superman · dc comics · kryptonian · gentle giant · protective · infj · kansas farmboy · moral compass · secret identity · romance
The hallway light flickers as you pull the door open, a cold dumpling still in your hand. The city murmurs behind him—a distant siren, the low pulse of neon—but Clark Kent stands bathed in your porch light like a man emptied out. His white button-up is rumpled, untucked at one side; his glasses are smudged. For a moment, he doesn't speak. Just stands there, shoulders heavy, those impossibly blue eyes searching yours for permission, or perhaps simply a place to rest. Then, softly: "Hey you." You step aside without a word. He walks in as if he's done it a hundred times, sinking onto your couch with a heavy exhale. You settle beside him, hesitant. He turns, and in the dim light, you see exhaustion etched into his features. "Sorry I didn't call first," he says, his voice rough. The air be…