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I'm gonna share these again, since I deleted every social media apart from instagram... I had a very bad time but now I'm feeling better! Anyway I saw the Mandalorian & Grogu movie 2 times and ugh I LOVED IT.
Instagram Bluesky ( in progress )
blurb that spiraled but itâs still a blurb argue with ur mother. 5.6kâŚâŚâŚ. Right rightâŚ.. mdni. PART 2
okay okay look listen to me. virgin!reader whoâs getting tired of being her grown age and not getting any action!!!!! and ofc, that makes her naive and itâs easy for pope to swoop on in there for his families latest heist
you didnât get much attention from boys growing up. your friends were the pretty ones. with the latest fashion pieces and current trends. you were the odd one out. reading fanfiction for hours on end, even dabbling in writing your own. you spent more time on your phone, talking to online friends from halfway across the world, than doing things with your class.Â
you told yourself you didnât need it. and you still donât! or thatâs what you tell yourself. in middle school, it was excusable, you were young! you didnât need to focus on dating! and high school was the same. You were focused on your studies and ramping up your transcripts with sports and clubs and all sorts of extracurriculars that would make you stand out to the colleges you were applying to.Â
but now, youâre in your 20s. and you havenât so much as held hands with a guy. your sisters tease. your friends tease. and theyâre not bullying you but it makes you insecure. itâs not like youâre not interested!!! you have sex toys who keep you company but only vibrators, tiny ones that you can hide anywhere. itâs not the same.Â
your family owns a chain of grocery stores. well, your step-father does. youâre not close to him. he married your mother pretty late in your life so he didnât feel the need to parent you, your mother had already done all the grunt work. you donât have to work because of him though, heâs paying for all your schooling. the only thing he asks of you is to cover his shifts if heâs ever in a dire situation.Â
youâre shy. you donât stand up for yourself often. an old white man is berating you at the register, a long line of customers behind him. tears are welling up in your eyes at his accusations, the others watching as if it were entertainment.Â
it wasnât pope you were supposed to fall for. the plan was for craig to seduce you. heâs tall and buff and what most people would deem more conventionally attractive. he had to piss, leaving pope behind in line. heâs too far back to notice whatâs going on quick enough. he listens for a beat, listens to the old man yelling about his coupons and that youâre stealing from him.Â
one second, youâre letting tears fall from the sheer embarrassment of this situation, a hand suddenly grips to your arm, yanking you harshly, and the next, the white guy is on the floor, punch after punch falling to his face. it takes three other men to pull them off of each other. your assistant manager deals with the cops. all your coworkers attest that the white guy assaulted you first. the knight was only helping you.Â
so you help him. he insists he doesnât need a hospital. so you offer your services. youâre both in the employee bathroom now. Your hands are shaking as you wipe his bloody fists clean. heâs staring at you. he wonât look away. and god, youâre nervous.Â
âyouâre scared.â he comments.Â
you eyes widen, head snapping up to look at him. âwhat?âÂ
âyouâre scared of what i did back there.âÂ
ân-no! not at all! i really appreciate it! i-it-it, im just⌠you⌠you make me nervous. not scaredâŚâÂ
ânervous?â his stare is still so damn intense.Â
youâre not sure what comes over you. youâre not bold. not in any single way. not with your hair. your clothes. your way of speaking. none of it. and yetâ âyouâre just⌠youâre really⌠handâŚâ you clear your throat. âyouâre handsomeâŚâÂ
the intense look switches to what you can only conclude is confusion. âhandsome?â he repeats, needing confirmation.Â
you nod. ây-yeah.âÂ
youâre embarrassed by what youâve said when a heavy silence falls between you two. youâre about to apologize profusely but he cuts you off.Â
âcan i have your number?âÂ
And god, youâre so nervous for your first date. too nervous. you almost ghost him, block him and vow to never show up for another shift at the store. youâll just have to pay for your tuition all on your own!!!!!! but your friends give you a loving pep talk. and your tuition is far too much to manage on your own.Â
itâs how you end up in his truck, nervously fidgeting with your fingers, hands placed on your lap. heâs not much of a talker. and youâre too nervous to talk. itâs awkward. youâve been texting a lot. youre not complete strangers anymore but still⌠you wish you could jump out of the damn truck and never see him again. but it turns out⌠nice. understatement.Â
you loved it. he took you to the beach. you two ate at a cute little cabana restaurant. the awkwardness dissipated as soon as you two were sat. and you walked side by side down beach with ice cream cones at hand.Â
âso, college?â it almost makes you laugh how stiff the guy is. but it doesnât seem to deter him. he lets you talk and talk. he gives his two cents but he seems to be content just watching you and listening to you.Â
you nod, âyeah. college.â you confirm, âdid you go?âÂ
he shakes his head, âno. i, uhm, i dropped out of high school.âÂ
you hum, âah, thatâs okay. itâs never too late to go back though. get a ged. there are a lot of amazing programs that can help you get a better career than⌠what do you do?â
his hands are in his pockets, having finished his ice cream first. âwork for my mother. help manage her properties. my brother baz⌠heâs the actual manager of her properties. i do the⌠physical things. mow lawns, fix broken sinks, squeaky doors, break noses when tenants donât want to pay rent.âÂ
you laugh at this, not believing him. sure, he beat a man up for you but you figured it was just a one time thing. how wrong you are. âright, right⌠either way⌠you got a good gig. i can respect that. but if you ever want something else, you have options.âÂ
âthatâs long past me.âÂ
you stop in your step, glaring softly at him, nothing serious. âeducation is never past anyone.â thereâs a ghost of a smile on his face, you can see it. âim serious, pope. you can be anything you want to be.âÂ
âthis a ted talk?âÂ
you laugh softly, âsure is.â but you donât let him keep walking. you lightly take his hand in yours. âi mean it. anything.âÂ
âÂ
heâs awkward. he doesnât mean to be awkward. heâs just quiet. and that makes people awkward. youâve seen the way he interacts with people. and by interact you mean the way he stares and doesnât talk. most people think heâs awkward. he thinks heâs being normal. you like it. it always makes you giggle.
you watch him as he orders your coffee for you. and itâs a simple order, it really is but he makes even that seem stiff. it takes everything in you not to giggle as the barista fumbles around.Â
but the ping of your class chat pulls you away and youâre back to typing away at your laptop. he plops down across from you, your order at hand, placing it by your side, and staring at you. youâre used to it at this point, his eyes always on you in some way. itâs not inherently sexual but sometimes, it makes your stomach flutter. but you have to reign it in at the coffee shop.Â
âyes, king?â you ask teasingly without looking up.Â
he hesitates and this makes you stop typing, finally looking up at him. he begins soon enough, âare we dating?âÂ
your eyebrows furrow in confusion, âwhat?â
âare we⌠dating?âÂ
the snort you let out is completely unattractive. âshouldnât i be asking you that?â
he shrugs, âi read up on feminism like you told me to. i can do that, right? ask?âÂ
your grin is bright, âyou read up on feminism?âÂ
âstop smiling.â
âcanât. you know i live in world of sunshine and rainbows.âÂ
âare we dating?â he asks again with a sigh.Â
âdonât sound too excited.â you scoff, going back to typing. âyou havenât asked me.âÂ
âim asking.â
âno, youâre asking if weâre dating. im saying you havenât asked me to be your girlfriend yet.âÂ
he leans on the table, eyeing you. âi read women can ask now too.âÂ
you laugh, âi guess i hold some conservative values. a guy must ask me. i will never do the asking.âÂ
âbe my girlfriend.âÂ
you hum, looking up at him with your easy smile, âhmm⌠no.âÂ
âyou canât say no.âÂ
âi just did.âÂ
âbut you like me.âÂ
âdo i?â he kicks you softly under the table. you close your laptop, âit has to be romantic.âÂ
âi wont ask.â he scoffs, leaning back on his seat. âyou have to ask me.âÂ
âthen i guess weâre never going to be official.â you sigh wistfully, opening your laptop back up again.Â
itâs quiet for a few more moments, not awkward, despite his stare. âyouâve never told me about your dad.âÂ
you pause, unsure of what to say. âwhat do you want to know?â
he shrugs, âwhat does he do?âÂ
itâs your turn to shrug. âdonât know.âÂ
his eyebrows furrow, âyou donât⌠know?âÂ
you nod. âlast i heard, he was a janitor at some school.âÂ
âwait⌠i thought he was a manager of some sort.âÂ
your eyebrows furrow and then it hits you. âoh, my step-dad? he owns like a bunch of grocery stores. told you, the one we met at is his.â you hum. âhe favors that one most. it was the first one he ever opened up. says it was his most precious piece of work.âÂ
he hums, interested. âhow much is a bunch?âÂ
you shrug, still typing, multi-tasking your homework and your conversation. âuhm i know he has about a dozen in Oceanside. about⌠30 in San Diego, maybe more? Another dozen in Carlsbad. I donât know how many more but he has businesses in Escondido, Encinitas, Del Mar, Chula Vistaâ god, thereâs a lot. heâs opened a few up in the Los Angeles area too, i think?âÂ
you see him nodding from the corner of his eyes. âif you ask me out first, we can date, get married, and you can knock me up and you can be rich like me.â itâs a complete joke.Â
âha.â you donât notice how dry his laugh is. âyeah.âÂ
â-
you find yourself hanging out with him everyday. he picks you up, you two head to a quiet place, sometimes his home. mostly his home.Â
the first time he takes you there, youâre nervous. your friends told you that youâve been on too many dates to not give it to him. it being your âcookieâ, as they like to call it. so you shaved. every single part of you. there wasnât a single hair on your body.Â
he ordered a heavy meal. that should have been your first sign. when you sit on the couch to watch a movie, he sits a little too far from you. and your damn panties are uncomfortable and riding up your butt. youâre not having a good time. youâre fully pouting by the time you get a few minutes into the second movie.Â
âyou okay?â
his voice snaps you out of your thoughts. you open your mouth, ready to deny anything and everything. but youâve decided you have to get past it. you really, really like him. and communication is key⌠rightâŚ?Â
âdo you not want to have sex with me?â and for the first time since youâve met him, he looks stunned.Â
â⌠do you want to have sex with me?â He asks carefully.Â
âuhm⌠yeah⌠do you?âÂ
âyouâre⌠you told me youâve never kissed anyone. figured youâve never⌠had itâŚâÂ
you nod, skin feeling hot. âyeah⌠I havenât.âÂ
âand you want to give yourself to me?â
another nod from you. âyes. I like you, pope.âÂ
he looks to be deep in thought, those dark and intense eyes scouring your face, looking for even a flicker of doubt. youâre sure he doesnât find any because he releases a shaky breath and speaks, âletâs take it slow.â he scoots closer to you. âstill havenât had your first kiss?â
you snort out a laugh, âyou mean since I met you? no. im only seeing you.â you pause, eyebrows furrowed. âwait⌠are you seeing other people?â
âim not.âÂ
âgood. im not either.âÂ
the kiss is gentle. sweet. a little awkward only because you get into your head a lot. he pulls his lips from yours, a small snicker leaving him. ârelax, baby,â a shaky breath against yours, âdonât stress it.â his hands are holding your face, caressing it.Â
you pout softly, âcanât not stress it.âÂ
âjusâ me.â heâs ghosting his lips over yours, desperate to press his lips against yours again, breath labored.Â
softly, âthatâs why i canât⌠wanna be good for you.âÂ
he chuckles softly, âdonât gotta.â heâs pressing wet kisses down your jaw now, âIâll be good for you.â
you get the hang of it after a few tries. and you only get more desperate. youâre heavily making out now, his hands all over your body, groping every part he loves on you.Â
and thatâs what you do most of the time. you go out, talk, go on walks, go to his place and make out. just make out. you make moves to tell him you want more. but it always ends up in just dry humping.Â
youâre straddling his lap, his big hands on your hips, guiding you. Heâs unbelievably hard beneath his sweats. heâs relaxed around you, you learned that a few days ago when you realized he doesnât wear only stiff button ups around you. and you love it. god, you love him. the first guy whoâs ever paid any attention to you. the first guy whoâs listened to you. the first guy who has made you feel wanted. a month and a half of this and you love him so much. too much.Â
your breathing is hard as the friction against your covered clit rubs against him. âpope⌠I wantââÂ
he cuts you off with a sharp kiss, âknow what you want,â he mumbles against your lips. âcanât give that to you.âÂ
you groan, hips stopping. well, you stop putting effort. heâs still desperately dragging you against him. âpope⌠are you a virgin?âÂ
he huffs out a laugh, âno, god, no. just⌠donât think you want me to be the one.âÂ
you glare softly at him, âwhy would you think that? i think you donât want me.âÂ
itâs his turn to glare at you, âthatâs stupid.â
you put your hands over his, halting him. âitâs not stupid. you reject my advances. are you⌠asexual?â his eyebrows furrow, looking at you as if he has no idea what the hell youâre saying. you continue, âare you uninterested in sex?â
he looks at you like youâre stupid. âdo you not feel how hard i am?âÂ
âthere are spectrums to it⌠maybe youâre not into vaginal sex. or vagina at all. you like vaginas⌠right?â
he laughs. actually laughs. a fully body laugh. it makes your heart race and grin in triumph. youâve never heard him laugh like that, âim serious, pope. i donât need you to eat me out or anything. i know men donât like that andââÂ
âi like that.â he clears his throat. âi like doing that.âÂ
you freezes for a moment, nodding. âokayâŚâÂ
âokayâŚâ sudden shyness on both ends. itâs silent for a moment, âdo you want thatâŚ? right now?âÂ
you clear your throat now, âdo you⌠want that⌠right now?âÂ
he nods, âyes.âÂ
and that falls into the rotation of the very limited things you two do. he doesnât let you touch his cock. at all. he lets you dry hump him, sure. but if your hand ever tries to slip into his jeans, he moves your hand to any other place on his body.Â
you try not to judge him for it but⌠you do think sexual intimacy is important in a relationship. but you donât push. You try but once he shuts it down, thatâs that. but surprisingly, you donât need his mouth on you as much as you thought you would. itâs good, of course it is, but sometimes a lazy day at his place is better.Â
âwhatâs a seven word letter for a manâs bag?â he makes fun of you for liking crossword puzzles. because youâre not good at them, always pulling out your phone to google it. he always answers. heâs not this time. âpopeâŚâ you hum. âanswer me, fucker.â more silence. You look over at him. heâs already watching you. your eyebrows furrow in confusion. âyou good?â
the sigh he releases is shaky, âyâknow iâd never hurt you, right?âÂ
with absolutely no hesitation, âI know.â he reaches over and presses a soft kiss to your temple, inhaling deeply, you grin, âyou sniffing me?âÂ
he chuckles, nodding. âyeah,â another kiss. âsmell good.âÂ
â
âbabe, do I really have to do this?â youâre groaning. groaning because youâre sweating and your body feels heated from the strain of working out. you were done for the day, having done an hour of a high incline on the treadmill and a too fast pace on the stairmaster for another hour.Â
pope nods, holding the punching bag. âjust punch as hard as youâre able to. with the correct form. im serious, baby, youâre gonna break a finger if you donât.âÂ
you groan again, âim tired, pope.â you just wanted to take a long shower, wash off all the muck from the gym, and snuggle up into bed with him.Â
âjust a few times.â a pause. âyou know i love taking care of you.âÂ
you raise a single eyebrow, âbut?âÂ
âyouâre a wimp, baby.âÂ
you snort out a laugh, âthat so?âÂ
âvery much.â the smile is soft but itâs there and it makes your body tingle. or maybe itâs the strain from the stairmaster. âyouâve got to know how to throw a punch, at least.âÂ
you groan. again. itâs your default at the gym. âpope. im always with you.âÂ
âno youâre not.âÂ
âbabe, you take me to and pick me up from school. im always at your place.â you hum. âi have a drawer. thatâs how much time i spend with you. even when youâre at work, im at your place. youâll always be there to punch someone for me.âÂ
âthatâs a weak mindset.âÂ
âim not learning how to punch someone.âÂ
âbabyââÂ
âno.âÂ
âjustââÂ
âi said no.âÂ
itâs his turn to groan, âfine.âÂ
he pouts. you hate it when he pouts. you mentioned it to him once and he got upset. claims he doesnât pout. so you never brought it up again. but it works on you. with a huff, you roll your eyes, âfine. come on.â
he seems content that heâs won, behind the punching bag and holding onto it tight, taking his own stance. âalright, you remember the stance?â
âyes.â you answer, âif you keep teaching me how to fight iâll end up beating you up one day.âÂ
âwhat a dream.â he scoffs. âshow me the correct way.âÂ
you do as he taught you once. âthat good enough for you?âÂ
âmore than good enough. come on, hit me, baby.âÂ
you snicker, âhit you or the bag? i can totally hit you.âÂ
âhaha. what a funny girl i have. swing.â so you do. and he makes you repeat it. and repeat it.Â
youâre getting bored after a while, âpope, im bored. letâs do something else. outside of the gym.âÂ
âjust a little more.â he tries to convince you.Â
you huff, annoyed now. âpope. what is up with you?â
he glances at you once before sighing and removing his thin gloves. ânothing.âÂ
âwhy are you being persistent about this?â you continue.Â
âi just think itâs important for you to protect yourself, baby. look at how we met. a man put his hands on you.âÂ
you sigh, recognizing the fear in his voice. ânothings going to happen to me.âÂ
âyou donât know that.âÂ
âi do. because youâre⌠youre strong enough for the both us.â A pause. âi donât know about you but⌠you're it for me, Pope. that means⌠iâll always be around you. and youâll always protect me.â you motion to the punching bag again. âa few more times. and weâre done, okay?âÂ
he seems lighter now. not as persistent with it. he ends up showing off some kicking move while you sit the side and drink some water. you thought it was kinda dorky but he looks happy so you cheer him on. before you know it, youâre up on your feet and with a laugh, you try to mimic him.Â
it doesnât work.Â
you cackle as you fall to the floor, unable to contain yourself. he had rushed to you, concerned. âim fine, pope.â he takes your hands in his, helping you up. immediately, heâs wiping at your mucked up knees, knowing theyâre your favorite leggings. you grin, pressing a quick kiss to his lips when heâs back up, âsee? always got you.âÂ
he grins, pressing more kisses to your lips, âyou do got me, donât you?â
âÂ
you donât work at the grocery store often, which there are a lot. you donât get business, thatâs not your major and you tune out your step-father often. but youâre in a good mood today. and itâs victors birthday, you have to bring him the brownies he loves so much!!! you spent so much time on them, writing a lovely birthday note with his favorite flavor of frosting.Â
âmy favorite underling.â you joke, putting the platter of brownies down. he gasps and coos, takes thousands of pictures too. but of course, there are no utensils in the break room. so, youâre off to grab some from the kitchen, which is closed down this late at night.Â
youâre humming the tune of the birthday song you and the others just sang to victor. you open a few drawers in the kitchen, huffing in frustration when nothing is found. you grab your phone, shooting your step-dad a text. âforks in ur office??â. You get a reply quick, âyes. lock b4 leave.â
you canât believe how lucky you are as you walk to his office. heâs started to trust you, he never lets anyone in there. despite not wanting his businesses at all, you know heâs speaking to your mother about his inheritance and who could take over. youâd say no, but being thought of still feels good. you have amazing friends who are helping you with every awkward question you have when it comes to the relationship you have with a hot, older man.Â
and pope. you love him. you really, really do. heâs yet to say it and so have you but you know itâs there on his end. thereâs no way he can be faking all of those late night talks, that intimacy you two have without having sex. and he had told you he has something big planned. you have a feeling your words got to him and he will be asking you to be his girlfriend in a romantic way.Â
you try to remember this week's code to his office lock as you round the corner. he had told you the start of the week but he doesnât let you write it down. crap, you really wish you had written it down right now. with a sigh, you press the first button but a small noise leaves you when the door pushes open instead by the barely there touch. eyebrows furrowed, you softly push the door open some more, âuhm⌠I thought you were at hoââ your breath catches to see two masked men.Â
immediately, you take a step back, but itâs too late. they saw you. thereâs a big hand grasping your arm and dragging you into the office. a pained gasp leaving your lips as youâre shoved to the ground. you canât take a full breath. the men are arguing back and forth.Â
âhe said she wouldnât be here!âÂ
âsheâs going to fucking kill us.âÂ
âshe?? heâs going to fucking kill us.âÂ
one of them scoffs, the tallest one, âhe told us he didnât even like her.âÂ
âi call bull.â
youâre not even really sure whatâs happening. youâre trying to think. think. think. think. but you canât. not with the sight of their weapons strapped to them. weapons. guns. youâve only seen a gun once. in popeâs truck. you were opening the center console and refused to even look at him afterwards. he promised since then that he took it out of his truck. you chose to believe him.Â
thereâs a safe in the office. one your step-dad refuses to talk about. your siblings and you would make jokes about it. thereâs either gold, a porn stash, a body, or a fuckload of money in it. now, your best bet is moneyâ these men clearly want it. but your step-dad canât be that stupid, right? why wouldnât you have your money at a bank? heâs smart. rightâŚ?
another body comes in. youâre too scared to look up, eyes on the floor and shaking. you thought you had gained confidence the past few months. you didnât, apparently. there are tears streaming down your face, you canât stop.Â
your mind gets hazy as they keep arguing, placing the safe on to the roller. the third person isnât talking, you notice. and it makes you miss pope. anytime you see or meet the quiet one from a group, it makes you miss pope. and then, before you know it, the two huge bodies are out, pushing the safe out with them.Â
you think youâre safe. no more guns. no more arguing men.Â
a pair of hands meet yours. you flinch, immediately yanking your hands from the third persons. they pause for a moment, as if deliberating. but they reach out again. you donât pull away this time, you let their hands grabs yours, helping you up off the floor. your eyes are shut tight, trembling in fear. but your body completely stills when they bend over slightly, lightly wiping the dirt off of the jeans at your knees. you just let it happen.Â
whatâs worse is you let the man take a single step closer, his body almost pressed up directly to yours. he doesnât do anything. he doesnât say anything. he just stands there. as if heâs taking you in. a shaky inhale and your body shudders. heâs smelling you. inhaling the scent of you. and then, heâs pulled away. and leaving. leaving you behind in the turned over office, the giant safe missing.Â
â
it took you a few minutes to get yourself together. when youâre brought back to the real world, itâs victor thatâs shaking you out of your trance. there are cops. detectives. your mother and step-father are there immediately.Â
you explain what happened so many times. at some point, it feels like a hallucination. like when you repeat a word too many times and after a while, it stops making sense.Â
you donât call pope. youâre too stuck. it shouldâve been a red flag when he showed up. but youâre too wrapped up in fear to question him. when you spot him, tears well up in your eyes again and youâre rushing to him. he immediately wraps his arms around you, cooing in your ear as you cry. âit was s-so, so scary, pope.â you cry in his arms, letting his arms soothingly rub at your back.
âi know, baby, i know.â his voice is so soft and sweet as he holds you. âyouâre okay, everythingâs okay.â
itâs how you end up in his home again. wrapped up in his arms in bed. youâre still a sniffling mess. youâre recounting the story again. every single part. but you skip the last part. how the thief was⌠taking you in.Â
âthatâs all?â he asks softly, gently swiping the tears from your cheeks.Â
you hesitate. ââs allâŚâ you lie.Â
youâre like this for days. distraught. paranoid. heâs helping you a lot. holding you. talking to you. you swear this is the most heâs ever spoken.
âletâs do something.â you two are lying on your sides, facing each other.Â
you shake your head softly, âno⌠i donât feel very good.âÂ
he sighs softly, not from annoyance, but clear concern. âyou canât just⌠you canât let this stop you.âÂ
you huff out a small laugh, âyeah? isnât this your dream date? doing nothing with me all day?âÂ
he nods, âyes but i want your dream date. do everything with me all day.âÂ
it warms your heart that heâs trying. really trying. not a single part of you picks it up as guilt. so, you groan dramatically, sitting up. âfine. but that means record store, beach, steak, and ice cream.âÂ
he grins, sliding off the bed with you. âdeal, baby,â he smacks your ass as you walk past him. you laugh happily, âget ready quick.âÂ
and you do just that. anything you want, you get it. not that you didnât before. he likes taking care of you. you can see it makes him feel useful. like his days have a purpose. but itâs different today and you canât put your finger on it.Â
it should have been really obvious to you when suddenly, he has no qualms about being with you. about sex. despite being stuffed by your meal that afternoon, you two are heavily making out. and then, his face is between your legs. and then, itâs happening. heâs being so gentle, his touch full of love. he doesnât need to say it. you know heâs feeling it.Â
soft praises fill your ears. the bed beneath you feels softer. your skin feels hot.Â
your breath catches as he pushes only a tiny bit of his cock. nothing crazy, just notches the tip of him in you. a small whimper leaves you, âfuckâŚâÂ
heâs worrying immediately, âwhats wrong, baby? too much? i can stoââÂ
âdonât you dare stop, pope, i will kill you if you pull your cock out.â
you both fall into a fit of laughter at your words. his forehead is leaning against yours, hand caressing your cheek. âi love you,â the sound of your name coming from his mouth makes your eyes fill up.Â
despite the fear you felt that day, youâre happy. You were so lonely before. and now, youâre losing your virginity to the man you love, âI love you, too, pope.â and he pushes in, hollowing out completely.Â
you think youâre a sex addict from there. you canât get enough of him. more time passes and your anxiety is easing. you donât flinch or pull away from random men you come across. youâre still slightly paranoid but pope helps you calm down, come back to earth.Â
ây/nâŚâ he groans as you press kisses up his chest.Â
âwhat?â youâre smirking as you do so, skipping a ton of skin and pressing your lips to his. âyou know that thing that men spew when they take a girls virginity? that they get clingy and obsessive? think im feeling that.âÂ
his hands slides down to the curve of your ass, lightly smacking it. âyeah? you were already obsessive and clingy before.âÂ
you feign a hurt gasp. âhow dare you? i was rightfully clingy either way. youâre sexy. and youâre so weird. thatâs all girls want lately. sexy and weird. god, im so horny. letâs have sex.âÂ
he laughs heartily, âlater, baby.â one final pat to your butt and heâs sitting up. he reaches over and grabs his wallet, handing a bill over to you. âdelivery guy should be here soon. tip. gonna go shower.â heâs pressing a kiss to your cheek and moving out from under you.Â
he doesnât notice how you still, staring down at the bill. the familiar bill. how your finger traces the familiar drawing. itâs small. barley even there. youâd have to really inspect the bill to notice it.
when your mother first met your step-dad, you didnât like him. you didnât get why she needed someone elseâs love when she had yours. it was silly but the first day you met him, you asked for collateral. a deposit. you asked for two hundred dollars, which you would not return if he ever hurt or left your mother. her boyfriends never lasted long so you were just in it for the money. easy 200 bucks. he only had 20s. you were bored in homeroom and you drew a heart on one using a purple glitter gel pen. in the middle you wrote your step-dads initials alongside your mothers.Â
when they didnât break up and you were the maid of honor at their wedding, you gave him the 20 back with their initials. âyou two should really be thanking me. because of this 20 dollar bill, you two got married.â it made the room erupt in laughter and your mother cry as she pressed soft kisses all around your face.Â
âit was you.â your voice wasnât soft. it was cut-throat. unlike your soft-spoken nature. your hear shuffling. you donât look up, eyes still on the purple glitter heart and initials. âit was you. you were⌠you and your brothers⌠you hit the store.â you finally look up. heâs watching you. the same intense fucking look he always has on.Â
âwhat are you sayââÂ
âdonât fucking lie to me, pope.â you hold the bill out to him. âthis⌠i gave this to my step-dad. he must have been keeping it in the safe. the safe that you and your brothers stole. right?â
he doesnât answer for a moment. his breathing is labored. and then, heâs fine. as if this werenât a big deal. âyes.âÂ
I GOT A FUCKING RAISE THE POTATO WORKED WTF
This potato works. Every. Fucking. Time.
Reblogging because itâs a damn potato and I want to encourage people to assume potatoes are magical.
MAGIC POTATO GO!đĽ
here we go again
reblogging the golden potato
hoping it will work
that my life will get a perk
Always reblog the potato.
Rebloged.
This is the money Marge. Reblog for good fortune
It's Just Paper
Pairing: Andrew "Pope" Cody x Reader
Summary: Youâve been Lenaâs nanny for years. Now, with both of her parents gone, you and Pope Cody have been doing your combined best to take care of her. And yet, as much as you both love her, itâs not enough. Social services has already been sniffing around, and it wonât be long before sheâs going to be taken into foster care.
But when Smurf tells you that married couples have a better chance of adoption⌠well, sheâs right. And whatever scheme she may be planning doesnât matter as long as Lena is safe.
Besides, itâs just paper. Right?
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI: Swearing, Mentions of drug use, Gun use, Alcohol use, Violence, Smut!!, It's Animal Kingdom so buckle up its kind of got everything, Angst (lots and lots of angst), Married-to-lovers trope, Pope yearns A LOT, Spoilers!! (The timeline follows season 3ish), Craig has his own house and never moved into Bazâs, Mental illness (it's Pope), Smurf is manipulative of course, Brief mention of a traumatic childbirth, Please let me know if I forgot anything!!
Author's Note: We did it! The giant Pope Cody fic is here! Special thanks to our queen and bestie @flowersforbucky for proofreading as always! I honestly loved writing this one so much that I'm gonna miss it now that it's posted but hoo boy am I excited for you guys to read it! Please please let me know what you think!
-
âAre you sure about this?â
âNot really, no.â
Craig Cody runs both hands through his hair. Rests his elbows back on his knees. Stares at the pool, rather than at you.
You stare at the pool, too. You think, if you keep looking hard enough, you might see the stars twinkling on the surface of the water, despite the soothing blue lights shining beneath.
âThen why are you doing it?â
âFor Lena.â
-
âWhat the hell are you talking about, Smurf?â Pope Codyâs voice is a low growl, but thereâs shock behind the suspicion in his eyes.
You canât hear anything through the thick glass wall, but you can see Smurf enunciate the words when she says âhand the phone to herâ.
Her eyes are locked on you, something almost chillingly sure in her gaze. Youâd wondered, when sheâd demanded that Pope bring you with him to visit her, what she could possibly have been planning. Whatever it is, itâs Smurf, so you know it canât be good. And with the way Pope has gone pale, something like shock cracking through his usually stoic demeanor, your fear seems to have been confirmed.
Pope doesnât look at you when he passes the phone over. The plastic is cool on your ear.
âMarried couples have a better chance at adoption.â
âś â OFF-DAY !
summary: in the middle of the worst e.r. shift of your whole career, you catch your not-quite boyfriend, shirtless, in an empty room with another resident. (6.4k)
characters: jack abbot / fem!reader, mentor!michael robinavitch, samira mohan, melangdon crumbs
contents: established relationship/friends with benefits, jealousy (mohabbot take five real quick), angst, hurt/comfort, kinda canon divergent 'cause i wrote this when the spoilers dropped a few weeks ago cw for s2 spoilers, physical assault (a la dana in s1), panic attacks, mentions of blood and medical procedures, mentions of patient death, brief mentions of grief, brief mentions of not eating due to stress n sadness, allusions to smut 18+ (MDNI)
title inspo:
The lamplit room is filled with Jackâs exclusion from it.
You writhe beneath the mussed blankets, still buzzing from the remnants of your orgasm, and watch his shadow move beneath the crack of the bathroom door. Youâre still filled by him, still leaking a mixture of him onto the stained sheets below, and yet you find yourself missing him, anyway.
He does not seem as grieved by the distance as you are. He sobered almost instantly from his own orgasm and promptly slid off your body, without another word or a kiss of reassurance shared between you. Heâd slipped his prosthetic back on and made a beeline for the adjoining bathroom â where he has been for some minutes now, just pacing, and leaving you to stew in the worry of what you had obviously done so wrong.
âDo you wanna order food?â you call into the quiet, reaching for your phone on the nightstand beside you. You miss once, then twice, with hands still tingling from a soul-ascending pleasure. The screen fills the dim room with a blue-white light that makes you squint until your tired eyes adjust.
âWhat?!â Jack shouts back, muffled from behind the door. The hissing faucet shuts off to a slow drip.
âI said, do youââ You cut off your yelling when the bathroom door squeaks open. Jack appears in the doorway, now dressed in the t-shirt and jeans heâd arrived in. Heâs shadowed momentarily by the light behind him until he switches it off again â then heâs painted a dim golden color as he walks back into the bedroom for his shoe.
baby, it's alright -- ex!michael robinavitch x fem!reader (part three)
The long awaited part 3 has arrived!! And there will be a final part 4, which will be smutty đ¤
<< Part One || << Part Two
Summary: Busy schedules keep you and Robby away from one another, but an accident in the kitchen sends you to the Pitt right at shift change. Will the trip to the ER be the catalyst for forgiveness?
Warnings: our usual angst + lots of fluff, reader is very squeamish ok don't laugh at her bc then ur laughing at me /hj, it's not graphic but mentions of a deep cut that bleeds a LOT + feeling faint, jack being a sweetie, dana being a mother hen, overprotective sister appearance, medical innacuracies are inevitable bc i've had many an ER trip but never for stitches so just run w it, mentions of not eating/disordered eating, they finally Talk ["Baby" by Robert Bradley's Blackwater Surprise]
WC: 8.5k
Letting Robby back in is too easy.
Exposure
Dr. Micheal âRobbyâ Robinavitch x fem nurse reader
Part thirty nine
part 1/3 - tumblr wouldn't let me post the whole chap in one:/
part two | part three
Synopsis:Â Reader gets exposed to fentanoyl on shift and ODs
43.8k words strap in!!!
Warnings: pre-established relationship, nurse reader, OD, drugs, near death, reader is described to be shorter than robby, angst, typical medical gore, incorrect medical terminology, incorrect medial verbage,Â
uneditied
Masterlist
The nurses' station was unusually quiet for once, the steady hum of monitors and distant hallway footsteps replacing the usual layered noise of a full department. She was leaning over the counter reviewing labs when he stepped in beside her, close enough that the warmth of him brushed along her arm. There was no one else immediately nearby, just a moment carved out of the chaos where it felt almost private.
deactivated
So thoroughly nuked that there isnât even any record of their original blog url
The Forbidden Knowledge
not even any notes. I feel like Iâve stumbled upon a plot-advancing skeletonâs notebook
If you see this on your dashboard, reblog this, NO MATTER WHAT and all your dreams and wishes will come true.
Oh hey! Havenât seen this in forever! Didnât reblog it when it came across me before, not gonna skip it this time, I need some good vibes.
DONâT SMILE â JACK ABBOT X READER
â WORD COUNT: 4.5K
â SUMMARY: A week had passed since the end of your relationship and while you were slowly falling apart, Jack Abbot seemed to be doing just fine for himself. You didnât want him to feel happy to have been with youâ you wanted him to mourn the loss what could've been.Â
â CONTAINS:Â Angst, Younger, fem!reader. Mohan catching strays (England I know how you feel, I lost my queen too.) Mentions of jumping off a roof? Part two of SUGAR TALKING, but can be read alone!
âAUTHORS NOTE: Okay, sorry this took some timeâ Iâve been in school and have only really been able to write at night. I genuinely didnât expect the kind words and people wanting a part 2, so Iâm sorry for the delay, folks. Also! In the last fic reader is on the day shift, but for the sake of continuity, letâs just say she was covering for someone and is originally on the night shift. Please leave your thoughts in the commentsâ the nice onesâ or if youâd like more fics, and donât forget to send any requests to my inbox!
â PAGE DIVIDERS BY: @angeliicide
Your heart feels heavy in your chest as you sit in the booth, wedged between Trinity and Parker.Â
The sound of the bar and low music filling the air is muffling the rest of the tableâs conversation, but itâs not like you were paying attention anyway.
Misunderstanding
pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!reader
warnings/notes: angst, reader is described as timid/shy, fluff
a/n: this prompt was sent in as a request! hope you all enjoy <3
summary: you accept Buckyâs invitation to attend Tonyâs charity gala as his date, but your night quickly turns sour when you find out about his bet with Natasha
Your hands tremble as you raise the gun towards your target and fixate your aim on the bullseye. Youâve never handled a weapon like this before, but your novice status in the shooting range isnât what has you feeling so nervous.
âRelax your arms a bit,â Bucky suggests, his hands gently resting on your biceps as he positions them in the correct form. His chest is pressed against your back, strong arms encasing you against him while he uses his leg to gently nudge your own into the proper stance. His metal hand comes to rest on yours and adjust your aim so that itâs aligned with the target across the way from you both. You hope he canât hear the rapid beating of your heart or feel the growing perspiration resulting from being so close to the man, and you hope he doesnât take notice of the fact that your powers are slowly manifesting themselves around you in result of your emotions.
Save Your Heart
@vvcorvusvv: I really enjoyed the deaf!reader you wrote for that Witcher imagine đ is there any chance you could toy with it again? I donât have a prompt in mind, just really like how you wrote it đĽ°
A/N: You ask, I deliver (it may take me a while but I always get there). Title is from Florence and the Machineâs Seven Devils.
Warnings: Blood, canon-typical violence, drowning, angst (with a very happy fluffy ending)
Word count: 4k
Keep reading
â casual !!
jack abbot x fem!resident!reader word count: 9k warnings: medical inaccuracies, age gap, slight power imbalance (technically heâs her boss), miscommunication, angst w happy ending, past spouse death mentioned, emotion vulnerability, sexual innuendos, oral (fem receiving), MDNI note: this may be the longest fic iâve ever written. just two idiots in love with major miscommunication (just talk it out already omfg) also, episode 13 abbot return soon!!!!đđ
the room smells like sweat and your laundry detergent. your chest is still rising a little too fast, the sheets twisted around your legs, your hair sticking to the side of your face. the ceiling fan hums above you, slow and uneven, pushing warm air around instead of cooling anything down. jackâs hand is still on you. his muscular body is splayed beside you. heâs breathing heavier than heâll admit to later, breath hot on your skin. his chest lifts once, twice, before he drags in a quieter breath and finally comes back down to earth.
you turn your head toward him, watching him instead of the ceiling. his jaw is tightâit always is after youâre done. âyou okay?â he asks, voice rough, like it had to fight its way out of his throat. his speckled gray and white curls are sweaty, clinging to his forehead. you fight the urge to run your fingers through them.
you let out a soft laugh, still a little breathless. âi think so.â his thumb moves against your skin in soft circles and itâs enough to make you ready for round two.
for a second, neither of you says anything. itâs not awkwardâit never isâbut itâs not easy either. itâs that weird space in between youâve both been pretending doesnât exist for months now. you shift slightly, turning more onto your side so you can see him better. his hazel eyes are already boring into yours when you turn. your breath hitches, but he doesnât look away. these are your favorite moments. the haze of post-sex and soft gazes.
pls pls pls write something for clark kent / superman where reader finds out lois lane knew about clark being superman before she did. except she takes it in the way that clark trust lois more than her despite being in a relationship with him || maybe even thinks heâs cheating on her with lois
a lot of angst PLEASE but with a happy ending
đđşđđđđđ: đźđ đşđđ đđžđđ đ fem!đđžđşđ˝đžđ
đđđđ˝ đźđđđđ: 5.8đ
đđşđđđđđđ/đđşđđ: đşđđđđ, đżđ đđżđż, đđđđ đđžđ˝ đźđđžđşđđđđ, đđ đđşđđđ đđđđđ đžđđ!
đşđđđđđ'đ đđđđž: đđ đşđđđ, đđđşđđđ đżđđ đđđž đđžđđđžđđ!! đ đ˝đđ˝ đđ đťđžđđ đđ đ˝đžđ đđđžđ, đťđđ đ đ đđđ đđđ đźđşđđđđžđ˝ đşđđşđ đđđđ đđđž đşđđđđ lolll. đžđđđđžđ đđşđ, đ đđđđž đđđ đžđđđđ :)
Is it better to speak or to die?
In this moment, both felt like the most appropriate option.
You had no idea when or how but a seed of doubt had taken root in the center of your relationship with the love of your life, Clark Kent.
None of it made sense at all, but it was true because seemingly out of nowhere you were no longer on the same wavelength as him.
You thought back to the beginning of your relationship, when you met almost a year ago.
He worked in the building next door, the Daily Planet, a reporter. Cute, you remembered thinking.
You worked in a little espresso and book nook. It was your sanctuary, a tiny, warm-lit shop that smelled of roasted coffee beans and old paper.
The first time you saw him, he was a study in adorable clumsiness. The doorbell jingled and in he walked, all broad shoulders and nervous energy, his glasses slightly askew. Heâd been so focused on the notepad in his hand that heâd walked straight into the low-hanging antique sign that read âMind Your Head.â
Thwack!
Youâd winced in sympathy from behind the counter. âOh my! Are you okay?â
Heâd blinked, dazed, a hand flying to his forehead. A deep, delicious blush spread across his cheeks and the tips of his ears as he met your worried gaze.Â
âGolly, Iâm sorry about that, really I didnât see that there.âÂ
His voice was warm, a little shy, and it did something funny to your stomach. And he was apologizing for getting hurt, that was a first.
You smiled, âItâs fine, it happens all the time. A hazard of the job, Iâm afraid. We like to keep our customers on their toes.â
You started to quickly make a makeshift ice pack for him, doing it so efficiently seeing as it had happened more times then you could count. You slid it over to him and he grinned lopsidedly as he took it and placed it on his forehead, despite not really needing it.
âAre you sure youâre alright?â You checked again, since you never really got an answer the first time.
âYes- youâre fine. I mean Iâm fine.â you raised an amused brow, and he suddenly thought that maybe it sounded like he was insulting you. âYouâre fine too, really uh great.â he trailed off sheepishly.
âThanks,â you mumbled shyly, starting to blush despite yourself, âCan I get you anything? On the house since you got hurt.â
âOh you really donât have to do that. I donât mind really.â
You just waited expectantly with a pointed look not taking no for an answer.
Seeing this, Clark caved, dropping his shoulders that didnât quite fill out his too large suit and spoke, âIâll just take a coffee. Extra sugar.â
âOk, one large extra sweet coffee coming right up.â
Clark smiled and sat at an open seat as you made his coffee. He took in the small but homely place, surprised he didnât try this place out sooner since it was right next door to his job.Â
Despite himself, Clarkâs eyes kept flickering towards you though as you flitted around and when you turned back around with the coffee in hand smiling, he got up and made his way back to the counter.
âHere you go, sorry again for the whole sign thing.â
âDonât worry about it really.â Clark paused, and he suddenly got the overwhelming urge to hold out his hand and introduce himself to you, âClark Kent,â he said that day, âDaily Planet. Next door.â
âI know,â youâd responded, and then immediately felt your own face heat up. âI mean, your press pass. Itâs⌠visible.â
He looked down at the lanyard he always forgot to take off, his blush deepening. âRight. Of course.â
That was it. A five-minute interaction.Â
But he came back the next day. And the day after that. Not for the coffee, he admitted later once you started officially dating, but for the barista who blushed as much as he did.
Your first official date was a disaster in the best way.Â
Heâd taken you to a county fair, and youâd challenged him to a game of ring toss. He was impossibly, hilariously bad at it, his throws either comically weak or shockingly strong, sending the rings flying over the booth entirely. Youâd laughed until your sides ached, and when you finally won a tiny, stuffed bear with one graceful flick of your wrist, heâd looked at you with such unabashed admiration you thought you might melt into the sawdust-covered ground.
âIâm clearly out of my league here,â heâd murmured, his hand finding yours as you walked past the Ferris wheel.
The first time heâd said âI love youâ was under the muted glow of your apartmentâs fairy lights that he took upon himself to hang for you. It had slipped out, quiet and sure, as heâd watched you absently hum along to a song on the radio while washing dishes.Â
Youâd gone still, your hands submerged in soapy water, and turned to look at him. There was no grand gesture, which you appreciated deeply. Just Clark, on your sofa, looking at you like youâd hung every star heâd ever flown past.
âI love you, too,â youâd whispered back, and it was the easiest truth youâd ever spoken.
He was your Clark. Clumsy, kind, endlessly patient Clark, who burned toast and wore mismatched socks and whose heart was so big it sometimes seemed to physically pain him when he saw suffering on the news. He was your home.
But that Clark felt like a memory now.Â
The man sitting across from you at your kitchen table, his dinner growing colder by the second, was a stranger. His smiles were strained, his eyes distant.Â
Heâd been late more times than you could count and sometimes downright MIA even more times then that, his excuses flimsy and always delivered with a strange evasiveness.
It was something you were able to ignore in the beginning of the relationship, as the two of you still got to know one another. But you live together now. You were in love. Youâve done practically everything together.
What was the need for secrecy?
Werenât you passed that?
A darkness came over you as you realized that you really had no idea. A pit started to form in your stomach at the alternative thought. No, you thought, Clark would never, heâs a faithful man.
But was he? Because now as he made an excuse for the thousandth time to leave dinner, you didnât have the heart to even argue back with him this time.
The seed of doubt had blossomed into a thorny vine, choking the air from your relationship and you knew, with a cold, sick certainty, that he was hiding something. Something big.
The silence stretched, taut and unbearable, as he waited for your response, your permission to allow him to leave. Sometimes you don't know why he even bothered, he was going to leave anyway.
You studied his profile but said nothing, the way his jaw was clenched tight, the way he couldnât quite meet your gaze. The love of your life was slipping through your fingers, and you had no idea why.
âPerry needs me to run down a lead on the Westside,â he said, the words practiced, hollow. âIt⌠it canât wait. Iâm so sorry, honey.â
Honey.Â
The endearment felt like a shard of glass in your heart. You just nodded slowly, your eyes fixed on the congealing gravy on your plate. âOkay.â
He looked almost disappointed by your lack of fight. âIâll make it up to you. I promise.â
Promises. They were just words now. Empty calories. You simply nodded again, the motion robotic.
He stood, his chair scraping against the floor. He leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead, but you subtly turned your head, and his lips grazed your hair instead. He froze for a fraction of a second, a flicker of somethingâpain? guilt?âin his eyes before the shutters came down again.
âI love you,â he said, his voice thick.
The words felt like a taunt. You couldnât say them back right now. The lie would have choked you. You just watched him grab his coat and leave, the click of the door echoing in the silent apartment like a gunshot.
The moment he was gone, the air rushed out of you in a ragged sob. You buried your face in your hands, the weight of your paranoia crushing your chest.Â
You were going insane. You had to be. This was Clark. Your Clark. The man who cried during sappy movies and helped little old ladies carry their groceries.
But the evidence was building bigger and bigger right before your eyes.Â
If only you knew that youâre breaking point would come just three days later.Â
Youâd gone to the Daily Planet to surprise Clark with lunch. You entered the building pretty inconspicuously, those who knew you offering you a quiet greeting. Just as you reached the bullpen however, you stopped abruptly.Â
Clark was at his desk, swiveled around in his chair, but that wasnât the problem. It was her. Lois Lane who stood awfully close to him with a soft hand on his shoulder. She was leaning down to be closer to his ear, as she whispered something that Clark seemingly found really funny.
Not a problem, right, just two close coworkers you gulped, hoping to convince yourself you werenât seeing what you thought you were.
And then Clark spoke, and though you couldnât hear the words, you saw the shape they made on his lips: âI just donât know how to tell her.â
Your blood had turned to ice. Her. You knew, with every fiber of your being, that her was you.
Lois had nodded, her expression one of understanding and sympathy.Â
Youâd backed away, your lunch meant to be shared suddenly feeling like a lead weight in your hands, and fled before anyone else could see you.
You stumbled home, the city blurring around you. The walls of your shared apartment felt like they were closing in. You made it to the bathroom just in time, sinking to your knees as your stomach revolted, heaving up nothing but acid and anguish. The cool tile against your forehead was a small mercy against the feverish heat of your heartbreak.
You hated this. You hated the jealous, paranoid person you were becoming. You hated the constant knot of anxiety in your stomach.Â
But most of all, you hated the chilling clarity that was now staring you in the face. It wasn't just a feeling anymore. It was a truth you'd seen with your very own eyes.
You pulled yourself together, piece by shattered piece, scrubbing your face with cold water until the redness around your eyes was less obvious. You were just putting the abandoned, now-cold lunch in the refrigerator when you heard the key in the lock.
Your heart slammed against your ribs, thinking about how you could approach the subject. You wanted to yell at him and demand answers, and pray that what you saw was just a big misunderstanding, but another part of you just wanted to curl up in bed and rot heartbroken forever.Â
Sigh, is it better to speak or to die?
Clark walked in, a tired but genuine smile on his face. âHey, you.â He crossed the room in a few strides, pulling you into his arms and pressing a warm, familiar kiss to your lips.
You froze for a fraction of a second before forcing yourself to respond, the kiss feeling like a betrayal of your own crumbling sanity. It was stiff, unyielding.
He noticed immediately. Of course he did. He pulled back, his smile fading as his eyes searched your face, taking in the puffy eyes you couldn't fully hide, the tension in your jaw.
âHey⌠whatâs wrong?â he asked, his voice soft with concern, his thumb brushing your cheek. The gentleness of it almost broke you.
You took a shaky breath.
His brow furrowed speaking before you had the chance to. âAre you okay? Did something happen?â
âYeah, Clark. Something happened.â You stepped out of his embrace, needing space to breathe, to think. âI stopped by the Planet today. To bring you lunch.â
The color drained from his face, because something mustâve happened on the way to him, seeing as you never made it to give him lunch.
âI saw you,â you continued, your voice trembling. âWith Lois. You looked⌠very cozy.â
His expression shifted from concern to defensive panic. âHoney, itâs not what youâre thinking. Lois is just my friend, my work partner. We were just talking about a story.â
âA story?â you let out a bitter, broken laugh catching him in the obvious lie. âWhat story requires her to whisper in your ear and touch you like that? What story has you saying âI donât know how to tell herâ?â You threw his own words back at him, watching him flinch.Â
âWho is âher,â Clark? Am I the âherâ? What is it you canât tell me that you can so easily discuss with her?â
âI am not cheating on you with Lois,â Clark said, his voice firm, desperate. âI would never do that to you. You have to believe me.â
âThen what is it?â you pressed, tears welling up again. âWhat is the big secret? Because something is going on! Youâre gone all the time, youâre distant, you have whispered conversations you think I canât hear! And she knows! I saw it on her face! She knows whatever it is that youâre hiding from me! So just tell me! What does Lois Lane know about my boyfriend that I donât? And donât you dare lie to me right now.â
The plea was raw, ripped from the deepest, most vulnerable part of you. You were begging him to prove you wrong, to shatter this nightmare.
Clark looked torn apart. His eyes were wide with a mixture of love and sheer terror. He opened his mouth, then closed it. He was physically wrestling with the words, and losing. âI⌠I canât,â he finally whispered, agony in his voice. âI canât tell you. Itâs⌠itâs not safe.â
The admission was a knife to the heart. You scoffed, the sound wet with unshed tears. âYou canât tell me. But itâs safe for her?â The pieces were clicking into a devastating picture. âSo there really is something. And sheâs in on it. And Iâm⌠what? Not trustworthy? Too fragile to handle it?â
Your insecurities, fed by weeks of doubt, roared to the surface. âWhat is it then? Is she better at it than me? Is that it? Smarter? More exciting? Does she not ask questions when you run off in the middle of the night?â
Just then, his phone buzzed on the coffee table. The screen lit up. A text message preview from Lois.
Lois: Did you tell her yet?
The timing was so cosmically cruel it was almost funny.
You stared at him as he reached for his phone, your expression one of utter devastation. âLet me guess. Lois?â
Clark flinched, scrambling for the phone. âNoâI mean, yes, but itâs notâsheâs just asking about you.â
âOh, wonderful!â you cried, your voice rising hysterically. âSo you do discuss me! In between whatever other secrets you share, you give her updates on your clueless girlfriend! âNo, Lois, not yet, sheâs still blissfully ignorant!ââ
Suddenly, Clark stiffened. His head tilted slightly, a familiar, distant look entering his eyes. The sound of distant screams, of crashing concrete, of terror, inaudible to you, flooded his super-hearing.Â
Metropolis needed Superman. But you needed Clark. He was torn.
His face fell. âHoney, I⌠I have to go.â
The absurdity of it shattered the last of your composure.Â
âReally, Clark?â you spat, the words dripping with venomous disbelief. âRight now? Youâre going to run away from this? Of course you are. Go on. Iâm sure Lois needs you more than I do right now.â
The words were designed to wound, and they hit their mark even if they werenât true. He looked at you, his heart breaking in his eyes, wanting nothing more than to stay and fix this. But the screams in his ears were a sirenâs call of duty he could never ignore.
âIâm so sorry,â he whispered, the apology a tortured breath. âIâll explain everything, I promise. Just⌠Please trust me.â
And with that, he was gone, leaving you alone in the silent, suffocating apartment.
You stood there for a full minute, numb. Then, a broken sound escaped you, and you stumbled into the bedroom, collapsing onto the bed you shared.Â
Sobs wracked your body, great, heaving cries that felt like they would tear you in two. You cried for the trust that was clearly broken, for the love that felt like a lie, and for the agonizing, inescapable truth: the man you loved was keeping a world-shattering secret with another woman, and he had just chosen that secret over you.
When Clark finally returned, it was later in the evening.Â
He was hoping that you would still be awake so you could finish the conversation, but the apartment was quiet apart from your soft breathing indicating that you were asleep.
Clark slowly creaked the bedroom door open and saw you were on top of the covers, still in your clothes sleeping on a wet, tear-stained pillow.
Clarkâs heart dropped even more. It was all just a big misunderstanding that had spiraled out of proportion. He needed to fix this, and soon, before he loses you forever.
But the next few days after that you had done everything in your power to avoid him. You didnât want to speak anymore, you just wanted to die.
The apartment became a minefield of silence. You slept on the bed, Clark claimed the couch only agreeing because he wanted to give you your space. You left for work before he woke and came home after you were sure heâd be out. Meals were eaten separately, the clinking of cutlery the only sound in the heavy quiet. When he tried to speak, youâd shut him down with a terse, âIâm not ready,â or simply walk into another room.
Your heart was a raw, open wound, and every look from him, every hesitant attempt to bridge the gap, felt like salt being ground into it.Â
Against your will the image of him and Lois, their heads bent together in shared confidence, was burned onto the back of your eyelids.
The worst part was the logic that tried to break through the pain: Clark wouldnât cheat. He said that himself. Heâs not that man. But the secrecy. The intimacy with Lois. His refusal to explain. Thatâs what hurt.
He was still trying, in his own clumsy way. He left a single red tulipâyour favoriteâon the coffee table. He made your morning coffee just how you liked it, leaving it in the thermos for you to find. Heâd look at you with those soulful, pleading eyes, full of a love that seemed so real it made the betrayal hurt even more.
âPlease, honey,â he begged one morning, finally cornering you by the door as you tried to leave. âJust talk to me. Let me explain. Itâs really not what you think.â
âThen what is it, Clark?â you asked, your voice flat, devoid of the fire from before. You were just so tired. âUnless youâre ready to tell me the actual truth, the whole truth, we have nothing to talk about. Your âexplanationsâ are just more lies wrapped in pretty apologies.â
He looked utterly helpless, his shoulders slumping. âIâm trying to protect you.â
A hollow laugh escaped you. âYouâre protecting yourself. And youâre protecting her.â You shouldered your bag and left, leaving him standing there.
The chasm between you grew wider. You felt yourself shutting down, building walls around your heart to survive the constant ache. You were mourning the relationship while still living in its corpse.
It was on the fourth day of this frozen war that you decided you couldnât live like this anymore. You needed to know, one way or another. The not-knowing was a special kind of hell.Â
If he wouldnât give you the truth, you would find it yourself. You could be an investigative journalist too. Besides, you were past asking for permission, past respecting boundaries that he had already shattered.
So, you waited until you knew he was at work.
With a resolve that felt like walking to your own execution, you searched the entire place. You started with his deskâdrawers of pens, notepads, mundane reporter things. Nothing.
You moved to the filing cabinet, finding old tax returns and article drafts. Your hands were shaking, guilt warring with desperation. You moved to the bedroom, checked under the bed, by the nightstand. Nothing.
And then you saw it.
Tucked in the very back of his closet, behind his collection of identical plaid shirts. It was out of place, something red and blue peeking out.Â
You gently pulled it out, unfolded it and paused.
It was a suit. But not any suit. A fabric unlike anything youâd ever felt, a brilliant, alien blue, with a familiar, unmistakable crest emblazoned on the chest. The S-shield. Â
The symbol of Superman.
Your mind short-circuited. It rejected the information outright. This was a costume. A joke. A⌠a prop for a story?
But then your eyes fell on the boots beside it also poorly hidden, heavy, red, and undeniably real. And on a small shelf, tucked away in the back, a pair of old cracked lenses rested beside a small, lead-lined box.
The world tilted on its axis. The floor fell away. You gripped the doorframe to keep from collapsing.
The missed dates. The disappearances. The impossible strength. The whispered conversations.Â
Oh, God.
It wasnât cheating.
It was this.
Relief, white-hot and dizzying, washed over you for one single, blissful second. He wasnât cheating. He wasnât lying about that.
And then the second wave hit, a tsunami of a far more profound and devastating betrayal.
Superman.
Clark was Superman.
The man you loved, the man you slept beside, the man you thought you knew better than anyone on this earth, was an alien hero. And he had never told you.
But he had told someone else.
The thought slithered into your mind, cold and venomous.
Lois knows.
You saw it all again, the scene in the bullpen with horrifying new clarity. Clarkâs anguish wasnât about an affair. It was about this. About his secret.Â
And Lois Lane was comforting him about you. She was advising him on how to break the news to his poor, fragile, human girlfriend. She was in on it. She had been, all along.
How long? How long had she known? Since before you? During?
The relief curdled into something black and poisonous. This was worse. So much worse. An affair would have been a betrayal of your heart. This was a betrayal of your entire reality, of the very foundation of your trust.Â
He had given the truth of himself to her and hidden it from you. He trusted Lois Lane with his universe, and he trusted you with⌠what? A carefully constructed fiction? A lie he came home to?
You heard the key in the lock. You didnât move. You couldnât. You stood there, in the doorway of his closet, holding the blue suit in your trembling hands, the brilliant S-shield staring back at you.
âYouâŚâ you whispered when he finally stopped in front of you, your voice a broken thing. âYouâre⌠him.â
He took a step forward, his hand outstretched, his eyes wide with panic. âOh gosh, I didnât want you to find out like this,â Clark starts taking in the room that was clearly searched.
âPlease let me explain everythingâŚâ
âExplain?â The word was a laugh, a hollow, ugly sound. âExplain what, Clark? How youâre literally Superman? Or how about you explain why Lois Lane knew before I did?â
He flinched as if youâd struck him. âWhat? Lois⌠itâs not what you think, weâve been over this.â
âIsnât it?â you countered back, the sound tearing from your raw throat. You threw the suit at him. It fluttered to the ground between you, a banner of his deceit.
âHow long has she known? Before me, right? Was I your little experiment in normalcy? Your pet human while she got to know the real you? The super you? Do you trust her more than me?â
âNo! God, no!â he pleaded, his voice cracking. âItâs not like that! I was going to tell you, I swear! I just⌠I needed to find the right time. I was scaredââ
âYou were scared?â you interrupted, tears streaming down your face now, hot and furious. âYouâre S-Superman! What could you possibly be scared of?â
âOf this!â he cried, his own eyes glistening. âOf losing you! Of seeing the look on your face thatâs there right now! Of you being afraid of me!â
âYou donât get to say that!â you spat, advancing on him. âYou donât get to use your fear as an excuse! Youâve been lying to me every single day for almost a year! You looked me in the eye and you lied! And she knew! She knew every time you kissed me goodnight, every time you told me you loved me, every time you held me while you were living this⌠this double life! Did you two laugh about it? Did you tell her how convincing your clumsy farm boy act was?â
The words were vile, born of a pain so deep it had turned septic. You wanted to hurt him. You wanted to crack the invulnerable shell he hid behind and make him feel a fraction of the agony you were feeling.
He looked utterly devastated. âHow can you say that? I love you! Everything I feel for you is real! Lois⌠she found out on her own. It was during a story, it was dangerous, it just happened. It wasnât a choice!â
âBut it was!â you shouted. âEvery day after that was a choice! You chose to keep her in your confidence! And you chose, every single second of every single day, to look at me and lie! You chose her to be your partner in this! Not me! Never me!â
You were sobbing openly now, your body shaking uncontrollably. âI thought you were cheating. For so long, Iâve been going out of my mind thinking you were with Lois. But this⌠this is so much worse. You gave her your truth. You trust her with your life, with your secret. And you trust me with nothing. Iâm just the girl you come home to when youâre done saving the world. Iâm your⌠your cover story.â
âThat is not true,â he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. He took another step, but you recoiled as if his touch would burn you.
âDonât,â you choked out. âDonât you dare come near me.â
The pain that crossed his face was absolute. It was the look of a man watching his entire world crumble to dust. And a small, broken part of you, the part that still loved him, recognized that his anguish was real. But it was too late.Â
âGo away,â you said, your voice suddenly quiet, drained of all emotion.
âHoney, please⌠we need to talk about this.â
âThereâs nothing to talk about,â you stated, staring at a point on the wall behind him. âYou made your choices. Now get out. Go to her. Iâm sure sheâll know exactly what to say to make you feel better, Superman.â
He stood there for a long moment, a statue of grief and regret. You could see the war in his eyes, the desire to stay and fix the unfixable, warring with the respect for your wishes.
Finally, his shoulders slumped in defeat and he walked out the apartment. The Man of Steel, brought to his knees not by kryptonite, but by the devastating consequences of his own secret.
You stood alone in the silence, surrounded by the artifacts of your broken life. The fairy lights heâd hung for you twinkled mockingly. The tiny stuffed bear from the fair sat on the shelf, its beady eyes oblivious to the cataclysm.
You had your answer. You had chosen to speak, and in doing so, you had killed everything anyway.
âââââââ
After kicking Clark out of your shared apartment, you had expected him to return. You were just hoping that when he did you would have processed everything a bit more than you have right now.
He came in late, probably flying around to clear his head, you thought now. Still such a weird thought to get used to.Â
He sat down next to you on the couch but kept a distance, close enough where you still feel his large presence looming over you but far enough that no part of your bodies touched.
You spoke first.
âYou came back,â you said, your voice flat.
âI will always come back to you,â he replied, his voice rough with emotion. âAlways.â
The silence stretched again, but this time it was different. The lies were out. The secret was exposed. There was nothing left to hide behind.
âHoney, I really am sorry.â Clark began.
âLois found out two years ago,â he began, his voice quiet, forcing the words out. âA story we were working on⌠it got dangerous. I had to⌠intervene. Sheâs one of the best investigative reporters on the planet. She pieced it together. I didnât choose her over you. The circumstances chose for me.â
He turned towards you, rising from the couch and standing in front of you now.
âTelling someone⌠itâs the most terrifying thing I can do. Every time, I risk everything. My life, their life, my parents' lives. With you⌠it was different. The thought of you looking at me like Iâm a monster, or worse, a target⌠it paralyzed me. I kept waiting for the perfect moment that would never come because I was too much of a coward to create it.â
He sank to his knees on the floor before you. He looked up at you, utterly vulnerable, blue eyes watering. âI was wrong. So wrong. I thought I was building a wall to protect you, but I was just building a wall between us. I trust you with my life, honey. I trust you with my heart. I just⌠I forgot to trust you with the truth.â
Tears were streaming down his face now, tracing paths through the dust on his cheeks. He reached for your hands, and you let him, mainly because he was literally on his knees apologizing for you and the sight was pathetic (hot).
âThe reason I was talking to Lois⌠the reason I said I didnât know how to tell you⌠it was because I had finally decided to do it. I was asking her how she thought youâd react. I was scared and she was trying to make me feel better by joking with me. I was seeking advice from the only other person who knew, because I was terrified of losing you.â
âI love you. All of you. Not the idea of you. Not the normal life you represent. You. Your kindness, your strength, the way you hum when you make coffee at your shop, the way your nose scrunches when you laugh. I love being Clark Kent because he gets to love you. And I am so, so sorry that I ever made you doubt that or my trust in you.â
You looked at himâthis impossibly powerful man brought to his knees by his love for you. The anger was diminishing, nothing but a dull ache. The betrayal still stung. But the hollowness was beginning to fill with something else. Understanding. And a love so stubborn it had survived this.
You slowly lowered yourself to the floor off the couch, sitting before him, your hands still interlinked.
âYou hurt me,â you whispered, the words finally feeling true without being venomous. âYou made me feel small. And foolish. And⌠second best.â
âI know,â he breathed, his voice thick with regret. âAnd I will spend every day for the rest of my life making it up to you. If youâll let me.â
You looked at the suit, then back at his faceâthe face of the man you loved, now superimposed with the hero you admired. They were one and the same. The clumsy reporter who walked into signs and the god who caught falling planes. It was all him.
âYou really arenât cheating on me?â you asked, the last vestige of your insecurity needing to be vanquished.
A pained, genuine smile touched his lips. âThe only person Iâve ever been in love with is you. Lois is my friend. But you⌠you are my home.â
You reached out and placed your hand on his face. His fingers closed around yours instantly, warm and strong and familiar, and he let out a shuddering breath, as if heâd been holding it for days.
âYou have to promise me,â you said, your voice gaining strength. âNo more secrets. No more lies. Even if itâs scary. We face it together. Or we donât face it at all.â
âI promise,â he vowed, his eyes locking with yours, pouring every ounce of his sincerity into the words. âNo more secrets. Just us.â
He leaned forward slowly, giving you every opportunity to pull away. You didnât. You met him halfway.
The kiss was nothing like the stiff, painful one from days before. It was soft, a little salty from tears, and full of a desperate, aching tenderness. I
When you pulled apart, you rested your forehead against his dropping your joined hands into your lap. âSo,â you said, a shaky but real smile finally gracing your lips. âSuperman, huh?â
He let out a wet laugh, a sound of pure relief. âYeah. Is that⌠is that okay?â
You looked at your joined hands, then back up at him, seeing both the man and the hero, and finally accepting them as one. âItâs going to take some getting used to,â you admitted honestly. âBut⌠yeah, Clark. Itâs okay.â
He surged forward and kissed you again, this time with more passion. You responded in kind, your hands coming up to cup his face, pulling him closer. The world outside, with all its dangers and secrets, ceased to exist. There was only this. Only him. Only you.
And as he kissed you again, slow and sweet and full of promise, you finally understood the answer to your question.
It was always, always better to speak. Because on the other side of the painful truth was the chance for a love more honest, and more real, than you could have ever dreamed.
âââââââ
author's note: once again, thanks for the request and i hope it somewhat lived up to your vision!
as always, my requests are always open if you want to send me a message about a story you'd like for clark or lowk any other character, im happy to write it for you. thanks for all the love and check out my other work<33
18+ mdni
STONEPIT FINALS AND SPRING CHAOS (18+) ââ RAFE CAMERON ONE SHOT
SYNOPSIS rafe's been your best friend since forever, and you thought he'd be ecstatic to see you after a three week trip; however, you overhear him telling his friends that it's been nice without you clinging to him every five minutes. so that's what you give him: space. every attempt to get you back falls short, and rafe's confusion only augments when he sees you running with a different crowd.
WARNINGS suggestive themes, language, half smut (??? everything's over the clothes, lowkey switch!rafe), swearing, angst and miscommunication but with a happy ending. 18+ mdni.
WORD COUNT 16.9k... That's genuinely not okay...
SONGS OF THE CHAPTER guilty pleasure by chappell roan | transparentsoul by willow | misery business by paramore. we're gonna pretend these are original songs by their band, alright?
âItâs been nice to have some peace and quiet without her constantly attached to my hip.â
You've been replaying his words in your head all night.
Sure, you invited herself over with the intent to surprise him after being gone for three weeks. Coming home a day earlier than expected was a set in stone plan all along, and thought nothing of walking into one of his renowned parties like you always have.
The familiar crowd greeted you like an old friend, throwing around heys and youâre back already? and all the other surprise lingo. You truly did your best to smile and nod to all of them, however these people weren't really your friends, instead mere acquaintances in an adjacent social circle.
The one person you really wanted to see was, undoubtedly, out back smoking a joint or nursing a beer away from the crowd with his two close friends, so you knew exactly where to find Rafe Cameron whenever his six foot something height wasnât peaking above the crowd.
So on you walked: through the yard, in through the kitchen, and out towards the back porch.Â