SUMMARY: Clark knew he was going to put a ring on your finger the day he met you, but when he slips up and lets the entire world know that Superman is off the market, things get a little more... interesting.
WARNINGS: None
W/C: 1.4k
There are some things in life that you just know, which rang true the moment Clark Kent met you. Watching you walk into the Daily Planet bullpen with Lois, arms moving animatedly as you spoke with a smile on your face, he knew in that moment that he was going to marry you someday.
Of course, he took his time getting there, but he was prepared to wait for you. He was nothing if not a gentleman, politely introducing himself before finding any excuse to talk to you. He would bring you coffee in the mornings, figuring out how you liked it and doing his best to make sure it was right. If you stayed late at the office to finish up an article, Clark would be staying behind too. He would walk you to your door when you finally headed home, making sure you were safely inside and pretending that he couldn't hear the way your heart skipped a beat when he kissed your cheek goodnight.
He was awkward, though. Superman was approachable, talkative, open to conversation with strangers he had just met, but Clark was a bumbling, stuttering, nervous mess when it came to you. It took Lois spelling it out for him, saying in no uncertain terms that you liked him, for Clark to finally ask you out on a date.
And the rest, as they say, was history.
Clark married you a few years after that first date, in a small ceremony held on his family's farm. You walked down the aisle, radiant in your wedding dress, all smiles as you practically floated towards him. Clark knew how it felt to fly, but in that moment he felt utterly weightless watching you approach. His eyes had clouded with tears and Lois elbowed Jimmy rather harshly in the ribs when he couldn't contain his laughter.
You and Clark didn't care, though.
All that mattered was those soft-spoken vows, the way his hand held yours so delicately, keeping you close until he could finally kiss you as his wife.
There was no doubt in anybody's mind that Clark was in the running for Husband of the Year. Any excuse he could find to bring you up, he would be proudly calling you my wife. If you got the front page with an article, he would boast about it as if it was his own achievement. Something as mundane as cooking a dinner for the two of you? He'd be showing Jimmy and Lois a picture and declaring that his wife could be a world-renowned chef. You'd be somewhere to the side, blushing with your face hidden in your hands because you could tie your shoelaces and Clark would find some way to sing your praises.
He wore his wedding ring like it was the greatest prize he'd ever won. Every day, he looked at you and thanked the stars that they'd sent you his way that day. Somewhere, the fates had aligned and created you both from the same stardust, bonding you together in ways that were cosmic and inevitable.
Clark Kent was happily married and would shout it from the rooftops for anybody to hear, but Superman? As far as the world knew, he was a lone wolf.
Whenever Clark had Superman business to tend to, he would leave his wedding ring with you. He knew that you sometimes got anxious watching him head off to face whatever danger threatened the city that day, so he left his ring as a promise to you.
He would be back.
Whatever it took, he would come back for that ring, because there was nothing in this universe that would stand between Clark Kent and coming home to you every night.
So you would wait, watching the newsfeed of Superman fighting the most recent invader, rolling Clark's ring between your thumb and forefinger absentmindedly.
But even heroes slip up sometimes and the day Clark forgot to leave his wedding ring behind, you can bet the entire world had something to say about it.
It started with a blurry picture, taken by someone after Superman landed in the crowd and greeted people like they were his longtime friends. Although it was unfocused, it was obvious that he was wearing a wedding ring and the moment you saw it flash up on your newsfeed, your eyes had widened.
He was trending almost immediately, different angles of his left hand and an internet ablaze with speculation over who Superman's mystery man or woman could be.
"Y/N," Lois said, snapping you out of your deep-dive through the articles already spawning online. "Weigh in on this. You think Superman's married?"
"Oh, come on," Jimmy said, leaning back in his chair dramatically. "He was wearing a ring. Clear as day. He's obviously married."
You turned in your chair, shrugging. "I don't know. I guess it's a possibility. I mean, what do we even know about the guy?"
"That's such a boring, objective answer," Jimmy said, rolling his eyes. "The reporter in you is showing."
You flipped him off and went back to your computer, eyeing Clark's desk opposite yours. Ever since you started at the Planet, your desks had faced one another and you always questioned whether Chief Perry had made it that way on purpose. Not that you minded, because it gave you an excuse to stare at Clark's pretty face all day, but right now he was missing.
Unsurprising, considering he was just seen not twenty minutes ago in a park downtown.
You didn't have it in you to be mad at him for his mistake, but you couldn't help but wonder what the ramifications of this would be. Superman would be under more scrutiny than ever, with people prying into his personal business like they had a right to know everything about him. How long would it be before somebody figured it out? How would that affect Clark?
Speaking of the devil, he returned to the bullpen with flushed cheeks, windswept hair and his tie loosened around his neck. You shook your head at him as he approached you, an iced coffee in one hand and his briefcase in the other. Placing the latter down first, he bypassed his desk and approached yours, leaning down to greet you with a kiss while he slid the coffee onto your desk.
"Hi," he mumbled against your lips.
"You're trending." You reached for his tie and adjusted it, keeping him hunched over your desk as you watched his eyebrows furrow in confusion. With a sly grin, you turned your gaze to your computer screen, feeling Clark's eyes follow you to the blurry picture of him and his very obvious wedding ring.
"Oh," he said softly, a look of panic flashing across his face as he looked down at his left hand, where his wedding ring was still on his finger.
You couldn't help your smile. "There's worse things to trend for."
Clark straightened up when you released his tie, his cheeks reddening further as he leaned against your desk. "I'm sorry-"
"You don't have to apologise," you told him, resting a hand on his knee. "Just promise me you'll say good things about me when people ask."
Clark leaned down to kiss you again, ignoring the mocking gags from Jimmy across the room. When he pulled away, he looked at you with blown pupils that reflected just how much he loved you. It was the same way he looked at you the day you got married, every day before that and every day since.
"I have nothing but good things to say about you."
Superman went on the record the next time he did an interview with Clark Kent to say that he was happily married to a woman that brightened up his entire world. He asked for privacy in his personal life and although the internet unanimously agreed to give him that, it did not stop the onslaught of comments about how his eyes lit up when he talked about his wife during a recent public appearance.
You had laid in bed with Clark, scrolling through the endless flood of support for Superman and his wife, smiling despite yourself. When you got married, Clark promised you that he would do his best not to let his life as Superman interfere with the life the two of you were building. That was a whispered promise for only you when you were wrapped in one another's arms after the guests had all gone home.
Watching the world learn what you'd known all along, that the man currently wrapped around your body without a care in the world was the biggest loverboy in the universe, was enough to warm your heart.
"I don't mind them knowing that you're married," you mused, lifting your head from where it had been resting on Clark's chest. "But if you name-drop me it's going to cause an absolute scene at work for poor Clark Kent."
summary: the last time clark kent saw you was when you were 17 years old. after a traumatic accident nearly takes your life, you push clark away. now, nearly 12 years later, you and clark meet again. this time, it's in the bustling newsroom of the daily planet and you're forced to confront your entangled past with the man of steel. based off the song suburban legends by taylor swift
content warnings: descriptions of a car accident, swearing, trauma, ptsd, language, best friends to lovers to exes to ???, angst, language, medical trauma, eventual smut (18+), mentions of physical therapy, surgeries, clark is the perfect man, each part will have its own tags!
author's note: i'm back baby! this time with a series! i'm super excited for this. keep on the look out for the first part within the next week. enjoy the anticipation!
SUMMARY: He should probably leave, right? He should do the right thing and walk away before he does something that might ruin your friendship. So why is it that he's moving closer to you, risking everything when he doesn't know if you feel the same way?
WARNINGS: None, besides Clark being the most adorable idiot in love
W/C: 3.1k
You'd been dancing around your feelings for months now. Somewhere between meeting Clark Kent for the first time and now, the line between friends and something more became blurred. Of course, maybe you were overthinking it because it was in Clark's nature to be as kind as humanly possible. He bought you a coffee every morning and met you outside your apartment building (conveniently, you lived in the building across from him). He walked you home after work and insisted that he see you to your door just in case. Metropolis was dangerous, he always said, so you can never be too sure.
You let him do these things without mentioning the way butterflies erupted in your chest every time he did. Walking home became invitations to stay for dinner and even though it was your apartment, Clark would be at the helm in the kitchen, shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows while you sat on the counter and watched him prepare the food. He was an exceptional cook, so one dinner turned into a weekly thing under the guise of wanting to try more of his Ma’s recipes. Fridays became movie nights, listening to Clark excitedly tell you about his favourite films and introduce you to what he deemed the best movies of all time. He was like a golden retriever, enthusiasm and a heart of gold wrapped in a six-foot-something frame with glasses sitting crooked on his nose. Nobody could resist the charm that radiated from him and you were no exception.
It was dangerous, playing this game with Clark. One wrong move and the entire thing could crumble. This fragile ecosystem the two of you were building, your lives becoming entwined in ways that felt impossible to deny, could erupt in flames if you made one wrong move.
Did Clark feel anything for you? Did his heart stutter in his chest the way yours did when he held open a door for you or offered you his jacket on those cooler evenings? Did he wonder what you were thinking every time he caught you looking for a fraction too long? When he left you at your door every evening, did he feel that ache of longing stretching through his chest with every step he took away from you? You didn't dare ask those questions, so instead you kept quiet, torturing yourself with the possibility that there could be something else there if you let it happen but terrified to breach that unfamiliar territory lest he not be by your side when you did.
There was one day that you felt it, a seismic shift in the dynamic between the two of you. A new intern had started at the Daily Planet that morning and the Chief had asked you to show him the ropes. Without an assignment to keep you occupied, you toured the intern around the building and introduced him to the team, making sure that Clark was your last stop so you could chat to him for a while longer than the others. Across the room, Lois was giving you the eyes that told you she was catching on to whatever was going on between you and Clark. She was attuned to noticing the details and had been saying for weeks that she thought there was a spark between the two of you.
You'd rolled your eyes and subtly flipped her off by pretending to scratch your nose. She had dissolved into silent giggles and resumed her conversation with Jimmy, leaving you to introduce Clark to the new intern. You hadn't noticed the way the intern's eyes seemed fixated on you, hanging on to your every word with a dedication that went beyond merely wanting to learn about the business. While you were blissfully unaware, Clark... was not.
He noticed the intern's gaze and the way he had been asking questions while you made your rounds through the office. The way his questions sometimes bordered on personal, asking you what your favourite section to cover was or where you preferred your coffee from so he could get you one to say thank you for showing him around, caused an unfamiliar feeling to creep up Clark's throat. When you'd answered the coffee one, telling him that I get my coffee from wherever Clark goes in the mornings, it hadn't quite been enough to tame that roar of jealousy through his chest.
He'd swallowed it down, making a point to ask if you were still on for dinner that evening and watching the intern's eyes bounce between the two of you with a hint of curiosity shining there. You'd responded with a smile and a definite yes before ushering the intern away to show him the file room.
Later that evening, you were sitting in your kitchen in your usual spot, perched on the counter in your comfiest t-shirt and sweats, a glass of wine half-finished beside you. Clark had his back to you, stirring the sauce he was making with a focussed intensity. There was something in the air you couldn't place, a tension you could almost see if you looked hard enough. His shoulders were squared and he didn’t look quite at ease, which was unusual because he spent so much time in your apartment that it had become something of a second home to him.
"Okay, I'll bite," you said finally, when the silence became a little too stifling. "What's up with you?"
Clark didn't turn to look at you but asked, "What do you mean?"
"You've been weird all day," you said, reaching for your wine and taking another long sip. "I don't know how to describe it. Broody, like there's something on your mind."
"I'm not broody," Clark said.
You rolled your eyes. "Clark, c'mon, you're stirring that sauce like it's personally offended you."
He put down his spoon and finally turned to you. "How'd you get on with the intern?"
You almost snorted, seeing right through his question. That was what this was about? The intern you'd shown around because the Chief had asked you to?
Years of schooling your features kept your expression unreadable as you said, "Okay, actually. He was eager to learn."
"He seemed pretty interested in you," Clark said.
This time, you couldn't help the smile that formed on your face. "Are you trying to say I'm not interesting?"
"No, I think you're interesting," Clark replied. "I'm just being observant."
"He was just being friendly, Clark," you said. "He was nervous, so I guess he just wanted to make a good impression."
"By asking you where you get your coffee from?" Clark asked.
There they were again, the butterflies erupting in your chest and beating their wings in a way that stole the breath from your lungs. Was Clark jealous?
"He was just being nice. He told me he'd bring me coffee on Monday," you said.
"And I hope you told him that he needn't bother," Clark replied.
"Well, actually I said that would be great," you said. "So you don't need to worry on Monday."
Clark crossed the room towards you and a lesser woman might've backed down, but you were never one to shy away from him. His hands rested on the counter on either side of your thighs, trapping you there. "You didn't."
"It's no big deal, right?" you said, fighting the smirk that was threatening to appear. "He's just being friendly, the same way you always are."
"Just being- I bring you coffee in the mornings," Clark said, a hint of emotion betraying him. There was a vulnerability in his tone that you'd never heard before, a trace of something that might've been desperation. "That's our thing."
You giggled then, bubbling with a nervous energy at the proximity between the two of you. Clark was so close that you could close that gap and kiss him in less than a heartbeat. "I know it is, but there's always time for a change."
"Just say you hate me," Clark said, his tone dry.
"I don't hate you, Clarkie." You laughed at the expression on his face. "Why are you acting like I just told you we can't be friends anymore?"
"That's what this betrayal feels like," Clark said.
"Betrayal? Over coffee?" you asked.
"It's not just about the coffee," Clark replied, his voice dangerously quiet. "It's about- It's about us."
"What about us?" you asked, goading him to take that leap and take you with him, wrap you in his arms as you fell into unknown terrain together.
"I just- You have no idea what you do to me," he said, stumbling over his words in a way that made your heart ache with how cute it was. "You- You're everything and I can't- I don't know how to-"
He was struggling and you were never one to enjoy watching people suffer, so you put him out of his misery and said, "Clark, what do you want from me?"
"I- I want you," he said. "And not just as a friend." He was closer now, his eyes so blue and so vulnerable as they remained locked on yours. You didn't dare look away for fear that the moment would pass you by and you would never hear it from him. "I just- I didn't know if you felt the same."
"Clark-"
The way you said his name did it. He closed that space between you and pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that shattered every boundary the two of you had built between you. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as his hands gripped your waist and pulled you closer, chests pressed flush to one another as you lost yourself in the way it felt to kiss him.
He kissed you like oxygen didn't exist. He didn't need to breathe while he suffocated in your kiss, clinging to your body like he would never be whole without it. He knew he shouldn't do this, jeopardise the friendship he had formed with you for the sake of his being jealous of an intern, but it was hard to do the right thing when you looked so pretty sitting in your kitchen, watching him with wide eyes that gave away everything you felt.
He should have left. His emotions ran away with him and now here he was, breaking every promise he had made to himself when he became your friend. If he didn't have Superman to think about, he would have asked you out months ago, but there was a voice in the back of his mind reminding him that he wasn't just Clark Kent. He was somebody who shouldered the weight of the world and took on the responsibility of protecting like a badge of honour. He should have walked away and left everything as it was.
But just one kiss? One achingly beautiful kiss that made his heart leap against its cage of bones like it wanted to break free of his chest and show you that it beat to the rhythm of your name? One kiss couldn't hurt.
You pulled away first, breathless and flushed. Wide eyes stared at him as though you couldn't believe what you were seeing. Clark Kent, hair dishevelled from your fingers running through it, a redness in his cheeks as his chest heaved to catch his breath, was standing in your kitchen after kissing you like his life depended on it.
"Wow," you breathed. "That was-"
"I should have told you a long time ago," Clark whispered. "How I felt, I mean. I just didn't know if you felt the same way."
"I do," you said, nodding earnestly. "I didn't want to say anything because you're my best friend, Clark."
"And you're mine," he replied, tilting his head to rest his forehead against yours, eyes closing as he tried to immortalise this moment in his mind. "I want to do the right thing here-"
Behind him, something hissed on the stove and Clark was gone, wrenching his body from where it had crowded your space to switch off the hob and try to salvage the sauce that had bubbled up and spilled over the side of the pan. You laughed as he moved the pan to the heatproof mat next to him, grimacing at the mess left behind and looking over his shoulder at you with a sheepish look on his face.
"Dinner's ready," you teased, sliding down from the counter and moving to wrap your arms around Clark from behind. He stood so tall that even at your fullest height, he still towered above you. "What do you say we order something?"
Clark turned in your arms and smiled down at you. "We might have to." He kissed the top of your head, one arm wrapping around your body. "I'll clean up the mess."
"Forget the mess," you said, shaking your head. "We'll clean it later. I want you to kiss me again."
He knew he shouldn't. He shouldn't give in to the way you whispered in his ear like a devil on his shoulder. He should do the right thing; take you out for dinner and walk you home before he kissed you goodnight. His Ma had raised him to be a gentleman, but the way you were looking at him right now made him want to forget everything she had taught him. The look in your eyes was downright sinful.
"Kiss me, Clarkie," you whispered, rising onto your toes to catch his lips in another searing kiss that melted every resolve he had been hopelessly holding on to.
His hands gripped your thighs and hoisted you into his arms, your legs wrapping around him to steady yourself as you clung to him, lost in the feeling of his lips on yours. He moved through your apartment, leaving behind a dinner that neither of you cared about in that moment, heading for your bedroom.
Then it was tangled limbs, clothes scattered on the floor, whispers in the dark of feelings you'd both tried to hide. He laid you down and he took his time, savouring every curve of your body and the way you felt beneath his touch. He had wanted this for so long. Waking up to realise this was all a dream would crush him, so he committed every second to memory because if he only got this one night with you, he wanted to make sure it counted.
The darkness gave way to the early-morning sunlight, which streamed through the curtains and cast golden light across your room. You were tangled around Clark, sound asleep in his arms as he lay awake, watching you sleep. The alarm clock on your bedside table read 5:57. It was nearly 6am and Clark had barely slept. He'd drifted in and out of consciousness, but kept waking to be sure that this wasn't a dream. That you were still there, looking like a goddess bathed in sunlight as you slept against him like you’d always been there.
He was afraid you'd wake up and say that this had been a mistake, a heat-of-the-moment decision that you didn't expect to happen again. But the way you said his name last night like a prayer falling from your lips was enough to scare away those doubts.
You shifted in his arms, eyes opening slowly as you let out an adorable little groan and buried your face further into Clark's chest. "Can you turn off the sun?"
He would do anything for you if he could, but some things were beyond his control.
"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," Clark teased.
You lifted your head just enough to look at him and there was a sleepy sort of softness in your expression. Eyes half-closed with a lazy smile he'd never seen before tugging at your lips. "Good morning, Prince Charming."
"You sleep okay?" Clark asked softly.
"Better than ever," you replied, keeping your body wrapped around him. "Can you just stay with me forever?"
"Do you want me to?" Clark asked, his heart stuttering at your words.
"Yeah." You nodded, cheek pressed to his chest. "Want you to stay forever."
"I'll stay for as long as you want me to," Clark replied.
"Good," you said.
There was no room for regrets in that morning sunlight. No space for doubting what you had done the night before. You had woken up in the arms of a man you'd fallen in love with slowly, growing familiar with his presence in your life. This had been a tumble you'd taken willingly into something new, but the moment Clark had pulled your body closer when he kissed you for the first time had been him embracing the fall with you.
You'd landed softly in the arms of a man who would always be there to catch you. There was no better feeling than this.
"You want breakfast?" Clark asked, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
"Are you going to burn it again?" you asked.
"I seem to recall being distracted last night," Clark said.
"Can't think why," you replied.
Clark's laugh rumbled through his chest and a grin split your face as he said, "No, I can't imagine what came over me."
You giggled, sitting up just enough to rest your arm across his chest and look at him. "Breakfast sounds good."
And so you found yourself back in the kitchen, wearing Clark's t-shirt like a trophy. He was shirtless, wearing just his sweatpants as he made you breakfast. This time, though, he stopped for kisses in between and you obliged, laughing whenever he caught your eye. He didn’t have to worry about savouring each kiss, because you sat there patiently waiting for each one he gave you. Breakfast was safe from Clark being distracted.
When you sat down at your dining table to eat, Clark reached over and tugged your chair towards him like it was the most natural thing in the world. With his fork in one hand and his other resting on your thigh, the two of you settled into a comfortable silence as you ate, only broken when Clark looked at you for so long that you knew he was thinking about something.
"What?" you asked.
He pointed his fork at you. "I'm still bringing you coffee on Monday."
You laughed, covering your mouth with your hand as you realised he was still thinking about that intern. It had just been a joke to rile him up, but you knew that you would let this man bring you coffee every day for the rest of your life if only to see the way his face lit up every time you thanked him like it was the first time.
SUMMARY: You lose Clark to your nieces during the holidays.
WARNINGS: None
W/C: 1.1k
PROMPT: "You look oddly good in sequins."
"Uncle Clark!"
It was blatantly obvious that your nieces had a favourite and that you weren't even a contender for their affections whenever Clark was around. Ever since you'd introduced him to your family a few years ago, your nieces had fallen head-over-heels in love and you became nothing more than an afterthought.
Not that you were mad about that, of course. Clark with kids was enough to make your ovaries squeal in delight on any given day, but seeing him with your nieces practically had you melting.
The moment you'd arrived at your parents' house for Christmas dinner, your nieces had flown out of the door. Gracie came first, hollering Clark's name for the entire neighbourhood to hear as she flung herself down the last few steps on the porch and into Clark's waiting arms. He had crouched to intercept her, knowing the drill by now, lifting her above his head before settling her on his hip.
Aleia came next, toddling down the steps and giving Clark a wide, toothy grin. She waved and then reached for Clark, who dropped to one knee, picked her up as easily as if she weighed nothing, then settled him on his other hip.
"Wow, show off," you teased.
Clark shrugged. "I didn't go to the gym today."
Rolling your eyes, you headed for the house and walked inside. "Mom! Dad? We're here!"
"We heard," your mom said, emerging from the kitchen with a towel in her hands. "The girls have been watching and waiting since I told them you texted that you were on your way."
Clark had followed you into the house, putting the girls down and immediately being led away by them. He cast you a helpless look and shouted a brief hello to your mom before he was gone.
"He's going to feel terribly rude," you told your mom.
"Nonsense, I expected nothing less," your mom chuckled. "Besides, he'll keep the girls busy for a while. Do you want a drink?"
"Absolutely," you replied.
Your sister and her husband were in the kitchen, chatting between themselves when you walked in. A glass of wine was handed to you by your sister and for the next few hours, life moved in a blur. The dinner was cooking, turkey roasting in the oven and vegetables ready to go on the cooker.
You chatted with your sister and her husband, enjoying the freedom from responsibility for a while. You and Clark were both off work for the holidays and while Christmas would be spent in Metropolis with your family this year, you'd be travelling to Smallville the day after to spend a week with his family on the farm. You alternated each year so as not to play favourites, but you were excited to see Ma Kent and fill up on her pie for a week.
Clark was still with your nieces, tucked away in their playroom where their toys were kept. Nobody really minded that he wasn't present because they all knew how your nieces were. When Uncle Clark was in the building, nothing else mattered and if it kept them busy, your sister and her husband were more than happy for Clark to entertain them.
You helped your mom with dinner and set the table and by the time you were done, the absence of Clark was beginning to get to you. Leaving your wine glass on the counter, you ventured off in search of him and followed the giggles towards the room at the end of the hallway. Reaching the doorway, you leaned your shoulder against the frame and raised your eyebrows in amusement.
"What are you wearing?" you asked, trying not to laugh as you took in the sight before you.
Clark looked up at you, his smile brightening. "Hey! Uh..." He looked at the scene before him. "We're having a tea party."
"I can see that," you said. "Doesn't explain the sequins."
"Uncle Clark dressed up!" Gracie said. "He's a Princess."
"Is he now?" you asked.
Clark was sitting on a tiny plastic chair around a similar sized table laden with plastic cups and saucers. He had a tiara on his head, tucked amongst his curls and was wearing a pair of fairy wings that sparkled every time he moved. Not only that, but somehow your nieces had coerced him into wearing an obnoxious amount of plastic jewellery - bracelets, necklaces, even a few rings. The girls were sitting with him, dressed in a similar fashion
"You look..." you started, trying to find the words.
"Great?" Clark offered.
"I was going to say ridiculous," you said. "But yeah, you look great." You clapped your hands together. "C'mon, girlies. Grandma says dinner's almost ready, so go wash your hands and head to the table, okay?"
When the girls were gone, Clark stood up and offered you a smile. "I'm sorry I wasn't helping with dinner."
"Like my mom would let you lift a finger to help," you said. "It's okay, I think she appreciated you keeping them busy. Can I just say, I love the new look."
Clark touched his tiara, a proud look on his face that was equal parts adorable and laughable. "I do look great."
You hummed, stepping closer to Clark and wrapping your arms around his waist. He draped an arm over your shoulders and kissed your forehead. Tilting your head back to look up at him, you couldn't believe that this was your view.
Superman. The man who lifted buildings and saved people's lives on the daily had wedged himself into a plastic chair and was drinking pretend tea with your nieces. He had let them dress him up in glitter and sequins and he played along simply because that was who he was.
"You look oddly good in sequins," you said, running your fingers along the wings Clark was still wearing.
He chuckled. "Thank you. I can bring them home if you want?"
You smacked his chest playfully. "Yeah, not that good, honey. C'mon, dinner's almost ready."
Clark removed the wings and the jewellery, but either forgot about the tiara or simply enjoyed wearing it. Whatever the case, you didn't have the heart to mention it and took his hand when he turned to you.
"C'mon, Spaceboy, let's go celebrate the holidays," you said.
Of course, Clark was sat between your nieces at the table with you across from him. You didn't mind sharing him with those little girls, because they looked at him like he was the most important person on the planet. People looked at Superman the same way, but the adoration in your nieces' eyes was something meant just for Clark Kent.
They didn't know he was a superhero or flew around stopping criminals. They didn't know any of it, but to them he was still their hero, someone that they loved and laughed with and who played dress-up even when he didn't need to. That was what set Clark apart from Superman sometimes, because those seemingly normal things that he did amounted to so much more in the eyes of those little girls.
And yeah, maybe it helped that he did look good in sequins.
SUMMARY: After so many years of loving Clark Kent's blue eyes, you find another pair that you could get lost in.
WARNINGS: Childbirth, reader gives birth, screaming, yelling, all the rough bits of pregnancy (not explicit but heavily alluded to)
W/C: 1.4k
You loved the Fortress of Solitude. Clark had shown it to you a few years after your wedding, introducing you to the robots that resided there and the last trace of his home world left in existence. He had let you into the most private part of his life and you had never once breathed a word of its existence to anybody. This was Clark's place and if he showed it to you, it was because he trusted you with looking after it. The quiet was something you always loved about the Fortress.
Until today.
"Ahhhhh!"
Your scream bounced back to you a dozen times over and Clark gave your hand another gentle squeeze. The echoes in this place were enough to set his nerves on edge, especially when it was the sound of your pain being repeated over and over. His eyes were wide and he looked absolutely terrified despite his best efforts to hide it.
"Oh my God!" you cried, teeth gritted as you forced yourself to take a couple of deep breaths.
"That's it," Clark said. "Deep breaths, like we practiced."
"You practiced!" you growled. "I called you an idiot."
"Oh, yeah? Now who's the idiot?" Clark asked.
"Don't try and be funny with me right now!"
As much as his heart ached for you, Clark knew that it would all be worth the hardships. Your feet were braced on a set of stirrups while you laid back against the bed in the middle of the Fortress. Not that you could see your feet; your belly blocked the view.
Your waters had broken that morning. Your baby was coming.
It had been a few hours now and you were still no closer to having your child in your arms, though. All you knew was pain and rage, interchangeable depending on the timing of your contractions.
"I want this to be over," you cried.
"I know, I know, sweetheart," Clark soothed. "It'll be over soon."
"I want him here," you sobbed. "I can't do this, Clark. I can't- I can't do this. I can't- Oh my God-"
"Breathe," Clark said, his tone firm. "Breathe for me, sweetheart. Nice and slow, big deep breaths."
"I can't!"
"Yes you can," Clark insisted. "Come on, sweetheart. You got this."
Did you?
Nine months ago, you had been feeling queasy for a few days and then missed your period. A pregnancy test (seven tests, to be specific) confirmed what you had been fearing, those two little lines glaring at you like some cosmic joke.
In any other circumstances, you would have been over the moon at the thought of starting a family with Clark, but there was an uncertainty in your mind that overshadowed your joy. Clark was a Kryptonian. His genes were far superior to your own. Come on, the man could fly and shoot lasers from his eyes and you were growing a half-Kryptonian foetus in your womb.
That was terrifying.
Clark had immediately gone into panic-mode when you told him you were pregnant. He had disappeared for hours and come back a lot calmer. Turns out, he'd flown straight to the Fortress and asked his robot friends what the likelihood of this pregnancy coming to term were, not only for fear of losing the child, but from the fear of losing you. He had no idea what sort of havoc his genetics would wreak on your body or the child's, so he had gone to the only source he knew that might have some answers.
Sadly, they didn’t know.
Throughout your pregnancy, you spent every other weekend at the Fortress. Clark had made a strong argument for every week, but you drove a hard bargain and he was a sucker when your bottom lip pulled that adorable little pout. He settled for a fortnightly checkup, where the technology was far superior.
Normal doctors never found anything abnormal in your scans, but Clark was still terrified. Mr Terrific was crucial in easing some of Clark’s worries, running tests that normal doctors wouldn’t have thought of. Your baby was normal; a healthy little boy who was growing nice and sound in his mother’s womb, waiting for the day he would come roaring into the world.
If only you knew how much noise you’d be making, you might’ve asked for a set of headphones.
“Okay, Mrs Kent,” Four said to you. “It looks like he’s ready to come out now.”
“Thank God,” you groaned.
“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” Clark said.
“Are you patronising me?”
“I would never.” That was true. Clark liked his head not bitten off.
“Because- AHHHH!”
You screamed again and clutched Clark’s hand so tight that it was a relief knowing that he was superhuman. His body was built to withstand pretty much anything, so a few broken fingers from the death-grip you had on his hand were very unlikely.
“You did this to me!” you cried, pointing an accusing finger at Clark. “You and your goddamn charming smile did this to me!”
“It took both of us-“
“I am never letting you near me again!”
Clark almost laughed but judging from the look in your eyes, that would almost guarantee him sleeping on the couch for the rest of forever. Instead, he brushed his hand over your cheek, kissing your forehead. “You’ve got this, sweetheart. Only a little longer.”
“It hurts,” you whimpered.
“A few more pushes and we’ll have him,” Clark said. “Come on, sweetheart. You can do this.”
You closed your eyes, braced yourself and let loose a scream that rattled the very walls of the Fortress.
You loved Clark's eyes. They were the most beautiful shade of blue and seemed to contain an infinite depth that you could spend forever getting lost in. Sometimes you would lay there, a silence blanketed over the both of you, tucked away in your little corner of the world where nothing else mattered besides the two of you. In those moments, you took the time to truly look at him.
Clark was a beautiful man. His heart of gold and endless desire to do the right thing had blessed him with the physical form to match the good he held in his heart. You always said his eyes were your favourite part of who he was and that nothing would ever compare.
Until you held your son in your arms and he opened his eyes.
Now, instead of two blue eyes to get lost in, there were four. Eyes like the brightest ice crystals stared back at you from the swaddle in your arms, taking in the world for the first time and committing your face to his tiny memory. Everything this little boy was seeing was new, so despite the lingering pain from giving birth, you faced him with a smile.
It was the easiest smile you'd ever given somebody.
Clark's eyes kept flitting between the two of you. When the boy was born, Four lifted him onto your chest, letting him wail against your skin as your trembling arms reached up to cradle him. Clark hadn't looked away from you even in that moment, ensuring that you were okay before giving anything else a thought.
Then your son's wails finally reached him through the fog of concern and he realised that he was here. Your son - the living, breathing proof that yours and Clark's love transcended every hurdle you'd faced, was here in your arms.
And Clark loved him from the moment he laid eyes on him.
"He has your eyes," you told Clark.
"But he's got your nose," Clark said.
You smiled up at him. "Poor thing."
"Hey, I love your nose," Clark assured you, kissing the tip of it just to prove his point. You giggled. "And I love his, too."
"We made this, Clark," you breathed, thumb brushing back and forth over your son's tiny fist as he looked up at you with wide, curious eyes. "We made this."
"Heck yeah we did," Clark said. "And he's perfect."
"Ten fingers, ten toes," you said. "I'm so glad he's got your eyes."
The fact that the universe recognised how much you loved Clark's eyes and transferred them to your son was a blessing, because now you not only got to love Clark's, but you could spend the rest of your life getting lost in your son's. You would get to watch those tiny blue eyes see the world for the first time and guide him through his life.
At last, you knew what the agony had been for; to bring this life into the world and fall in love in a new way. This boy was half of you and half of Clark, the perfect way to entwine your souls forever.
"I love you," Clark said softly. "I love you more than anything in the world."
"I love you," you replied. "And I love this family we've made."
SUMMARY: You're tired of bad dates, but it's easier to deal with the fact that not every man is like Clark Kent when you come home to him cooking you dinner after your SOS text gets sent to the wrong person.
WARNINGS: None? Reader has a bad date with an entitled man but Clark makes it better
W/C: 1.5k
You walked through the front door of your apartment and the smell of breakfast cooking wafted down the hallway to greet you. Which was odd, considering it was almost nine p.m and you lived alone. Kicking off your shoes and leaving them alongside the familiar sneakers you’d grown used to seeing by your door, you headed for the kitchen, completely at ease because there was only one person you knew that would be cooking breakfast for dinner.
Clark Kent, in his sweats and an old t-shirt, was standing with his back to you while he fried off bacon in the pan he was watching. Dropping your bag in the doorway, you leaned against the frame and said, "Who let the riff-raff in here?"
He turned to you and smiled that infectious, winning grin that made everything else melt away. "Hi, you're back."
"Yeah," you said, glancing around your kitchen. "What are you doing here?"
Clark shrugged. "I got your text about your date, so I figured I'd come over and cook for you just in case you hadn’t eaten."
Your eyes widened as you pushed off the doorframe and pulled your phone from your pocket. "I swear I sent that to Lois. I thought she was ignoring me."
It was hardly your fault that you didn't check who you were texting. Lois and Clark were the two people you contacted most frequently and in your panic back at the restaurant, you clearly hadn't been paying much attention to your contacts. You’d also been four glasses of wine deep, so you couldn’t be entirely accountable for your actions. Sure enough, instead of your SOS text going to Lois, you'd sent it to Clark.
To: Spaceboy
I'm about to jump out of this bathroom window and we haven't even ordered yet. I'm so serious.
Then, not five minutes later.
To: Spaceboy
Best believe I jumped out of that window.
You grimaced, dropping your phone onto the counter. "That was meant for Lois."
Clark shrugged. "I assumed as much." He offered you a sympathetic smile. "Wanna talk about it?"
You didn't, but Clark had this natural way of coaxing you into conversation even when you didn't feel like talking. He was a good listener, so as he continued cooking and your stomach started rumbling at the prospect of food, you regaled him with the details of your date that ended before it truly began.
Your date had shown up forty-five minutes late, during which time you had not one, but three waiters approach you and remind you that if you weren't going to order, you would have to give up your table. A small part of you felt humiliated by the fact that they kept giving you sympathetic looks because it was obvious that you’d been stood up, but your anger waylaid the embarrassment and consumed you instead. You'd polished off at least four glasses of wine before your date finally arrived and had asked the waiter to just leave the bottle after the second glass.
He had sat down without so much as an apology for being late, snapping his fingers at the nearest waiter to get him a drink. In the ten minutes that you spent pretending to be interested in the menu while secretly plotting how to escape, all he had talked about was himself.
"And then!" you said, on a roll with your story. Poor Clark was just along for the ride but seemed quite content to hang on and see it through. "I went to order my food and he interrupted me and was like, 'She'll have the salad'." You put on a deep voice to impersonate him. "Then he looked me up and down like there was something wrong with me. It was so embarrassing!”
You hadn't realised how much that had hurt you in the moment, having been too busy considering ways to get out of there, but now there were tears in your eyes as you recounted the story for Clark. He noticed the way your expression crumpled immediately and turned off the heat for the stove he was using, leaving the vegetables simmering in the pan. He crossed the room in two long strides to wrap you in his arms. You accepted his hug gratefully, your body sagging against his chest as you sniffled into his shoulder.
"Hey, there's nothing wrong with you," Clark soothed, one hand rubbing your back gently. "You're beautiful and he sounds like a real jerk. Any man that doesn’t see that isn’t worth your time.”
You nodded, speaking into Clark's t-shirt. "That was when I went to the bathroom and texted who I thought was Lois."
"You seriously jumped out of a window?" Clark asked, pulling back from the hug.
You smiled, watery and a little pitiful. "I did! In heels!"
"I'm impressed," Clark commended, gently wiping your cheek with his thumb to catch the stray tears.
"You should be," you replied. "Those things were killing my feet but I stuck the landing like an absolute pro.”
"I'm sorry your date was bad," Clark said.
You shrugged. "Sometimes I forget that not all men are like you."
"What?" Clark asked.
Your eyes widened, worried that all the wine might’ve gone to your head and convinced you that speaking your feelings was a good idea. "I just mean- You're always so sweet and considerate. I watched you apologise to a parked car the other day because you bumped into it. I mean, you came over because you assumed I haven't eaten - which I haven't - and you're cooking me dinner even though you didn’t have to."
"Well, it’s breakfast,” Clark said.
"Well, whatever it is, it counts," you said. "In a world of boys, Clark Kent, you are a true gentleman." You reached up and placed a hand on his cheek. "I really appreciate you and I don’t tell you that enough.”
Clark's cheeks were flushed, clearly not expecting a compliment like that. It really wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for him to come over and cook for you. He'd been sitting in his apartment doing nothing, moping over the fact that you were out with another man. He was half-hoping for an extraterrestrial attack to occupy him for a while and distract him. When that text had come through, it was like the universe was sending him a sign and he had listened.
"I'm grateful for you too," he replied.
Your smile was enough to convince him that maybe he'd made the right choice in coming here. Even though there were still tears in your eyes that another man had caused, at least Clark knew that he’d done the right thing by coming here. As he went back to fixing up your dinner, you continued to watch him move around your kitchen with practiced ease. The conversation between you flowed so naturally and you found yourself laughing by the time Clark had finished cooking.
He plated up the food when it was all ready, carrying both plates through to your living room. You disappeared into your room for a minute to change out of the dress you'd worn for the date, emerging in a pair of cotton shorts and a t-shirt you were pretty sure once belonged to Clark. He gawked at you from the couch for a second before realising that he was staring and awkwardly cleared his throat.
"Feel better?" he asked, holding out your plate as you sat down beside him.
"Much better," you replied. "Thank you for cooking. You really didn't have to."
"I know, but you had a bad day," Clark said. "I wanted to make it better."
"One of these days you're going to make a lucky woman very happy," you said, stabbing at your scrambled eggs.
Clark looked at you again. You were sitting cross-legged on the couch, body angled towards him as you used a cushion in your lap as a rest for your plate. He had always thought you were beautiful, but there was something so charming about the way you looked in this moment that made his heart swoop in his chest. You looked so natural and at ease, sitting here with him like it was the only place you wanted to be. If he could freeze this moment and keep it forever, he would.
"Can I ask you something?" he asked.
You looked up at him, sensing the shift in his tone and putting your fork down. "Anything."
"Would you like to go out with me?" His heart was pounding in his chest, a tattoo of anticipation against his ribs as he waited for your answer. "I just- If I don't ask this now, I won't ever and- and I know you've just come back from a date but-"
"Clark, are you asking me on a date?" you asked, gently cutting across his ramble.
He nodded. "I am. Only if you want to, of course."
"Only if I want to?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, yeah," Clark said. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable-"
"I'd love to, Clark," you said.
"Really?"
You nodded. "Yeah, I'd really like that."
Clark blew out a long breath. "Okay, great. Uh... How does tomorrow night sound?"
"I’m free tomorrow night," you said. "Thank you, Clark."
"For what?" he asked.
"For making a bad night better," you replied. "Seriously, you just saved my Friday night."
He blushed again and looked down at his plate. "It was nothing. You deserve to be treated right."
SUMMARY: You're drunk and Clark's pining, but he doesn't know how to tell you. Turns out, drunk you reveals that sober you wants the same thing.
WARNINGS: Drunk reader, intoxication
W/C: 1.8k
The neon lights in the bar shone like rays of moonlight throughout the room, bathing everybody in a fluorescent glow. It was getting late and Clark was wondering what had possessed him to stay out this long, given that there weren’t any extraterrestrial threats keeping him up for once. He was sitting at a four-top with Jimmy, nursing a drink that had no effect on him, looking around and trying to ignore the fact that his skull was pounding from the music. The curse of super-hearing.
It wasn’t hard to determine what was keeping him in that bar when his attention snagged on you. His eyes had rarely strayed from you the entire night and there you were across the room with Lois, dancing without a care in the world. The two of you were celebrating the fact that you got your first front-page article and Lois had picked this bar for the music and atmosphere. So far, you seemed to be having a good time, laughing and spinning with Lois like nothing else in the world mattered besides this moment, right here.
And Clark couldn't look away.
You were hypnotising in your pretty blue dress and heels. Your eyes were bright, skin lit up by the lights surrounding you. They seemed to shine a little brighter on you, like beacons drawing his focus to you. You entered a room and commanded attention without you even realising. Or maybe that was just Clark, who couldn't seem to tear his gaze away from you.
Eventually, you and Lois staggered back to the table, giddy with happiness and carrying plastic cups full of water. The both of you had drank too much, movements unsteady from the influence of the alcohol in your systems, but you didn't seem to care. You were on cloud nine and Clark would happily watch you for the entire night if he could.
He held out a hand to steady you and you grinned at him. "Are you sure you don't wanna dance, Clarkie?"
He shook his head. "I wouldn't want to step on your toes."
You chugged your water and placed the empty cup down on the table. "I wouldn't mind."
Lois checked her phone and her eyes widened. "When did it get so late?"
"About the same time you were asking to do body shots off each other," Jimmy replied.
You snorted and glanced at your phone. "It is kinda late."
"We should call it," Lois conceded. "I need to sleep off this hangover and get the jump on it."
"I think it's too late for that," Jimmy said.
Clark glanced at you. "How are you getting home?"
"Taxi," you replied with a shrug. "I guess."
"Lois?" Clark asked.
"Jimmy said he'd walk with me," Lois replied. "I only live a block away."
Clark turned to you. "I'll go with you.”
You looked at him, gratitude shining in your eyes. "You sure? You don't even live on my side of town."
Clark didn't mind. He also didn't need to tell you that his journey home from your place would be a matter of seconds. Not that the distance mattered; he’d walk as many miles as he could manage if it meant he got to spend even a second with you.
The four of you made your way out of the bar with you clinging to Clark's arm for balance. On the sidewalk, you hugged Lois and Jimmy goodbye while Clark flagged down a passing cab. Watching the two of them head off down the street, you waited until they were out of sight before turning to find Clark holding open the door of the cab for you.
"Such a gentleman," you giggled, sliding into the backseat and shuffling over so that Clark could join you.
He chuckled nervously and closed the door behind him, reaching over to fasten your seatbelt for you when he saw you struggling. "C'mere, let me-"
The click drew your eyes up to his and a tiny gasp left your lips at the closeness between you. "Clark-"
His heart shouldn't leap in his chest when you say his name. You were his friend and he would even go as far as to say you were his best friend. He brought you coffee in the morning and you made sure his tie was straight when he came into work late and flustered. There wasn't supposed to be this heat between you, where you looked at him like that and he was expected to remain calm and collected.
You were so tempting, though. His feelings had blossomed over time and now he was left looking for the right time to ask if you felt the same way he did. If you got that same rush whenever he looked at you, if you looked for him in crowded rooms, if you cared about him beyond the parameters of friendship.
He would never act on his feelings while you were like this. If he was going to tell you how he felt, then he would do it when you were sober. It wouldn’t be while you were drunk, because his mama raised him better than that. There were so many things he wanted to say to you but was scared to voice aloud.
If he ever got the chance, he would lay you down and take his time with you, worshipping at your altar like a man praying to a goddess. He would treat you like your body was sacred and he would spend his life making sure you knew how loved you were.
Friends didn't think these things about each other. There wasn't a part of your body that Clark didn't want to explore with his hands. He would be gentle, of course, but he wanted to make sure he knew every curve of your body.
You were still staring at him when the driver of the cab cleared his throat. "Where to?"
Clark leaned back in his seat and gave the driver your address. As the cab pulled away from the bar, you reached over and placed a hand on Clark's leg. It wasn't inviting, nor did it feel remotely charged with anything other than kindness. The gesture was sweet, a comfort stretched across the divide he had drawn between you by moving away in the moment; a reminder that you were still there.
You were leaning across the middle seat. "Clark, you know you're, like, my favourite person, right?"
He smiled. "You're mine, too."
Your grin was infectious as you said, "Thank you for coming home with me."
"It's not a problem," Clark said. "I wouldn't let you go home alone."
You patted his thigh and withdrew your hand. "I've had a really good night."
"Good," Clark said. "I'm glad. You deserve it."
By the time you got back to your apartment, you were dozing off in the backseat. Clark paid the driver and made his way around to your side of the cab, opening the door and finding your sleepy eyes on him. He helped you out of the cab and you stifled a yawn behind your hand, raising your arms above your head.
"Carry me?" you asked, pouting slightly.
"Elevator still broken?" Clark asked.
You nodded, eyes half-closed. "So many stairs, Clarkie."
"I got you," he assured you.
He reached for you, one hand sliding behind your back as he crouched and lifted you into his arms, the other arm securely hooked beneath your knees. You wrapped an arm around his shoulders and let your head fall against his chest. Clark walked towards your building, opening the door with his foot and heading for the stairwell.
"Thank you, Clarkie," you whispered.
By the time he got to your apartment door, you were almost asleep in his arms. He had to put you down while you fished your key from your bag and when you struggled with the lock, Clark reached out and took it from you. He kept one arm around your waist and unlocked the door with the other.
You stumbled into your apartment, drunk and unsteady on your feet. Beelining for your bedroom, you flopped face-first down on your bed and Clark lingered awkwardly in the doorway, unsure what to do.
"Uh, are you gonna be okay?" he asked.
You grumbled something into the mattress.
Clark said, "You need some help?"
You rolled onto your back and forced yourself to sit up. "Need to take my shoes off."
"Here, let me do that," Clark offered, coming into your room and kneeling before you.
He undid the straps on your heels and slipped them off your feet as you watched him, a drunken grin on your face. "You know you're, like, the best person I've ever met, right?"
First you tell him that he's your best friend and now he's your favourite person? Clark wasn't entirely sure why it felt like his heart was being trampled on over the compliments, but it was hard to hear them from you when he knew you were drunk. If sober you were saying the same things, he might react differently, but instead he just chuckled and tucked you into bed.
"Wait," you said, catching his wrist as he made to leave. "Don't leave, Clarkie."
"I have to get home," he said.
You pouted at him. "Stay, c'mon. Breakfast in the morning?"
Clark knew that if anyone were going to be making breakfast in the morning, it wouldn't be you, but he had always been unable to say no to you.
"I'll sleep on the couch," he said.
"But you won't fit," you grumbled. "C'mon, Clark, just stay. I like having you near."
If you were an empress, ruling over the land, then Clark was but a humble servant to your every wish. You looked so pretty, staring up at him with wide eyes, like you were afraid of letting go for fear that he would disappear.
"Fine," he conceded. "I'll stay. But I want breakfast."
"I'll make the best breakfast," you promised. "With pancakes and everything."
Clark climbed into bed with you, shifting beneath the covers so that there was space between your bodies. He could hear your heart beating in your chest. He could feel the warmth radiating from your skin, see the flush in your cheeks as you rolled over and looked at him.
"Hey, Clark?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you think I'm pretty?"
He turned his head to look at you. "What?"
"You heard me."
"Of course I think you're pretty," he said.
"Well, I think you're pretty," you said. "And if you think I'm pretty, we should go on a date."
Clark's breath stuttered from his lungs. "What?"
"I wanna go on a date with you," you said. "Hold your hand and have dinner and do all that with you."
Clark wanted that with you, too, but not like this. So he reached over and placed a gentle hand on your cheek. "We'll have this conversation in the morning, okay? Then we'll see."
"Deal," you breathed.
By the time Clark withdrew his hand, you were already fast asleep.
Now he just had to lay there until the morning and find the courage to actually ask you on that date you wanted him to take you on.
SUMMARY: When Superman shows up to save the day, he makes headlines. Only this time the headlines aren’t exactly what you expect when you see yourself on the front page, labelled Superman’s new mystery woman.
WARNINGS: None
W/C: 1.3k
"Oh my God! Lois!"
You crossed the bullpen towards Lois, a copy of a rival newspaper clutched in your hand, disbelief written all across your features. The stupid thing had cost you eight dollars, but the moment you'd glimpsed the picture on the front page, you'd pulled out a ten and told the vendor to keep the change. Lois, amused, watched you approach and smack the newspaper down in front of her like it had personally offended you.
"I made the front page!" you exclaimed.
Lois laughed, immensely enjoying your frazzled state. Usually, you were put together and eloquent, but right now you looked a little insane. "I noticed."
"Jesus Christ," you groaned, head in your hands. "This is so embarrassing!"
"What's embarrassing?" Jimmy asked, rolling his chair over to you and Lois.
"She's freaking out because there's a picture of her on the front page," Lois said, sliding the paper towards Jimmy.
He took it and hummed. "Wow. 'Is this the new Mrs Superman?'. That's so lame." He pushed the paper away. "It might not be you."
"It is me!" you said, shaking your head. "That's my favourite sweater." You jabbed your finger on the picture. "You see me wear that sweater at least once a week. I mean, look, it's even got the hole in the right elbow!"
"Okay, but why are we freaking out?" Jimmy asked. "Unless you're actually dating Superman, in which case, awesome. Is he cool? What does he do when he's not saving the world? Does he use his powers in the bed-"
"Jimmy!" Your voice cut across his barrage of questions before they could get any more personal. "I am not dating Superman. This is such a disaster."
Lois had turned away, typing on her computer for a moment before she let out an impressed huh. "You're all over the internet."
"Oh my God," you groaned, leaning against Lois's desk and letting your shoulders slump.
Jimmy gave you a perplexed look. "Why are you so worried?"
"Because I don't want to be on the front page unless it's my name in, like, a really tiny font!" you replied. "And what's Clark gonna say?"
"What's Clark going to say about what?"
You whirled around, pushing off of Lois's desk to come face-to-face with your boyfriend. Or, well, face-to-chest, because Clark stood a good few inches taller than you on your best day. He was looking between the three of you, from Lois scrolling through tweets on the internet to Jimmy perusing the article attached to the photograph and then to you. His eyes softened when they landed on you and a smile graced his features.
"Your girlfriend made the front page," Jimmy said, holding out the paper and shaking it for Clark to take. "Because according to the internet, Superman's in love with her."
Clark's eyes met yours as he took the paper from Jimmy, taking a long moment to look at the picture in front of him.
It was true.
There was Superman, standing with barely two inches of space between his body and yours. You had one of his hands held in both of yours, fingers wrapped gently around his wrist as you held his hand to your chest, right above your heart. If you closed your eyes, you could still feel the way he went still for a moment to focus on your heartbeat.
"Are you okay?" The whispered words were meant just for you, a flash of Clark shining through the superhero suit he wore as the two of you kept to the shadows.
You nodded, breathless. "I'm okay. I'm not hurt."
"Are you sure? I heard your heartbeat-"
"I promise you, I'm fine," you replied.
"Are you-"
You reached for his hand, lifting it to rest above your heart, watching his eyes follow your movement and settle on your chest. For a moment, there was silence as he listened to the steady beat beneath his fingers and told himself that everything was okay. You were alive, you were here, you were breathing and whole before him. You were safe.
You'd had no idea that somebody had caught that moment on camera. It had only been a matter of seconds; Clark had tugged you to the side to check on you before you had sent him off to finish saving the day. You'd been sitting in on a court case for a report you were putting together when someone had triggered an explosion that blew out one of the walls. In the commotion, you had totally forgotten that Clark liked to listen to your heartbeat whenever you weren't together because it reassured him to know you were okay.
He'd heard the skip of a beat and come running, arriving in record time as Superman to prevent the offender from escaping with the team he had formed to help him. They all ended up being arrested and there were fortunately no casualties as a result of the bombing besides a few scrapes and bruises.
Superman, of course, made the front page. Only this time it wasn't for his heroics. It was because of the way he looked at you. Or rather, the way Clark looked at you.
Clark, in the present, glanced at you. There was a shine in his eyes, knowing and a little smug but marred by the frown on his lips. "You been stepping out on me?"
You shoved his shoulder playfully and rolled your eyes. "You know that's not the case."
"You can't even see your face," Lois assured you. "Nobody got any other angles. It's all speculation."
"Well, I don't want to be speculated about!" you said. "A guy blew up a building and the internet wants to talk about Superman's love life?"
"Maybe it was a slow day at the office?" Jimmy suggested. "I, for one, would love to know if he has much of a dating life."
You groaned, moving closer to Clark and dropping your forehead against his chest. His laughter filled your ears as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head.
"It's not that bad," he said softly. "I think it's quite a nice picture."
"You would say that," you said, lifting your head to look at him. He was probably thinking of ways to frame it for your apartment, the same way he'd written your name in the sky and had that framed for your anniversary. He was cute like that.
"You should see some of the comments," Lois said. "The internet is having a field day."
Leaning in along with Clark and Jimmy, you looked over Lois's shoulder and read through some of the things that people were saying about you.
user somebody find this girl and let her know she's got superman looking at her like he's in love
user how does it feel to not be the girl in this photo? pretty terrible, can't lie
user she's a stronger woman than me because if superman looked at me like that I would be yelling from the rooftops
You glanced at Clark, finding his eyes already on you. The look you shared between you was yet another private moment, but this time there were no cameras around. Clark didn't feel guilty about the headline, nor did he feel ashamed that he'd been caught looking at you like that. He loved you more than life and if the whole world thought that Superman was in love with you, then he was okay with that. He was Superman, after all.
He reached for your hand and squeezed gently, drawing a smile from you that melted any lingering worry about being on the front page.
Lois leaned back in her chair. "Hey, I have a question."
