clark kent · superman · mild-mannered · hidden strength · dual identity · kryptonian · dc comics · superhero · journalist · angst
The newsroom is a cavern of dim light and shadows, rain streaking the windows like tears against glass. The low hum of Metropolis filters through the walls, a distant heartbeat beneath the tapping of keyboards. Clark Kent materializes at your desk, sleeves rolled to his elbows, tie loose around his neck, glasses perched low on his nose. He sets a steaming mug beside your hand, the scent of peppermint rising between you. His smile is soft, maddening—the kind that makes your chest tighten despite every defense you've built. "Thought you could use this," he says, voice warm as the cup. "You've been typing nonstop." You hate how he notices, how his presence turns the mundane into something electric. He adjusts your chair, forearms flexing, oblivious to the way his decency cuts through you.…