fem!reader x kal el (absolute superman)
summary: Superman saves you when you get shot by the Peacemakers during a protest against Lazarus Corp.
word count: 4k
cw: violence, death, near death experience, trauma, panic attack, implicit suicidal ideation, sleep paralysis, poverty.
The village where you grew up was a perfect representation of the limbo between rural and urban life. The roots of the fruit trees cracked the poor-quality asphalt as though they were protesting. The fragrance of the mango and Surinam cherry trees mingled with the earthy smell of open sewage. Birds tangled themselves among the haphazardly exposed electrical wires.
Just a few months ago, children with swollen bellies and skinny legs ran through these streets after a makeshift rag ball, their youthful laughter echoing with hope. Toothless elderly people watched them with tender smiles.
It was far from a perfect life. Far from it. But the villagers helped one another however they could, facing each day as it came.
Fate has a cruel sense of humor. The moment the Lazarus Corporation arrived, full of promises of new jobs and better living conditions, everyone became excited. For the first time in a very long while, you were seen.
The villagers were rich without knowing it. Nearby, the abandoned mines contained a mineral whose value had been overlooked until then. The substance had once been considered useless, but it had now become essential for the manufacturing of electronic devices.
Women, children, and the elderly also began working for the corporation, though they were paid lower wages under the excuse that they were less productive. During the first few weeks, the Peacemakers were like shadows lurking around the workers, studying the villagers' behavior and presenting themselves as security officers who would only intervene in emergencies. However, it took only one accident in the mines to reveal the true face of Lazarus' corporate hounds. A young, inexperienced man mishandled his pickaxe and badly injured himself. Rivers of blood poured onto the damp ground as his horrified coworkers cried out for help.
The Peacemakers promised to take him to the nearest hospital, but forced everyone else to continue digging despite their shock and concern.
The young man never returned from the hospital.
His relatives began asking about his whereabouts, only to receive vague answers. The first feeble attempt at protesting ended in violent repression. The guilt of not having spoken out sooner still gnawed at your insides like a starving worm.
From that point on, the treatment of the community became increasingly inhumane. How much violence can a person endure before reaching the point of no return? How many times can you beat a dead dog without bringing it back to life?
There was nothing extraordinary about the week the villagers gathered together, raised their pickaxes and hoes, and marched toward the entrance of the mines with their blood boiling. The weight of hopelessness and exhaustion had transformed into a furious determination to kill or be killed.
The sound of cracked heels striking the ground echoed like the beat of a drum. Everyone shouted at the top of their lungs. Rain began pouring from the sky, and you took it as a blessing from above. For one brief moment, the community became a force of nature that could not be stopped.
Unfortunately, that moment came to an end.
The combination of heavy weaponry and utter contempt for human life resulted in a pile of bodies. There was no time to react before the gunfire began. Trapped between two workers, you bled through a hole in your chest.
You remembered the teacher who had taught you how to read and write, and the dreams you had been promised that never came true. Your parents' proud smiles whenever you did well in school. So many expectations, only for you to end up crushed like a cockroach. At least you would be with them soon.
There was no pain. Only darkness and the overwhelming smell of mud and blood.
Then you felt something enveloping you, prickling your skin like tiny pebbles.
Were they burying you?
You tried to open your eyes and were greeted by a sea of crimson.
Were you arriving in Hell...?
You should have listened to your grandmother and prayed more.
Then again, it didn't matter. Your mind couldn't imagine any Hell worse than continuing to live beneath the Lazarus Corporation's rule.
You lost all sense of time as your body drifted through alternating waves of freezing cold and unbearable heat.
You were thirsty.
So terribly thirsty.
And then...
You were a baby again, taking your first steps toward your father. Then running to hide behind your grandmother's skirt to escape your mother's scolding. Playing ball with the neighborhood children and hurting your big toe.
Then a thunderclap rang out so close that it jolted you awake from one dream only to plunge you into another.
You were running across lands as red as blood beneath an equally crimson sun. The ground split open beneath your feet, and a green substance overflowed from the cracks, swallowing you whole.
It wasn't the first time Kal-El had arrived too late. Even so, the pain and guilt remained the same. His super speed helped, but he was still limited to being in only one place at a time.
How could he measure who needed his help the most urgently?
He had just saved a little girl from an attempted murder when he heard the gunfire. Her own father had tried to end her innocent life in retaliation for his wife's request for a divorce.
Kal-El hadn't even had the chance to comfort the trembling child.
One heart was still beating, faintly, stubbornly. Kal-El flew toward it to make sure it would keep beating.
He pulled you from the pile of bodies, his sandy cape helping him lift you as you lay cold and on the brink of death. Your heart stopped and started again twice while he held you in his arms.
That was the first time Kal-El cried because of you, and the reason was fear.
Later that night, he would cry again, in relief upon learning that you had survived the emergency surgery.
You slept for nearly a week.
Every single day, Kal-El hovered outside your hospital window, anguished as though a piece of kryptonite were hanging around his neck.
He stopped himself from going after the Peacemakers responsible for what had happened.
Not yet.
The hero's mind couldn't stop obsessing over those left behind.
Every rescue was a choice. Was he truly making a difference for the better, or was he simply playing God by deciding who lived and who died?
Your vital signs weakened.
The doctors attempted another intervention, hoping for the best while fully aware of their own limitations. To say Kal-El took the news poorly would have been an understatement.
The Superman flew to a cave atop Mount Everest and screamed.
That was the third time he cried because of you.
In the end, you survived.
The medically induced coma was lifted, and little by little, your body recovered.
No one mentioned the massacre. You thought they were trying to spare you, but in reality, Lazarus had bribed the mass media. Your community had not only been murdered, but it had also been erased from history.
The medical staff told you about Superman. The man responsible for saving your life.
Damn him.
The hospital food wasn't terrible, yet every bite burned its way down your throat. Your mind punished your body, blaming it for daring to stay alive when everyone else was gone.
When Kal-El found you awake for the first time, he saw the very same question in your eyes that had haunted him his entire life.
"Why couldn't I have died with my people?"
He didn't know how to answer.
Kal-El continued visiting you, choosing the hours when you were asleep whenever possible.
He wasn't there when you were discharged from the hospital and referred to social services.
You left the public hospital wearing nothing but the clothes on your back: a long-sleeved shirt and a worn-out pair of jeans. They had been donated.
You wandered through downtown the capital for hours, lost in thought.
The warmth against your skin, the sounds of the bustling city, and the smell of fried food drifting from the street stalls followed you until nightfall, when you headed to a shelter for dinner and a place to sleep.
The next day, you crossed the street without looking.
By luckâor perhaps misfortuneânot a single vehicle happened to be passing at that exact moment.
Sitting on a park bench, you watched injured pigeons pecking at the ground in search of crumbs. Broken wings. Pierced eyes. Feet tangled in plastic.
A presence materialized beside you. It was him. The flying man.
"I guess I should thank you for what you did for me," you said, your gaze fixed on the ground. âBut I canât.â Your voice was barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry."
He didn't answer.
After what felt like an eternity of silence, you raised your head and met the bluest eyes you had ever seen. He shifted awkwardly on the bench, opening and closing his fingers.
"Would you like something to eat?" he finally offered, speaking your language with a faint accent.
"Only if it's junk food."
He almost smiled.
Then he vanished into thin air.
Before you could fully process it, he was back, holding two breaded beef skewers stuffed with a generous amount of melted cheese.
You could smell the old frying oil. Perfect.
You didn't mind making a mess in front of him as you broke away from the healthy diet of the past few months.
You noticed that although people frequently glanced your way, the passersby didn't seem particularly surprised by the sight of an absurdly tall man dressed in a black-and-red uniform. He must have already become famous around here.
He told you his name was Kal-El.
You eventually found work as a janitor at a shopping mall with your paperwork arranged through social services.
You still slept at the shelter, though.
Kal-El began visiting you often, but he could never stay very long. You gradually came to appreciate him, even though you still harbored a bit of resentment. You knew the feeling made no sense, but it was beyond your control.
With your first paycheck, you even bought your savior a gift.
Well... you bought the materials to make one. Modeling clay, white glue, galvanized wire, paint, brushes, and everything else you needed. You remembered your grandmother's lessons as you sculpted a little figurine of Kal-El.
Although it turned out rather well, you almost decided not to give it to him.
Which would have been a shame.
Otherwise, you never would have seen his entire face light up as he held the tiny Kal-El in his hands.
"That's me."
"It is."
You looked away, hiding your blush as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt.
The request that was about to leave your lips would shatter the sweetness of the moment.
"Kal-El...Take me there."
âAre you sure?â he asked, looking at you with concern.
You simply nodded.
Kal-El asked for permission before wrapping his arms around you. For the second time, you felt the crystals woven into his red cape brush against your skin.
Held tightly against his chest, you squeezed your eyes shut.
âWe're here,â he whispered into your ear.
Summoning every ounce of courage, you opened your eyes.
The sight of the devastated land struck you like lightning.
The village had been reduced to dust. The only sign it had ever existed was a massive black stain scorched into the ground.
Kal-El didn't tell you, but he had broken every arm and every leg of the Peacemakers responsible for the massacre.
The corporation had left after blowing up the mines. After all, if they couldn't profit from them, no one else would.
It was too much.
You buried your face in the crook of his neck and cried like a child. He held you even tighter, careful not to hurt you.
There was nothing either of you could say to ease the pain, so the two of you remained silent for long minutes.
When you were finally ready, Kal-El took you back to the shelter.
Truth be told, he didn't want to leave you. What had begun as a sense of responsibilityâand even guiltâwas growing into something he couldn't put into words.
Even so, he had to let you go.
Deep down, he felt like a monster.
You were such a strong woman, fighting to survive against impossible odds, rebuilding yourself from the ashes.
And yet, he still wanted to take more from you. Kal-El wanted to feed on your rare, genuine laughter. To survive on your warmth. The little figurine you had made for him had filled his stomach with butterflies. Having had his teenage years stolen from him, the hero had missed the ordinary experience of falling in love for the first time.
He was determined to hide his true feelings. Even if circumstances were different, how could someone like Superman ever manage a romantic relationship?
It was an impossible dream.
You had just finished mopping the floor of the women's restroom.
The strong smell of disinfectant gave you a pounding headache. Closing time at the shopping mall was only minutes away. You changed out of your uniform into more comfortable clothes, desperately longing for the warmth of the shelter's blankets.
It wasn't the life you had dreamed of.
For weeks, Kal-El had been discussing the possibility of renting an apartment or applying for a room in a shared house. He had even offered to help financially, but you refused.
Money wasn't exactly the problem. There were towns nearby with a much lower cost of living, and you could keep your current job. Putting down roots somewhere new would mean accepting that your village was gone forever.
Your childhood friends.
The land that had belonged to your parents and grandparents.
All of it completely wiped away.
Even after seeing it with your own eyes, your heart refused to associate that desolate wasteland with the place where you had grown up.
You wanted to hold on to the illusion that you were merely away from home for a little while longer.
After work, you stopped by your usual food stand and treated yourself to a hot dog.
You still hadn't gotten used to the overwhelming mixture of smells and sounds in the capital, but they no longer left you feeling as disoriented as before.
The walk back wasn't long enough to make you tired, but it was long enough for your mind to wander.
As you turned onto the street where the shelter stood, you were jolted from your thoughts by the cold muzzle of a gun pressing into your ribs.
"Hand it over," the mugger barked.
Hand over what, exactly?
Half of an already-eaten snack?
An outdated cellphone?
A few low-denomination bills?
Without arguing, you slipped your bag off your shoulder to hand it over.
But the man was already gone.
You smiled and looked up.
Kal-El was hovering in the air, holding the mugger by the collar while giving him the lecture of a lifetime. He shot off into the sky with the man, took him to the nearest police station, and then returned to make sure you were alright.
Kal-El bombarded you with questions, barely giving you the chance to answer any of them.
"I'm fine, Kal-El," you said, placing a hand on his arm.
He apologized for overwhelming you with questions, scratching the back of his head with one finger. It was adorable.
It was difficult to define your relationship. Was he your guardian angel or your friend? Could he be both?
Beneath the city's artificial lights, he looked almost shy.
Sometimes you wondered what he truly thought of you. Whether he visited every person he rescued this often. Whether this was simply Superman's usual way of doing things.
"Are you tired?" he asked, pulling you from your thoughts.
"Very." you shrugged. "But for Superman..."
"Don't call me that," he said, crossing his arms. "It's better if I save it for another day..."
"Hey, now you've made me curious. What is it?"
You stepped closer with a pleading look, pressing your palms together.
Kal-El rolled his eyes.
"It's easier if I show you."
He gestured for you to come closer. His arm wrapped around your waist, lifting you effortlessly off the ground.
The nighttime flight over the capital wasn't particularly fast. Far below, the illuminated streets resembled rivers of liquid gold.
You landed on the rooftop of a building.
You gently pulled away from him and immediately understood why he had brought you there. It was the perfect vantage point from which to see the entire capital stretching into the distance.
As a child, you had often imagined what it would be like to live in a big city. You had underestimated just how small and insignificant it would make you feel.
A sharp pain pierced your chest.
"You didn't like it," he said, disappointment creeping into his voice.
"I did!" you exclaimed. "It's beautiful. It's enchanting. But then I remember how little I belong in a place like this. I'm just a country girl, you know?"
"More than you realize."
If he closed his eyes, Kal-El could still feel the wind against his face as he ran alongside his pet across the Redlands. His mother would call for him to be more careful while tending to the maintenance of the machinery.
Not a single day passed without him missing his old home. Lara. Jor-El. He even missed school with his teacher scolding him for refusing to use the Luminarium.
The two of you made quite the pair. Two lonely survivors.
"Anyway... thank you for bringing me here." And for always being with me, you wanted to add. Instead, you said,
"You know... you don't have to keep looking after me anymore. You've already done more than enough."
"Are you rejecting me?"
The sudden turn in the conversation left him completely dumbfounded. This wasn't how Kal-El had imagined the evening would go.
"No! It's just... you're Superman. You probably have much more important things to do."
"You're important to me."
"I know you care about all forms of life and everythingâ"
"No! You matter cause⌠you're you."
Kal-El silently cursed his terrible choice of words. Even so, the message came across.
Hearing those words lifted an enormous weight from your shoulders. Kal-El didn't see you merely as a responsibility. He also saw you as a friend. His affection was genuine.
You took the liberty of wrapping him in a tight hug, as tightly as your muscles would allow. Of course, you could never hurt Superman. Not like this.
A moment later, Kal-El returned the embrace, his fingers gently running through your hair. Unfortunately, you were the one forced to break the tender moment.
"So... the shelter's about to close."
"Speaking of the shelter, there's another reason I brought you here today." He paused, carefully choosing his next words. "This building was the target of an attempted arson attack, and I helped however I could. The owner asked how he could repay me, and... well... there's an empty apartment on the tenth floor.It's nothing luxurious, but it's decent.â
You understood exactly what he meant. Stepping away from him, you crossed your arms.
"Kal-El! I've already told you I don't want to live off favors!"
"It's not a favor, it's a gift!" he insisted.
"I can't accept it."
"Yes, you can! Promise me you'll at least think about it."
You bit your lower lip, unsure how to deal with his stubbornness.
Kal-El looked at you as though he was an injured stray animal by the side of the road, and you were the reckless driver who had run it over.
"Fine. I'll think about it."
Kal-El's smile shone as brightly as the Milky Way.
The pot of violets was an unnecessary purchase, but the discount was too tempting to pass up. Besides, the contrast between the purple flowers and the white wall would look beautiful.
Pushing the shopping cart through the secondhand store, you searched for appliances and household items that were still in good condition.
In the end, Kal-El wore you down, and you agreed to move into the new apartment.
The two of you made quite a mess while painting the walls of your new home. He was fast enough to dodge every splash of white paint, but he deliberately deactivated the "hero mode," helping you as an ordinary man instead. It took much longer that way. It was also much more fun.
Kal-El even built some of the wooden furniture himself: the TV stand, the bookshelf, and the wardrobe.Â
You promised to cook him dinner as a thank-you once the apartment was ready.
You almost felt genuinely happy. Almost.
But something happened on the very first night you slept alone in the apartment that made you realize just how broken you still were.
Kal-El had left two hours earlier, after enjoying your homemade lasagna and chilled pineapple dessert. Despite your anxiety, the meal had earned his approval. He didn't need food to survive, but he knew how to enjoy a good meal.
Back at the shelter, you had slept in shared rooms with other women in vulnerable situations. They talked for hours before falling asleep, telling jokes and sharing stories. You had found comfort in that.
Now, lying alone in your own bed, a chill crawled down your spine. It was ridiculous. But you were afraid of sleeping alone. At the hospital, the heavy medication had made it easier. You clutched your pillow, digging your fingernails into the soft fabric.
Just close your eyes and go to sleep.
Damn it.
After hours of tossing and turning, you finally drifted off into a restless sleep filled with nightmares. The worst moments of your life blended together, trading places. Your friends dying in a mining accident. Your parents being gunned down by the Lazarus Corporation.
You woke with your heart pounding wildly. Your body, however, refused to move. Laughter echoed throughout the room.
Was it a hallucination?
You tried to move again.
Nothing.
The panic attack that had just begun was interrupted by the gentle warmth of words whispered into your ear.
"Hey, Iâm here. Iâve got you, Iâve got you.â
It took several moments before full awareness finally returned.
You found yourself wrapped in an embrace that had already become familiar.
"Kal-El?"
"I'm here. Iâve got you.â
He repeated the words as he gently brushed away the warm tears on your cheek. Through the open window, a light drizzle drifted inside on the cold night breeze. Little by little, your heartbeat slowed until the only sounds filling the room were your breathing and his.
"I'm sorry," you whispered in a small voice.
"It's not your fault." Kal-El gently lifted your chin until you were looking at him. "None of what happened is your fault."
"I feel guilty for moving on. For getting a second chance while everyone else is dead. Why me? What's so special about me? There were so many people better than I am. Smarter. Kinder.â
Your hands curled into fists as you sobbed like a lost child stranded on an empty road.
"What I've learned..." Kal-El began quietly, "...is that trying to find a logical explanation is pointless. It was you. It could have been someone else, but it was you. You survived. And you have the right to decide what you want to do with your life from now on. You don't have to spend the rest of your life punishing yourself."
He continued to wipe away your tears, looking at you with equal parts tenderness and resolve.Â
You still have no idea what came over you at that moment. Maybe it was being in Kal-El's arms. Maybe it was lying in your own bed, extremely vulnerable. Whatever the reason, your common sense abandoned you. On impulse, you lifted your face and pressed your lips against his in a chaste kiss.
It ended so quickly that you wondered whether it had happened at all.
The stunned expression on his face answered the question.
"I'm sorry! I really am⌠I donât know why⌠Forget it!â
You tried to get out of bed, but Kal-El caught you gently by the wrists.
He couldn't blame you for something he himself had wanted to do for a very long time, held back only by his own conscience.
Any conversation about the complications of a romance between the two of you could wait until another day. That night⌠He pulled you back into his arms. And kissed you again.
Hi, everyone! English is not my first language, so I'm sorry if something felt lost in translation. I'm kinda obsessed with absolute superman and I couldn't find many fics, so I had to write it T_T
hope you like it <3
