Until the Kryptonite Faded
David Corenswet! Superman x Female Reader
Warning ⚠️: Purely fluff, maybe grammar error and maybe some punctuation errors.
A/N: This was a request, I am so sorry anon it took me forever to write it. Happy Reading ❤️
You knew something was wrong the second you heard the knock, three quick raps on your apartment door at an hour when even Metropolis slept. You cracked it open to find Mr. Terrific standing there, mask pushed up, worry etched into every line of his face.
And right there, slumped against his side, half-conscious, suit torn and damp with sweat, was your boyfriend.
“He didn’t want to go anywhere else,” Terrific said before you could ask, his voice calm but his eyes flicking to Clark with a flicker of concern, “Said here or nowhere.”
Your chest squeezed tight. Your boyfriend stirred, lifting his head just enough to try that crooked I’m fine grin, the one that fell apart halfway through.
“Hey,” he rasped, voice hoarse and thin, “didn’t mean… to wake you.”
“Oh, Clark,” you breathed, pressing a grateful hand to Mr. Terrific’s arm, “Thank you. Really. Thank you for bringing him to me.”
Terrific gave a short nod, quiet but steady. “He’s stubborn, but you know that better than anyone. Get him warm. Sun’ll do the rest,” he said, before slipping back into the quiet city and leaving you with every fragile piece of your hero.
Clark leaned heavier into you with each step, breath stuttering as you guided him to the couch. He muttered something about not wanting to ruin your cushions with his dirty suit, but you ignored him and eased him down until he sank into the worn cushions with a soft groan. When he tried to sit up, you coaxed him gently, guiding his head down until it rested in your lap.
He stiffened, clearly embarrassed, but your hand was already combing through his hair and he let out a shaky breath that told you everything he’d never say out loud.
You peeled back the torn edge of his suit just enough to see the raw, swollen skin, huge parts of it looking angry but healing already under your cool, gentle touch. You pressed a damp cloth to his forehead, ignoring his soft hiss of pain.
“Stubborn man,” you murmured, brushing your thumb along his temple.
“I’m fine,” he mumbled, eyes drifting closed, “Sun’ll fix it.”
“Yeah, okay,” you whispered, smoothing his hair back again and again, “Just let me stay.”
He cracked one eye open, like he’d try to argue again, but it slipped away when your fingers threaded through his hair. His hand curled loosely in the blanket you’d draped over him, half to keep him warm, half to keep him here.
And so hours blurred, he drifted in and out, breathing rough, body trembling through the worst of it and every time he stirred, your hand was there. You caught the soft, broken murmurs of your name. You stayed with him. You hushed gently him each time, whispering, you’re not going anywhere.
And then, finally, dawn. Pale gold light spilled through the curtains, brushing over his bare shoulder, over the raw skin that already looked calmer. He shifted, breath deepening, steady and warm at last. His eyes cracked open, clear blue, focused on you like he couldn’t believe you were still there.
“Hey,” he rasped, voice rough but alive again.
“Hey yourself,” you breathed, brushing your thumb across his cheek, “How are you holding up?”
“Better,” He managed the faintest smile — soft, real. “Just wanted… home. Wanted you,” he murmured.
Your heart twisted at that. You bent closer, your hand sliding down to cover his. “I know. I’m here,” you whispered.
His eyes fluttered shut again, lips curling into a tired, easy smile. “I love you,” he breathed, the words drifting soft and sure.
You let out a tiny laugh, your eyes burning. “I love you too,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
He lay there for a moment longer, the sunlight filtered some more through the white curtains, his head still heavy in your lap, until he stirred again, warmth and slowly his strength flickering back under his skin. He braced a hand on the couch, pushing himself upright carefully. Before you could blink, his arms were under your knees and behind your back, lifting you up like you were light as air.
He didn’t say anything, just brushed his nose against your temple, as though grateful for your very existence here with him.
He padded down the hallway, sunlight spilling gold over his shoulders and the fading red marks at his skin. He nudged the bedroom door open with his foot, laid you down in the sheets you’d barely touched all night, then climbed in behind you — curling his big, sun-warm body around yours.
“You’re okay now?” you mumbled, half-asleep, cheek pressed to his chest.
“I am now,” he whispered, lips brushing your hair, “I am so much better than okay.”
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