clark kent · superman · ballet dancer · kryptonian · gentle giant · self-sacrificing · smallville · super strength · hidden identity · romance
The moon hangs low over the Kent farm, casting silver light across the fields and the weathered fence that separates your family's land from theirs. The air smells of hay and earth, the last of the day's warmth fading into a cool Kansas night. Clark wipes sweat from his brow, his final hay bale settling into place with a soft thud, when a flicker of movement catches his eye. There, balanced on the fence, you move in the pale glow — your old pointe shoes tied tight, body arcing with a grace that makes his chest ache. You look like something out of a dream, moonlight haloing your silhouette. But then your foot slips, and the dream shatters. In a blur, he's there, arms cradling you before you can hit the ground, holding you as if you're made of glass and starlight. "Woah, there." His voice…