Superhero (Said unaffectionately)
Pairing: Clark Kent x Loser!Reader
Summary: Clark stands up for you. You don't appreciate it.
Warnings: angstyy, reader gets upset, clark was only trying to help :((
a/n: this one is slightly different, i hope you like it! the ending is shocking (as in bad) but i was really stuck on how to end it...Also! only one fic left on my masterlist but that means you can request fics so... :P
The meeting was supposed to be simple, quick and simple. You’d sit down near the back, write all your notes, try to pitch an idea, get ignored, and forgotten.
Not Clark’s idea of a great plan.
Until today, he’d never noticed how much you struggled during meetings, how brilliant your ideas were, how every time you were spoken over, your shoulders would tighten, and you’d shrink into your seat like someone has taken a chisel to your heart.
He’d watch your lip wobble, your eyes go glossy, the way you fiddle with your cardigan sleeve, or the way you bite your lip whenever you’re nervous.
The last few meetings, he’s sat right next to you, but today, he couldn’t save you a seat in time. He sat a few seats away, and took notice of your battle with the rest of your colleagues, the people he called his friends.
“Um…There’s this-“ You’re trying to pitch an idea, a good one, a real one people face every day, and no one's listening. “There’s a real problem with discrimination at the moment-“
Clark’s listening. Or course he is. He can hear the slight tremble in your voice, the quick beat of your heartbeat, the way your words have no impact in the room. He’s had enough, he loves you too much to watch you suffer.
“Hey!” His voice catches the attention of everyone in the room as he looks around, eyes passing on everyone ignoring you. “I think [Y/n] has something to say.” He says, and you freeze.
Suddenly, everyone’s eyes are on you. You don’t know what to do, what to say. No one has ever spoken up for you before. You feel angry, embarrassed, frustrated, and you feel the familiar warmth rise up your neck.
“I don’t-I’m okay-“ You stutter out, eyes wide.
Lois finally notices, and shakes her head. “No, what did you want to say?”
You pause, looking over the room. Some people look bored, some people look slightly interested, but most people aren’t even looking at you, like you’re some ghost. Like you’re not really here.
“I just…Discrimination is um…becoming increasingly more common and I think um…we should speak up about it.”
“Discrimination?” Someone scoffs, and your eyes flick down to your notebook. The pages are slightly worn with age, and stress related fiddling. You squeeze your eyes shut in humiliation.
“I interviewed a woman last week.” You start. “She said how-“
Perry sighs, flicking over his notes. “Sure, we can look into it.”
And that’s that. The moments gone, your idea’s already forgotten, and you’re more embarrassed than ever.
For the rest of the meeting, you don’t meet Clark’s eyes, even when you can feel him looking.
The moment the meeting ends, you don’t even wait for the room to fully clear. You’re already out of your chair, moving towards the door.
Clark says your name once behind you, soft and very confused, but you don’t turn around. You just walk faster. Too fast, honestly. The humiliating fire burns in your gut, fuelled by anger, and you’re not too sure how to put it out.
You make it out into the hallway before he catches up.
“Hey!” Clark says again, more hurt in his voice. He’s never seen you like this, never felt you like this before. He reaches out and grabs your wrist. “Wait.”
You spin around. “What was that?” you ask.
Your voice is cold, only a little, but it scares him. There’s heat in it now, real frustration sharp around the edges.
Clark pauses like he didn’t expect that tone. “I was trying to help you.”
“I didn’t need help.” You say immediately.
He frowns slightly. “You were being interrupted.”
“I know I was being interrupted.” You snap, then immediately inhale like you’re trying to calm yourself down. “That’s what happens in meetings. You wait, you pick your moment, you don’t-” You gesture sharply back toward the room. “You don’t stop everything and point at me like I’m-”
Some doormat. A pushover. Pathetic. A loser. Desperate.
You stop yourself, jaw tight.
Clark’s expression shifts, and he’s more serious now, eyebrows furrowed, neck slightly curved as he looks down at you. “I wasn’t pointing you out…” He says carefully.
“It felt like it.” You shoot back.
The corridor suddenly feels too quiet. You know you should stop. Clark was just trying to be helpful. He’s a nice guy, he wants to help everyone he can, but sometimes it doesn’t feel helpful, or nice, it feels humiliating. You press on before he can respond, words coming faster now.
“I don’t need you to do that!” You say. “I don’t need you to jump in every time someone talks over me. I was fine. I had it handled.”
Clark holds your gaze, his eyes squinting in disagreement. “I didn’t think you did.” He says quietly, looking away. It lands wrong.
Your face heats instantly, but not in the embarrassed way from before, it’s angrier.
“Oh.” You say, letting out a short laugh. “So I looked like I couldn’t handle it? Is that it? That’s what you thought?”
Clark’s eyes widen slightly. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Because I was handling it.” You continue, voice rising just a little. “You don’t get to decide that I wasn’t just because I wasn’t doing it the way you would’ve done it.”
His jaw tightens faintly. He’s not angry, he’s just never seen you like this before, he’s just taking it all in, all your frustration, all your anger.
“I don’t need rescuing in a meeting!” You say. “I don’t need you to announce me like I’m invisible until you decide I’m not. I don’t need you to-“ You cut yourself off, breath uneven. “-to make it into a thing.”
Clark is quiet for a moment, and when he speaks, his voice is lower, more careful. “I wasn’t trying to make it a thing.”
“But you did.” You say immediately. “You humiliated me in front of everyone.” Your hands curl into your sleeves again, knuckles tight. Clark is silent for a second. It hits a little harder, because you know Clark would never want to embarrass you, but he did. Whether he meant to or not you left that meeting embarrassed. His expression softens slightly, but lets you continue.
“I don’t want people looking at me like...” You stop. “Like I can’t speak for myself unless someone steps in.”
Clark exhales slowly. “I get it-” He says.
You scoff under your breath. “Do you?”
That makes him pause. Not offended. Just…taking it seriously.
“I do.” He says again, firmer this time. “I didn’t think about how it would feel for you. I should have asked.”
“I don’t want to be your little project.” You say bluntly.
For a second, something flickers in his face, hurt maybe, or just surprise, but he doesn’t react to it outwardly, he just stills.
“I don’t see you like that.” He says quietly.
“Then stop treating me like I need fixing!” You burst. Your voice wavers, and your eyes become teary again.
Clark nods. “Okay,” he says.
You realise your breathing is uneven, like you’ve been holding it without noticing. The silence lands awkwardly between you both, and you can’t look at him anymore. Your gaze lands on your work shoes, slightly scuffed, very well loved.
Eventually, you look up. “I should go.” You say
His eyebrows furrow, and his eyes go all puppy-like. He utters your name quietly, almost like a pleading whine. “Come on, don’t go-“
“I don’t want to do this right now.” You add, voice wobbling. “I’m embarrassed enough already.”
Clark’s face softens slightly. “You don’t have to be embarrassed-”
“But I am, Clark!” You cut in. A lone tear drips down your cheek, and you quickly wipe it away. “I just-I had it, okay?.”
“I thought I was helping.” He says finally, quieter.
“I know.” You say, but doesn’t sound forgiving, you just sound done, exhausted, finished.
You shift your bag higher on your shoulder, and you take a step back. “I’m going to go.” You sniff.
Clark doesn’t stop you. He stills, and he silently begs, but he makes no movement to stop you.
He just watches you for a moment longer than feels comfortable, something unreadable in his expression now. It’s not anger, not defensiveness, just concern. He’s worried about you, way more than he’d like to admit.
He nods. “Okay.” He says finally.
You then turn and walk back down the corridor with your shoulders tight, face burning, eyes wet, lump strong in your throat, knees wobbly with confrontation.
Clark doesn’t deserve that. He was only trying to help. Instead, you let your embarrassment and insecurity get the better of you, and now you’ve probably lost a friend, and you don’t blame him.
Behind you, Clark doesn’t follow. He just watches you go. He can hear your sniffling, your heart breaking. He can feel your guilt, your sadness now overtaking your humiliation.
He knows he shouldn’t have done that, but he didn’t think you’d take it this way. It was a good idea, and he thought everyone should hear it.
The gap between you grows, and he doesn’t want to lose you. He can’t lose you, he loves you too much to lose you.
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