{ Clark Kent / Superman x Reader }
Krypto has a habit of running off — lucky for Superman, his mischievous dog keeps running straight into your arms.
Clark Kent had always had a soft spot for animals. Cats with their aloofness. The pigeons humans had domesticated and abandoned. Even the squirrels at the Park that his cousin’s dog—no, technically his dog, at least for now—chased with unbridled joy.
The thing was, Clark had never thought of himself as a pet owner. Superman didn’t exactly have the most…consistent schedule. Late nights, sudden disappearances, whole days gone when crises struck. It didn’t seem fair to keep an animal tethered to a man who might disappear at any moment.
But then Kara had asked him to watch Krypto. Or—no, not asked. Told. She’d shown up one evening, blonde hair tangled from the wind, shoving the leash into his hand with a simple, “You better take good care of him”
And Clark, as always, said yes. He never really had a choice.
It hadn’t been easy. Krypto was loyal, playful, and wildly affectionate—but also as subtle as a nuclear explosion. The dog had the attention span of a toddler and the stomach of a garbage disposal. He could fly, bark at decibels that rattled windows, and when Clark forgot to close the bathroom door, he had a habit of drinking half the toilet bowl before Clark noticed.
But none of that mattered. Clark had grown to love him. The warm weight of Krypto at the foot of his bed. The way his tail thumped wildly whenever Clark came through the door, even if he’d only been gone five minutes. Waking up to wet nose nudges, tossing a ball across the yard only to watch Krypto obliterate the sound barrier chasing it, he especially loved taking him to the park where a certain someone he’d been noticing lately liked to sit with a coffee and a book.
In truth, Clark dreaded giving him back.
That’s why, when the November morning came that Krypto didn’t wake him up—didn’t paw at his chest, or leap on the bed, or drag him half out of it, Clark sat up immediately. The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.
“Krypto?” he called, already pulling on a t-shirt.
No nails tapping against the floor. No panting. No whining.
Clark’s stomach tightened.
“Krypto?” His voice grew louder, echoing through the small rooms. He checked under the bed. The closet. The bathroom. Nothing.
Panic edged into his chest as he scanned the entire apartment at super-speed. No sign of him. Not a hair. Not a paw print.
Then he stopped.
The window. Wide open, curtains fluttering with the cold morning air.
“Oh, god,” Clark muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Because of course. Of course.
Krypto had gone for a flight.
Which meant at this very moment, somewhere above Metropolis, there was a gleeful, completely unrestrained Kryptonian dog soaring through the skies looking for someone to play with
Clark sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “This is going to be a long day.”
You often walked through the Park on your days off. It was peaceful, gave you a break from your phone, and let you breathe air that wasn’t recycled through an apartment vent. Plus — and this was maybe the real reason — there was always a certain someone you happened to see.
You didn’t know his name. You didn’t know what he did for a living. But you did know the little things: the way he smiled when his dog tugged too hard on the leash, the way he pushed up his crooked glasses whenever they slid down, the blush that colored his cheeks when you accidentally caught his eye. He was handsome in a quiet, nerdy way — dark curls, broad shoulders hidden under flannel, and eyes the same shade as a sapphire.
And then there was his dog.
“Krypto,” you’d heard him call more than once. A white blur of energy, equal parts adorable and chaotic.
That’s why, when a white-furred streak barreled into you one November morning, knocking you flat on your back in the grass, you knew exactly who it was.
“Oof—!” You landed with a thud, wind knocked out of you as the dog eagerly licked your face and tugged on your jacket with surprising strength.
“Hey, hey!” you laughed breathlessly, trying to sit up. "Whose a good boy?"
The dog’s tail wagged furiously, as if to say yes, that’s me, new best friend.
But then his gaze snapped to something else — a plump squirrel perched halfway up a tree. His whole body tensed like a missile ready to launch.
“Oh no you don’t!” You wrapped your arms around him, holding on tight. “Where is your owner!”
Obviously, all you got in reply was an excited bark and a renewed attempt to drag you across the grass.
“Krypto,” you said firmly, testing the name.
The dog immediately froze, ears perking up at the sound of it. He looked back at you, almost smug.
“Yeah, yeah, I know your name, buddy,” you said with a grin, ruffling his fur. “Just not your owner’s.”
Krypto barked again, pressing his head into your chest with surprising affection, tail thumping against your legs.
“Did you escape?” you asked softly, even though you knew you weren’t going to get an answer.
Another bark. This one sounded suspiciously like yes.
You sighed, brushing grass from your jacket. “Okay, then. Looks like it’s just you and me until we find tall, dark, and nerdy.”
But Krypto had already lost interest. His head jerked toward a nearby oak tree, body stiffening like a hunter spotting prey. And there it was again: the fattest, smuggest squirrel you’d ever seen.
“Oh no.”
Before you could blink, he lunged.
You, still gripping his collar, were yanked forward so hard your knees skidded in the grass. “Krypto!” you shrieked, scrambling for balance. “NO. BAD. LEAVE THE SQUIRREL ALONE!”
He didn’t even acknowledge you. His entire body strained like a coiled spring, pulling with the force of a truck engine. You did the only thing you could think to do: wrapped both arms around his neck and clung on for dear life.
Which is how you ended up sitting on the ground in the middle of the park, hugging a strange dog like a koala while he tried to drag you toward the tree.
“This is insane,” you muttered, muscles burning as you tried to keep him from bolting. “You’re not a big dog, you’re—what are you even?!”
Krypto barked once, sharp and eager, almost like he was mocking you. His tail wagged furiously, brushing your side like a metronome.
Passersby had started noticing.
An elderly man with a cane slowed down, chuckling. “Looks like he’s walking you, miss.”
“Ha. Ha,” you said through gritted teeth, your arms still locked around the beast. “Very funny.”
A kid tugged at his mother’s hand as they passed, pointing. “Mom, look! That lady’s riding the dog!”
You wanted to crawl into a hole and die.
Your face burned as you forced a smile at the curious onlookers. “He’s, uh—not mine! Just…dog-sitting! Totally under control!”
Krypto barked again, jerking forward so hard you had to plant your heels into the dirt. Totally under control, sure.
You buried your face against his fur, praying. “Where is your owner? Where is Mr. Tall, Cute, and Oblivious when I actually need him?!”
Krypto licked your cheek again, slobber and all, tail still thumping, completely delighted with himself.
So you sat there. Hugging a dog you barely knew. Grass in your hair, knees bruising, strangers staring.
And silently, desperately, you wished the hot nerd with the crooked glasses would come running.
Because if he didn’t, you had no idea how this story was going to end.
As if on cue, you heard a voice — breathless, worried, warm — calling from a distance.
“Krypto!”
Your head snapped up.
And there he was.
The man you’d only ever admired from afar — tall, broad-shouldered, curls bouncing as he jogged across the grass. His glasses sat crooked on his nose, and his shirt was rumpled like he’d thrown it on in a hurry. His blue eyes scanned frantically until they landed on you, and for a second, his whole body seemed to stall. Like he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or panic harder.
When he finally reached you, his hands braced against his knees as he caught his breath, the worry on his face softening into pure relief. “Oh, thank god,” he muttered, straightening up. “You found him.”
You blinked, sitting cross-legged in the grass with Krypto still half in your lap. The dog gave a happy bark, wagging his tail like he’d never caused a moment of chaos in his life.
You raised a brow, scratching behind his ears. “Technically, he found me.”
That earned a quick, breathless laugh out of him. He adjusted his glasses, his cheeks already turning pink. “Yeah,” he admitted, glancing down at his dog with a mixture of fondness and exasperation. “That sounds about right.”
You smirked. “Does he…make a habit of tackling strangers at the speed of light?”
His ears went red. “Uh—no! Well. I mean. Not usually. He, um…he’s a little excitable.” He reached down to scratch Krypto’s head, and the dog immediately leaned into him like he’d been gone for years instead of minutes. “A little strong, too.”
“A little?” you scoffed, still holding onto Krypto’s collar just in case. “He nearly dragged me across the park after a squirrel. I was one second away from becoming a human sled.”
That made him wince. “I’m so sorry. I really should’ve—I don’t even know how he got out the window.” He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it even messier than before. “He’s…a handful.”
You softened, watching the way he looked at Krypto. There was no irritation there, no frustration. Just affection.
“He’s sweet, though,” you said gently, brushing some grass off your sleeve. “Just…a bit much.”
At that, he laughed — properly this time. The sound was warm and a little shy, and you realized you liked it far too much for your own good.
“I promise, he’s not usually this bad,” he said, glancing at you again. His eyes caught yours, and suddenly his smile faltered, replaced by something softer. Something almost nervous. “I—I’m Clark, by the way.”
You blinked. Your heart skipped. After weeks of silently wondering, admiring him from a distance, there it was. His name. Clark.
You smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Nice to finally meet you, Clark. I’m [name].”
He repeated it under his breath, like he was testing the shape of it on his tongue, and the tips of his ears went pink.
“Well,” you teased, nudging Krypto’s shoulder. “Clark, I think your dog likes me. Not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”
Clark let out another sheepish laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “If he likes you, then…it’s definitely a good thing.”
You swore your stomach flipped at that.
Krypto barked again, wagging his tail as if to seal the deal.
You gave Clark a teasing little smile, still scratching Krypto’s ears. “Well, I guess I should be flattered that your dog approves of me.”
Clark ducked his head, pushing his glasses up his nose even though they weren’t crooked this time. His cheeks were tinged pink, that same shy grin tugging at his mouth. “Krypto’s…a pretty good judge of character.”
Your heart skipped. He was adorable.
There was a moment — just a beat of quiet between the two of you, broken only by the soft sounds of the park and Krypto’s panting. And maybe it was the adrenaline from nearly being dragged across the grass, or maybe you were just tired of watching him from afar, but before you could second-guess yourself, the words slipped out.
“So…how about you make it up to me? Maybe buy me a coffee sometime. You know, since I am such an amazing dog-sitter ”
Clark blinked. His whole body seemed to stutter, like his brain was buffering. “C–coffee?”
You laughed nervously, heat creeping up your neck. “Unless that’s too forward...”
“—No!” His voice cracked, and he immediately cleared his throat, flustered. “No, I mean—yes. Yes, absolutely. Coffee. Or—or dinner. Or whatever you want.” He was rambling now, running a hand through his curls, ears scarlet. “Sorry, I just…didn’t think you’d—I mean, I didn’t think you’d want to…” He trailed off, the words failing him.
You tilted your head, amused. “Go out with you?”
Clark froze, like the sentence had stunned him. His lips parted, but for a second nothing came out. Then he finally managed, “…Yeah.”
You grinned. “Then it’s a date.”
His smile was shy, almost disbelieving, like he’d just won the lottery and wasn’t sure if someone was about to tell him it was a prank. He adjusted his glasses again, murmuring, “I’d really like that.”
And just like that, you both were caught in the moment. Talking. Laughing. Trading information. You told him about your job, he told you about how Krypto technically wasn’t even his dog, but his cousin’s. You teased him about his crooked glasses, and he flushed scarlet but didn’t stop smiling.
So caught up in each other that neither of you noticed when Krypto—sneaky, traitorous little escape artist, slipped out of your reach and began trotting down the path, tail wagging and nose to the ground.
It wasn’t until Clark’s gaze flicked absentmindedly to the side that his whole body jolted upright. “Oh no.”
“What?” you asked, blinking.
“Krypto,” he groaned, already straightening to his full height. Sure enough, the white blur of fur was halfway down the path, chasing after a group of bikers like he hadn’t just caused an entire near-heart-attack ten minutes ago.
Clark shot you an apologetic look, face red. “I—I’m so sorry. I swear he usually—well, sometimes—no, that’s a lie, he never listens. I’ve gotta—”
You laughed, standing too, brushing off grass from your jeans. “Go get him, Clark.”
He gave you one more sheepish grin — the kind that made your chest flip again — before jogging off after the dog, calling, “Krypto! Come back here!”
You watched him go, shaking your head with a fond smile, the echo of his laugh still lingering in your ears.
Coffee, huh?
Definitely a date.
Bonus: The Date.
You hadn’t expected Clark Kent to clean up quite this well.
Sure, he was still the same guy from the park, shy smile, curls slightly unruly, glasses that wouldn’t stay straight if his life depended on it. But he’d shown up to the café in a button-up that made his shoulders look unfairly broad, his tie slightly crooked like he’d been too flustered to get it perfect, and the second he spotted you at the table, his whole face lit up.
The nerves that had been buzzing in your chest all morning melted a little under that smile.
And honestly? The date was going really, really well.
Clark was…different. In the best way. Most guys you’d met tried too hard, came in swinging with bravado or cheesy one-liners. Clark, on the other hand, was dorky. Honest. He got overexcited when you mentioned your favorite books, laughed too hard at his own corny jokes, and confessed he still sometimes burnt toast if he wasn’t paying attention.
And you adored every second of it.
“So then Jimmy says, ‘Clark, no one actually uses a typewriter anymore, stop pretending you’re from the 1950's.’” Clark’s eyes crinkled as he laughed, hands gesturing animatedly around his mug. “And of course Perry overhears and is like, ‘Kent, if I catch you dragging another typewriter into the office, you’re fired.’”
You giggled, covering your mouth. “Wait, do you actually own one?”
He hesitated, cheeks pinking. “...Maybe. Fine I own two!”
You were still laughing when something outside the big glass window caught your eye. At first you thought it was just a blur of movement. Then you looked closer.
Your smile froze.
“Uhm…Clark,” you said slowly, trying not to laugh as you pointed toward the window. “I think someone’s here for you.”
He turned, following your finger and immediately groaned, nearly smacking his forehead against the table.
Because there, pressed up against the café window with his tail wagging furiously, was Krypto. The white fluffy dog sat happily like he’d been watching for ages, tongue lolling, leaving a streak of fog and drool on the glass.
“Krypto!” Clark hissed, mortified, his face flushing scarlet. “Oh no, no, no—He is not supposed to be out!”
The dog barked loudly at the sound of his name, startling a couple at the next table. Then, with one excited yip, he bolted, white blur vanishing down the street.
Clark dropped his head into his hands. “You have got to be kidding me.”
You bit back a laugh, your lips twitching. “Guess he didn’t get the memo that you’re on a date.”
Clark peeked at you between his fingers, ears red. “I’m so sorry, I—I swear I don't know how he got out this time”
You slid your chair back, standing with a grin. “Well, lucky for you, I’m pretty good at catching him. Or at least hanging on until help arrives.”
Clark’s head shot up, startled. “You’d—really? You don’t have to—”
“Clark.” You grinned, grabbing your jacket. “I don't mind. I think I can handle a little tag.”
His glasses slipped down his nose as he blinked at you, stunned and blushing. Then he huffed out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”
You were already on your feet, heart racing with the thrill of it. “Come on, Smallville. Let’s go catch your dog.”
Clark stared at you for a moment longer, something warm and almost disbelieving flickering in his eyes. Then he stood too, towering over the table, smiling helplessly.
“Okay,” he said softly. “Let’s catch him.”
And just like that, the two of you dashed out of the café together, laughter bubbling between you, chasing after the world’s most chaotic wingman.
