I loved your superman fic! (as in it absolutely destroyed me in the best way),
Could I request another one where the reader comes out as trans to clark?
Coming undone, to be unbroken
Synopsis: It is not that you’ve been hiding, you don’t aim to hide from the love of your life. It’s repression. Cramming down the final piece of yourself, which is entirely different from the rest. The fact that your skin feels a little off, that you look at your partner and sometimes long for a different reason. You want to be a man. You want to be true to yourself. It’s the possibility of losing Clark Kent that makes it infinitely more difficult.
What to expect: some hints of internalised transphobia, themes of anxiety and panic, angst. Reader has a breakdown. Clark Kent is a good boyfriend!
wc: 1911
It feels like waiting for death. Cold dark dread. Taking this leap feels like betrayal, it’s a plunge that may turn you to ice the second you hit the water. Which is so unlike the warmth you’ve experienced for the past two years.
Relationships are messy, they can be a battle of tooth and nail as you settle down with the supposed person you’re meant to spend an entire lifetime with. It can be difficult, a task that feels impossible often. It can be stressful, someone in your space, awkward with finding or even asking for some solitude just doesn’t feel right.
The time you’ve spent submerged into commitment with Clark however? Most of it is as natural as breathing, there is no such thing as perfection, but he feels unbelievably close to it. Comfortable doesn’t even begin to describe the bond you two have. You turn to him in moments of happiness and moments of despair equally, he shares your joy or holds you until the darkness goes away.
He plucks things off the highest shelf when shopping, he can pick you up like a feather, even with unfathomable strength, Clark is the gentlest person you’ve ever known. Down to the way he speaks to you, soft and filled with devotion, it is like you’re his religion. A temple he would have no issue kneeling down and praying to, finding faith and sanctuary in you.
You know every beautiful inch of his skin by hand, each freckle and mole, where he’s slightly ticklish, where he’s sensitive; right in the juncture of his supple, warm neck. Awe swells within you every time you catch a glimpse of him, he is nothing short of divinity, with his smooth black curls and pearlescent eyes.
Clark kent’s body is the home you curl up in every night, his heart pumps your own, his laugh makes your head dizzy with affection. His strength makes you weak in the knees, his mouth makes you breathless, his love is steadfast and it is colossal, it is only matched by how much you worship him.
Which is why it is so terrifying, spilling this secret which you have kept buried. In which you have jammed deep below again and again, until it could not be pushed down any longer. You could lose him, not because of something you’ve done, not because of any sort of morality, but because behind your skin is another person screaming to shed through. It is who you truly are.
You cannot live in the carcass of someone else any longer, it is time to grow and live anew. But it would be a lie to say your heart isn’t pounding, and that there isn’t copper swimming in your mouth. You only bite your cheek when restless, there’s a small part of you that wants to choke on your own blood before the confession even begins.
The bed is comfy, a refuge of a thick soft duvet and the most comforting of all, him. Wearing those blue fluffy superman slippers you got him as a gag gift, he is bundled up in a dressing gown, the two of you laying here are the picture of domesticity. He’s been reading a book, adjusting his skewed glasses here and there when they start to slide down his nose. You’ve had headphones in, but there’s no music, it’s just to give the illusion that you’re doing something and not losing your mind.
If you were braver, you would’ve ripped off the metaphorical bandaid eons ago. But no, you needed to build up enough strength to combat the fear. Your heart does not slow, it accelerates to a point you feel your entire chest stutters with every beat. That’s when Clark stills slightly, just so slightly, but you notice it, you’re so attuned to his body it might as well be your own. He distributes his weight an inch over, a reminder he’s there, his presence in any other circumstance would be grounding. Now? It makes bile almost surface.
Why does it feel like walking to a guillotine? Like you’re about to sever something sacred by finally admitting who you are? It’s so scary and it shouldn’t be, you don’t want to live in a world without Clark. It would be suffocating, you need him to breathe.
Before you realise it there are unshed tears rushing to your waterline, they sting, it is a flood that cannot be stopped and by the time you do finally realise, one has fallen. The book once splayed open drops, and there is utter silence, a pair of eyes snapping to you with so much worry its palpable. The intensity of them makes it well known that they are not focusing on anything else, just you.
You’re not ready.
Oh god you’re not ready you’re never going to be ready for this. It’s so hard to breathe. Why does it feel like this? Why why why why.
You turn away from him and shakily pull out your earbuds, that are as silent as when you put them in. Clark is closer now, you can feel the words that are about to exit.
“Hey, hey, honey. It’s okay, it’s okay”warm fingers cradle your face, they pull you closer to him, he’s wiping tears but they don’t stop gushing. He looks distraught when you meet his stare, his blue eyes flare with panic. It’s unlike you to do this, to break down in such a way. “What’s wrong? I’m here, I’m here.”
“I know.” You say with a mouthful of tears, lip wobbling as you almost choke on trembling words. You bite down on something that sounds like, but are you going to stay? “I’m sorry.”
You can’t say what you’re apologising for. His brows scrunch more, his own lip catches, like the sight of your distress is enough to wound him too. “You can tell me, anything, you can always tell me anything.”
You turn away as another sob tumbles through you, “I know.” You say again, it’s not saying it, it’s what comes after, what will happen to the two of you. He moves, one hand leaving your splotchy face to encircle your body, bringing you closer. It’s an embrace that feels so safe, that your thoughts leave you for just a moment.
Clark Kent has seen fear in many forms, and whatever is on your face, must show heaps of it. “I’m here baby, I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here.”
You grip onto him so tight that it would hurt anyone else who wasn’t near godlike. He meets your gaze like it is the easiest thing, like he loves your soul rather than your skin. It’s the push you need. “Who I am on the inside doesn’t match the one on the outside.”
He nods, without judgement, stroking your face with the pad of his thumb.
Your next sentence is breathless and vulnerable and very scared, “I want to be a boy.”
There’s a brief silence, it’s mortifying. Ashamed, you go to cover your face but he doesn’t let you. “I’m not mad at you, I’m not rejecting you, I’m just thinking.”
It’s still terrifying.
Clark presses a kiss to your cheek reverently. “Okay. That’s okay baby, more than okay.” He hums, wiping your tears and peppering more kisses while the cogs in his brain turn.
After a while, in a small, meek voice, you finally say it. “Are you going to leave me?” Because the fear is still there, ugly and intense. Unrelenting.
He cuts through the doubt like a knife. “I adore you, your gender has nothing to do with how much I love you.” His lips press gently against your own in promise.
Clark pulls away but then swiftly leans in to hug you tightly, slotting his head in the crook of your neck. Soaking in your warmth, you shiver with the intimacy, with how perfect he always feels against you. “I don’t know what you want your transitioning journey to look like,” he starts quietly, “but I have contacts, for surgeries, for hormones. Whatever feels comfortable and right for you, okay?”
Your arms squeeze him, words cease to exist. This is, this is more than you expected. This is not damnation or a breakup. This is your soulmate seeing you and not looking away. You awkwardly crane your head down, kissing the top of his curls reverently. Your eyes sting once more with a fresh load of tears, but these are slower, happier. They do not run down your face with grief, they trickle down in astonishment. “I love you so much.” You admit.
He beams at you, mouth curved in unrestrained happiness. “I’m very honoured that you do. How lucky am I? Handsome man saying he loves me?” Clark nuzzles into you like you are home.
Your heart fractures its cold, scared exterior and cracks into something incredibly hopeful. You didn’t miss the detail of being called he, he said you were a man. It feels like the most natural thing in the world.
The rest of the night is spent winding down. Clark decides to orbit you entirely, being soft and gentle. He scoops you up and has you on his lap for what must’ve be hours, the television whirs quietly in the background. It’s turned down, it fills any silences while you cuddle.
And he never does anything lightly, without putting in his all. So you watch as he scours websites, trying to somehow acquire all the information he can about trans people, about queerness. You learn things too.
He grabs ice cream for you to eat in bed. The both of you put on a movie when the sky is a shade from black and the stars have come out to shine. It’s late. Neither of you will sleep until it is past midnight, but it’s everything. The way he insists on holding hands when you finally get off his lap, complaining lightly about the aches in your back from being curled into him.
You don’t remember the amount of times you embraced and kissed that night. Discovering what it was like to love Clark Kent as a man, and to be loved back just the same. The best part was the exchanged excited small smiles.
A new chapter is ahead, you’re certainly not braving it alone. He sticks to you like glue, he always will, you would cry at his nature if you had any more tears left. Clark isn’t human, but his humanity is immeasurable.
When it is finally time to sleep, he has to get the final word in. It knocks the wind out of you. Your heart beats like a hummingbird, there is never not a moment that you won’t be in love with this man. He tells you, in the most earnest whisper, “you are my person.”
You are no longer ashamed. Not anymore. Not afraid of what had been trapped under your skin. It is beautiful. This is not a shameful thing. It is safe to grow into this new version of yourself, with Clark holding your hand the whole time.
He will love you the exact same. As a man, loving another man. He will kiss you with the same giddiness, this time ecstatic that he gets to touch and just know his boyfriend. Clark’s heart will thump wildly at the image of someday being at the alter, and facing you, to be his husband.
A/N: Hi nonnie!! I’m so glad you enjoyed the superman fic, apologies for any of the emotional damage it caused. It has been a long time since you requested this but I got in a better mindset for writing, so here you go <3