“You didn’t really have to do that,” Clark murmurs, the two of you still tangled together. His warm breath brushes against your face as he stares at you, and his scent floods your senses, revealing more than he realizes. Just before your fight about an hour ago, he’d had pizza—probably not alone. Most likely with Miss Lane and that awkward Olsen kid.

“And let someone suspect that the polite reporter Clark Kent is standing outside the apartment of a co-worker who isn’t his girlfriend?” you reply, preparing to use your powers.

A harmless detail: you can phase through structures. You glance around to make sure no one’s watching, then grip Kent tightly—and phase the two of you straight through the door into your apartment.

“How did you…? Shit, you walk through walls and doors? Holy hell!” Clark exclaims, stepping back and running his hands over himself in disbelief.

“And Lois and I aren’t dating—at least, not anymore,” he finishes, and you can see how much that stings. You glance at him, and for a moment, he looks like a lost puppy left behind after the move.

“I can’t believe you’re swearing in front of me,” you say, feigning shock—though part of you is still reeling from the realization that Metropolis’s number one boy scout is single. Not that it’s your business, but still… interesting.

“I’m sorry about you and Lois. You two were such an obnoxiously perfect couple, it actually made me nauseous,” you add, placing your hand on his head and giving him a little pat like he’s some overgrown golden retriever.

“Thanks for the sympathy,” Clark replies, catching your hand. “But if you really feel that bad, stop committing crimes and become a full-time reporter. I promise I’ll try not to make you sick.” He notices the cut on your hand and gently pulls it closer to examine. But you pull back, hiding your hand behind your back.

“You know I can’t stop. Not while people like Lex Luthor walk free. Not while the one responsible for my parents’ death—and for what I’ve become—still hasn’t paid,” you say, taking a step back. Clark’s expression shifts. He looks genuinely concerned.

“You want to stop them by becoming just like them?” Clark asks, looking you in the eyes—not with anger, but with something between pity and quiet judgment. You smile bitterly. For a second, you actually thought Mr. Perfect might understand.

“If you really think I’m like them, don’t waste any more time and arrest me,” you snap, your patience wearing thin. There’s a sharp edge of hatred in your gaze, and Clark feels it.

“That’s not what I meant, Y/N,” he says softly, using every ounce of empathy that exists in that Kryptonian heart of his.

“Do us both a favor and get out, Kent,” you mutter, pointing toward the door. “And don’t worry. Our deal still stands. I’ll keep working at the Daily Planet, feeding intel on the bad guys I dig up, and you won’t throw me in a cell. And yes, your little secret’s safe with me.”

You hold his gaze. His impossibly blue eyes—if you stare long enough—start to look like something between the ocean and the sky on a quiet, cloudless day.

“Even so, you’re here. Letting me into your home. Not telling your bandit friends that you know exactly who Superman is. You even agreed to work in the same place as me and live this double life,” Clark says calmly, his tone full of quiet conviction. “From where I stand, it looks like you’re trying to convince yourself that there’s only darkness in you. But that’s not what I see.”

You try not to take his words seriously. He always sees the good in things, and that relentless optimism of his drives you mad.

“Might want to see an eye doctor and get those glasses adjusted. Don’t make me say it again. Leave.” You give him a final warning, your voice sharp.

At the same time, you finally feel one of your ribs beginning to mend. Your body takes its time healing, especially when the damage is from Clark. You still don’t understand why that is, but you hope to one day.

“I'm not your enemy,” Clark says as he steps even closer, his presence heavy and unshakable. You're pressed against the door now, the space between you growing dangerously small.

Your eyes trace the lines of his face, studying him like a map to someplace unfamiliar. The way he looks at you—it’s disarming. There’s something in his gaze that makes you feel seen, maybe even understood. But you remind yourself, he probably looks at every so-called villain that way. Always searching for redemption in places where it doesn’t belong.

“Then know this, Mr. Kent,” you whisper, your voice calm, deliberate. “I am your enemy.” The words hang in the air like a challenge. He doesn’t flinch. Instead, his hand lifts, almost as if he means to touch your face. Perhaps to soften the moment. Perhaps to stop you. But you move faster.