“im just as human as anyone else!”

ㅤㅤ⋆˚✿˖°.ೃ࿔*:･ㅤㅤessie, 8teen, she/her⋆˚✿˖°.ೃ࿔*:･ㅤㅤ

masterlist | about me | guidelines

bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

a/n: i love bakugou! i hope u guys like this little drabble i thought up during my calc test.. also idk if this is accurate or if they even have dispatch but for the sake of the story just go with it. also im trying writing in lowercase bc i think its cute so lmk if u like the other way better.

synopsis: dynamight becomes intrigued by someone who can keep up.

warnings: reader is female, possible inaccuracy, reader is confident?

the first time he hears your voice, he almost rips the comm out of his ear.

“dynamight, you’re approaching from the wrong angle.”

bakugou scoffs, launching himself forward in a burst of explosions that rattle the alley walls.

“i know what i’m doing.”

“yeah,” you reply, “and if you keep that trajectory, you’re going to collapse the west side of the building. there are still civilians inside.”

he grits his teeth.

“tch. then give me a better route.”

you don’t hesitate.

“shift right. there’s a support beam running through the center, use it as leverage. and don’t overblast, the structure’s already compromised.”

“don’t tell me how to use my quirk.”

“then don’t ask for directions.”

he almost snaps back, but doesn’t.

because annoyingly, you’re right.

it becomes a thing after that.

every mission, every patrol where dispatch is involved, there you are.

in his ear, keeping up.

“dynamight, there’s a hostage on the second floor, left corridor.”

“i see it.”

“no, you don’t. thermal just picked up a second heat signature behind the wall.”

“tch.”

explosion. wall down. villain revealed.

silence.

then, quieter, grudging,

“.. good call.”

“your heart rate just spiked.”

“stay outta my business.”

“you’re about to overexert.”

“i said”

“three minutes ago you said you ‘knew what you were doing.’ i’m just tracking the pattern.”

“.. you talk too much.”

“and you don’t listen enough. we balance out.”

he starts recognizing your voice without even thinking about it.

starts waiting for it, not that he’d ever admit that.

the first time you’re not there, something feels off. the replacement dispatcher is slower. hesitant.

“uh, dynamight, maybe you should”

“where’s the other one?”

“.. other?”

“the one who actually knows what she’s doing.”

there’s a pause.

“she’s off rotation today.”

“tch.”

the rest of the mission is sloppier.

he’s sloppier.

so the next time he does hear you again,

“dynamight, you’re late.”

he doesn’t even realize he’s smirking.

“miss me?”

“i enjoyed the temporary drop in property damage reports.”

“watch it.”

“then don’t prove my point.”

the meeting doesn’t actually happen until later. after weeks, months, of this.

bakugou pushes through the glass doors of dispatch like he owns the place. people look up. freeze.

someone starts to say something, probably about protocols, appointments, normal human behavior,

“i’m looking for someone.”

no one answers.

he clicks his tongue, irritated. “the dispatcher who thinks she can boss me around. where is she?”

there’s some awkward shifting. a glance across the room.

and then,

“oh.”

you.

you’re not what he expected.

not intimidated. not scrambling. not starstruck.

just sitting there, headset half off, looking at him like he’s mildly inconvenienced your day.

“that depends,” you say, standing slowly. “are you here to complain, or finally admit i’ve been right this whole time?”

the room goes dead silent.

bakugou stares at you.

you stare back.

unflinching.

“.. you’re the voice.”

“and you’re louder in person,” you reply. “which is impressive, honestly.”

a couple of people choke back laughs.

he ignores them.

steps closer.

“you’ve got a lot to say for someone hiding behind a screen.”

“and you’ve got a lot of confidence for someone who would’ve dropped a building on those civilians without me.”

that gets him.

not angry.

not defensive.

just focused.

“you were tracking the support beams,” he says slowly.

“yes.”

“and the heat signatures.”

“yes.”

“and my movement patterns.”

you shrug slightly. “you’re not that unpredictable.”

then, a sharp grin pulls at the corner of his mouth.

“good.”

you blink. “good?”

“means i don’t have to slow down for you.”

something in your expression shifts, just a little. not intimidated. just accepting the challenge.

“try not to make me work overtime, then,” you say, slipping your headset fully back on. “some of us have other heroes to keep alive.”

he huffs out something that might almost be a laugh.

turns to leave.

pauses at the door.

“hey.”

you glance up.

“what?”

he hesitates, just for a second.

then,

“don’t get replaced again.”

you tilt your head slightly.

“not planning on it.”

and that’s it.

just a voice in his ear.

a person who keeps up.

dc

clark kent

a new quiet (fluff, sfw, fem reader)

the quiet between us (fluff, sfw, fem reader)

the quiet we choose (sfw, fem reader)

a quiet named kal (sfw, fem reader)

jason todd

etamluos (fluff, crack fic, sfw, fem reader)

mha

bakugou katsuki

bakugou katsuki x reader (fluff, sfw, fem reader)

₊˚⊹ essie ₊˚⊹

| she/her, eighteen, pisces, infj

| comic nerd, anime enjoyer, media enthusiast, music junkie

| loves anything: dc, one piece, mha, the pitt, stranger things, jjk, superhero, comics, anime, resident evil, u name it!

| hey! just a few quick things,

asks are always open! I love hearing from you guys, whether it’s thoughts, questions, or just random messages

requests are open too ♡ I’ll write for pretty much any fandom, but if I’m not super familiar with something I’ll let you know first

I mostly write fem!readers, but will do gender neutral and/or masc!reader if asked!

I will write NSFW occasionally, but it won’t be a big focus on this blog

if you like my content, please interact! reblogs + comments mean a lot and help more than you think

this is a sweet space, just be kind and respectful and we’re good

Jason Todd x soulmate!gf!fem! Reader

a/n: I tried a different pov with this one lmk if u like it. Also please read the warnings if u get mad abt accuracy. Yay love the big JT I hope you guys like this product of my daydreams while I’m supposed to be doing calculus.

Synop: The problem with curiosity is that it rarely stops where it should. Especially for Dick Grayson.

Warnings: I tried to make this as accurate as possible but imma be honest I’m genuinely not sure when all of these people would ever be in the watchtower together❤️ Therefore this is a crack fic. Yes characters are ooc ion cur. Female reader, mention of reader having hair pulled up, mention of glasses,

The Watchtower was unusually crowded. A joint debriefing between the Justice League and miscellaneous members of other teams had just concluded, leaving a lingering tension that Dick Grayson, ever the instigator, decided to break with his favorite pastime: poking at Jason Todd.

"I’m just saying, Jay," Dick leaned back against a console, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Since you’ve been back, your social life has been a literal graveyard. I think even Bruce gets out more than you do, and his idea of a 'hot date' is chasing Selina across a rainy rooftop."

Jason rolled his eyes, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his leather jacket. "Maybe I just have high standards, Dick. Or maybe I don't feel the need to broadcast my business to a bunch of capes in spandex."

"Or maybe he doesn't have a soulmate," Tim chimed in, not looking up from his tablet. "Statistically, someone with Todd’s temperament is likely to remain solitary."

"Oh, everyone has one," Zatanna piped up, floating nearby with a playful smile.

"See!" Dick pointed at her. "Zee, as a joke, totally a joke, could you like, show us a vision of Jason’s soulmate? Give us a hint of who the poor woman might be? "

Jason stood up straight, his face suddenly pale. "No. Absolutely not. Do not do that. Is that even possible..?"

"What’s the matter? Afraid the crystal ball will be empty?" Jason’s panic only fueled Dick’s curiosity.

"Zee, do it. Just a quick peek."

"Hey, don't encourage her,”

Bruce started, but it was too late.

Zatanna winked at Jason, thinking it was all in good fun. She whispered a few backwards words,"Etamluos sih em wohs," and waved her hand. A shimmering mist gathered in the center of the room, growing larger and clearer until it formed a high definition window into another location.

The room went dead silent.

The vision showed a candle-lit, slightly cluttered apartment in the Narrows. In the center of the frame was a woman. Your hair was pulled up, and your glasses were sliding slightly down your nose.

But it was what you were wearing that made the occupants of the room freeze.

You were dressed in nothing but a tattered, oversized black t-shirt with a very recognizable "Red Hood" logo on the chest, one of Jason’s personal shirts. You were humming to the tune of the song playing over the tv, dancing slightly as you walked through the apartment, gathering laundry into the basket set on your hip. As you pass through the kitchen, various printed pictures can be seen posted to the refrigerator such as a selfie of you and Jason sharing a laugh at the beach with his hands around your waist - this could be found under a magnet that said “Reading is Sexy.”

"Is that.. is she wearing Jason’s laundry?" Steph whispered, her jaw dropping.

"Look," Tim pointed.

On the screen, you bent down and picked up the iconic Red Hood helmet, which had been sitting haphazardly on the dining table. You huffed, and tapped the visor.

"Jason, I swear to God," you muttered, your voice crystal clear through the magic. "I told you three times this morning, if you don't start putting your 'work gear' in the closet, you’ll be on the couch,"

A fat orange cat suddenly jumped onto the table, sniffing the helmet. You scratched behind its ears. "Tell him, baby. Tell your dad he’s a slob."

The vision shimmered and faded.

The silence in the Watchtower was absolute. Diana looked impressed, Clark looked confused, and the family was looking at Jason like he was a ghost.

"Dad?" Dick choked out, turning slowly toward Jason. "She called him Dad to the cat? Jason, you have a domestic life? You have a girlfriend and a cat?"

"And he’s been holding out on us for the shirts!" Steph yelled. "I knew that 'laundry' excuse was fake!"

Jason was currently trying to merge with the floorboards. His face was a shade of red that rivaled his uniform.

"Todd," Damian said, his voice unusually high. "Why is that woman touching your tactical equipment without a permit?"

"She’s my girlfriend," Jason finally grumbled, covering his face with one hand. "She’s a librarian. We met at her work three years ago. And for the record, the cat was her idea."

"Three years?" Bruce’s voice was unreadable, somewhere between shock and a weird sense of paternal pride. "Jason, you’ve been hiding a serious relationship for three years?"

"Yeah, well, can you blame me?" Jason snapped, finally dropping his hand. "Look at you guys! Within five minutes of finding out she exists, you’re already analyzing my cat and the thread count of my shirts! I wanted one thing in my life that didn't involve a Bat-computer or a secret identity."

Zatanna looked genuinely apologetic. "Sorry, Jason. I didn't think it would actually be.. that established."

"She seems lovely, Jason," Clark said, trying to be the peacemaker. "She has a very strong presence. And she clearly isn't intimidated by the Hood."

"She’s not intimidated by anything," Jason muttered, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through his embarrassment. "She’s the only person who tells me to go back out and wipe my feet after I’ve spent all night fighting Black Mask."

He turned toward the teleporters. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go home and move my helmet before I actually have to sleep on the couch. And if I see any of you near my apartment, I'm changing the locks and the city."

As he disappeared in a flash of light, Dick leaned over to Tim. "We’re totally stopping by on patrol, right?"

Clark Kent x fem!editor! Reader, part four in the Quiet series!

a/n: This one is a bit longer, but there’s a lot of development! I’m trying to give reader some depth without making it inapplicable to yourself, so let me know if I go too far.

Synop: Clark has to realize that there’s more to their relationship than holding himself accountable. The pair discovers that vulnerability, in every aspect, is what will draw them closer together

Warnings: fem reader, brief mention of relationship insecurity, mention that Clark’s clothes “swallow her whole”, use of Y/N

The street was quieter than it should’ve been.

Not empty, just that in between kind of quiet where the city hadn’t gone to sleep yet, but it wasn’t trying as hard anymore.

Clark had offered to walk her home from The Planet that day, and she agreed.

It had been a week since their earlier conversation, and a week of choosing each other even when it was inconvenient.

Clark walked beside her, hands tucked into his jacket pockets like he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with them.

“You didn’t have to walk me all the way,” she said, glancing over at him.

“I wanted to,” Clark replied.

Simple.

But he meant it.

She smiled a little at that, then looked ahead again.

A few steps passed.

Neither of them rushed to fill the silence.

That was new for Clark.

“.. You’ve been checking your phone less,” she said suddenly.

Clark blinked. “What?”

She shrugged. “The first time we went out, you kept looking at it. Like you were waiting for something to go wrong.”

Clark let out a quiet breath. “I probably was.”

She nodded like that made sense.

“But tonight you didn’t,” she said.

Clark glanced down for a second. “I told you I’d be here.”

“I know,” she said.

A pause.

Quieter, “I noticed.”

Clark looked over at her, but she was already looking forward again, like she hadn’t meant to make it a moment.

He didn’t push it.

They reached the corner near her building, but neither of them stopped.

“..Can I ask you something?” she said.

Clark nodded immediately. “Yeah.”

She hesitated. Not long, but enough that he could tell this wasn’t casual.

“Are you always like this?” she asked.

Clark frowned slightly. “Like what?”

She gestured vaguely toward him. “Just.. steady.”

Clark almost laughed.

It caught halfway, turning into something softer.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever called me that before,” he admitted.

She gave a small huff. “Well, I am.”

Clark tilted his head slightly. “Why?”

She didn’t answer right away.

Instead, she slowed her steps just a little.

“I don’t really do this,” she said.

Clark blinked. “Do what?”

She glanced at him, then away again. “This. Dating. Whatever this is.”

That surprised him.

He didn’t interrupt.

Didn’t joke.

She noticed that too.

“I’ve just.. never really been good at it,” she admitted. “Or I don’t make time for it. Or it just doesn’t happen.” She shrugged, a little self conscious now. “Depends on how you want to frame it.”

Clark’s voice softened. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

She gave a small, uncertain smile. “Maybe.”

A beat.

Then, quieter

“But it means I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

Clark nodded slowly. “I don’t either.”

That made her glance at him again, surprised.

“You don’t?” she asked.

Clark shook his head, a little sheepish. “Not really.”

She studied him for a second. “That feels unlikely.”

Clark smiled slightly. “I’m serious.”

There was something in the way he said it honest, not defensive, that made her believe him.

“Okay,” she said.

A small pause settled between them again.

Then she exhaled, like she’d already started and might as well keep going.

“I just don’t want to do something wrong and not realize it,” she admitted. “Or read something wrong. Or think something means more than it does.”

Clark’s chest tightened slightly at that.

Because he knew exactly what she meant.

“And I know that sounds-” she hesitated, searching for the word.

“Human?” Clark offered.

She huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah. Unfortunately.”

Clark glanced at her, more serious now.

“You’re not doing anything wrong,” he said.

She looked back at him.

“That’s easy for you to say,” she replied.

Clark shook his head. “No, I mean it. You’re not behind. You’re not bad at this. You’re just careful.”

She held his gaze for a second.

Like she hadn’t thought of it that way before.

“..Careful,” she repeated.

Clark nodded once. “That’s not a bad thing.”

A pause.

Then she admitted, softer now, “It just makes me feel like I’m already a step behind you.”

That hit.

Clark stopped walking.

She took another step before realizing, then turned back toward him.

“You’re not behind me,” he said.

She tilted her head slightly. “I don’t know. You seem like you-”

“I don’t,” Clark interrupted gently. “I really don’t.”

She studied his face, trying to figure out if he was just saying that to make her feel better.

He wasn’t.

Clark exhaled quietly. “Half the time I’m just hoping I don’t say the wrong thing.”

That earned a small, surprised smile.

“Really?” she asked.

“Really,” he said.

Then she relaxed just a little.

Not completely.

But enough.

“Okay,” she said.

They stood there for a second longer than necessary.

Then she glanced toward her building, then back at him.

“Goodnight, Clark.”

“Goodnight.”

She turned to go.

Then paused.

Looked back over her shoulder.

And this time, there was something softer in her expression.

Less guarded.

“I’m glad you showed up tonight,” she said.

Clark felt that settle somewhere steady in his chest.

“Me too,” he replied.

She held his gaze for just a second longer then disappeared inside.

And Clark stayed there for a moment after she was gone.

Because now it wasn’t just about proving he could show up.

It was about being someone she didn’t feel behind with.

The next day didn’t feel like a big moment.

Which was probably why it mattered.

Clark noticed it first in the quiet.

Not the heavy kind. Not the kind that made him restless.

Just steady.

He was at his desk, halfway through an article he had definitely started rereading instead of actually editing, when he realized he hadn’t checked his phone in a while.

That used to mean something was wrong.

Now it just meant he wasn’t waiting for something to go wrong.

He glanced at the screen anyway.

One message.

From her.

Y/N: I have like an hour before I have to be back upstairs. Are you free?

Clark blinked at it for a second longer than necessary.

Then:

Clark: Yeah. Always.

He winced slightly after sending it.

“Too much,” he muttered under his breath.

Across from him, Lois didn’t even look up. “It’s fine.”

Clark frowned. “You didn’t even see what I sent.”

“I don’t need to,” Lois said. “Your face told me everything.”

Jimmy’s voice chimed in through Lois’s phone. “What’d he say?”

“Something earnest,” Lois replied.

“Tragic,” Jimmy said.

Clark ignored both of them, already standing.

It wasn’t anything big.

Just coffee from the place down the street and a walk that didn’t really have a destination.

But it felt easier than yesterday.

Less like they were figuring something out.

More like they were already in it.

She matched his pace without thinking. Fell into conversation without forcing it. Didn’t hesitate as much before speaking.

Clark noticed all of it.

“You seem less nervous,” he said after a while.

She glanced at him. “That obvious?”

Clark shrugged slightly. “A little.”

She huffed a quiet laugh. “Rude.”

“Sorry.”

“I think I just…” she trailed off, then tried again, “I think I’m realizing I don’t have to get everything right.”

Clark looked at her, something warm settling in his chest.

“You don’t,” he said.

She nodded. “Yeah.”

Then, more teasing now, “Also, you admitted you don’t know what you’re doing either, so that helped.”

Clark smiled. “Glad I could lower the standard.”

“Massively,” she said.

They walked a little farther before she checked the time.

“I should probably head back up soon,” she said.

Clark nodded, even though part of him immediately didn’t like the idea of the conversation ending.

“Yeah,” he said.

They slowed near the entrance.

Neither of them moved to go inside right away.

Clark hesitated.

This was usually where he stopped.

Where he let things stay easy.

Where he didn’t ask for more.

But something about yesterday, about the way she had looked at him when she said she felt behind, stuck with him.

He didn’t want this to feel like something she had to catch up to.

He wanted it to feel like something they were building.

Together.

Clark exhaled quietly.

“Hey,” he said.

She looked up at him. “Yeah?”

He hesitated for half a second.

Then,

“Do you want to come over tonight?”

The words landed between them, simple but not small.

Her expression shifted. Not alarmed, not uncomfortable.

Just surprised.

“..Your apartment?” she asked.

Clark nodded. “Yeah. Nothing-” he stopped himself from over-explaining, then tried again, a little steadier, “We could just hang out. Watch something. Order in.”

That got a small smile out of her.

“Really?” she asked.

“Of course,” Clark said.

She studied him for a second.

Just thinking.

Clark didn’t rush her.

Didn’t fill the silence.

Didn’t take it back.

Then she tilted her head slightly, something softer in her expression.

“Okay,” she said.

Clark blinked. “Okay?”

She nodded once. “Yeah.”

Then, a little more honestly

“I want to.”

That did something to him

It grounded him.

Clark smiled, a little more openly now. “Okay.”

She mirrored it, just slightly.

“Okay.”

And this time, when she turned to go back inside it didn’t feel like the end of something.

It felt like the start of something they were both choosing.

Clark’s apartment was quieter than most places she had been.

Not empty quiet. Not uncomfortable quiet.

Just.. Clark quiet.

The kind that felt like it was waiting instead of watching.

He stood by the kitchen counter as she hesitated near the doorway, still holding her bag like she wasn’t fully sure she was allowed to be there.

“You don’t have to stay,” he said gently, like he was offering it as much as he was saying it.

“I want to,” she replied, then paused. “I just haven’t really done this before.”

Clark nodded once, understanding more than she knew how to explain. He was beginning to realize that the cold exterior he had been subjected to on their first meeting was her way of protection. And with Clark, she was beginning to let go, but with that came a newfound sense of shyness.

This was uncharted territory for both of them.

“I’d like you to stay,” he said softly. “But only if you’re comfortable.”

That word again.

Comfortable.

It followed her everywhere lately.

Earlier that evening, Lois had tried to act casual about it, leaning against the counter like it wasn’t a big deal.

“You’re not moving in with him,” she had said. “You’re just sleeping over. There’s a difference.”

Cat, on the other hand, had been far more decisive.

“You need pajamas,” she declared immediately.

“I have pajamas,” Y/N had replied.

Cat had already started pulling things from her closet.

“Not those,” she said, like it was obvious. “Cute pajamas. Like, intentional pajamas.”

Lois had narrowed her eyes. “Why do they have to be intentional?”

Cat had waved her off. “Because it’s a sleepover with a man you like. There are rules.”

“I don’t think there are rules,” Lois muttered.

But somehow, between Cat’s confidence and Lois’s reluctant supervision, a small bag had been packed.

And now Y/N stood in Clark’s apartment holding it like it weighed more than it should.

Clark gently broke the silence.

“The bathroom’s down the hall,” he said. “You can change there if you want.”

She nodded, grateful for the out, and disappeared for a moment.

When she came back out, she was wearing what Cat had insisted on.

She looked.. soft.

Clark thought that immediately.

Soft in a way that made something in his chest ease without him understanding why.

But he also saw it right away.

The way she held her arms a little closer to herself. The way she seemed more aware of her skin than the space around her. The way she wasn’t fully settled.

His expression changed instantly.

Not disappointment. Not judgment.

Just concern.

“Hey,” he said gently, stepping toward her, then stopping at a respectful distance. “Are you okay?”

She hesitated. “Yeah. I just.. I’m not used to this kind of thing.”

Clark nodded slowly, like that made perfect sense. Because to him, it did.

“I want you to know something,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to wear anything you don’t like for me.”

She blinked slightly, caught off guard.

“I don’t care what Cat said,” he added, a small breath of a laugh leaving him. “Or what anyone thinks I would like. I just like you. That’s it.”

That landed somewhere deep in her chest.

Slowly, her shoulders loosened.

“Oh,” she said softly.

Clark smiled a little. “Yeah. ‘Oh.’”

A pause.

Then, more gently, “You can change into something more comfortable. My clothes are fine. Actually, I think you’d look better in those anyway.”

That got a small, real smile out of her.

“Your clothes?”

“My clothes,” he confirmed.

A few minutes later, she came back out in one of his old Metropolis Meteors T-shirts, and a pair of basketball shorts that absolutely swallowed her whole.

Clark looked at her and gave a quick laugh- attempting to disguise it as a cough.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “That’s good.”

She feigned shock. “You are laughing at me, Clark Kent!”

“I’m not! I think it’s about the loveliest anyone has ever looked in a pair of men’s basketball shorts!” he said.

They continued giggling as she made her way into the kitchen.

They ended up leaning against opposite sides of the kitchen island like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Clark started talking about places nearby for dinner, half-listing options like he was trying to make the night feel comfortable on purpose.

She added her own suggestions, laughing more easily now.

For a while, it felt simple.

Safe.

Then Clark’s phone buzzed.

Once.

Twice.

He looked at it.

And everything in him shifted.

“I have to go,” he said immediately, too quickly.

Her expression didn’t change, but her eyes softened in a way that told him she understood exactly what that meant.

He shook his head slightly. “I don’t want to disappear on you again.”

“I know,” she said gently.

Clark hesitated like he was fighting with himself.

But she stepped closer first.

“It’s okay,” she said. “Go.”

His eyes searched hers. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

That did something to him.

Something dangerous and grounding at the same time.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “I’ll be back.”

“I know,” she repeated.

And then he was gone.

When Clark returned, the apartment wasn’t silent.

For a second, he just stood there, taking it in.

Soft music drifted through the space.

Warm candlelight flickered across the living room.

And on the couch, she was curled up with her legs tucked under her, phone in one hand, manuscript in the other, laughing quietly at something Lois had just said through the speaker.

Cat’s voice came next, dramatic and offended. “I’m telling you, that ending needs work.”

“I’ll edit it,” she laughed.

Clark didn’t move.

He just watched.

There was no emptiness here.

No void he had to fill.

No silence that felt like distance.

Just life.

Warm, ordinary, present life.

And it hit him so hard his throat tightened.

She looked up then.

Her smile softened immediately. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he said, voice quieter than he meant it to be.

She gestured vaguely to the couch. “I ordered food. I figured you’d be back soon.”

Clark stepped closer slowly, like he was afraid the moment might break if he moved too fast.

“You lit candles,” he said.

“Yeah I saw there were some on the counter,” she replied.

From the phone, Lois added, “I said it might be nice. Give me some credit too.”

Clark let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh.

But his eyes stayed on her.

Because he realized something he hadn’t expected.

He had spent so long afraid of leaving.

Afraid of disappearing.

Afraid that if he was gone too long, everything would slip back into silence.

But now, standing here, he realized something even more overwhelming.

The quiet wasn’t gone.

It had just changed.

It wasn’t empty anymore.

It was full.

And for the first time, Clark Kent felt tears sting his eyes, not from fear, not from burden, but from something dangerously close to relief.

She noticed immediately.

“Clark?” she asked softly.

He shook his head slightly, like he was trying to steady himself.

“I’m okay,” he said.

But his voice didn’t fully agree with him.

She shifted, “I’ll talk to you guys later,” hung up the phone , and patted the space beside her.

“Come here,” she said gently.

And he did.

Carefully, like it mattered.

Like she mattered.

Like this quiet was something he was finally allowed to keep.

Clark sat down beside her trying to take it all in.

She stayed close for a moment longer, studying him like she was checking for something unspoken.

Then she tilted her head slightly.

“You should take a shower,” she said gently.

Clark blinked, pulled slightly out of his thoughts. “What?”

“You just saved the world,” she said, matter of fact. “And you came back looking like you’re carrying all of it with you. Go breathe for a minute.”

A quiet laugh left him, but it didn’t fully hide the tension in his shoulders.

“I’m fine,” he said automatically.

“Clark,” she replied softly.

That was all it took.

His resistance eased.

“Okay,” he said quietly.

But he still didn’t move right away.

Like leaving meant breaking something fragile.

She noticed.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she added.

That did it.

Clark nodded once, then started toward the hallway.

But before he could fully step away, her voice stopped him again.

“Hey.”

He turned back.

She hesitated for only a second, then stood and walked towards him.

“You don’t have to carry all of it alone in front of me,” she said gently. “I’m not asking you to be okay all the time.”

Clark’s throat tightened slightly.

“I don’t know how to turn it off,” he admitted.

“I know,” she said. “But you don’t have to turn it off here.”

That landed differently.

Not like reassurance.

Like permission.

Clark looked at her for a long moment, like he was trying to memorize the way that felt.

Then quietly, almost unsure of himself, he reached up and gently held his hand to her face.

She didn’t move away.

Didn’t hesitate.

Just stayed there, steady.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

The apartment felt still in a way that wasn’t empty.

Clark’s voice dropped slightly. “You make it easier.”

That surprised her a little.

“Me?” she asked softly.

He nodded once. “Yeah.”

A pause settled between them, heavier now in a different way.

She looked at him like she was realizing something at the same time he was.

“Clark,” she said gently.

He didn’t answer.

Not yet.

Her hand lifted slowly, resting lightly against his arm like she was making sure he was real, and she was too.

“You’re allowed to stop for a second,” she said.

Something in him broke open at that.

Not loudly.

Just quietly.

Like a door finally giving way.

He exhaled slowly, then leaned in before he could overthink it.

It wasn’t rushed.

It wasn’t uncertain.

It was careful in the way people are when they’re afraid something good might disappear if they move too fast.

Her breath caught slightly, but she didn’t pull away.

She met him halfway.

The kiss was soft.

Brief.

Like a question more than an answer.

When they pulled apart, neither of them moved right away.

Clark’s forehead rested lightly against hers for a second, like he needed the grounding.

“I should go shower,” he murmured, almost like he had forgotten why he was going in the first place.

She gave a small, quiet smile. “Yeah. You probably should.”

He lingered one more moment, then finally stepped back.

But not before looking at her like she had just shifted something fundamental inside him.

When he came back, the apartment felt warmer.

He was in more relaxed clothes now, hair slightly damp, shoulders looser.

She was still on the couch, curled into the blanket, watching him like she had been waiting without making it obvious.

“Better?” she asked softly.

Clark nodded. “Yeah.”

A pause.

“Thank you,” he added.

“For what?” she asked.

“For being here,” he said honestly.

Her expression softened immediately.

“Anytime,” she said.

They ate together on the couch instead of the kitchen.

At some point, the food was less important than the conversation.

She talked about work, about Cat’s dramatic commentary on everything, about Lois pretending she wasn’t invested when she clearly was.

Clark listened like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Like he wasn’t used to conversations that didn’t end abruptly.

Like he wasn’t still half waiting for the night to disappear out from under him.

But it didn’t.

It stayed.

When she laughed, he smiled without thinking.

When he answered, she didn’t rush him.

When there were pauses, they didn’t feel like absence.

They just existed.

Eventually, the energy of the day started to slow.

The kind of quiet that wasn’t tense anymore.

Just tired.

She leaned back against the couch, pulling the blanket up a little higher.

Clark sat beside her, careful at first, like he wasn’t sure how much space he was allowed to take.

Then she shifted slightly, closing that distance on her own.

Like it was obvious.

Like it was safe.

His shoulders eased without him realizing it.

“You’re staring,” she said softly, not accusing.

“I’m not,” he replied automatically.

She raised an eyebrow.

“..Okay,” he corrected, a small smile forming. “Maybe a little.”

That got a quiet laugh out of her.

The movie they had put on became background noise.

Her head eventually found his shoulder without hesitation.

Clark went still for half a second.

Then relaxed completely.

Like something in him had finally stopped bracing.

His hand rested lightly on the edge of the blanket near her, not quite holding her, just close enough to know she was there.

“You’re warm,” she mumbled sleepily.

“I run a little hot,” he said.

That made her smile faintly against his shoulder.

“Good to know,” she whispered.

They ended up moving slower after that.

Talking less.

Just being.

At some point, they shifted from the couch to his bedroom without really deciding to.

It wasn’t awkward.

It felt natural.

Like neither of them wanted distance anymore, just closeness that didn’t need explaining.

Clark turned down the lights while she got comfortable on one side of the bed, still under the blanket.

He hesitated at the edge for only a second.

Then she lifted the covers slightly, silently inviting him in.

That small gesture undid him more than anything else that night.

He climbed in carefully, like he still wasn’t used to the idea that this was allowed.

The space between them closed almost immediately.

Not forced.

Just chosen.

Her head rested on his chest, like it belonged there now.

Clark’s hand found hers under the blanket, fingers gently intertwining.

Neither of them said anything for a while.

Outside, the city kept moving.

But in here, it didn’t matter.

The room was almost completely dark now.

Not the kind of dark that felt empty.

The kind that felt held together by quiet breathing and shared warmth.

She was tucked into Clark’s side, her hand still loosely intertwined with his under the blanket. At some point, their conversation had faded into silence without either of them noticing.

Clark thought she was asleep.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t dare.

Because this was the first time in a long time he wasn’t alone in the quiet and he didn’t want to risk breaking it.

But then, softly, “Clark?”

Her voice was barely there. Sleepy. Uncertain.

“Yeah,” he answered immediately, just as quiet.

Then she shifted slightly against him, not pulling away, just adjusting so she could look up at him even in the dark.

“You’re thinking too loud,” she mumbled.

That got a quiet breath of a laugh out of him. “Is that a thing you can hear?”

“I can feel it,” she said simply.

Clark went still at that. Because she was right. He was thinking too loud. About everything.

About her being here. About what it meant. About how easily she had fit into something he had spent his whole life assuming no one would ever fit into.

And about the part of him he still hadn’t given her.

She noticed his silence shift.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said softly.

“Do what?” he asked.

“Hold everything in your head like it’s all yours to carry.”

Clark swallowed slightly.

Another pause.

Then in a whisper, “There’s something I haven’t told you yet.”

She didn’t move away.

Just listened.

“Okay,” she said.

Clark stared up at the ceiling for a second, like the words might be written there if he waited long enough.

Then he exhaled.

“My real name,” he said slowly, “isn’t Clark.”

Her hand tightened slightly around his without realizing it, but not in fear. In attention. Clark continued.

“When I was born,” he said, voice low and steady, “it was Kal-El”

He didn’t rush to explain.

Just let it exist.

After a moment, she shifted again just enough to look up at him more fully.

“Kal-El,” she repeated quietly.

Clark nodded once.

“Yeah.”

Then, carefully, she asked, “Which one feels like you?”

Clark didn’t answer immediately.

Because he had never liked that question when he asked it of himself.

But tonight, it didn’t feel like a test.

It felt like trust.

He exhaled slowly.

“Both,” he admitted. “But Clark is the one I chose.”

Her expression softened in the dark.

“Okay,” she said gently.

Clark glanced down at her. “Okay?”

She nodded slightly against his shoulder. “I think it makes sense.”

That surprised him a little.

She continued, voice quieter now, “You don’t feel like someone who’s pretending to be Clark. You feel like someone who’s trying really hard to be him well.”

That landed deeper than she probably realized.

Clark’s throat tightened slightly.

“I am,” he said softly.

A pause stretched between them again.

Then she shifted closer, settling back into him like she hadn’t been shaken loose at all.

“Kal-El is a cool name,” she murmured sleepily.

A quiet laugh escaped him before he could stop it. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Sounds like someone who would save the world.”

Clark went still again.

Because she had said it so easily.

Like it didn’t separate him from the person holding her right now.

Like both things could be true.

He swallowed.

“Do you feel different about me?” he asked quietly.

Then she answered without hesitation.

“No.”

That was it.

Simple.

Certain.

Clark closed his eyes for a moment, like he needed that more than he realized.

“..Okay,” he whispered.

Her fingers traced a small, absent circle against his hand.

“You wouldn’t lose me by telling me,” she added softly. “If that’s what you were waiting for.”

Clark didn’t respond right away.

Because she was right again.

Finally, he said quietly, “I wasn’t sure.”

“I know,” she murmured.

And then, “You can stop bracing now.”

That did it.

Something in Clark’s chest loosened in a way he couldn’t control.

His arm tightened slightly around her, not protective, not afraid.

Just real.

“Okay,” he said again.

And this time, it wasn’t a question.

It was trust.

Eventually, her breathing slowed.

Clark stayed awake just a little longer, staring at the ceiling, like he was afraid to close his eyes in case it changed.

But when he finally did, it wasn’t because he had to leave.

It was because for once, he didn’t want to.

And this time, the quiet didn’t feel like loneliness.

It felt like home.

The morning came in softly.

Just pale light slipping through the blinds like it wasn’t trying to interrupt anything, only confirm it was still there.

Clark woke first.

Not because he needed to.

Because he wasn’t used to staying.

For a moment, he didn’t move. Just listened to the quiet rhythm beside him, her breathing steady, tucked in close like she had decided during the night that distance wasn’t necessary anymore.

His hand was still lightly around hers.

Like it had never let go.

Clark stared at the ceiling for a second, something unfamiliar sitting in his chest.

Just.. stillness.

And under it, something almost like disbelief.

She’s here.

A small shift beside him pulled him out of it.

She made a soft sound. somewhere between waking and refusing to fully commit to it, and pressed her face further into his chest like she was negotiating with morning itself.

Clark’s mouth twitched slightly.

“Morning,” he said quietly.

She didn’t answer right away.

Then, muffled against him, “Too early.”

That earned a quiet breath of a laugh from him. “It’s kind of mid-morning.”

“That’s worse,” she muttered.

Clark smiled.

He didn’t move.

Neither did she.

For a few minutes, that was it. No urgency, no expectations. Just the kind of quiet that didn’t feel like something was missing.

Eventually, she finally pushed herself up slightly, hair messy, eyes half-lidded.

She looked at him for a second.

Then blinked.

“Hi,” she said, like she had just remembered how words worked.

“Hi,” Clark replied.

She studied his face for a moment longer than necessary.

Then, softly, “You’re very warm.”

Clark nodded. “You said that last night.”

“I stand by it,” she replied immediately.

He smiled a little. “Good.”

She shifted slightly, sitting up more now, the blanket slipping down around her shoulders.

And for a second, everything felt normal.

Like this had always been part of his life.

Like she had always been here.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, stretching slightly.

“I should probably get back before Lois assumes I’ve been kidnapped,” she muttered.

Clark’s expression shifted a little at that. “You weren’t kidnapped.”

“Debatable,” she said, glancing back at him with a small smile.

He huffed a quiet laugh. “I’ll walk you down.”

“Mm,” she said, distracted, already reaching for her clothes from the chair.

Clark sat up slowly, still watching her.

There was something about the ease of it that didn’t feel real yet.

Like if he blinked too hard, it would shift back into something else.

She turned slightly, catching him looking.

“What?” she asked.

Clark shook his head. “Nothing.”

But she didn’t believe him.

She rarely did, now.

She picked up her bag, then paused like she was thinking about something again.

Clark noticed immediately. “What is it?”

She hesitated.

Then, a little softer, “I think I left my phone on the counter.”

Clark nodded. “I’ll get it.”

He got up first, disappearing into the kitchen.

She followed a moment later, still half in morning fog.

Clark was holding her phone when she walked in.

“Here,” he said, handing it to her.

She took it automatically, then glanced up at him.

“Thanks, Kal.”

It wasn’t dramatic.

It wasn’t intentional.

It was just.. easy.

Like it had always been there.

Like it was normal.

A beat of silence followed.

Not awkward.

Just suddenly different.

Her eyes widened slightly a second later.

“.. I mean-” she started quickly, a flush creeping into her expression. “I meant Clark. I don’t know why I said-”

But Clark wasn’t laughing.

He wasn’t correcting her.

He was just standing there.

Still.

Because something in him had gone completely quiet in a way he didn’t know how to explain.

No one called him that.

Not like that.

Not casually.

Not softly, like it belonged in the same breath as good morning and thank you.

She noticed his expression and slowed.

“Hey,” she said more gently now. “I didn’t mean-did that bother you?”

Clark shook his head immediately. “No. I just..”

He stopped.

Looked at her properly.

Like he was trying to figure out what had shifted.

“You said it like it was natural,” he said quietly.

Her expression softened. “It kind of was.”

That hit him.

More than he expected.

Clark let out a small breath, almost disbelieving.

“No one really says that,” he admitted.

She tilted her head slightly. “Kal?”

Clark nodded once.

She frowned a little, thoughtful now. “Why not?”

Clark hesitated.

Then shrugged slightly, like he couldn’t find a simple answer for something that had never been simple.

“Because it’s not the name I use,” he said. “Not here.”

She studied him for a second.

Then stepped closer, just closing the space enough that he couldn’t pretend this was nothing.

“I didn’t say it because I was trying to be different,” she said softly. “It just.. slipped out.”

Clark nodded slowly.

“I know,” he said.

A pause.

Then, quieter

“It just felt like you saw something I don’t usually let people see.”

Her expression shifted-softer now, more careful.

“I do,” she said simply.

That landed somewhere deep.

Clark looked down for a second, like he needed to steady himself.

Then back at her.

“Say it again,” he said before he could overthink it.

She blinked. “What?”

“My name,” he clarified gently. “The other one.”

For a second, she just looked at him.

Then, just as softly as before

“Kal-”

Before she could finish the word, Clark reached for her. Not abruptly, not taking, just pulling her in like it was the most natural thing in the world he hadn’t allowed himself before and he kissed her. Slow, but immediate.

Her hands came up instinctively to his shirt, grounding herself there as she leaned into it.

Clark’s hands settled at her waist like he had been waiting for permission he didn’t realize he already had.

The kiss wasn’t rushed.

It was certain in a way neither of them had fully been before.

When he finally pulled back, it was only slightly, enough that he could still feel her breath.

Their foreheads nearly touched.

Neither of them spoke right away.

Clark exhaled slowly, almost like he was trying to come back to himself.

“.. I didn’t mean to interrupt you,” he said quietly, though he clearly did not regret it.

Her eyes were still on him.

Wide for just a second.

Then softer.

“You absolutely did,” she said.

A small, breathless laugh slipped out of him.

“I know,” he admitted.

She blinked once, still processing, then shook her head slightly like she was trying to reset her thoughts.

“I was going to say it again,” she added.

Clark’s expression shifted slightly. “Yeah?”

She nodded.

“Kal,” she said. More deliberate this time. Softer. Certain.

Clark went still.

Like the sound of it didn’t just land.

It stayed.

His hands tightened slightly at her waist, not pulling her closer, just anchoring himself there.

“Yeah,” he murmured.

Then, quieter, almost like he was admitting something bigger than the kiss, “I like when you say it more than I probably should.”

Her expression softened completely now.

“Good,” she said gently.

And this time, neither of them rushed to move away.

Because whatever had just changed between them wasn’t fragile.

Clark Kent x fem!editor! Reader, part three in the quiet series!

a/n: Part three!! I hope you love it! I really enjoyed writing this one- and I have a sweet idea for part four. Also, is the point of view okay? I thought writing in third person made more sense for this because it focuses more on Clark and Reader’s relationship rather than the reader’s point of view, but let me know what you think!

Synop: Clark has to face the weight of what it really means to know him.

Warnings: fem reader, brief mention of alcohol, use of Y/N,

Across the city, the editor can be found putting Lois and Cat to bed, along with cleaning up the living room. Jimmy had long since hung up the phone and Cat and Lois were begging for details.

Y/N was dismissing them but the smile that continued to return to her face didn’t lie. She hadn’t felt that way in a long time.

The freedom of getting to be herself paired with a carefree banter that didn’t end in someone getting offended?

That’s rare. For her at least.

Not only that, but the reassurance that yes, Clark did have a good time, and yes, he did want to see her again. That is what would carry her through her upcoming work week.

On the other side of Metropolis, Clark Kent leaned against a kitchen cabinet, about to retire for the night.

He stopped for a second, letting the quiet settle around him.

No voices. No teasing. No elevator ride where everyone watched him like they could already see the ending.

Just him.

And the memory of the way she had looked at him before the night ended.

Suddenly he heard the sound of a bridge collapsing across town.

Clark exhaled slowly.

“This is going to be a problem,” he said out loud, seemingly to break the silence surrounding him.

Clark knew the weight of the title he held. And though they had just recently been acquainted, he knew he couldn’t give her up for that. She was too special.

However, there was a small smile at the edge of his concern.

And for once he didn’t try to take it back.

The next week Clark and Y/N agreed to meet for dinner again. After a week of shared lunch breaks and not so subtle flirting, Clark had asked to meet, but this time, urged her to choose the location. She was excited. Not only to see Clark, but for the chance to show him one of her favorite hole-in-the-wall restaurants that she deemed “right up his alley”.

The day started simple.

Too simple.

Clark was buzzing in anticipation for their date that night.

He had confirmed it. Reconfirmed it. And then, just to be safe, mentally confirmed it again while staring at his calendar like it might change its mind.

It didn’t.

Which was usually where things went wrong.

At the Daily Planet, Lois was already watching him.

“You’re distracted,” she said, sliding into the chair across from his desk.

“I’m not,” Clark replied immediately.

Lois raised an eyebrow.

Clark adjusted his glasses. “I’m focused.”

“That’s worse,” she said.

From behind her, Jimmy popped up, sensing the conversation topic.

“Is he spiraling yet?” Jimmy asked.

Clark leaned forward slightly. “I’m right here.”

“Perfect,” Jimmy said. “Then I can diagnose in real time.”

“I am not spiraling,” Clark said.

Lois and Jimmy both stared at him.

“…Yet,” Jimmy added.

Clark sighed and went back to his work.

That night, he was supposed to meet her at that small restaurant just off downtown. The one she was excited to go to.

He was early.

Then- there was an emergency.

Not the kind that made headlines right away.

Not the kind people saw coming.

The kind that wouldn’t wait.

It especially wouldn’t wait for him to finish his date. Clark knew he didn’t get that luxury.

He stared at the skyline for half a second longer than he should have.

Then he was gone.

And back at the restaurant, she waited.

At first, it was fine.

People were late sometimes. Traffic. Work. Life. Clark was a busy guy.

So she told herself that.

She checked her phone once. Usually she wouldn’t even glance at it. But anticipation was gnawing at her, so she picked it up again.

Then again.

Then she stopped checking and just stared at the door instead.

Fifteen minutes passed.

Then thirty.

By forty-five, the red wine she’d ordered was untouched, sweating beside her hands.

At an hour, she smiled a little when the waitress asked if she wanted to order.

“Maybe he’s just running late,” she said lightly, like it wasn’t something she needed to convince herself of.

At an hour and twenty minutes, she stopped smiling.

Lois had long since retreated back to their shared home when Jimmy called her.

“How did it go?”

Lois was silent.

“He didn’t show, did he?” Jimmy asked immediately.

Lois didn’t answer right away.

That was enough.

“Oh no,” Jimmy said quietly. “Oh, that’s bad.”

“He wouldn’t just stand her up,” Lois said, but it sounded less like certainty and more like hope.

Jimmy shook his head on-screen. “It’s not that he stood her up. It’s that he wouldn’t unless something happened… and she doesn’t understand that.”

Lois leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling. “Yeah. Especially not without an explanation from Clark.”

A beat.

Then Jimmy’s tone shifted. “It’s Superman stuff, isn’t it.”

Lois closed her eyes and let out a breath. “Yeah.”

Clark returned hours later.

The city had already started to settle again, lights dimming into that late-night glow that made everything look quieter than it was.

He landed on his balcony and stayed there for a second too long.

His chest was still tight, not from exertion. From timing.

He stepped inside.

And immediately knew something was wrong.

His phone was glowing on the counter.

Missed calls.

Messages.

More than he liked.

His stomach dropped.

The next morning at the Planet, he didn’t look up from his desk right away after arriving.

He could feel them before he saw them. Clark pretended to type to keep himself busy, though all he could think about is her face when he never arrived. Would she have been sad? Disappointed?

Lois shifted.

Jimmy leaned over his desk.

Cat wasn’t there yet. That was good. One less variable.

Lois didn’t waste time.

“She waited for you,” she said.

Clark’s hands stopped moving. He stopped pretending like he could be thinking about anything else.

“I know,” he said quietly.

Jimmy leaned closer to Clark’s desk. “Dude.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Clark said.

Lois exhaled sharply. “You always have a choice to communicate.”

“That’s not safe,” Clark said immediately.

That made Jimmy go quiet.

Lois tilted her head slightly. “For her?”

Clark didn’t answer fast enough.

That was answer enough.

“…Yeah,” he admitted.

A beat of silence stretched between them.

Then Jimmy softened his voice. “Okay. So you’re not just avoiding her. You’re protecting her.”

Clark looked down at his desk. “If someone connects her to me—”

“I know,” Lois interrupted, more gently now.

Clark finally looked up at her. “I can’t put her in that position.”

Jimmy nodded slowly. “Yeah, but you’re also putting her in the ‘confused and hurt in her favorite restaurant for over an hour’ position, which is… not great either.”

Clark let out a quiet breath through his nose. “I didn’t mean for it to happen like this.”

Lois studied him for a long moment. “Then you have to tell her.”

Clark stiffened slightly. “Lois—”

“No,” she said firmly. “Not everything. Not Superman. Not all of it. But enough that she understands you’re not just… disappearing on her. Because then I’m the one who has to deal with the aftermath when she comes home. And Clark, I frankly don’t think I can see her like that again.”

Jimmy pointed at the Clark. “She’s not asking for your secret identity, man. She’s asking not to feel like she imagined the whole thing.”

That hit harder than either of them expected.

Clark went quiet.

Because that was the part he couldn’t argue with.

Lois leaned forward slightly. “You like her.”

Clark didn’t answer.

Clark more than liked her.

Jimmy rolled his eyes. “Oh my God, he’s doing the silent thing again.”

Lois didn’t look away from Clark. “You like her,” she repeated, softer but sharper in a different way.

Clark finally exhaled.

“…Yeah,” he admitted. Now wasn’t the time to get into specifics.

Jimmy nodded like he’d been waiting for that for days. “Cool. Then stop letting fear make decisions for you.”

Clark looked down again.

“I’m not afraid for me,” he said quietly.

That made the room still.

Lois’s expression shifted. “You’re afraid for her.”

Clark nodded once.

Because that part was worse.

The truth wasn’t that he couldn’t tell her.

It was that he could.

And once he did.. she wouldn’t be safe in the same way again.

And he didn’t know if love was worth that risk. He didn’t know if he was even allowed to call this love.

Even if everything in him was starting to say it already was.

She didn’t answer his messages.

Not at first.

Clark told himself that was fair.

He told himself she was busy. That she needed space. That people didn’t owe him immediate forgiveness just because he had a reason.

He also told himself he wasn’t watching his phone every three seconds.

He was lying about that one.

Two days later, she showed up at the Daily Planet.

Not upstairs.

Not in an email.

Not in a carefully worded text that Lois would absolutely have opinions about.

She came down.

Clark saw her the second she stepped off the elevator.

And for a moment, everything else in the newsroom blurred into background noise.

She looked the same.

But not really.

There was something tighter in her posture. Something more controlled. Like she had practiced being okay before walking in.

Lois noticed immediately.

Jimmy went silent for once.

Cat wasn’t there yet.

That somehow made it worse this time.

Clark stood up too fast, nearly knocking his chair back.

“Hey,” he said, and hated how careful it sounded.

She stopped a few feet from his desk.

Close enough that he could see she wasn’t angry.

Not exactly.

But she wasn’t soft either.

“Hey,” she said back.

A beat.

Then, “Do you have a minute?”

Clark nodded immediately. “Yeah. Of course. Yeah.”

Too fast.

He knew it was too fast. He had already decided in her doorway last week that he was past the point of desperation.

She noticed anyway.

Lois quietly leaned back in her chair like she was preparing for impact.

Jimmy whispered, “Oh no.”

Clark didn’t look at them.

He couldn’t.

He followed her instead.

They ended up in a quieter stairway just off the main floor. Away from the phones, away from the typewriters, away from everything that made it easier to pretend this wasn’t real.

She turned first. Took a moment to gather herself. One grounding deep breath.

“I waited,” she said.

Clark’s throat tightened. “I know.”

“I mean I waited,” she repeated, a little sharper now. That careful facade was returning with an unsure anger. “For an hour. Then I went home and told myself it was fine. Then I told myself it was probably something important. Then I told myself I was not going to be that person who overreacts about someone she, let’s face it, barely knows.”

Clark flinched slightly at that last part.

She saw it.

And softened just a fraction.

“I didn’t mean that last part.” She paused. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad and I know I’m deflecting,” she added quickly. “I just need to understand what happened.”

Clark swallowed.

This was the part he dreaded more than anything.

Not danger.

Not falling.

Not saving the world.

Just explaining why he couldn’t be normal in the simplest way possible. Even though everything in him was willing himself to be normal. But she called him “special” herself. Now he just had to show her what that truly meant.

“I didn’t stand you up,” he said quietly.

“I know,” she replied immediately.

That surprised him.

She crossed her arms slightly, but her voice stayed steady. “That’s not what this feels like.”

Clark blinked. “What does it feel like?”

She hesitated.

“Like you disappear.”

Silence hit between them.

That silence that had once been so sweet for Clark was now twisted into something ugly and sharp.

Clark looked away for half a second.

Because that was exactly what it was. He does disappear.

“I didn’t have a choice,” he said carefully.

Her expression shifted. “That’s what you said in your message.”

Clark nodded once.

Another beat.

Then she stepped forward just slightly, wringing her hands. Not closing the distance. Just asking for honesty.

“Clark,” she said, softer now. “I’m not mad that you were busy. I’m mad that I sat there thinking I did something wrong.”

That landed.

Harder than anything else.

Clark’s hands flexed at his sides.

“You didn’t,” he said immediately.

“I know that now,” she said. “But I didn’t then. And I still don’t really understand what prompted this.”

Clark exhaled slowly, like the air itself felt heavier than usual.

“I can’t always be where I say I’m going to be,” he admitted.

Her brows pulled together slightly. “Because of your job?”

Clark hesitated.

That hesitation lasted half a second too long.

She noticed.

“…Yeah,” he said finally.

It wasn’t a lie.

Just not the whole truth. But he still wasn’t giving her the honesty she was asking for.

She studied him for a long moment.

Then she said, carefully, “Then maybe you shouldn’t be dating someone.”

Clark looked up sharply.

That hit like a quiet punch.

She didn’t look cruel when she said it.

That made it worse.

“I’m not saying that to be mean,” she added quickly. “I just- I don’t know what I’m signing up for here. And I don’t think you do either.”

Clark opened his mouth.

Closed it again.

Because she was right.

About part of it.

Just not the part that mattered most.

Behind them, faintly, the newsroom kept moving. Phones ringing, chairs rolling, life continuing like it didn’t know anything important was happening in the stairwell.

Clark finally spoke, voice lower.

“I like you,” he said.

Her expression flickered, just slightly.

“That’s not the problem,” she said.

“I know,” Clark replied.

A pause.

Then, quieter than before:

“The problem is I don’t know how to keep you safe and still… have this.”

He gestured between them.

Clark didn’t want her to use the word like because that’s not what this was for him. For Clark, this was an out of body feeling that could only be described as extreme infatuation that left him feeling frustrated with himself for not being able to convey that to her.

Her eyes searched his face.

Really searched it.

Like she was trying to find the missing piece he wasn’t saying out loud.

“Safe from what?” she asked.

Clark’s jaw tightened.

For a second, he considered telling her everything.

All of it.

The truth pressed up behind his teeth like it had been waiting too long.

But then he saw it. Her, standing here, already a little hurt from not being chosen in time.

And he couldn’t risk what would happen if the world ever decided to notice her.

So he did the only thing he could.

He told her the truth that fit inside his life.

“I don’t live a normal life,” he said.

Her eyes didn’t leave his.

“I figured,” she said softly.

Clark let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

Then she nodded once, slowly.

“Okay,” she said.

Not forgiveness.

Not resolution.

Just acknowledgment.

Then she added, “But I can’t do disappearing acts.”

Clark nodded immediately. “I won’t. I’ll communicate better. I promise.”

She studied him for another second.

Then, quieter

“I want to believe you.”

That was worse than anger.

Because anger meant she was still in it.

Belief meant risk.

Clark’s voice dropped. “You don’t have to decide anything right now.”

She let out a small incredulous laugh. “Yeah, I guess I do. Because what I’m feeling is more than just a childhood crush, and I can’t keep lying awake at night wondering when you’re going to disappear. I just don’t have the time for that.”

That made him go still.

Because she had said it.

Out loud.

That same feeling he couldn’t describe had been reiterated back to him.

Clark’s expression softened slightly, something honest breaking through the restraint.

“I don’t want to vanish,” he said.

A beat.

Then, carefully, she nodded.

“Then don’t,” she said.

And for the first time since all of this started, Clark realized the hardest part wasn’t going to be saving the world.

It was learning how to stay.

The silence after her words didn’t feel empty.

It felt like pressure.

Like something waiting to collapse.

“Then don’t,” she had said.

Clark looked at her, really looked at her, and for a moment the newsroom behind them didn’t exist. No phones. No Jimmy on FaceTime. No Lois watching like she was ready to sprint in if things went wrong.

Just her.

Just the possibility of losing this before it even really started.

Clark exhaled slowly. He knew she truly deserved to know he’s deepest secret, even if it meant risking her altogether.

“I need to tell you something,” he said.

Her expression shifted immediately—guarded again, but not closed off. “Okay.”

He nodded once, like he was committing himself to something he couldn’t undo.

“You’re right,” he started quietly. “I don’t live a normal life.”

She didn’t interrupt.

That alone steadied him.

Clark glanced down for half a second, then back up.

“I disappear because… sometimes I have to.”

A pause.

Her brows knit slightly. “Have to how?”

Clark hesitated.

Then made the choice.

“The truth is,” he said, voice lower now, “I’m not always just Clark Kent.”

Something flickered across her face. Confusion first.

Then concern.

Then a faint realization she didn’t want to name yet.

“What does that mean?” she asked carefully.

Clark swallowed.

And then, before he could talk himself out of it, he stepped just slightly back into the hallway’s open space.

“I’m Superman.”

For a second, the world didn’t react.

No dramatic sound. No instant shockwave. No sudden change in lighting like reality itself was acknowledging it.

Just her.

Staring at him.

Like her brain was trying to decide whether it had misheard.

“…You’re what?” she said slowly.

Clark didn’t look away. Not this time.

“I’m Superman,” he repeated, quieter this time. Not louder. Not more confident. Just… true.

Her mouth opened slightly, then closed again.

A beat passed.

Then another.

“You’re joking,” she said, but there was no humor in it.

Clark shook his head once.

“No.”

Her eyes scanned him, his face, his posture, like she was suddenly looking for something that should have been obvious in hindsight.

“You’re telling me,” she said carefully, “that you’re Superman.”

Clark nodded.

She let out a short breath, almost disbelieving. “And you just… work downstairs.”

“Yes.”

“At a desk.”

“Yes.”

“For a newspaper.”

Clark hesitated, then nodded again.

That earned a sound from her, half laugh, half something overwhelmed.

She stepped back a fraction.

Not fear.

Not yet.

Just recalibration.

“You missed our date,” she said slowly, “because you were… Superman.”

Clark’s jaw tightened. “Yes.”

That landed differently.

He could see it.

Not shock anymore.

Understanding started to form in sharp edges.

“So when you said you had to disappear,” she said, voice quieter now, “you meant… that.”

“Yes,” Clark said again.

A beat.

Then, carefully, she asked, “Is that why you didn’t tell me before?”

Clark didn’t answer immediately.

Because that was the real question.

Not what he was.

But what it meant for her.

“I didn’t want you to be connected to it,” he said honestly. “To me.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Because it’s dangerous.”

Clark nodded once.

“And because people like me don’t exactly have normal enemies.”

That made her go still.

Not scared.

Just finally seeing the shape of the thing she had been circling without understanding.

“You’re saying I could be used against you,” she said.

Clark’s voice dropped. “Yes.”

Silence stretched between them again, heavier this time. Clark was beginning to grow weary of this silence.

She looked away for a second, processing.

Then back at him.

“And you still wanted to see me again?” she asked.

Clark didn’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

That surprised her.

He could tell.

Her expression softened just a fraction, but her voice stayed steady.

“So what now?” she asked.

Clark swallowed.

This was the part that mattered more than the secret.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I just know I don’t want to lose you because I was too scared to be honest.”

Her gaze held his for a long moment.

Then she exhaled slowly.

“I need time,” she said.

Clark nodded immediately. “Okay.”

“I’m not saying no,” she added quickly.

That stopped him.

He looked at her.

She continued, quieter now, “I’m just… trying to understand what dating you even means now.”

A faint, almost helpless honesty slipped into her voice.

“And I still like you,” she admitted. “That part didn’t change.”

Clark’s shoulders eased slightly, like he’d been holding himself together by force.

“I still like you too,” he said.

A beat.

Then, carefully, she stepped a little closer again, not all the way, but enough that the distance didn’t feel like an ending.

“Okay, Superman,” she said softly, like she was testing how it sounded in real life.

Clark let out a quiet breath, almost a laugh.

“Yeah,” he said. “That’s… new.”

“It’s a lot,” she replied.

“I know.”

She studied him one more time, then nodded.

“Don’t disappear on me without telling me,” she said.

Clark didn’t hesitate this time.

“I won’t.”

And for the first time since the night everything started going wrong, it didn’t feel like a promise he was hoping to keep.

It felt like one he already knew he would.

She didn’t give him an answer right away.

Not a yes. Not a no.

Just space.

Clark learned quickly that “space” was its own kind of silence. One that didn’t feel like absence, but like waiting.

The next few days were careful.

He didn’t disappear.

Not once.

Not even when everything in him was pulling toward the sky.

If he had to leave, he told her.

Not in detail. Not with explanations that would make her carry weight that wasn’t hers.

Just, “I have to go. I’ll be back.”

And every time, she let him.

That alone felt unreal.

Lois noticed first.

“You look less like you’re about to explode,” she said one morning, sliding into the chair across from him once again.

“I was not about to explode,” Clark replied automatically.

Lois raised an eyebrow.

“…Okay,” he corrected. “Less stressed.”

Jimmy popped up before Lois could respond.

“Is this the phase where he ruins it or improves it?” Jimmy asked immediately.

“I’m not ruining anything,” Clark said.

“That’s what phase two people say,” Jimmy replied confidently.

Lois sighed. “He told her.”

Jimmy froze. “Wait, he told her everything?”

Lois hesitated just a fraction. “He told her enough.”

Jimmy leaned closer. “And she didn’t run away screaming?”

Clark frowned. “No.”

Jimmy blinked. “Huh.”

That felt like progress.

But Clark could feel the distance in a different way now.

Not physical.

Decision shaped.

She was still there. Still talking to him. Still showing up in ways that made his day feel less like something he had to survive.

But she was thinking.

He could tell.

The way her eyes lingered a little longer before she smiled. The way she watched him when she thought he wasn’t paying attention. The way she didn’t interrupt when he hesitated, like she was learning where the edges of him were.

Clark didn’t push.

He couldn’t afford to.

Because this wasn’t just about him anymore.

It was about what she was willing to stand next to.

She made her decision on a Tuesday.

Not dramatic.

Not cinematic.

Just simple.

She asked him to meet her after work.

Not at the restaurant.

Not in the Planet.

Outside.

On the steps where people passed them without noticing anything important was happening.

Clark arrived early again.

He always did now.

He didn’t know what this conversation would be, but he knew what it could cost.

She showed up a few minutes later.

Hair slightly windswept. Work bag still on her shoulder. Expression unreadable in a way that made his chest tighten.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” he replied.

A pause.

Then she exhaled slowly, like she’d rehearsed this and decided to stop rehearsing.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said.

Clark nodded once. “Okay.”

She looked at him directly.

Not past him. Not around him.

At him.

“I don’t think I want to walk away from this,” she said.

Clark went still.

She continued before he could respond.

“But I also don’t think I can pretend it’s normal anymore. It isn’t. And it never will be.”

Clark’s throat tightened slightly. “I know.”

She shifted her weight, gripping her bag strap a little tighter.

“I’m not asking you to change your life,” she said. “I know you can’t.”

A beat.

Then softer:

“I’m deciding if I can live in it with you.”

Clark didn’t speak.

Because that was the first time she had said it like that.

Not date you.

Not try.

Live in it.

She took a breath.

“I want to take this seriously,” she said. “But seriously means I need to understand what I’m stepping into.”

Clark nodded slowly. “Okay.”

She watched him for a second, then added, “And I need honesty. Not half of it. Not when it’s convenient.”

That landed.

Clark’s voice was quiet. “You’ll get it.”

She searched his face again, like she was checking if he understood what she was asking for.

Then she nodded once.

“Then I’m in,” she said.

Clark blinked. “You’re… in?”

She gave a small, almost nervous exhale.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m not saying it’s not scary. It is. But I already like you enough that walking away feels worse.”

A faint smile tugged at her mouth, despite everything.

“So,” she added, “Superman or not, I want to try.”

Clark didn’t move for a second.

Like his body hadn’t caught up to what he’d heard.

Then, quietly

“Are you sure?”

She tilted her head slightly. “No.”

That honest answer made something in his chest loosen.

“But I’m choosing it anyway,” she finished.

Then Clark nodded once, slow and real.

“Okay,” he said.

And this time, when he smiled, it wasn’t careful.

It was relief.

Clark Kent x fem!editor! Reader, part two in the quiet series!

a/n: I was struggling trying to decide where I wanted to take this, but here you go! It’s, again, a lot of dialogue but I feel like it gives the reader more personality. I also try not to use Y/N so much because I feel like people don’t like it, but sometimes it’s unavoidable. It’s proofread, but I probably still made some mistakes so bleh.

Synop: Clark and the editor meet for dinner - meanwhile Clark’s already deciding how many packs of red pens he needs to buy for her to move in with him.

Warnings: fem reader, reader is characterized as confident and witty, brief mentions of alcohol

Clark Kent spent an unreasonable amount of time staring at his phone.

Not in a dramatic, spiraling way. He wasn’t pacing his apartment or drafting and deleting paragraphs of text like a man on the brink. He was sitting perfectly still on the edge of his couch, elbows on his knees, phone in hand, reading the same message thread over and over again like it might change.

It hadn’t.

Y/N: 7 works. And don’t be late, Kent. I hear that’s a habit.

Clark exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not always late,” he muttered to no one.

He stood up immediately after, already grabbing his jacket, making his way to the restaurant.

The restaurant was exactly how Clark had described it, small, tucked between two louder storefronts, warm light spilling out onto the sidewalk. Clark frequents the establishment due to its semblance to his hometown. The neighborhood joint feels like an indrawn breath. The frantic pace of Metropolis daily life dissolves with each step taken. Inside, it smelled like garlic and fresh bread and something rich enough to make him momentarily forget how nervous he was.

He arrived ten minutes early.

He told himself that was intentional.

It was not.

Clark stood just inside the door for a moment, scanning the room out of habit more than necessity. A few couples, a quiet conversation in the corner, a server weaving through tables with practiced ease.

And then

He saw her.

She was already there.

Of course she was.

She sat at a small table near the window, sleeves rolled up just slightly like earlier, a glass of water in front of her and her phone set aside, ignored. Waiting, but not impatiently. Just… present.

Clark felt something in his chest settle.

He approached, offering a small, apologetic smile. “Hi. I thought I was early.”

She looked up, and that same quiet warmth from earlier flickered back into place. “You are,” she said. “I just like being earlier.”

Clark huffed a soft laugh as he pulled out the chair across from her. “Good. Maybe you’ll rub off on me.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” she said lightly.

There was a brief pause as he sat down, the kind that could have been awkward but wasn’t. Not really. Just new.

Clark glanced at the table, then back at her. She seemed strangely blithe, though Clark suspected that might be impossible for her.

“So.. no ambush this time,” Clark began with a teasing grin.

“No,” she said. “Just you.”

“…Is that better or worse?”

She tilted her head like she was actually considering it. “Undetermined. I’ll let you know.”

Clark smiled at that, some of the tension easing out of his shoulders.

A server came by, and they ordered, Clark letting her go first, noting the way she spoke clearly, decisively, like she edited menus in her spare time. When it was his turn, he hesitated for half a second.

“Uh—I’ll have what she’s having,” he said.

Y/N raised an eyebrow.

Clark blinked. “…It sounded good.”

“You easily swayed Kent?” she quipped.

“I thought I told you to call me Clark?” He countered.

“Fine Clark, I’ll let you have this.” She looked down, barely hiding a smile.

“How generous.” Clark jested.

A few minutes passed. Water glasses were refilled. The quiet hum of the restaurant wrapped around them.

Clark leaned back slightly, folding his hands on the table. “So,” he started, “I feel like I should warn you. This is my first date in… a while.”

Y/N rested her chin lightly on her hand. “Define ‘a while.’”

Clark hesitated.

“…Define ‘date,’” he countered.

She smiled again, however this time, she was barely stifling a laugh, that bright, easy sound that made something in him feel lighter. Clark mentally noted that he has already found the exact remedy for the constant silence plaguing his apartment.

“I’m serious,” he said, smiling despite himself. “I don’t do this very often.”

“I know,” she said simply.

Clark blinked. “You do?”

“You’re not hard to read, Clark,” she replied. “You’re careful. With people.”

That caught him off guard. Not in a bad way. Just… direct.

“I don’t think that’s a bad thing,” he said.

“It’s not,” she agreed. “It just means this probably matters to you.”

Clark held her gaze for a second longer than he expected to.

“…Yeah,” he said quietly. “It does.”

There it was again. That small shift in the air between them. Not heavy. Not overwhelming. Just… real.

Y/N nodded once, like she understood something important, and didn’t feel the need to make it bigger than it was. “Good,” she said.

The food arrived, and with it, something easier.

They talked.

Not in the forced, checklist way Clark had half-expected from her, but in something that felt natural. They moved from work to small stories. Lois’s inability to whisper, Jimmy’s alarming commitment to chaos, Cat’s terrifyingly accurate instincts.

She told him about college. About late nights editing papers while Lois argued about headlines and Cat reorganized their entire apartment at two in the morning “for efficiency.”

Clark told her about Kansas. About early mornings and wide fields and the kind of quiet that felt different from the kind he had now.

“You miss it,” she said.

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “But… not like I thought I would.”

“Because of Metropolis?”

Clark shook his head slightly.

“…Because of the people in it.”

Her expression softened, just a little.

At some point, Clark reached for his glass at the exact same time she did.

Their hands brushed.

It was quick. Accidental. But that same feeling from the previous day returned. Clark thought back to the charge that filled him when their hands brushed as she handed him the sticky note. And then.. Clark briefly imagined the lingering touch of a quiet moment in his apartment kitchen. Maybe swaying to a soft hum or music playing faintly from Pa’s old record player. He was getting ahead of himself. But maybe, just maybe, this could be something normal for him. Not out of the ordinary. And definitely not special. No prodding coworkers, no evil villains or even an extraterrestrial beings. Just the reassurance that someone would keep choosing him despite his flaws.

Clark was then urged back to reality when he realized their hands were still touching.

But neither of them pulled away immediately.

The silence returned. But now, Clark wasn’t willing it away.

Clark cleared his throat softly, sitting back just a fraction. “Sorry.”

“You apologize a lot,” she noted.

“I’ve been told.”

“I believe it.”

“…I’m working on it.”

Y/N smiled. “Don’t. It’s kind of endearing.”

And there it is, Clark thought.

That continued acceptance despite my flaws.

Clark blinked.

“…Oh.”

By the time the plates were cleared, neither of them seemed in a hurry to leave.

Clark glanced toward the window, then back at her. “Do you, um- would you want to walk a bit? It’s nice out.”

She studied him for half a second.

Then she stood, grabbing her coat. “Lead the way, Clark.”

Clark smiled at the unprompted mention of his name. This was a good thing. He deserves this.

Outside, the city had softened. The noise was still there, but distant, like it had decided to give them space.

They walked side by side, not too close, not too far. Comfortable.

For a while, neither of them said anything.

Silence

And it wasn’t awkward.

It was easy.

Clark glanced over at her after a few minutes. “So… final verdict?”

“On what?”

“Undetermined,” he said. “Better or worse.”

She pretended to think about it, hands tucked into her coat pockets.

“…Better,” she said finally.

Clark smiled, looking ahead again. “Good.”

There was a small pause.

Then,

“Clark?”

“Yeah?”

Y/N nudged his arm lightly with hers. “Next time you accidentally touch my hand just go ahead and grab it. Maybe don’t stare off into space for half a minute. I thought I lost you.”

He laughed softly. “Deal.”

“…Next time?” he asked, just to be sure.

She removed one hand from her coat. The one closest to him.

She didn’t look at him when she answered. Whether Clark was aware or not, this was uncharted territory for her. The poised facade she had built up over time was her only tool. She wasn’t used to handling situations with care. But she knew she had no choice but to be careful with this. No one had ever sought her out the way Clark was. Clark seemed utterly captivated by her, and she didn’t want to accidentally change that by being brash.

She needed to be careful with this. Even if she has to learn how.

As she continued she sounded.. almost shy? “Don’t make me repeat myself, Clark.”

He didn’t.

Clark confidently clasped their hands together, arms swaying in step with their feet.

But the smile on his face stayed the entire walk home.

As they approached the apartment building Clark’s earlier feelings of uncertainty returned.

“Do you want me to walk you up?”

She grinned, “Are you okay with being ambushed? They have totally been stalking my location.”

Clark huffed a laugh, “Totally? Wow you’re getting comfortable with me already. Don’t go all colloquial on me now.”

She feigned shock, “Oh hush Clark you haven’t even seen me with a glass of wine. Be careful, you’ll get something real colloquial then.”

And there it was. Clark. It fell so easily from her lips. Clark thinks to himself that his name never sounded so good.

Clark gave her an arm, “Well let me walk you up and maybe I’ll get to see?”

“You wish.”

He did.

As they reached the doorway, she fished out her key, and turned the knob.

The pair made it to the living room when they were met with two (drunk) ecstatic women. There was an open bottle of Pinot Noir on the coffee table and what seemed to be Cat’s phone was screen mirrored onto the TV.

Y/N’s suspicions were correct. They had in fact been watching her location.

The two of them swiveled to see the couple crossing the threshold from the hallway to the living room.

“Oh my God Lois.” Cat paused. “They’re holding hands.”

Lois looked astonished.

“You act like I’m incapable of basic human connection.” She snapped. “Can we please save this for after Clark leaves?”

“Lois she said ‘Clark’. No ‘Smallville’, no ‘Kent’. His real name,” Cat exclaimed.

“Ohhhh She’s got it bad. You hear that Olsen? ‘Clark’.” Lois gushed to her phone where Jimmy Olsen’s face appeared on a FaceTime.

“Okay guys are we serious? FaceTiming Jimmy? What- next you’re going to be recording a voice memo for the planet group chat. Can we be adults?” Clark pleaded while, still, trying to fight a smile.

Y/N whipped her head in Clark’s direction, already sporting a grin, “Do not give them any ideas.”

“Oh my god they’re perfect.”

The three continued to gush over Clark and Y/N until they decided to make their way back down the hallway to the door, away from prying eyes.

Clark stood just outside the apartment while Y/N lingered in the doorway.

“I had a great time Clark. You’re really special.”

He paused. Special? That’s exactly what Clark didn’t want. Clark thought he was tired of special. He longed for normal.

Clark had been used to being described as 'special' his whole life, from when Ma and Pa first witnessed the development of his super abilities, to the growth spurt that added six inches in the summer between his junior and senior years, to Perry seeing his first article analyzing Superman.

Clark had heard special, again and again.

But this, this was different. She wasn’t calling Clark’s abilities, stature, or insight special, no. She was declaring him special.

Clark didn’t know what to say.

“I have to see you again.” - Apparently that was the best he could come up with.

All Clark knew was that he couldn’t let her go. Especially not now. If that meant coming across as desperate, so be it.

She laughed. A real, unabashed laugh. Clark felt like he was being healed by the sun in real time.

“I think I can make that happen, Clark,” she quipped, letting out an amused breath.

“I can’t wait. Please don’t hesitate to text me. Or call me. Or FaceTime me. Or stalk my location.” Clark was sporting a radiant grin, trying to pry another laugh out of her.

He succeeded. A mufled one shielded behind her hand.

“Go, Clark,” she playfully pushed his chest. “You’re gonna need plenty of rest to prepare for the teasing you’re going to endure at work tomorrow.”

Clark grabbed her hand and kissed her palm.

“Worth it.”

Before spinning around and heading back towards the elevators.

She stared out the door with a stunned silence and an out-of-character grin before turning back inside and re-entering the source of commotion that was coming from her living room.

All the while, Clark was back at his apartment, mindlessly staring at the sticky note with her number on it from their previous meeting that was stuck to his bathroom mirror, while brushing his teeth.

Maybe Clark could begin to accept that, yes, he was special.

Clark Kent x fem!editor! Reader, part one in the quiet series, but this one could be read alone!

a/n: This is my first story I’m posting! I was thinking of making this a series just because I’ve had this idea for a while. Let me know if you like the way the paragraphs are, this is just how I like it because it makes the dialogue more digestible. This is proofread but I probably still messed up lol. If you have tips for me please share and if you enjoyed this please interact!

Synop: After being teased by his meddling coworkers about his nonexistent dating life, Clark Kent is dragged upstairs for a surprise introduction to a sharp-witted editor who just so happens to be their roommate?

Warnings: use of y/n, brief mentions of glasses?, female reader, reader is described as confident and witty

Clark Kent had always liked mornings at the Daily Planet, specifically the rhythm of it.

The clatter of keyboards, the hum of conversation, and the smell of burnt coffee made it easy to forget things, even if he was late for work more often than not.

Unfortunately, his beloved routine had recently become tarnished due to the relentless teasing of his three closest friends, Cat Grant, Jimmy Olsen, and Lois Lane, regarding his love life.

As Clark made his way toward his desk for another day filled with deadlines and coffee that tastes like battery acid, according to Lois Lane, he caught the tail end of a signature Jimmy Olsen rant.

"I’m just saying," Jimmy’s voice carried annoyingly easily over the bustle of the newsroom, "statistically, it’s starting to get concerning."

Clark closed his eyes for half a second. It was too late to turn around now.

"What’s concerning?" he asked, setting his bag down at his desk with deliberate calm.

Jimmy swiveled in his chair like he had been waiting all morning for this exact moment. "Oh, you know. Just your complete and total lack of a love life."

Clark adjusted his glasses. "I have a life."

"Yeah," Jimmy said. "A love life is a different category."

From across the room, Lois Lane didn’t even look up from her computer. "He’s got a point, Smallville."

Clark sighed, already feeling heat creep up the back of his neck. His frustration rose as his morning routine was tainted. "Can we not do this today?”

That, apparently, was the wrong thing to say. Lois finally glanced over, her eyes sharp with amusement. "Do what? Express concern for our coworker who has never, in all the time I’ve known him, gone on a single date?"

"I have gone on dates," Clark muttered.

Jimmy leaned forward immediately, sensing an opening for another quip. "Name one."

Clark opened his mouth, paused, then closed it again.

Jimmy gasped. "Oh my. Lois, did you see that? He tried to think of one."

"I saw," Lois said, clearly enjoying this far too much.

Clark rubbed the bridge of his nose trying, albeit failing, to will away his friends with his body language. "I’ve just been busy."

"Uh-huh," Jimmy said. "Saving cats out of trees busy or 'I forgot to text back for three to five business days' busy?"

Clark shot him a look. "I don’t forget to text back."

Jimmy raised an eyebrow. "Okay, so you’re telling me you intentionally ignore my texts? That’s worse, man."

"I don’t ignore—" Clark stopped himself and exhaled. He really didn’t have time for this today. "That’s not the point."

From the far desk, Cat Grant chimed in, her tone smooth and knowing. "The point is, Kent, you’re a catch. Tall, polite, mysteriously unavailable farm boy. Honestly, it’s a little suspicious."

Clark blinked. "Suspicious?"

Cat gave him a once-over. "No girlfriend, no dramatic ex, no dating history to speak of. What are you hiding?"

Jimmy snapped his fingers. "Yes! That’s what I’ve been saying. There’s no way someone like you is just single by accident."

"I am not hiding anything," Clark said, a little too quickly.

Lois smirked. "Relax, we’re not accusing you of a double life."

Clark froze for half a second.

Jimmy missed it entirely. "We’re just saying maybe it’s time you, I don’t know, put yourself out there? Download an app. Talk to a human woman. Baby steps."

Clark sighed, dropping into his chair which squeaked under his weight. "I talk to human women all the time."

"Work doesn’t count," Lois said.

"Neither does saving them," Jimmy added.

Cat tilted her head. "Unless that’s your flirting strategy. Which, for the record, could work."

Clark huffed a small laugh despite himself, but it faded quickly. Under all the teasing, under Jimmy’s grin and Lois’s smirk and Cat’s casual prodding, there was that same quiet thought from the night before, settling back in. They weren’t entirely wrong. His apartment had been quiet. Too quiet. And Clark had become a little too accustomed to it.

Jimmy was still talking. "I’m serious, Clark. We could set you up. I know people."

"Oh, I’m sure you do Jimmy," Clark said dryly.

"I do!" Jimmy insisted. "Normal people. Mostly."

Lois leaned back in her chair, an amused smile forming on her face. "You’re not setting him up. He would combust before appetizers."

"I would not combust."

"Clark," Lois said, raising an eyebrow, "you apologized to a chair yesterday."

"It was in the way."

"It was a chair."

Clark opened his mouth, then stopped, because unfortunately that was not a strong defense.

Jimmy grinned. "Face it, man. You need help."

Clark looked between them, shaking his head, but a small, reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Okay," he said finally. "Even if, hypothetically, I wanted help..."

Lois’s eyes lit up immediately.

"That’s a big 'if.'"

"...I wouldn’t let you be in charge of it."

Jimmy clutched his chest. "Wow. After all I’ve done for you."

"You live for chaos," Clark said.

"Correct," Jimmy nodded. "But this would be constructive chaos."

Clark laughed softly under his breath, but the thought lingered anyway.

Even if, hypothetically, I wanted help. Clark thought to himself.

He reached for his coffee, staring down into it for a second longer than necessary. Maybe, hypothetically, he did.

Clark continued, deciding maybe he would explore this scenario this morning. He had been putting it off for too long anyway. Clark began again. "Even if, hypothetically, I wanted help, where would I even find anyone? Especially someone willing to put up with," Clark paused while vaguely gesturing toward himself, "me."

There was a beat. Then— "Oh my God."

Clark looked up. Lois had gone completely still, staring at him like she had just cracked a case wide open. Across the room, Cat’s expression sharpened in the exact same way.

"What?" Clark asked cautiously.

Lois slowly turned toward Cat. "Why didn’t we think of this before?"

Cat blinked once. Then, "I have no idea. This is actually embarrassing for us."

Clark straightened in his chair. "What are you talking about?"

Jimmy leaned forward, his eyes lighting up. "Wait. What? What did I miss?"

Lois pointed a finger at Clark like she was presenting evidence to a jury. "You need someone grounded, right? Someone who’s not going to be intimidated by," she gestured vaguely at him, "all of this."

"All of what?" Clark pried, immediately forgetting his earlier statement.

Cat ignored him completely. "Someone competent. Calm. Not easily impressed."

Jimmy snapped his fingers. "A little intimidating, maybe?"

"Yes," Lois said immediately. "A little intimidating."

Clark frowned. "I don’t need to be intimidated."

"You do," Lois and Cat said in unison.

Clark blinked. Jimmy looked between them, increasingly excited. "Okay, okay. Who are we talking about?"

Lois and Cat turned to each other again. And then, together— "Her."

Clark’s stomach dropped slightly. "That’s not helpful."

Cat waved a hand. "Editing. One floor up."

Lois leaned forward. "Head of the department."

Jimmy’s eyes widened. "Wait. Her? Are you serious right now?"

Clark looked between all three of them. "I feel like I’m missing something important."

"You’ve definitely seen her," Lois said. "Sharp eyes, always has a stack of papers, looks like she could end your career with a single red pen.”

Cat smiled encouragingly. "But in a charming way."

"That’s not comforting," Clark muttered.

Jimmy sat back, shaking his head in disbelief. "No, no, they’re right. That actually makes so much sense. Clark, she sounds perfect for you."

Clark let out a small, incredulous laugh. "You don’t even know what I’m like."

Jimmy gave him a look. "Buddy. I know exactly what you’re like."

Lois ticked points off on her fingers. "You’re polite. She appreciates that."

"Quiet," Cat added. "She hates unnecessary noise."

"Kind of awkward," Jimmy said.

Clark shot him a look.

"Endearingly awkward," Jimmy corrected.

Lois nodded. "And she will absolutely not let you get away with anything."

Cat tilted her head. "Which you need."

"I do not—" Clark started, then stopped, because arguing that point felt like a trap.

Jimmy leaned in. "Also, she works upstairs, which means she already understands the chaos of this place.

And," Lois added, clearly building to something, "she lives with us."

Clark blinked. "She what?"

Cat nodded casually. "Roommate. Has been for years."

"We went to college together," Lois said. "All three of us."

Jimmy’s jaw dropped. "Hold on. That’s your roommate?"

"The one and only," Cat said, clearly pleased with the reaction.

Clark looked between them, something like surprise flickering across his face. "I didn’t know that."

"That’s because you never come over," Lois said.

"You’ve never invited me," Clark shot back.

Lois opened her mouth, paused, and gave Clark a fierce look of reproach. “Clark, we asked you two days ago and you said you had to go walk your dog. You don’t have a dog."

"I do have a dog! It’s like a split custody thing! You wouldn’t understand," Clark griped.

"Irrelevant," Cat continued smoothly. "She’s one of my closest friends. Ours," she corrected, nodding toward Lois. "Which means we can personally guarantee she’s not insane."

Jimmy considered that. "That checks a big box."

"And," Lois added, clearly pleased with herself, "she’s single."

Clark hesitated. "...You know that for sure?"

Cat smirked. "We would know that better than anyone."

There was a pause as all three of them looked at him expectantly. Clark shifted in his chair. "I don’t even know her name."

Lois waved that off like it was a minor detail. "Easy fix."

"Absolutely," Cat said. "We’ll introduce you."

Clark’s eyes widened slightly. "We?"

Jimmy grinned. "Oh yeah. This is a team effort now."

"I don’t think it should be a team effort," Clark said carefully.

"It’s already a team effort," Lois replied.

Clark exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Maybe I could just run into her naturally or something.”

Cat raised an eyebrow. "Clark, you apologize to furniture. You’re not running into anyone naturally."

"That was one time."

"It was yesterday," Lois said.

Jimmy clapped his hands together. "Okay, new plan. We go upstairs—"

"No," Clark said immediately.

"—casual," Jimmy continued, ignoring him, "like we totally have a reason to be there—“

"We do have a reason," Lois said. "I can make one up."

"That’s not better," Clark muttered, slowly becoming aware of his impending doom.

Cat crossed her arms, studying him. "Are you actually interested, or are we wasting our time?"

Clark opened his mouth, paused, and annoyingly thought of his apartment again. Quiet, still, and empty in a way that had nothing to do with space. He thought of the boring monotony of coming home every night to cold sheets and even colder dinner.

He closed his mouth, then tried again. "...Hypothetically," he said.

Jimmy groaned and rubbed his eyes. "Man, if you say 'hypothetically' one more time—"

"Yes," Clark said, a little more firmly this time, surprising even himself. "Okay? Yes. I’m interested."

The room went quiet for half a second. Then Jimmy lit up like it was Christmas morning. "Let’s go."

Clark stood up halfway out of his chair. "Right now?"

"Right now," Lois said, already grabbing a notepad like this was suddenly official business.

Cat smoothed her sleeve, entirely composed. "No time like the present."

Clark looked between all of them, suddenly very aware of how fast this had escalated. "I feel like this is moving quickly."

Jimmy slung an arm over his shoulder, steering him toward the elevator. "That’s because it is."

"Guys—"

"Relax," Lois said, pressing the elevator button. "Worst case scenario, you have a normal conversation with a very attractive, very competent woman."

Clark hesitated. "...That’s the worst case?"

Cat smiled slightly. "For you? Yes."

The elevator dinged. Clark stared at the doors for a second, then stepped inside with the rest of them before he could overthink it. As the doors slid shut, Jimmy leaned over. "By the way, don’t say anything weird."

Clark frowned. "I don’t say weird things."

Lois and Cat both looked at him.

Jimmy nodded. "He says weird things."

Clark sighed, leaning back against the wall as the elevator started moving. "...This was a mistake."

But he didn’t step out.

The elevator hummed softly as it climbed. Clark watched the numbers tick upward like they were counting down to something instead of up. Beside him, Jimmy was practically vibrating. Lois looked far too confident. Cat looked like she had already decided how this was going to go. Clark, on the other hand, was reconsidering every life choice that had led him here.

"So what’s her name?" he asked, because that felt like important information to have before meeting someone.

Lois glanced at Cat. Cat smiled.

Clark narrowed his eyes. "Why are you both looking at each other like that?"

"We’re building anticipation," Lois said.

"I don’t want anticipation."

Jimmy leaned in. "You definitely want anticipation."

"I don’t," Clark said firmly.

The elevator dinged before anyone could argue further. The doors slid open.

Clark stepped out slower than the rest of them, immediately noticing the difference. The upstairs floor was quieter and more focused. Less chaos, more control. The hum of conversation dropped to low murmurs, the sound of pages turning, and pens scratching.

Editors.

Clark straightened slightly without thinking.

"Okay," Lois said under her breath, switching instantly into something that looked akin to professionalism. "Act normal."

"I am normal," Clark said.

Jimmy snorted.

Cat ignored both of them, already walking with purpose. "She should be in her office.”

Clark followed, his heartbeat just a little faster than usual. Not dangerous-fast. Not Superman-fast. Just human. Weird.

They stopped outside a glass walled office. Papers were stacked neatly inside, organized in a way that made Clark’s desk downstairs look like a disaster zone. Through the glass, he could see her. Sharp eyes, just like Lois said. Sleeves rolled up slightly, glasses placed on top of her head, pen in hand, focused entirely on the pages in front of her. There was a quiet intensity about her, like the rest of the room adjusted itself around her instead of the other way around.

Clark swallowed.

"Oh, yeah," Jimmy whispered. "You’re done for."

"Be quiet," Clark knowingly muttered.

Lois didn’t knock right away. Instead, she glanced back at Clark, a small, encouraging smile tugging at her lips. "Last chance to run."

Clark hesitated. For half a second, he considered it. Then he shook his head. "...No. I’m good."

Cat’s expression softened just barely. "Good answer."

And then Lois knocked.

The woman inside didn’t look up immediately. "If this is another last-minute rewrite, I’m sending it back down untouched," she said, her voice calm but firm.

Lois pushed the door open anyway. "Good morning to you too."

That got her attention. She looked up, and the shift was immediate. The sharp focus softened just a little as recognition settled in.

"Lois," she said, leaning back slightly. "Cat." Her gaze flicked to Jimmy. "Olsen."

"Always a pleasure," Jimmy said.

Then her eyes landed on Clark. And paused. Not in a dramatic way. Not like she had figured something out or recognized him from somewhere impossible. Just noticing. Taking him in.

Clark suddenly became very aware of how he was standing. Of his hands. Of the fact that he had no idea what to do with either.

Lois stepped forward like she owned the place, gesturing toward Clark’s unsure figure.

"We come bearing introductions."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "That sounds ominous."

"It’s not," Jimmy said. "It’s exciting.”

"It’s normal," Clark added quickly.

Three heads turned toward him.

"...Normal," Jimmy echoed.

Cat stepped in smoothly before Clark could dig himself any deeper. "We realized something this morning," she said, folding her arms. "A glaring oversight, really."

Lois nodded. "A failure on our part."

The woman looked between them, unimpressed but curious. "Should I be concerned?"

"No," Lois said. "You should be interested."

Clark closed his eyes briefly. This was going terribly.

Cat gestured toward him. "This is Clark Kent."

Clark opened his eyes and offered a small, slightly awkward smile. "Hi."

There was the briefest pause. Then— "I know," she said.

Clark blinked. "You do?"

She nodded once. "You write features. Human interest pieces."

Clark stared at her for half a second, caught off guard. "Yeah. I—yeah."

Jimmy leaned over and whispered, "She reads your stuff. You’re in."

Clark did not feel in.

Lois crossed her arms, clearly pleased. "And this," she said, finally, "is the person we can’t believe we haven’t introduced you to sooner."

Another small pause. The woman set her pen down, giving Clark her full attention now. Clark felt it. Not overwhelming. Not intimidating, exactly. Just direct. Steady.

"Hi, Clark Kent," she said, a hint of something warm slipping into her voice now. "I’m—"

Lois cut in, unable to help herself. "Our roommate. Our best friend. The reason half the paper functions."

Cat added, "And, apparently, your new problem."

Clark blinked. "My—"

"Cat," Lois said, half-laughing.

"What? It’s accurate."

Clark let out a quiet, nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "I’m starting to think I walked into something."

"You did," Jimmy said.

The woman, their roommate, shook her head slightly, but there was a small smile there now. "Ignore them," she said. "They’ve been like this since college."

"We have not," Lois said.

"We absolutely have," Cat replied.

Clark huffed a soft laugh, some of the tension easing out of his shoulders. "Sorry about this," he said. "I didn’t exactly plan the group introduction."

"Clearly," she said, glancing at Lois and Cat.

Clark hesitated, then added, a little more honestly, "But I’m glad they did."

That earned him a slightly more genuine smile. "Yeah?" she said.

Clark nodded, just once. "Yeah."

Behind him, Jimmy made a very quiet, very excited noise. Lois elbowed him. Cat just watched, satisfied. And for the first time that morning, Clark didn’t feel like he needed to forget anything at all.

The room felt smaller, but for the first time, it didn't feel crowded. Even with Jimmy struggling to stay quiet beside him and Lois practically oozing with "I told you so" energy, Clark found he could tune them out. He focused on the woman in front of him, the way she didn't seem bothered by the spectacle, and the way she held her ground.

"So," Lois said, her voice dropping the theatrical edge for something more genuine. "Now that the official tour has reached its destination. Y/N, meet Clark. Clark, meet Y/N."

Y/N tilted her head, her gaze lingering on Clark’s face. "You’re the one who wrote that piece on the Metropolis community gardens last week," she said. "The one where you interviewed the ninety-year-old woman who grew giant pumpkins."

Clark felt the heat rise to his ears again, but this time it wasn't from embarrassment. "You read that?"

"I edited it, Clark," she said, her smile widening just a fraction. "I’m the one who fought to keep the quote about the pumpkins being ‘stubborn as mules.’ My boss thought it was too folksy. I thought it was the heart of the story."

"I liked that quote," Clark said softly. "Thank you for saving it."

"I like heart," she replied simply.

The silence that followed was actually nice. It was a rare, quiet pocket of air in the middle of the Daily Planet’s hurricane. Naturally, Jimmy Olsen was there to pop the bubble.

"Okay, great! We’ve established mutual professional respect and shared values regarding gourds," Jimmy chirped, clapping his hands. "Now, can we get to the part where you two acknowledge that you’re both single and very attractive?"

"Jimmy!" Clark hissed.

"What? I’m the pacing coordinator," Jimmy defended.

Lois rolled her eyes and started herding Jimmy and Cat toward the door. "Alright, the ‘help’ has done its job. We’re leaving before Clark actually melts into the floorboards."

"I have a meeting anyway," Cat said, checking her watch and giving Y/N a wink that was anything but subtle. "Don’t let him be too polite, Y/N. It’s a trap to make you like him."

As the trio retreated into the hallway—Jimmy still whispering loudly about wedding photography discounts—the office became suddenly, wonderfully quiet.

Clark adjusted his glasses, looking at his shoes before meeting Y/N’s eyes. "I am so sorry. They mean well, they just don't have a volume knob."

"It’s fine, Clark," Y/N said, leaning against her desk. She picked up a red pen, twirling it between her fingers. "I’ve lived with Lois and Cat for three years. I developed a high tolerance for chaos a long time ago."

"Still," Clark said, a small, brave smile forming. "I’d like to make it up to you. For the ambush."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Is that right?”

"Hypothetically," Clark teased, throwing his own word back at her. "I was thinking. There’s a small Italian place three blocks from here. They have very quiet tables, very loud flavors, and most importantly none of our coworkers are allowed inside."

Y/N laughed, a bright, clear sound that made Clark’s chest feel lighter. Reminiscent of if he were flying over the Atlantic. "That sounds like a very well researched proposal, Mr. Kent."

She reached for a small post-it note, scribbled ten digits onto it with her red pen, and handed it to him.

"That’s my personal line," she said. "Text me. If you’re lucky, I might even let you apologize to my furniture if it gets in your way."

Clark took the paper, his fingers brushing hers, and made a mental note to scold Lois for having prematurely ruined the nonchalant front he had worked so hard on, though he knew it was futile. "I’ll try to keep the apologies to a minimum."

"I doubt that," she smirked, picking up her manuscript again.

"Go on, Kent. You have a deadline. And I have a lot of red ink to use."

As Clark backed out of the office, the post-it note tucked securely into his palm like a treasure, he said, “Clark.”

She paused as her head tilted in confusion.

“Call me Clark.” He reiterated.

She tested it with a grin, “Will do, Clark.”

As he hit the hallway, Clark was beaming. He found Lois, Jimmy, and Cat hovering by the elevators, pretending to study a map of the building that they definitely didn't need.

"Well?" Lois turned impatiently.

Clark didn't say a word. He just held up the yellow slip of paper with the red ink.

Jimmy let out a muffled cheer. "Victory! I’m calling the restaurant. We need to make sure they have a table that’s Clark-proof."

"You’re doing no such thing," Clark said, his smile bright and genuine as he headed for the stairs, his step lighter than it had been in months.