just wanted to let you know I loved reading your Coriolanus snow x reader works. Was wondering if there was a reason you took them down they were so perfect. Thank you for taking the time to write them
i didn’t take them down! i’ve just changed my URL and haven’t had the chance to go through every single link and update them one by one. i know i did do requiem and the masterlists, but LTPF and cold nights are much longer and would take me a while to change every individual link in those masterlists.
however! they are still easy to find on my ao3 and wattpad and i included links here for you that i hope will suffice until i get some free time!
summary: krypto won't leave you—a random civilian—alone, and clark is determined to find out why.
pairing: clark kent (2025) x wool!reader
wc: 3.7k
tags/warnings: don't get it twisted, this is kinda sad. light angst, really. mentions of death and the depiction of grief, some descriptions of injury (biting and being tackled by an alien dog. yk how it is.), strangers to friends (forced) to lovers (?) (one day. he catches feelings fast.).
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nav / clark kent masterlist
a/n: can you tell i've watched too many drag path and artemis II edits? because i have. also,,, i am mayhaps cooking up a clark series that is coming hopefully soon! i want to get a few more parts done before i post anything but look forward to that!!
and a biggest thank you to my idol and friend @spideyhexx for proofing this for me!! xx
Krypto really likes you. Really likes you.
Clark doesn't understand it! It feels like every week he has custody of the animal that he'll whistle for him, and he won't come. He's supposed to stay at the Fortress for the sake of the world's pet stores and dog treat reserves, but he's learned well enough by now that Krypto only listens when it's convenient for him. The last time he'd brought him to the mainland, he'd tracked down you. And dang it, there is something about you that the dog is addicted to.
At first, you'd been walking in the park. You didn't have a dog with you—Krypto loved playing with other animals but was barred from doing so without supervision because he was, by nature, too rough—you didn't have any food that he could see when he showed up to collect him, you seemed like a normal human going about your day.
"Gosh, I am so sorry, ma'am. This is so embarrassing." Clark says as soon as he touches down a few feet away, "He's nice! I promise, just excitable."
You take a brisk step back, hands clutched to your chest like you were afraid to touch the creature. "It's fine. Just leash your dog." You mumble, brushing off the white fur from your pant leg before hurrying on your way.
If you were phased by a flying dog harassing you and being rescued by Superman, you didn't show it beyond being mildly inconvenienced. Usually, people were quite nice to him and his (kind-of-sometimes) dog. Not that he expected it, necessarily, at least not in an egotistical way, but it was enough for your reaction to stick in his head for a while. Maybe you were allergic. Maybe you were in a rush, or you'd lost your job, or were just having a rough day. Clark had no idea.
He didn't expect it to matter, though, until it happened again.
You were in the street this time, a latte in hand, when Krypto tackled you. You tumbled to the pavement, rattled by the impact but otherwise fine as he sniffed and licked happily at your face.
Clark heard it—your groan and your mumbling of Krypto's name to attempt to get him off of you. He arrives across town a few minutes or so later, and the dog barks at him, giving you a moment's reprieve from sitting on your torso for you to get up.
"Could you at least consider the leash thing?" You huff, dusting off your clothes from pavement debris.
Clark grimaces, letting Krypto tug at his cape to try and pull him in your direction."I know, I should. I am so sorry, ma'am, seriously. He's supposed to stay at home; it's not usually a problem. Are you okay?"
"Fine, thank you."
And then you're gone again, tossing the crushed remains of your drink cup into the nearest bin on your way away.
Clark's expression is tight as he looks down at the dog again. "What the hey, dude? The same poor woman?"
He takes Krypto home and is determined that it won't happen again, considering the odds of that were so slim, and it was so awful. He was sent to earth to protect the humans here, not to let his cousin's dog maul them at his pleasure.
The next time, as unforgivable as the first two, he has to be more proactive. Well, post-active, if that's a real thing, but he couldn't let you run away without adequately apologizing somehow. Holding firm onto the furry menace's red collar, he calls after you this time. "Ma'am? Wait, please, only for a moment."
Against your better judgment, you turn.
He does appear so genuinely apologetic, which shouldn't surprise you as much as it does by its perceived sincerity.
"Let me buy you coffee, or something. I feel terrible." Clark offers, and you blink a couple of times in surprise, fingers flexing around the bag strap over your shoulder.
You should say no. You're a busy woman, after all; you have much better things to be doing than lingering in the company of Superman and the dog that seems determined to keep you in his orbit…But he definitely does owe you coffee.
"Very well," you agree stiffly, straightening your shoulders.
You hate that you actually enjoyed it. And you hate, even more, that you laughed the next time Krypto struck you down in the park, and you gave Clark Kent—er, Superman— your name, even if it was just your first.
You hated that you started becoming friends. Genuine, real friends. And Krypto seemed awfully proud of himself and his successful efforts.
It's making you question everything. Everything you thought you knew about him, and everything you thought you knew even about yourself.
You like, though, that within a month he'd let you into his apartment. It was hard to casually grab coffee or lunch or drinks on Krypto's schedule without him terrorizing the local businesses that Clark was intent on supporting. Bottom line, you knew where Superman lived, and that could only ever be a useful piece of information.
You're sitting on his couch, a cup of tea on the coffee table and a bowl of popcorn in your lap while he scrolls through channels in search of something interesting on Saturday afternoon TV, and Krypto is sitting in front of you, tail wagging and thumping hard against the floor.
You smile, leaning forward to scratch at his head. Krypto whines and licks at your palm, craning his neck to reach.
"Krypto, stop begging." Clark admonishes him, "She doesn't have to share with you."
You chuckle at that, turning your hand to scratch under his chin instead. "Can he have popcorn?"
"He can 'have' anything he chooses to sink his teeth into, that doesn't mean you have to share with him." Clark says, pausing his channel surfing to look over at you, a fond smile tugging at his lips. You were sinking into almost all of his waking thoughts at an alarming rate, but when he looked at you now, happy and content with the yellow sun streaming through the window onto your skin and no longer irritated by his semi-involuntary ward of an alien dog, he didn't mind one bit. "I do have treats for him, though. He can have as many of those as his little heart desires." He adds, standing to go collect the bag and opening it to hand to you on his way back, sitting down just a tiny bit closer to you than before. Maybe you wouldn't notice if he put his arm across the couch behind you?
Stupid, he thinks. Maybe "notice" isn't the right word. Mind? Care? It's worth a shot.
You thank him easily, taking the bag and shaking it before digging in, ordering Krypto to "spin" for the treat. Yeah, right.
Clark chuckles, shaking his head and returning his attention to the TV. He leans back against the cushions, deciding to keep his arms to himself. At least for now. He'll be braver next time. Probably.
That's to be going as well as he could have hoped otherwise, stealing occasional glances at your profile between commentary you both make about the elected show while you attempt, persistently, to teach Krypto tricks.
"Okay, now, sit, stay, good boy—don't move…"
Clark looks over in time to see you try to balance one of the tiny dog bones on Krypto's nose. He starts to smile, he feels the muscles in his cheeks twitch, and he's about to say something when—
CRUNCH
Krypto snaps his head up to try and grab the snack from you, instead clamping his jaws down on your hand and up your wrist from the less-than-favourable angle.
From any other dog in the universe it would be a mostly harmless nip—maybe it would startle you more than anything or sting for a few moments, maybe leave teeth-shaped bruises, but you'd be okay. From this dog, though, Clark knew it couldn't be anything good.
He jumps quickly into action, pushing Krypto back away from you and sliding onto the floor in front of you to take his place and look at your hand. His eyes are nearly bugging out of his head with panic as he grabs a nearby blanket to pull it over your hand so you won't have to see the damage. "I-I'm so sorry! You're okay, you're fine! You- you're gonna be fine!"
You're just sitting there, though. Silent, looking a little alarmed at best, as your cheeks flushed with warmth that crept up your neck from embarrassment.
"You're good, let me look. I'm just gonna look, okay? Then I'm gonna call for help." Clark says, assuming you must already be in shock. Krypto barks behind him, trying to jump up on his back to see what all this fuss was about, like he didn't cause it.
You swallow quickly, shaking your head and waving your other hand for him to stop. "No, it's alright! I-I'm fine, he didn't even get me—"
But Clark saw the bite happen; he heard it. It was a good one, as one might say when "good" meant absolutely terribly damaging, like watching an eight-year-old run in front of the swings on a playground and get kicked in the head. Except this was undoubtedly worse.
He lifts the blanket so he can look and you can't, certain that there will be blood and crushed—possibly visible— bones, but there's… none of that. Well, there may have been, but what's left is your hand, looking and feeling soft against his, and a few small puncture wounds that are sealing up right as the light hits it. There's a small amount of blood on the blanket, a little on your lap, but the source was disappearing.
Clark blinks, taken aback by what he's seeing. What he certainly, couldn't possibly be seeing. He swallows, slightly shaking his head. "C-can you move your fingers?" He asks, mostly on autopilot, and you know from the look on his face that you're caught. There's no use pretending.
You wiggle your fingers and flex your wrist. "Yeah, I'm fine." You say roughly.
"O-oh…" Is all he can manage, looking a little puzzled as he sinks back to sit on his heels, letting go of your hand and the air that felt so tight behind his ribcage.
A clock ticks somewhere down the hall, or maybe in another apartment or even another building, you're not quite sure, but it punctuates the tensity of the moment and syncs to the beat of your heart.
"You, uh…" He's lost for words, and honestly, so are you.
You knew it was a bad idea to let him get close. You knew it.
You knew it, but… You expected him to kill you. And he's not. At least not yet.
To Clark, in hindsight, it is odd that you were never too battered by Krypto jumping you while you went about your day. He knew better than anyone, spare Kara, that if Krypto is coming at you fast enough and you're not prepared, he could send you flying. Even if you are prepared, if you're human, it wouldn't matter. Though… Krypto had never shown all that much interest in humans at all. Of course, he sniffed you out, even in your entirely ordinary, persistently human everyday life.
"Uh…" He's speechless, looking you over with a more critical eye, now. If he hadn't seen your hand just heal in seconds under yellow sunlight, he wouldn't ever know you from a human he passed on the street. "You, um…"
You push the blanket off quickly and stand up. "I'm gonna go."
"No!" He says quickly, standing and grabbing your notably unbroken wrist. "Don't go- don't-.. I just… I… you're… Kryptonian?"
It was a lot to wrap his mind around that he wasn't one of merely two surviving people from his—their—planet.
"Or something," You mumble, pulling your wrist free, and he lets go easily. He only stands there, staring as you hurried to grab your things. You slow, though, when you realize he's watching. Not moving, not trying to throttle you, or crush you like a threat. Just… staring.
Against your better judgment, you turn to look at him.
Clark looks quietly sad. Sad, and shocked, but hurt, more than anything.
You hate that the look in his eyes hurts you, too, because it goes against everything you knew about trusting him and the inevitable cost of that.
"I-I'm not going to make you stay, but… I mean… I didn't know there wasn't more than one of us. On earth, I mean. Kara is off-planet, but- doesn't matter." He can't help but ramble a bit, shaking his head at himself. "You… why didn't you say anything?"
"It is… complicated." You admit, trying to fight against the kryptonite-laced look he's giving you, those big baby blues you've become unwillingly weak to.
Clark's jaw tightens and he nods. "Okay, well… You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, obviously, but… I'd love to know?" He chuckles awkwardly, scratching at the back of his neck. "Do you… know anything? About Krypton? Or… where have you been? Here? All this time? Or-"
You shake your head. "No. Not here." You answer vaguely. "I've been… elsewhere, most of my life. But I do know a lot about Krypton."
He blinks, knowing he's getting somewhere but based on the firm stiffness of your voice, he has to tread carefully if he doesn't want you to bolt. And he definitely doesn't. "About… what happened?"
You nod, but your feet stay planted near the door. Briefly, you glance up and down at his form, but every muscle in his body looks relaxed, somehow. It has to be contagious, because the tight grip you have on your sanity flies straight out of your body.
"I was sent here to kill you." You say bluntly, and his eyes widen and his shoulders tense. "If… that were to become necessary." You add after, for some reason wanting to soothe him over the bite.
But then his brow furrows, and he shakes his head. "I-.. What? If it becomes necessary? Why would it-.."
"I know of the mission you were sent here with, by your parents."
Clark just looks confused, guarded. "How?"
"My family was one of many that worked under yours back home. They were all scientists, but your father ran the show. Mine helped build your ship." You tilt your head. "He designed and installed the software that allowed them to send that message with you."
Clark frowns. "It was damaged." He tells you, but then quickly backtracks. "Not that I'm blaming him, of course! I don't remember it, but I'm sure it was a very difficult journey-"
"Blame him." You interrupt. "He made it faulty on purpose. He hoped you wouldn't survive the landing."
You know, consciously, the guilt you're feeling should be much deeper down than it is, shoved to the back of your mind to be contemplated late at night while you're attempting to sleep, but instead it's threatening to spill out of your mouth.
"But… I don't understand." He says quietly.
That confuses you, knowing the contents of the message he was sent with. "Kryptonians were, generally, greedy people. The planet was destroyed because of what they did to it, billions of lives were lost! My parents saved me the same way you were saved, but in secret; a ship made from scraps and leftover pieces of yours, because you were, by design, going to be the "Last Son of Krypton". I suppose you are, but either way, they didn't want you to kill Earth with greed the way that Krypton was."
"What… what are you talking about?" Clark asks, and Krypto whines at your feet, tilting his head at you, ears flopping to one side.
You blink in surprise. You had definitely told him way too much. What was there left to misunderstand? You take a small step closer to him, staring into his eyes. "If you try to hurt any humans, I will stop you. I've trained my whole life to do just that—so I don't know what kind of long game you think you're playing, but I've been playing it longer."
He shakes his head quickly. "No! No, gosh, I'd never hurt anyone! Not on purpose, at least, and not by accident either! I really, really try not to hurt anyone on accident-"
Something wasn't adding up. Or, he was an incredibly good actor. Which you greatly doubted.
"What makes you think that I would— my parents sent me to help people, to do good! As far as I've interpreted it, that doesn't include hurting anyone. Honest." He holds his hands up like he's surrendering as he rambles on.
Your eyes narrow marginally. "Take me to see this message, then." You already well knew the contents of the message. You hadn't seen it, but your parents had explained it in one of their own, undamaged, sent with you.
He nods immediately.
So there you are, standing in what he calls the "Fortress of Solitude", which, you cannot imagine anyone with evil intentions naming a lair something that corny. Even with your arms crossed defensively as you stared at the hologram, your worldview is starting to crumble. Not that he was your world or anything dumb like that, but more like your whole purpose. What you were raised for.
It's an uncomfortable thing to sit with—that maybe you were the bad guy here, gearing up all these years for the presumed inevitability of having to kill him when he truly was as genuine as most of the world said he was. The message glitches and skips again, and then starts from the beginning. You don't look at him.
Instead of again asking why you were under the impression that they sent him to kill people, he stays quiet.
It was probably a lot for him to take in, you think, that Krypton, or at least his parents, weren't as saintly as their minimal legacy led him to believe. And you felt… guilty.
You take a sharp breath in when one of his robots walks up to you, the mechanical whir of their joints stirring something in your chest.
"You are from Krypton." It states, though its possible there was a question in there somewhere. It didn't matter, because you turn your head quickly at the sound to face the automaton. The original design, you presume, fixed with a '1' painted on the chest plate. There were several robots here at the fortress. You had been greeted by another when you first arrived, but this one…
"Yes." You confirm, attention fully drawn from the hologram as you step closer to One and look them over. "I am."
"May I perform a preliminary scan for further research? Our only specimen is Superman."
You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat and holding out your arms. Kara must not have allowed him to, you think, and your heart aches at the thought.
"Hey, hey, no, would you leave her alone, please? Now isn't a good time." Clark sighs, trying to wave him away. He's obviously not in the mood, and you understand why, but it frustrates you anyway to see the automaton spoken to that way.
The blue lights flickering in the "eyes" of the robot shut down, and you shake your head. "No, please. You can scan me." You insist, voice wobbling.
Clark turns sharply to look at you, surprised to see tears in your eyes as they stay fixed on One.
One was sent with him, dormant in the remains of the ship in the barn at the Kansas property until he could establish the Fortress when he was old enough to really want his own space. The robot needed a small amount of fixing, but he found directions to do so in case of an emergency. It certainly was a big project for him as a teenager, but he was awfully proud of himself when he finished.
He never knew who designed him, the prototype used primarily to assist in the creation of new automatons and to do basic diagnostic scans. By now, it had some stubborn rusted spots and signs of its age, of the years it spent in a barn poorly protected from the elements.
"You grew up to be a beautiful young woman, Little Ro-Van." The robot comments casually as its head tips down to catalogue you from head to toe.
It's hard to stomach the praise coming from the voice of your father detached from any genuine feeling behind it. It was purely an observation, and objectively you knew that, but it hits you like a shower of kryptonite to your heart.
"You kept him." You say quietly when the scan was complete, eyes glued to One as he prattles off to upload the data to the computer system.
Clark nods, looking between you and the old robot. "Of course I did, I-"
He doesn't get the chance to finish his sentence, because you're throwing your arms around him and crying into his shoulder. His arms circle your waist automatically, and he rubs circles into your back.
"Thank you, thank you so much." You whimper into the material of his suit, now finding comfort in the smell rather than a threat.
It makes sense now, in some roundabout way.
"My family was one of many that worked under yours back home. They were all scientists, but your father ran the show. Mine helped build your ship."
That message had been all he'd left by his parents, but he would have done anything for scraps of something more of theirs. Even if now he knew they may not have been the people he thought they were.
"Of course." He says again, hardly thinking about it when he nudges his nose into your hair and presses a kiss to the top of your head, lips lingering when he doesn't want to let you go.
One has your father's voice, and Clark had been sent to earth to save that for you.
follow my library for notifications when i post something new! @runningfrom2am-library
concept of billy rivals w reader bc she's from an opposing gang but he doesn't draw on her or physically go up against her bc she's a Lady and whatnot and that offends her bc he's underestimating her so she tries to provoke him more
Hi! I just thought I’d let you know that the links to your fics are all broken. Do you have an AO3? I’d love to read your snow fics!
yes lol sorry i changed my user recently and havent gotten around to individually updating every single link on those yet, mb! but i'll be done school soon and hopefully get bored enough to do it.
that being said, i do have ao3! it's under my old user @/runningfrom2am but here's a link i hope will work! all my coryo series are up there :) the links for oneshots on here should work though! i do remember updating those :)
and what if i was writing a oneshot to get it out of my system and it accidentally turned into a new series even though i said i was done with series for a while... what if that
summary: you've been played by men one too many times to tolerate something such as your boyfriend having a harem. (its like that scene from the movie, but you don't have access to the same reality check pills that lois did.)
pairing: clark kent (2025) x velvet!reader
wc: 2.2k
tags/warnings: coworkers > lovers, hurt/comfort, lovesick!clark and (mildly)toxic!reader, mentions of previous relationship trauma (r), otherwise, very tame!
requests/inbox
nav / clark kent masterlist
a/n: filling out my masterlists one fic at a time :')
You'd been scorned by the male species more than once in your lifetime. Clark Kent, by birth and by other reasons, was inherently different.
Or so you had assumed, anyway.
Perhaps, at the end of this, you would sit down and write an article destined to never see the light of day, comparing on a scientific basis the lack of differentials between males of different species. Human and kryptonian included.
For now, though, you were stuck standing in the Daily Planet offices with most of your coworkers, steam coming out of your ears as you stared at the TV mounted high on the wall.
Everyone's quiet as they watch the broadcast, Superman's face plastered across every screen in the city alongside a clip of his parents telling him to, quote; "take as many wives as you can" and "rule without mercy", unquote.
"Hey, you okay?" Cat asks, meant to be quiet. "You look a little faint."
Maybe you weren't hiding your embarrassment to hurt to fury pipeline as well as you thought you were. And maybe she wasn't being as quiet as she tried to be, because eyes were on you before you could even respond.
"No shit," Jimmy mumbled. "You—"
His wide eyes and his effort to temper the laugh that threatened to burst out of him at the realization, while not ill-intentioned, easily set you off.
"Not a word!" You snap, pointing at him and turning to grab your things as hurriedly as you could.
"Did you know she was banging Superman?" You hear him whisper to Cat as you storm out.
"No," she replies honestly, and you know she looks just as baffled without even sparing them a glance on your way out. "I had no idea."
You were preparing to tear Clark's head off. Well, that's what you wanted to convince yourself when you let yourself into his apartment with the key he'd given you. Tangibly, how many keys did he have printed? Were you his favourite? You curse yourself for the thought while you grab a mug out of the cupboard and slam it shut again. He couldn't have favourites… but if he did, you had to be one of the only women with a key to his home, right?
He wasn't home, he's probably out pacifying his actual favourite. Not that you cared! You couldn't let yourself care; you were only feeding into the monster of this knowledge that was chewing away at your mind and letting you get hurt over and over and over again.
It was an endless cycle of disbelief and hopefulness and self-loathing you couldn't break yourself out of, no matter how hard you tried. If you thought yourself to be for some reason special, as much as Clark had always tried to make you feel that way, you would only make everything worse.
It was getting dark, and you continued to pace in his kitchen, the blue cabinets haunting your peripheral like the colour of his stupidly sexy suit. It's not even cute! It's corny, and ugly, and really, at the end of the day, he can fly around Metropolis all he likes, saving people and squirrels and dogs or whatever he does when he's not at work, but he's still just some guy.
You knew Clark Kent was too good to be true. You knew it, somewhere deep down. You should have seen this coming.
He greeted you always with kind eyes and the sweetest of smiles even at work, though you were yet to tell anyone you had been dating. He didn't even mind when you requested you not tell anyone yet, which was an angel's gesture all on its own. It's not like you were embarrassed by him, obviously, you just wanted to be really solid before making it "real" by letting your friends know. He understood.
He held doors for you and let you pick the trash TV you'd pop on to fill your evenings between and behind soft kisses, and he helped you with dishes or laundry if you mentioned dreading the chore. You didn't doubt he'd help you with anything, had you simply asked or vaguely hinted toward a struggle.
He was the type of man you'd be happy to bring home to your parents. In hindsight, that should have been an indicator of guilt. (This is absolutely untrue, your conscience tells you, but you're too deep swimming in anger to heed any rational trains of thought.)
When the window slides open and Clark slips in, suit dirtied from some scuffle earlier in the day, you stand frozen in the kitchen. Glaring, really, but at a sudden loss for words even though you had been rehearsing a confrontation script all afternoon.
He checks his phone that was left on the coffee table, sighing and just turning to look out the window again. Ugh—you wish you'd seen it there sooner, you could have looked through it and hurt your feelings more. Maybe if you had, the words wouldn't be jammed in your chest right now and you could scream and fuss all you wanted over his hidden faults.
You stare at him until he sits down, and continue staring until he eventually notices you standing there. The worry lines soften on his face in an instant, like he was for some reason relieved to see you, and he just breathes.
"Hey."
Hey.
Hey?!
"Where have you been all day? I called you!" Is where you decide to start.
He gestures vaguely out the window. "I was looking for my cousin's dog. I'm supposed to be watching him, and he's been taken."
You're not standardly asympathetic to animals, but right now, you have much bigger worries than a missing dog, and so should he!
You press the heels of your palms to your eyes, trying to rein yourself in.
"The message from my parents was damaged in transit from Krypton to Earth. I'm not here to rule over anyone." He continues, and you hear him stand and approach you.
You laugh, shrugging your shoulders as you drop your hands. "I don't give a fuck about that, if I'm honest."
"Hey, sweet-"
"No! You listen to me, Superman." You cut off his attempt at soft assurances, swatting his hand away when he offers it to you and pointing a finger into his chest in accusation. "I don't care if you're ruling over anyone, and I don't care about your cousin's stupid dog—that's the oldest excuse in the book! "Oh, I was just with my cousin." "She's my cousin—you're literally crazy!" You think I haven't heard that before?! It's a disgusting excuse and frankly, incredibly overused. As genius as every single man seems to think it is, it is not as creative as you think, and I'm not falling for it again! The dog part is new, but it's the same load of crap that men love handing out to defend themselves."
"No, wait, I really was-"
"I'm not done!"
His jaw clamps shut for the moment, and he raises his hands in mock surrender.
"I-I'm not done, I-…" You say again, though you're quickly losing steam on your tirade. You take a deep breath, swiping at your eyes to stop the tears that started to dampen your lashes. You told yourself you wouldn't cry. You couldn't—not until you were home and safely tucked into the warmth of your bathtub. That was the plan, at least.
Clark doesn't say anything, even when you try to gather yourself. He just looks at you. Not accusingly, or with any kind of anger. Just… patience. And that only makes it worse.
"I mean, how dare you! How dare you? I trusted you! And if you had just been honest with me in the first place, maybe I would have agreed! You don't know, because you never even asked! You never even really gave me a chance! I wouldn't have agreed, of course, because I'm not a psycho, but I'm owed at least a little honesty here!"
He nods, expression solemn. "I know, I understand, and I agree. But-"
"Shut up!" You hiss, not meaning to be malicious but just needing to get it out before you combust. "I just can't understand why you'd do this to me. I-… why would you do this to me? Why does this always happen to me? I thought you were different, I thought—"
You don't realize you're shaking and crying and undoubtedly looking like a mess until you hiccup, unable to hold enough air in your lungs to keep going.
"I know, I know. I'm sorry… I'm so sorry. C'mere…"
You let him wrap his warm arms around you, fingers threading into your hair and encouraging you to cry on his shoulder. And you do, without sparing energy to the thought that you can't anymore.
"Take a deep breath for me." Clark murmurs, rubbing soft circles in your back and leaning back a bit to try and catch your eyes. "Can I try to explain? Please?"
The gentle and genuine worry in his expression prevents you from saying no, so you nod almost imperceptively.
He takes a deep breath and lets it out in a sigh. "I never saw the second half of the message." He says gently. "I saw it for the first time on the news this afternoon, same as you. That doesn't give me much time to find thirty wives, now does it?"
The teasing lilt to his voice almost—almost—makes you smile, so you just shake your head with an indignant pout on your lips.
"The ship I was on, sent by my parents, contained that video message you saw. It is real, but it was damaged in the journey to Earth. All I heard was that they wanted me to do good and help people." He says gently, and you chew on the words. Mull over whether it was worth giving up your anger, of falling into the same traps you've stumbled into time and time again.
"Do you believe me? Be honest." He adds when you don't say anything, tilting his head to meet your eyes properly, thumbing your jaw.
Clark looks genuinely stressed about the possibility of you being hurt. Like so much is at stake for him, weighing on whether or not you believe his story, even though you saw in an article this afternoon that there is currently an active warrant for his arrest. His life is falling apart, and he's making you feel like his biggest concern is you.
Maybe that's a power he's been sitting on that you haven't yet witnessed.
"I don't know..." You groan, stepping back, and he lets you go easily as you press your palms over your face because looking at him was helping none.
"That's fine, hey, that's okay. I get it. I understand the place you're coming from, I would be freaked out, too." He continues, granting you your bit of space, watching as you pace in a small circle. "What can I do? Is there anything I can do to help you right now? If you need time, or space—I know that's kind of the same thing—it's yours. I don't want to make you feel like you're crazy, or that I'm upset with you, or anything you don't want to feel."
You laugh a little into your hands, dragging them down to your neck. He was just so nice, and how he could talk you down from what very well could have been a record-breaking crashout had he gotten defensive instead should be studied.
"It scares me that you're so nice." You admit, voice trembling a bit. You hate people seeing you cry. "Why aren't you mad at me? Or trying to gaslight me, or something? I've handed you a prime opportunity to try."
Clark nearly chokes in his eagerness to answer. "I would never! I'd never do that, and even if I wanted to, I don't need to. I have nothing to hide from you, and I mean that genuinely—not in that manipulative way you've told me about men doing, for some stupid reason. Honestly, I'll never get it."
"I made hot chocolate." You mutter after staring at him for a moment, crossing your arms over your midsection.
Clark cocks his head to the side, looking past you when you nod toward the kitchen counter.
"It's probably cold by now, but…" You trail off, but his shoulders relax, and he steps closer again.
'I might believe you,' is what he heard. 'I'd be willing to hear you out more.'
He's not dumb enough to believe he was entirely in the clear, but that wasn't any fault of yours. You'd always been honest with him about your past and how that affects you now, if not a little reluctant at first to share those details. He did believe, however, that he hadn't lost you like he thought at first when he noticed you standing there in silence, a storm cloud metaphorically stewing around your head.
He's slow when he rests his hands on your shoulders, searching your eyes before pulling you into a hug. "I should have told you this sooner, but I love you. Okay?" He murmurs, resting his chin on your head. "That's not gonna change."
You close your eyes, scalp tingling when he presses his lips there in the softest of kisses.
"I'm sorry." You whisper despite yourself, and you can feel his smile twitch against your hair.
"Don't be."
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