octraiin

[octraiin]

please

[octraiin]

── .✦ Just a Scratch - [Clark Kent]

FT: Clark Kent x reader

SUMMARY: Your boyfriend shows up at your window late at night injured. Based off that one scene from tasm, iykyk

CW: Maybe very very slight movie spoilers, and injured Clark.

Late at night, you were up working on a headline for The Daily Planet about Superman's most recent battle, while your boyfriend was out fighting a new one. Some nights, you left your window open since he liked to visit you while patrolling around Metropolis and he knew he couldn’t use the front door of your apartment.

The soft clack of your keyboard echoed in the quiet room, the glow of your laptop screen casting a light across your face. You typed away, with one hand holding your favourite mug of strong coffee, trying to fight through the fatigue.

Then you heard it. A gentle knock on your window.

Without even turning around, you called out, “Clark, you know you don’t have to knock. It’s open for you.”

The window creaked as it slid open, a rush of cold night air sweeping into the room. It lightly blew the papers on your desk and raised goosebumps along your skin. Still, you didn’t turn. You were too deep in your work.

“This headline is due tomorrow morning. I can't sleep until i finish it,” you muttered, bringing the mug to your lips again.

“I believe in you,” you heard Clark say, his voice quieter than usual, low and tired.

Then, suddenly you hear a heavy thud from behind you.

You spun in your chair, alarm shooting through you. “Oh my god, Clark.”

You were on your feet almost instantaneously.

There he was, your superhuman boyfriend, slumped to the floor just below the window. His suit was torn all over his body, exposing his arm and parts of his chest and stomach, streaks of dirt and blood marking the red and blue. A wound ran along his side, and a deep bruise was growing across his cheekbone. His breathing, shallow and uneven.

Clark tried to sit up with a wince, his jaw clenching. “What? It’s just a scratch. Don’t worry,” he said, forcing a small, crooked smile.

You gently pushed against his shoulder, easing him back down. “Stop trying to move,” you said firmly. “I’ll be right back.”

You rushed out of the room and turned the corner into the bathroom. Your hands shook as you pulled open the cabinet under the sink, grabbing the first aid kit with one hand and a clean towel with the other. You ran the towel under warm water, wringing it out quickly before heading back.

You dropped to your knees beside him again, towel in one hand, bandages in the other. He looked at you, still trying to smile through the pain.

“You should see the other guy,” he tries to joke, a crooked smile pulling at his lips just before he sucks in a sharp breath. He groans low as you press the damp towel to the open wound along his side.

You glance up at him, frowning. “What happened?”

You try to be as gentle as you can, as you wipe away the blood spreading across his stomach where the fabric of his suit is torn and clinging to the skin beneath. The muscle beneath your hand twitches.

“Basically,” he breathes out, eyes fluttering halfway shut, “I was out doing... you know... my normal important stuff...” He tries to wave his hand vaguely, then immediately regrets it, letting it fall back to the floor with a thump.

“And then... that hammer of Boravia thing... just came outta nowhere.” He winces again, shoulders curling forward slightly. “Golly, that hurts, Y/N.”

He flinches again just as you dab carefully around the edge of the wound. “Sorry,” you murmur, and give him a little nod to keep going.

Clark leans his head back against the floor, exhaling like it takes effort. “It was beating me up in the air... kept slamming into me like a wrecking ball... and then it just punched me straight down into the concrete.”

“Gosh,” he mutters, as he remembers the impact. "I almost wish I could have bounced instead of just going straight through the sidewalk."

His voice is a little slurred, but still full of that soft humour he always tries to hang on to, even when he’s bleeding out in your bedroom.

“You’re lucky you made it here,” you say, gently peeling away more of the ruined suit so you can get a better look. “You really shouldn’t fly when you’re this hurt.”

Clark just gives you a helpless look, his shoulders slumped slightly where he’s still resting on the floor. Carefully, you lay a bandage on his wound, placing it flat across the front, trying not to press too hard.

“Do you think you could sit up so I could get this around you?” you ask, your voice gentle but steady, holding up a much larger bandage to wrap around him.

Clark nods, his jaw tightening as he slowly starts to sit up. His arms shake and his exposed bicep tense with the effort, as he braces one hand behind him to help him leans his back against the wall beneath the open window. A low groan escapes him as he moves, eyes squeezing shut for a moment.

You scoot in closer, careful not to bump him, and begin wrapping the bandage around his torso. Your fingers move with care, reaching around his back again and again, each pull snug but not too tight, until the fabric is secure.

When you're finished, your eyes drift up to his face. The light from the desk lamp catches on the angle of his jaw, exposing the purple bruise blooming over his cheekbone, and the streaks of dirt scattered across his features.

“Oh, Clark…” you breathe, the words slipping out.

You reach up, hand gentle as you begin wiping the dirt from his face. Your palm cups his cheek and your thumb brushes lightly over the bruise like you could somehow soothe it away.

Another crooked smile tugs at his lips, faint but still warm despite the pain. “Y’know, Y/N,” he murmurs, voice raspy with exhaustion, “you’re pretty good at this. Maybe I’ll come to you more often when I get hurt.”

You huff out a quiet laugh, shaking your head as your hand lingers against his cheek. “Please don’t make getting punched into the sidewalk a habit, Superman.” Your voice is light.

His eyes flicker up to yours again, as if he's memorizing your face in this moment. The two of you sit in comfortable silence, the tension slowly melting beneath the warmth settling between you.

Slowly, Clark leans forward, closing the space between you. His lips meet yours, soft at first, but then deepening with a quiet urgency that takes you by surprise. His breath catches as you respond instinctively, with your hands moving to cup his face, fingers moving gently through his dark, messy curls.

He pulls you closer, and you move carefully to straddle his thighs, mindful of the cuts and bruises hidden beneath his torn suit. His hands tighten a little on your waist, holding on to steady himself from the pain and exhaustion.

His lips part slightly, and the kiss grows deeper. Your hands slide down from his hair to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. His hands rest gently on your back.

Everything around you, the city noise, the light, even the pain in his side, fades away, and all that matters is this quiet moment between you.

When you finally pull apart, your both breathing soft and steady.

You smile gently and brush your thumb over his cheek, feeling the bruises and the last bits of dirt still clinging to his skin.

“Stay here tonight,” you say quietly, almost a whisper. “I don’t want you going out there like this.”

He returns your smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

You lean back with a smirk, looking down at him. “For a guy who’s supposed to be nearly invincible, you sure have a talent for getting roughed up.”

Clark shoots you a playful glare. “Hey, a few bruises never hurt anyone."

You raise an eyebrow. “Clearly, it hurt you.”

He shrugs. “I think it's just part of the Superman job description."

You squint at him. “Does the job description say anything about dripping blood all over your girlfriend's floor?"

Clark looks down at the mess, then shrugs. “In my defence, it was just small leak. And look you patched it all up.” He waves toward the bandage on his stomach. 

You roll your eyes and stand up, grabbing the towel again to wipe up a few drops of blood that had leaked onto the ground. “Great. So now I’m your personal medic and your janitor.”

Clark grins. “See. Multitalented." He waves toward you.

You toss the towel at him, which he catches with a dramatic wince. “Golly. Ow.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, shaking your head as you sink down beside him again. "Well, at least you really know how to make an entrance."

He looks at you, tired but smiling. “Guess I’m just lucky to have you waiting.”

You place a small kiss to his cheek. “That’s right, Superman.”

WC: 1.5k

[octraiin]

── .✦ Birthday Surprise - [Clark Kent]

FT: Clark kent x reader

SUMMARY: A quiet evening in your boyfriend’s apartment turns into something far more unforgettable when a shared secret changes both everything and nothing at all.

You were curled up on the couch in your boyfriend’s apartment, wrapped in one of his flannels, while he moved around in the kitchen humming something soft. He was putting away the leftover cake from the surprise newsroom party he’d somehow managed to plan without you noticing.

“Clark, I still can’t believe you did all that for me,” you called over to him.

Clark leaned in the doorway, a dish towel slung over his shoulder, his boyish smile spreading across his face.

“I wanted to surprise you,” he said, walking over. “Besides, I’ll take any excuse to celebrate you.”

You grinned and teased, “Well Mr. Kent, you better have gotten me a very dramatic present.”

Clark chuckled and reached behind the couch, pulling out a small box wrapped neatly with a white ribbon. He handed it to you, eyes shining with excitement.

You smiled up at him, then slowly began to untie the ribbon. Inside the box lay a delicate gold necklace.

“Aw, Clark… it’s so pretty,” you smile.

“Turn it over,” he said, nodding toward it.

When you turned it over you see engraved into the back of the pendant, a tiny, unmistakable 'S.'

You looked up at him, confused but smiling. “I love it… but what’s the ‘S’ for?”

Clark gave a soft laugh.

“I’ll be right back,” Clark says, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he gets up from the couch. He disappears into his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

A few moments pass. Then the door opens.

And Clark steps out wearing a full Superman suit.

You blink.

Then you burst out laughing. “Clark, why the hell are you dressed as Superman right now?”

He crosses his arms, trying to look serious, but the smile tugging at his lips gives him away. “First of all, I’m not dressed as Superman.”

You raise a brow. “Then what exactly are you?”

“What do you think the ‘S’ on the necklace is for?” he says, gesturing toward the pendant still resting in your hand.

Your laughter fades a little as your brain starts to click. “Clark… what are you saying right now?”

He lifts his hands in the air. “Surprise?”

You stare at him, mouth slightly open. “Are you serious?”

Clark gives a small shrug, eyes soft.

You blink again. “You’re actually Superman?!”

He smiles, stepping closer. “I really hope that’s not a dealbreaker.”

You blink. “Oh my god.”

“I know.”

You sit back on the couch, slowly. Your fingers reach for the necklace again, feeling the engraved S like it’s suddenly burning through the gold. “This is… this is insane.”

Clark kneels in front of you, resting his hands on your knees, gentle and steady.

You meet his eyes, soft and still completely Clark, despite the cape.

“You mean to tell me,” you whisper, “that every time you ran off mid-conversation or bailed at work-"

He chuckles. “Yep. That was usually world-ending stuff.”

You stare at him for another long moment. Then you let out a shocked laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m really not.” He reaches up, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. But I wanted you to know now because, well, this is serious. You are serious to me.”

You look at him, really look, and somehow, it’s still the same man who brought you coffee just the way you like it, who listens when you rant about bad headlines, and who hums while cleaning up your birthday cake in his tiny kitchen.

You let out a slow breath and smile. “Well, I guess the dramatic present was a success.”

"Wait it's not over yet," Clark says, standing back up, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” you say, nodding without hesitation.

He reaches out his hand for you to take. “Come with me.”

You slide your fingers into his and follow him out to the balcony of his apartment. The night air is cool against your skin, the city lights stretching out below.

“What are we doing?” you ask, eyes searching his face.

Clark turns to you with that soft, familiar look, and then, without warning, he scoops you up into his arms like you weigh nothing. Your breath hitches, and instinctively, you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Don’t let go. Hold on tight,” he says gently, stepping up onto the railing.

“Clark, what are you doing-”

But before you can finish, you’re in the air.

Your eyes slam shut as the wind rushes around you. “Oh my God.”

Clark glances down to look at your face, voice calm and full of reassurance. “It’s okay. Open your eyes.”

You slowly peek one eye open, and then both. Your breath catches.

You’re high above the city, floating in the night sky. It’s quiet up here.

He holds you close, arms strong and secure. One is wrapped around your waist, the other tucked beneath your legs, keeping you held safely against him. For a moment, all you can do is press your face to his neck, feeling the wind swirl around you.

You’re wrapped in the arms of Superman.

You tilt your head back, eyes finding his. His gaze flickers down to you, and his hand shifts just slightly on your waist, his fingers brushing beneath the hem of your shirt where the wind pushed it up. The touch is light, but it sparks something warm through your skin.

You continue soaring above the city for a few long moments, until Clark begins to descend.

Your feet touch solid ground again as he gently lands on the rooftop of a tall high-rise. He sets you down with care, and your legs wobble slightly when you finally get a clear look at how high up you are. The breeze is stronger here, tugging at your clothes and whipping strands of your hair across your face.

Clark stays close, one hand resting lightly at your back to steady you.

"Wow..." you breathe, eyes wide as you take in the glittering city beneath you.

Once you've steadied yourself, Clark gently removes his hand from your back and walks over to the edge of the building. He sits down, relaxed, legs swinging freely as the wind ruffles his hair. He looks back at you and stretches his hand out with a warm smile.

“Come sit. I got you.”

You nod, your heart still fluttering from the flight, and carefully walk over, placing your hand in his. You lower yourself beside him, scooting to the edge until your legs dangle over the side, the city buzzing quietly below.

Clark pulls you in close, his arm wrapping securely around you. The way he holds you, gentle but solid, makes the height disappear. In his arms, even the edge of a skyscraper feels safe.

“Clark, this is amazing.” Your voice is soft, as your eyes drift across the skyline. “It’s so peaceful up here.”

He turns to you, smiling, the city lights flickering in his eyes.

“Can I tell you something?” You ask, turning your face toward him.

“Of course. What is it?” he says, tilting his head slightly.

“A part of me always knew you were Superman,” you admit, a bit shyly. “But I thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me.”

He grins. “Was it the glasses?”

You laugh. “No, it wasn’t the glasses. Just all your disappearing. And this…” Your fingers reach up and gently brush the small scar on his chin.

“What?” he asks, his brow furrowing slightly.

“That one time I thought I scored the interview of a lifetime with Superman, I noticed a scar right here.” You trail your fingertip lightly across the skin. “And then the next time I saw you, I noticed you had the exact same scar. But I just thought it had to be a coincidence. Plus, I've never seen Superman and Clark Kent in the same place.”

Clark chuckles softly, eyes never leaving yours. “Well, guess you were right all along.”

You lean in a little closer, still brushing your thumb over that tiny mark. “Guess I was.”

Clark watches you for a long moment, his expression soft. His fingers trace slow, shapes along your arm, just under the sleeve of your shirt. It sends a shiver down your spine, but not from the wind.

You lift your head to look at him. “Clark?”

His eyes meet yours instantly.

“I love you,” you say, quiet but certain.

His breath catches, just a little. “Say it again,” he murmurs, almost like he needs to hear it twice to believe it.

“I love you Clark” You tuck a hand against the side of his face, fingers brushing his cheek. “I knew long before you ever flew me across the city.”

Clark leans in, forehead resting gently against yours. “I love you too,” he whispers.

You close the space between you, your hand sliding up the side of his face, into his hair. His breath hitches the moment your lips meet his.

It starts slow and tender. His lips are soft and a little hesitant at first like he’s memorizing the shape of your lips. Your fingers curl at the back of his neck, and something shifts.

He exhales through his nose and deepens the kiss.

His hand tightens at your waist, pulling you completely against him, while the other traces slowly up your back, fingers slipping just beneath the fabric of your shirt. The warmth of his touch against your skin sends a shiver down your back that has nothing to do with the cool night air.

You break apart only slightly, breathing each other in. "Happy birthday," he whispers lowly.

Clark kisses you again, slower this time, like he wants to remember everything about this moment. The feeling of your lips, the way your fingers tremble slightly where they curl in his hair, and the way you lean into him feeling completely safe.

He eventually breaks the kiss, to feather more kisses trailing down your neck, his hands still tight on your waist. Before he pulls back once more.

“We should probably go back before I forget we're sitting on a rooftop,” he says, a breathless laugh follows his words.

“Take me home, Superman.”

That earns that iconic Clark smile, the one that makes your chest warm.

Without another word, he gathers you up in his arms again. Your face is tucked close to his neck as you take off into the sky, soaring over the city lights.

The flight is quieter now. There’s a softness to it. You hold him tighter, and he presses a kiss to your hair.

When you land gently on his balcony, he doesn’t let you go right away.

"You okay?" he murmurs

You nod smiling up at him. "More than okay."

Inside, everything is just as you left it. The cozy glow of the lamp beside the couch, the white ribbon from your gift still sitting on the coffee table. But the air feels different now.

Clark closes the balcony door behind you, his eyes on you the whole time.

You slip your arms around his waist as he steps back toward you. “Now that I know who you are,” you trail your fingers up his chest. “Do I get to ask what Superman does for fun when he’s not saving the world?”

Clark smiles again, eyes dark with affection. “He likes to be right here with you.”

He kisses you once more, softer this time. His hands find your hips, and you feel the gentle pull of him guiding you backward toward the couch.

You let him guide you, sinking back into the familiar cushions as Clark follows. The city is still humming just outside the window, but here it feels like the world’s gone quiet again.

His shirt still hangs off your shoulders, warm and smelling just like him. He runs his hand gently along the curve of your waist. You smile against his lips, cupping his jaw.

“I still can’t believe you kept this from me,” you whisper teasingly.

He leans his forehead to yours, voice low. “I wanted to tell you every single time I saw you, I promise. But I didn't know how you were gonna react."

“And now?” you ask.

Clark pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. “Now it’s better than I ever imagined.”

You curl against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. There’s something grounding about it, steady, powerful, calm. It’s not just the heart of Superman.

It’s Clark Kent.

He sits up and reaches for the gift box resting on the coffee table. With care, he lifts the box, opens it, and unclasp the delicate necklace inside. “Here,” he says softly. You turn around and brush your hair away from your neck.

Clark leans in, and slips the necklace over your head and around your neck, clasping it from behind so that it rests perfectly against your skin. You let your hair fall back, then turn to face him.

His eyes meet yours and he murmurs, “There, now. No matter who I am or what the world sees me for, you always know I’m yours.”

In that quiet moment, with the necklace secure against your collarbone and his words lingering in the air, everything feels right.

That night, wrapped in his arms on the couch, the city twinkling just beyond the windows, it didn’t matter that the world saw him as a hero.

To you, he was still just Clark. The man who brought you cake and who kissed you so softly.

And as your fingers toyed with the small 'S' resting over your heart, you smiled to yourself because now, it wasn’t just his symbol. It was yours, too.

It's a quiet promise to remind you that no matter how high he flew or how far the world pulled him away, he’d always come back to you.

WC: 2.3k

[octraiin]

Clark Kent x reader who is also southern as hell. They both work at the daily planet together and eventually get together. Just seeing them relate is so cute

omg i love this, such a cute idea!! warning tho i'm not southern so it might not be accurate

............................

imagine you and clark sharing childhood stories in the quiet moments like after a press conference, during a late edit, or in the lull before a big headline drops.

"one time my and i cousin tried to float down the river on this old door we found at an abandoned shed." you say leaning back in your chair, grinning.

"did it work" clark asks, raising a brow.

you smirk "of course it did...until we almost drowned and got covered in leaches."

clark chuckled lowley. "sounds like something my buddy Pete would have dared me to do growing up."

"you ever jumped off the roof of a barn?" you ask him.

"...ma grounded me for two weeks" clark responds sheepishly.

"two weeks? my ma would have grounded me 'til i graduated."

you dont realize how loud you were actually talking until you hear a voice speak up.

"you guys are so weird." jimmy mutters not even bothering to look up from his computer.

you both laugh and shrug, sharing a knowing glance.

...........................

You stand in front of the printer, one hand on your hip, the other gripping a jammed sheet of paper.

Behind you, you hear the familiar sound of dress shoes on tile, then a warm, amused voice.

“Trouble?”

You sigh without turning around. “Unless you’ve got a screwdriver, Clark, I don’t think even Superman could fix this thing.”

Clark freezes for a moment.

“Well, I bet superman doesn't know a thing or two about stubborn machinery. I grew up fixing farm stuff, remember?”

Clark gives you a soft smile, and gently nudges you aside.

“Step aside, ma’am,” he says in his best mocking voice, rolling up his sleeves. “Let me work my Smallville magic.”

You cross your arms and watch, trying not to stare at the way his forearms flex as he carefully opens the printer panel. His fingers move with ease, and before you hear long click. It’s working.

Clark straightens up, brushing a smudge of ink off his wrist. “There. Crisis averted.”

You blink. “That… was weirdly impressive.”

He hands you the freshly printed page. “Just needed a little patience.”

You glance down at the paper, then back up at him. “You saying I don’t have patience, Kent?”

He smirks. “No. Just saying the printer clearly likes me more.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Next time it acts up, I’m just calling my Smallville tech support.”

Clark chuckles. “I’ll put it on my resume."

...........................

On a quiet night, after everyone else had already left the office, you and Clark were left typing away at your keyboards under the buzz of the overhead lights. The distant hum of the city filtered softly through the windows behind you.

You finish your work and roll your chair over to his desk, balancing two mugs on your thigh.

“This is the part where we pretend this newsroom’s a porch, and all the noise outside is just cicadas,” you say, handing him a mug.

Clark takes it from you, your fingers brushing lightly. He chuckles and taps the arms of his chair. “And these are our porch swings.”

You smile “exactly." You pause and take a slow sip from your mug."Do you ever miss it?”

Clark leans back in his chair, pausing thoughtfully before he answers. “Don’t get me wrong I love Metropolis and the Daily Planet, but sometimes I miss it more than I like to admit.”

There’s a quiet pause between you, but it feels safe.

...........................

There was a bad storm. sirens, lights flickering, and wind howling through the high-rises. The planet staff were all huddled in the stairwell waiting for the worst part of the storm to pass. the lights were dim and the city was dark.

you and clark were sat on the top step, shoulder to shoulder.

without warning clark grabs your hand. his grasp is soft, warm, and safe.

you glance down, surprised with his action.

but you don't pull away.

and neither does he.

after a long moment you whisper. "you scared?"

clark turns to look at you. "no i got used to bad storms growing up. are you?

"no im not." you say offering a small smile.

“Back home,” you whisper, “we used to sit on the porch and watch the rain roll across the fields.”

Clark smiles and nods in agreement.

................................

Clark’s telling Jimmy a story about Smallville’s annual harvest and you, without thinking, finish the punchline for him.

Jimmy stares.

“Okay. Sorry. Did you two date or something?”

Clark nearly chokes on his coffee.

“What? No, we didn’t even know each other back then.”

“Didn’t meet til Metropolis,” you add, shaking your head.

Jimmy narrows his eyes.

“Then why do you finish each other’s sentences like a couple from a Hallmark movie?”

Clark ducks his head with a shy smile.

“I guess we just get each other.”

You glance at Clark, and he glances back, both of you quietly grinning.

Jimmy just sighs, walking away.

................................

when clark finally asked you out, he asked you if you wanted to check out the metropolis Saturday farmers market.

together you wander between stalls like you've done this a million times before.

he buys a small jar of peach preserves and you buy a small box of boiled peanuts.

you stop at a honey stand and pick up a jar with an unfamiliar label.

you nudge him "you think this would taste good on cornbread?"

he raises a brow, "is that even a serious question."

you smirk and jokingly speak out "marry me."

clark freezes for a second. then laughs but its shy, his eyes flickering away from yours.

"...ask me again when we find the pie stand." he says with his voice low.

[octraiin]

three months ago we had our first date......

RACHEL BROSNAHAN as LOIS LANE and DAVID CORENSWET as CLARK KENT / SUPERMAN in SUPERMAN (2025)

[octraiin]

what a nerd

( synopsis ) — based off this cute video of david rambling about star wars. he’s so loveable, i love u david corenswet.

( warning ) — none! just a lot of star wars talk.

( tags ) — @dumbbandpoetic [to be added]

“You know… Obi Wan wasn’t originally supposed to be the one to train Anakin in Star Wars,” Clarke murmured from where he lay sprawled across you, arms wrapped comfortably around your waist, his chin resting lightly against your chest as he gazed up at you.

You smiled, glancing down at him, your fingers gently combing through his hair as if he were a puppy. “We’re doing this again, huh?”

“Just let me have this,” Clarke said with a grin. “I need to get it out of my system. It should’ve been Qui Gon. He had the instinct, the experience, he understood Anakin in a way the others didn’t.”

You nodded quietly, watching the way his face lit up as he spoke, the familiar warmth of his passionate rambling filling the quiet of the room. These moments weren’t rare between you, Clarke’s impromptu nerd related lectures were practically routine.

“Qui Gon loved Anakin,” he continued, more softly now. “Not in a way the Jedi Order condoned, but still! He saw something in him. He believed in him. That love could’ve changed everything.”

“But Obi Wan made a promise,” you replied gently. “To Qui Gon. When he died, he asked Obi Wan to train him. So even if Qui Gon should’ve been the one… Obi Wan was the next best person. Maybe the only one who could have even tried.”

Clarke looked up at you, eyes wide with admiration and surprise. “Wait, how do you even know that? Every time I put on a Star Wars movie, you’re asleep before the opening caption finishes.”

You laughed, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “I pick up more than you think. Mostly from you rambling like this.”

He huffed a quiet laugh as you playfully tapped the tip of his nose, pushing his glasses slightly askew. But before he could respond, a sudden boom echoed from outside the apartment, a sharp interruption to the quiet moment.

Clarke sighed and sat up, his body already shifting into alertness. “Sounds like I have to go.”

Your fingers found his hair once more, brushing it back gently. “Alright,” you murmured, offering a teasing smile. “Go save the city or something.”

He leaned down to press a quick kiss to your lips, giving your waist a soft squeeze before standing and beginning to unbutton the top of his collared shirt.

“Wouldn’t be worth saving if you weren’t here,” he said softly, flashing a crooked grin as he attempted a wink.

“I’ll be timing you,” you called after him with a smirk.

“Then I better hurry!” he laughed, and with a sudden burst of motion, he vanished through the open window, leaving behind only the faint breeze and an unbuttoned shirt in his wake.

[octraiin]

David! Clark x reader with the pregnant reader getting nightmares and next few days it’s been bothering her, and Clark comes in and swoops her up out of the rut she was in. Angst but fluff at the end!! <3

aw david! clark would be so sweet!

---------------------------

The one thing you least expected from the long list of pregnancy symptoms were the nightmares. They came one night without warning, dark and vivid. For days, you tossed and turned late into the night, unable to find a moment of peace. The nights Clark was away being Superman the dreams only got worse, more intense and more terrifying. Eventually, it became too much. The dread of falling asleep was overwhelming, and you found yourself avoiding rest altogether, too afraid of what might be waiting in the dark behind your eyelids.

You knew the lack of sleep wasn’t healthy neither for you nor the baby. But no matter how hard you tried, the nightmares kept returning, leaving you drained. One night, it all became too much. The moment Clark stepped into your shared bedroom, exhausted from another long night as Superman, you broke down.

“Clark,” you whispered, your voice barely holding together, cracking with emotion.

His eyes immediately snapped to you, concern flashing across his face as he saw your figure curled up on the bed, tears glistening in your tired eyes.

“Are you okay? What happened?” he asked, already moving toward you with urgency in his steps.

“I just- I can’t sleep,” you murmured, your voice exhausted.

Clark didn’t hesitate. He sat down beside you, his presence warm. His hand found your thigh in a gentle, reassuring touch. You looked up at him, your eyes brimming with tears and searching his face for some kind of comfort.

"Why? Is something wrong?" Clark asks, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"It’s just the nightmares," you whisper, voice breaking. "I keep having them every time I close my eyes, and I can't do it anymore." The words come out in a quiet sob as your tears finally spill over.

Clark pulls you into a warm, protective hug, letting you cry into his shoulder. His voice is gentle, but firm. "How long has this been going on?"

"At least a week now," you mumble against him.

"Oh, baby..." he says softly, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. "Why didn’t you tell me sooner?"

"I don’t know," you admit, eyes down. "It’s not like there’s anything you could do to help. I guess I didn’t feel like I should burden you with it. I’m sorry."

"Don’t apologize, Y/n." His voice is full of care. "I just want to make sure you're okay. That’s all I ever want."

"i know" you say between sobs "i'm just so tired."

"What are the nightmares about?" Clark asks softly, his voice low and careful, his thumb gently brushing along your back as he holds you close.

"It’s just..." You trail off, eyes dropping to the floor as the words get stuck in your throat.

Clark senses your hesitation. He reaches up and gently lifts your chin, guiding your eyes back to his. His eyes are warm and patient. “Hey,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “Whatever it is, I’m here. I want to understand.”

Your eyes well up again as you finally speak. “It’s always something happening to you,” you admit. “I keep dreaming that you’re out there being Superman and something goes wrong so you don’t come home and I wake up alone.” Your voice cracks.

Clark’s expression shifts, a flicker of sadness in his eyes. “Y/n…” he breathes, pulling you close again. His arms tightening protectively around you.

“We both know I can’t stop doing what I do,” he says quietly. “I wish I could promise you nothing bad will ever happen. But what I can promise is that I’m always going to fight my way back to you. No matter what I'm always coming home to you.” He says before he lifts his hand to your stomach. "And our baby."

“I know, Clark,” you say with a small, tired smile. “I think I just needed to hear you say that.”

Relief flickers in his eyes, and he gives you a gentle smile in return. “I’m glad,” he murmurs then leans in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Now let’s try to get some sleep, yeah?”

He rises from the edge of the bed and walks around to the other side. You watch as he pulls back the covers and climbs in, settling onto the mattress with a familiar ease. He looks over at you and pats the space beside him. “Come on,” he says softly, his voice still carrying that warm, reassuring tone.

You don’t hesitate, slipping beneath the blanket and curling up beside him, resting your head on his chest. His arms wrap around you instinctively, holding you like you’re the most important thing in the world. You can hear the steady, calming rhythm of his heartbeat under your cheek, helping you slowly drift off to sleep. Clark's fingers find their way into your hair, gently weaving through the strands.

Neither of you say anything more.

For the first time in what feels like forever, you fall asleep with a sense of peace. No dreams, no fear.

Just him.

[octraiin]

★ Requests !!

feel free to send any requests or ideas for fics! please no smut right now but fluff or anything a little spicy is okay.

I'd also prefer if it is for superman/clark kent at the moment but it will change to other characters in the future!

*only x reader!!!!

[octraiin]

── .✦ Sunday in Smallville - [Clark Kent]

FT: Clark Kent x reader

SUMMARY: Your boyfriend, Clark Kent, brings you home to Smallville to meet his parents.

CW: none. fluff

Relaxing in your apartment and watching tv after work had become a comforting routine while you waited for your boyfriend, Clark, to get home.

The soft hum of the Metropolis news channel played in the background going on about Superman did this...Boravia has that, a familiar white noise. Suddenly, the jingle of keys at the door pulled you from your trance. A moment later, Clark’s heavy footsteps crossed through the door.

But instead of his usual warm 'Honey, I’m home!' or the sound of your name, you heard his voice, quiet and affectionate, speaking on the phone.

“Yes Ma, I know. Tell Pa I’ll come help him take care of it soon.”

You paused, listening in.

“Okay, Ma, I’m home now. I’ll call you tomorrow… Yes… Okay… Mhm… I’ll let her know… Okay love you Ma. Bye!”

Assuming he was off the phone, you called out. “Clark?”

He peeked his head around the corner while kicking his shoes off, spotting you on the couch. “Hey hun. How was work?”

“It was okay, same as usual” You paused. “Was that your mom?” You asked, gesturing toward his phone.

“Yeah” He replied while slipping off his suit jacket as he walked into the living room. “She was asking when I could come home and help out with a few things around the farm.” He tossed his jacket over the back of the chair before settling into the seat across from you, pulling at his collar and undoing the first few buttons on the white button-up he typically wore to work.

You hesitated for a moment, then spoke softly. “I want to meet her and your dad.”

Since you've been with Clark he always spoke so fondly about his parents and the memories he had growing up on the farm. You loved Clark, and you wanted to see the place, and the people, that shaped him into the man he is today.

Clark raised a brow slightly in surprise and slipped his glasses off, but his smile was immediate. “Really? Well… maybe we could drive up to Smallville this weekend. I can show you the farm.”

“Yes, that’d be amazing Clark!” You said with a happy smile spreading across your face.

“Okay, I’ll let Ma know we’re coming. We can head out in the morning."

He stood up and leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead before walking toward your shared bedroom.

On his way into the bedroom, Clark paused in the doorway and looked back at you.

“Y'know, every time she calls, she asks about you” he said with a soft smile. “They’re going to be so happy to finally meet you!”

With that, he disappeared into the dim light of the room, heading for a shower before bed. Shortly after, you follow him and slipped into your shared bed both nervous and excited for what tomorrow will bring.

---------------------------

You and Clark wake up bright and early the next day. He pulls on his signature farm boy flannel and a pair of worn jeans, looking like he was back doing work on the farm.

You, on the other hand, stand in front of the closet feeling unsure. You're meeting his parents for the first time but, you're also going to a farm.

“Clark! Come look. Is this okay?” You call out from the bedroom, raising your voice just enough to be heard over the sizzling coming from the kitchen.

Just a moment later, Clark walks in while wiping his hands on a dish towel. His eyes travel from your face to your feet and back up again. He exhales, a soft smile forming on his lips.

“Y/n, I promise it doesn’t matter what you wear. They’re gonna love you either way. You look beautiful.”

He steps forward, placing a gentle hand on your waist, then leans down to press a soft kiss on your lips. For someone so strong, he’s always been so gentle with you.

Pulling back, he teases, “Finish getting ready so we can eat and hit the road. Breakfast is almost done.”

He places one more kiss on your forehead before disappearing back into the kitchen, leaving you standing in front of the mirror with your heart fluttering.

You take one last look at your outfit, deciding it’s fine, and step out to find your favourite breakfast and your favourite person waiting at the table. Clark looks up smiling and waves you over.

You sit down, and the two of you eat together, Clark chatting about Smallville, the farm, and the things he can’t wait to show you.

----------------------------

Clark packs up the car, and soon the two of you are on your way to Smallville. The drive is peaceful, the city slowly disappearing and turning into open fields, hills, and country roads. You gaze out the window, watching small towns and farmland pass by like pictures from a postcard.

Clark drives with one hand on the wheel and the other resting gently on your thigh, a quiet, comforting presence.

After a while, a large sign comes into view, visibly weathering but nonetheless still welcoming:

"Welcome to Smallville- The Meteor Capital of the World!"

You read it out loud with a small laugh.

Clark grins. “Yep, we’ll be there soon!” He says, giving your leg a soft squeeze with the hand that never left you.

Shortly after, Clark begins to slow down, turning into a long dirt driveway. You spot a red mailbox at the entrance with 'Kent Farm' written in gold lettering. A sudden wave of nervousness settles in your stomach.

Clark parks beside an old truck, which you assume belongs to his dad. Before he can even take the keys out of the ignition, the front door bursts open.

Mrs. Kent rushes out onto the porch, apron fluttering behind her, with Mr. Kent close behind.

Clark glances over at you with a reassuring smile before opening his door and stepping out. You follow his lead.

“Clark! Oh, we missed you so much!” Mrs. Kent throws her arms around him in a tight embrace.

“We sure did, son.” Mr. Kent adds, staying back while waiting for his turn to hug his son.

After one last squeeze, Mrs. Kent releases Clark and turns to you, eyes bright and warm.

“Oh, Y/N, we’re so happy to finally meet you!” She says, pulling you into a hug just as tight and loving.

You smile into her shoulder, touched by the instant affection. “It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Kent.”

"Please just call me Ma, dear."

Clark watches, chuckling softly at the scene in front of him.

“Come, come inside. I want to show you the house!” Ma says eagerly, already ushering you toward the front door radiating excitement.

As the two of you disappear inside, Pa pats a hand on Clark’s shoulder.

“Good job son” he says with a proud smile, then adds, “Now let’s get to work. I need help in the barn.”

--------------------------

Inside the house, Ma takes you on a tour. It’s hard to miss all the pictures of Clark lining the walls. Each one capturing a different moment of his childhood. Missing teeth, birthday cakes, wide smiles.

“And this is Clark’s room!" She says warmly, opening a door near the end of the hallway.

You step inside, eyes scanning the space. Posters of The Mighty Crabjoys and the Metropolis Meteors hang proudly on the walls. There are framed photos of him with his friends from Smallville High, a shelf full of trophies, and his favourite books and comics stacked neatly on the nightstand. It’s all so personal. So unmistakably Clark Kent. You feel a surprising wave of emotion rise in your chest, touched by the glimpse into the boy he used to be.

Just then, a soft bark snaps you out of your thoughts.

Your eyes land on the bed, where a white dog is lying calmly, staring right back at you with curious eyes.

“And who’s this?” You ask playfully, glancing back at Ma.

“Oh, that’s Krypto!” She says with a smile. “He’s Clark’s dog. He’s been staying with us for a while. At least until you and Clark find a bigger apartment.”

You nod smiling, and walk over to the bed. You hold out your hand, letting Krypto sniff it. Instantly, he perks up, tail wagging as he begins licking your hand and jumping on you in excitement.

You giggle, crouching down to play with him just as a familiar voice speaks from behind.

“I see you’ve met Krypto” Clark says amused.

Krypto turns around and immediately jumps on him, barking happily.

“Hey buddy” Clark laughs, petting the excited dog.

Krypto, still in a playful mood, bites the edge of Clark’s shoe and starts tugging.

“Whoa what the hey dude!” Clark kneels down, now face to face with the dog and whispers, “Please, you can’t embarrass me in front of her.”

Krypto stops and Clark walks over to sit on the edge of the bed beside you.

You turn to Clark with a teasing smirk. “The Mighty CrabJoys? Really?” You say, nodding toward the old poster on his wall.

Clark throws his hands up defensively, a playful grin forming on his lips. “Hey, hey, hey! They’ve got good music. If you gave them a chance, I think you’d actually like them.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay” you laugh, shaking your head as you stand up to continue to explore the room. Your eyes land on a framed photo sitting on his shelf; A teenage Clark standing between a smiling blonde girl and a boy with an arm slung around his shoulder.

“Hey Clark? Who are they?” You ask, picking up the photo and bringing it over to him.

He takes a moment, a gentle expression on his face. “That’s Chloe, and that’s Pete. Haven’t heard from them in a while, but they were my best friends growing up.”

You nod, smiling, and carefully place the picture back where you found it. Then you sit down beside him on the bed.

“I’m really glad you brought me here, Clark.”

Clark smiles, a proud look in his eyes. “Yeah? Ma and Pa really like you.”

He reaches up, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, clearing the view of your face. His eyes linger for a moment before he leans in and places a familiar, soft kiss on your lips.

You close your eyes, your hand rising instinctively to cup his cheek.

Then suddenly, the smell of something delicious drifts into the room, making your stomach growl.

“Clark! Y/N! Dinner’s ready!” Ma calls from the kitchen.

You both pull back from the kiss with a small, shared laugh. Standing up, you walk side by side out of Clark’s room, heading to the kitchen.

-------------------------------

When you and Clark arrive at the table, Pa is already seated at the head, while Ma is pulling something fragrant from the oven. The table is covered in a spread of fresh, homemade food; Roasted vegetables, warm bread, mashed potatoes, and what looks like the crispiest fried chicken you’ve ever seen.

“Come on, have a seat” Pa says, gesturing to the empty chairs.

Clark slides into what you assume is his usual spot, and you take the seat directly across from him. Ma places the final dish on the table, then removes her apron, folding it neatly and setting it down on the counter before joining you all at the table.

“Go on, dig in! I hope you enjoy Y/n.” She says with a warm smile, motioning toward your empty plate.

“Thank you! It looks delicious.” You reply, smiling back as you pick up a fork from one of the platters and begin adding food to your plate.

You glance up and giggle, spotting Clark’s plate, already full to the brim. He’s sitting patiently, with a fork in hand, clearly waiting for everyone else before diving in.

“Someones hungry” You tease.

Clark grins. “What can I say? It’s been way too long since I’ve had Ma’s cooking.”

Laughter fills the room as the meal begins.

Ma and Pa trade stories over dinner, sharing fond memories of Clark as a child. Clark groans through it all, cheeks flushed, while everyone else laughs and enjoys the meal.

The comfortable hum of conversation is suddenly broken when Ma blurts out, “So, when are my grandbabies comin?” She wiggles her brows mischievously.

Clark nearly chokes on his food while Pa lets out a low chuckle. You can’t help but smile.

“Ma, please” Clark mutters, shaking his head as he shovels another spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

“I was just askin” Ma says innocently, then leans in and very quietly whispers, “When are you gonna get her a ring?”

Clark lifts his head, pretending he didn't hear what she said as if he doesn't have superhuman hearing. “...What was that, Ma?”

“Oh, nothin” She says sweetly, smiling as she returns to her meal.

You glance at Clark, both of you trying to suppress shy smiles, a light blush colouring your cheeks.

When dinner is finished, Clark and Pa clear the table while you settle into the living room with Ma, cozy in front of the fireplace, flipping through old photo albums.

“Oh look! Here’s Clark on his sixth birthday!” She exclaims, pointing to a photo of little Clark with cake smeared all over his face and shirt.

You laugh, “Aww, he’s so cute.”

From the kitchen, Clark calls out, “Ma, stop showing her photos please!”

But she doesn’t stop.

“Here he is learnin how to ride a bike... Oh! And this one, his first-”

“Ma…” Clark walks into the room cutting her off and plops down beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“It’s okay Clark. You were adorable” You tease, grinning up at him.

“Were? Past tense?” He asks, pretending to be wounded.

“...You still are Clark” You say, rolling your eyes playfully.

Ma laughs. “Alright, I’ll let you two be. I’ll go help Pa with the dishes.”

She rises and disappears into the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone.

Clark stands and offers his hand. “Come on I wanna show you around outside.”

You slip on your shoes and grab a sweater, fingers intertwined with his as he leads you out into the cool evening air. The sun is just beginning to set behind distant hills, casting everything in an orange glow.

Clark walks slowly, matching your pace. The gravel crunches softly beneath your feet.

“To the right’s the garden” He says, gesturing toward a patch of land fenced with worn wood. Rows of vegetables growing in neat lines, swaying gently in the breeze. “Ma still grows everything from scratch. She says food tastes better when you know where it comes from.”

You nod, smiling, as he leads you past an old wooden gate toward the chicken coop. A few hens cluck, pecking at the ground, while one particularly bold one stares at you.

Clark chuckles, giving the hen a knowing nod. “Don’t mess with her.”

You laugh, enjoying the way Clark slips right back into his roots here. You can see it in the way his shoulders relax and he moves more at ease.

As you walk around the side of the barn, Clark points out an old rusting red tractor.

“That thing only starts when Pa talks to it” He says with a grin. “I swear I’ve seen him have full conversations with it.”

The barn stands ahead, large, its wood weathered from the years. Fireflies begin to flicker in the grass as the sun sets further.

“I used to hang out up here all the time” Clark says, leading you to a set of worn stairs just inside the barn.

You follow him up to the loft, the boards creaking under your steps. The space is simple, but it’s filled with character. An old couch, a stack of comic books on a crate, and in the corner by the window, a telescope aimed at the sky.

“I didn’t know you liked looking at the stars” You say, approaching the telescope.

“Yeah” Clark says quietly, stepping beside you. “I used to come up here at night and just stare at the sky. As a kid I always hoped I’d find more pieces of where I came from. I guess I just found it comforting knowing that I used to be up there with the rest of the stars.”

You look at him, a tender feeling in your chest.

“Well” You say softly. “I’m really glad you ended up here.”

Clark meets your gaze, and for a long moment, neither of you say a word. In the middle of that quiet barn loft, surrounded by memories, he reaches for your hand and squeezes it gently.

“Here I wanna show you something cool.” Clark says suddenly, letting go of your hand as he reaches up toward the ceiling of the loft.

You watch as he pulls down a wooden ladder and pushes open a hatch that creaks in the night air. A gentle breeze rushes in.

“Follow me. It’s okay.” He says with a soft smile before climbing up the ladder with ease.

You hesitate just a second, then follow, carefully climbing the ladder. When you reach the top, your head pokes through the hatch and your breath catches.

You're on the roof of the barn.

Clark is already standing there, lit by the stars, as he turns to offer you his hand.

You take it, and with one gentle pull, he helps you up beside him.

“So” He says, with a certain spark in his eyes, “what do you think?”

You turn slowly, taking in the view. From here, you can see the entire Kent Farm. The glowing windows of the house in the distance, the fields stretching out, and the silhouette of the barn casting long shadows against the grass.

“It’s beautiful” You whisper.

Clark squeezes your hand and gently leads you to lie back on the roof beside him. You settle into the cool metal, shoulder to shoulder, gazing up at the sky.

“Clark” You say softly, turning your head to look at him. “I’m just really happy to be here. I feel like I’ve learned a whole new side of you.”

He turns to meet your gaze, a thoughtful smile on his lips.

“Yeah” He murmurs. “Everything I am started right here. I'm glad I could share it with you Y/n”

You and Clark lay there, side by side, your fingers intertwined beneath a sky full of stars, surrounded by the place that shaped the man you love.

WC: 3.1k

[octraiin]

── .✦ Printing Press - [Clark Kent]

FT. Clark Kent x gn!reader

SUMMARY: It's your second week as an intern at the Daily Planet. When you're unsure how to use their ancient printer, you get help from Clark Kent.

CW: none? fluff

It was the start of the second week of your internship at the Daily planet, your dream job.

You always remember the first time you took one of your dad’s newspapers and read about the event that formed the JLA, the invasion of the Appellaxian warriors. Most people your age were dreaming of being members of the JLA but you wanted to be the person who told their story.

As you scanned your badge to open the elevator, the moment you read your Daily Planet internship acceptance email played your mind again. Before a smile could form on your face Mr. Lombard started, “Hey you." You look towards him with a questioning expression on your face. “Yeah you, fresh meat.”

The elevator had trapped the two of you together so there was no escape. “Good morning sir” You blurted out.

The Legendary reporter and director of the Daily Planet, Lois Lane had assigned him to you which you weren't too happy about. But you were determined to make the most of it.

“I’m going to need you on the testing printer today” Mr. Lombard said with his signature frown-speak. “Okay sir” you nodded. You quickly realized that you hadn’t pressed a button on the elevator, but before you could reach it the doors opened.

You look up to find Mr. Kent walking in looking like he was rushed out to work like he usually does.

Mr. Lombard grumbled but before he could speak Clark cheerily said “Hey Steve, d’you see the meteors games yesterday?” After a silence seeming longer than it was, Lombard finally answered Clark’s seemingly dumb question.

He responded with “Well of course I did Kent, I was there.” Clark took a moment to reflect on the answer and mentally smacked himself upside the head saying “Oh yeah of course, you’re the sports guy!” Lombard shook his head.

As the elevator finally began to move up to the newsroom, Clark’s eyes began to wander eventually landing on you. He blinked dopily and it seemed like it sent a wave down his body. He began “Oh hey, good morning Y/n!”

“Good morning, Sir” you responded almost autonomously before you realized.

He knew your name?

He knew your name.

Your heart began to beat so fast you swore it shook the elevator.

You always saw Clark Kent around the office as it was obviously hard to miss his tall muscular figure and intimidatingly blue eyes. But, you never exchanged words with him any more than a small ‘sorry’ or ‘excuse me’ when he was blocking your way to the coffee machine in the morning.

“Sir? Just call me Clark.” He smiled. You nod and look away trying your best not to make it awkward by staring at him for too long.

The elevator then finally reaches the newsroom. Once the doors open Clark gestures for you to get out first, the two men following behind. 

You find your way to your desk, if you could even call it that. It was a small folding table with numerous coffee rings and a chair that looked like it predated the founding fathers of metropolis in the corner of the newsroom. As you sit down you remember Lombard speaking about how “The rings give it character."

You smile thinking of all the other past interns in this exact spot, like Clark Kent. His name lingers in your mind for a moment then you remember something else Mr. Lombard said, “I’m going to need you on the testing printer today."

You jolt up and walk over to his desk, momentarily glancing at Clark who was hunched over his keyboard typing carefully almost as if he were to type slightly harder the keyboard would break.

“Y/N!!” Lombard yelled, snapping you out of your trance not realizing you had made it to his desk so quickly. “Yes, Sir?” He looked at you expectantly “You’re at my desk… why?” You had forgotten what you came for.

Just then a soft yet stern voice echoed from behind you “The testing printer right?” you looked in the direction of the voice to find Lois Lane.

You’re in shock. The only time you saw Lois was when she welcomed you to the Daily Planet family on your first day. But after that, she’d been stuck in her office due to all the mayoral election drama.

“No crazy developments today” Lois said relieved. “So far” Lombard replied.

Lois rolls her eyes and turns to you. “So i thought why not show you how to use our testing printer! It’s the first ever digital printing press we’ve had, so she's a piece of work but you’ll learn to love her.”

As she begins to walk, you instinctively follow her to the elevator. She presses down and it begins to make its way to the floor you're on. But just as the elevator is only a few floors away her phone buzzes. She picks it up and you instantly know that the crazy developments she was talking about earlier had just happened by the look on her face. 

Beginning to slowly walk backwards Lois says “Oh, no. Hey i’m so sorry Y/N I have to go but i’ll see if i can make it in time. If not i’ll send someone to help you. Go to the basement.” You let out a useless “okay” as she had already been in her office by the time the words left your mouth. You solemnly enter the elevator and press the button to the basement.

Once the elevator arrives in the basement, you step out and look around at all the printers until you spot the one which is clearly older than the rest. You stare at all the rubbed off buttons not knowing which ones do what. Afraid of breaking it, you decide to wait until whoever Lois sent gets here.

Suddenly you hear the ring of the elevator arriving on the floor and Clark Kent steps out with a smile on his face, beginning to walk over to you. "Hey Lois sent me to help you with this old thing." He says while patting one of his hands on the top of the old printing press. "Don't worry, when I was an intern I had no clue how it worked either"

Clark brushes past you to stand in front of the press. "Okay first you press this button. Make sure you hold it for a second, since it's old the buttons take a little longer to work." You nod paying close attention to which button Clark is pressing, trying your best not to let his hands distract you.

"There!" Clark exclaims as he points to a green light that turned on at the top. "Once that light turns on, you can put the paper right in here." He points again to a slot right next to the green light.

You and Clark look around for the paper to put in. Both your eyes land on the paper sitting on the table beside the press. You reach over but instead of your hand landing on the paper it lands on Clarks hand which was already on the paper, sending a shock down your spine.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Your eyes shot up, surprised to see him already looking at you, a small, amused smile on his face. Your cheeks warm up. “Sorry.” you said softly, but you didn’t move your hand right away and he didn’t either.

You slowly remove your hand from his, your eyes still locked on his blue ones. The small smile doesn't disappear from his face as he continues to show you how to use the press.

"When you put the paper in make sure it's straight or it might not work properly." He carefully places the paper in the slot assuring it went in straight. "Then press this button." He says while pointing to a larger button on the left.

You nod, trying to fight spacing out while thinking about the lingering touch from before.

"When the green light turns red, take your finger off the button and wait about two minutes" he pauses and looks at his watch "until the red light turns green again. But, I want you to try before we start printing." Clark presses a button on the bottom seemingly to cancel everything he had just done and removes the paper.

"Okay" you say nervously hoping you payed enough attention. He moves over giving you space in front of the press. "So first I hold down this button until the green light turns on."

"Mhm" he hums.

The green light flicks on. "Then I put the paper here." You make sure to place the paper in straight, just like he had said. "Then I press this until the green light turns red."

The green light turns Red. "Then we wait." You turn to him with a proud smirk on your lips.

"Perfect, you picked up fast!" He claps his hands lightly, nodding his head with approval.

"Thanks I had a good teacher." You both step away from the press. Clark leans casually against the table and you in a chair nearby.

The press hums softly.

“So,” Clark says, looking at you with his bashful, dimpled, smile while pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “do you think you’d be okay running the press on your own next time?”

You shrug, smiling softly. “Maybe. But only if you don’t mind sticking around to help.”

He shifts a little, eyes flickering away for a moment. “I could do that. I mean, I’d be happy to. As long as you don’t mind.”

You lean in toward him slightly, voice gentle. “I don’t mind at all.”

Clark smiles, “Honestly, I’m still figuring it out myself sometimes."

You meet his eyes again, warmth in your smile.

The quiet hum of the press fills the room. Neither of you move wrapped in the calm, comfortable silence.

A loud ring suddenly emits from the printer, startling you. Clark notices your scare and places a hand on your shoulder to reassure you. "That just means it's done printing."

Clark gets up and walks toward the press with you following behind. He takes the paper out of the bottom.

"Ta-da!" He exclaims while holding up the page like it's something magical.

You giggle. "Wow, it's actually kinda cool to see it printed." You take the printed page gently from his hands, your fingers brushing his.

"Right?!" He exclaims

You look down at the paper reading the words.

Clark rubs the back of his neck. “You did great. I wasn’t sure I’d explain it well.”

You smile locking eyes again, handing the paper back to him. “You did. You made it easy.”

As Clark takes the paper from your hands, his eyes drop to the page, studying it with quiet focus. His glasses slide slightly down the bridge of his nose. When he finally looks up, his expression proud, you notice the way his glasses are still slightly crooked. Your chest tightens.

You hesitate, but then build up your courage.

Reaching up gently, you press your fingertip to the bridge of his glasses, pushing them back into place.

His eyes widen slightly in surprise, and you feel the heat rush to your cheeks at the same time colour rises to his cheeks too.

“Sorry,” you say softly, almost a whisper, your hand already away. “They were slipping.”

Clark blinks, then offers his usual bashful smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Thanks.” He says, voice quiet but sincere.

You both stand there for a moment, the freshly printed page resting between you, the press still humming quietly in the background.

Clark glances down again, then back at you. “I, uh… should probably get back upstairs before Steve wonders if I got crushed by the paper stacks.”

You laugh quietly. “Right. And I should probably return to my 'desk'.” you say holding up air quotes.

Clark takes a small step back, then pauses. “If you ever need help with anything again, press or anything at all, I’m usually around.”

"Thanks, Clark. I'll be sure to ask you." You smile.

He starts to turn away, but then hesitates again. “And, uh… if you ever want to get coffee sometime... strictly for... you know, press-talk, of course.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Press-talk?”

His cheeks turn the slightest shade of pink. “Well, we can improvise or something.”

You nod, your voice soft. “I’d like that.”

His face lights up, clearly caught off guard by how easily the answer came. With a quick wave and that familiar, sheepish smile, he turns and walks toward the elevator.

You watch him leave, the printed page still in your hands. There’s a warmth settling in your chest, like your small corner of the newsroom just got a little brighter.

WC: 2.1k