#x trans reader

[newtthetranswriter]

Thinking about Dennis taking care of TransMasc!Audhd!Reader on their period.

Warnings: talk of periods and the like, disphoria mention

A/n: wrote these real quick after a shower cause I'm cramping and needed the comfort. Anyways enjoy and remember to hydrate or diedrate.

Dennis tracking their period for them because he noticed they don't. But it's only so he can have things ready for them before it hits so they aren't panicking when it does. (doesn't trust the tracking apps so he just uses his calendar app)

He's also gotten good at tracking it based on mood and activity because he knows sometimes when taking hrt, periods can become super irregular.

Dennis keeps an eye out for when their easily overstimulated, pulling back from conversations more, easily irritated, flinching away from skin contact. He's knows all the signs and is prepared

When he notices it's close based on timeline or symptoms he gives a gentle warning. Just a little "hey it's coming but don't worry everything is set up and ready."

He doesn't draw attention to it. He just acts like it's completely normal to have their heating pad plugged in and resting on their side of the bed, or the pad/tampon tucked behind on of the many bottles on bathroom counter so they don't have to search for it when they need it.

Dennis having the fridge and freezer stocked with their favorite snacks and ice cream, while also making sure there's still some healthy foods that they like.

If they bleed through or don't catch it before they stain clothes, Dennis just gathers up all the stained clothes and throws them in the wash (making sure to treat the stains beforehand)

He's aware of how much disphoria their period causes them so he tries to make it as easy as he can.

Dennis keeps an eye on how many pads/tampons they have left and makes sure to buy more before they have a chance to worry about running out.

If they want cuddles and a movie or show, he's there rubbing their back over their shirt or playing with their hair. If they want to be left alone, he's never far, giving them space but still close enough that if they need him they don't have to wait to long for him to show up.

Dennis is just on top of everything. Reassuring them that just because they have a period doesn't change what their gender is. He doesn't spout information about how they could get xyz medical treatment to stop them.

He's just there in what ever way they need him to be.

(dividers by @/cafekitsune)

Can you tell I'm on my period

[not-so-normal-wh0re]

Guys genuinely what should I do for pride month??? Drop ideas in the comments please!!!!

[not-so-normal-wh0re]

I had already written this but Tumblr fucking delted it all. Over 3000 words deleted. But you know what? Fuck it,we writing it AGAIN. Because I love y'all. Also the first one was way better but whatever.

So basically I joined an Iron Lung discord server and there were horny people there and now I'm writing pornk for them. Here's the link for the discord

Discord - Group Chat That’s All Fun & Games

Discord is great for playing games and chilling with friends, or even building a worldwide community. Customize your own space to talk, play

Drowning in your blood ocean

ftm! Simon the Butcher x ftm! Reader

Tw: fluff and then porn,words used for ftm genitalia: pussy,cunt,clit,t-dick,dick. Face sitting,period sex,we eat Simonussy for breaksfast,reader gives off unhinged vibes bc I refuse to write a normal reader,I will die on this hill

This gif cracks me up everytime lol

He was back. After everything that had happened,after all the blood and the pain and the scars,he was back. Back to Eden. Back to you.

After the mission,it had taken monthhs before he was actually sent back to Eden. So much time that he started believing they had lied. That they would keep him imprisoned for the rest of his life. That he had seen too much for them to let him go.

And yet,here he was. He had almost cried the first time he saw the Last Tree again. When he saw you,he sobbed. Loud,uncontrollable sounds coming from deep in his chest,ripping trought him. He had fallen to his knees and you had followed right after,your arms enveloping him in an embrace so thight you could have suffocated him. Not that he would mind. Dying here,in your arms,away from that damned planet,he would die a happy man. You were both openly sobbing,holding onto eachoter like your lives depended on it. Maybe they did. It surely felt like they did.

Getting back to a somewhat normal life was...rather difficult. Losing an arm meant he was unable to fight for Eden,and they were hesitant on what he should do. Afterall,no one wanted to work near the Butcher. And he couldn't do all that much either,at least for now. Getting used to living with only one arm was revealing itself to be a pretty difficult task. He was so thankful that you were there to help him. You had taken the reins ever since he came back. You helped him trought his recovery,you comforted him when he had nightmares or panick attacks,you were the one anchoring him when his brain tried to convince him this was all just a dream,that he was still in that submarine,dying from lack of oxigen. And you were the one making sure no one tried anything with him. He was fragile,both mentally and phisically,at the moment. And even thought he was supposed to be the Butcher,all in all,you looked far scarier right now. You seemed on the verge of killing everyone simply for existing in the vicinity of Simon. Anyone that sent a dirty look his way was put back into place by a whispered threat in a silent hall. Now the very few that didn't ignore him already,trying to start trouble for some stupid reason,didn't even dare enter your line of sight. And since you were constantly with Simon,they never tried to mess with him either. You were both playing the role of his caretaker and protector,and he was so grateful. He didn't think he could handle their words right now.

Unfortunately you are nothing but a human,and with everything going on,you had completely forgotten about yours or Simon's shots. And it came back to slap you in the face one morning.

It was a surprise to Simon to one day wake up to the feeling of blood pooling between his legs,staining the sheets of the bed in the small room you two had been given. For a moment,the smell and sensation brought him back in the submarine,and he panicked. He could almost hear the blood slowly dripping from the walls as the ocean fought to grab him,take him,consume him...

His hand found your chest and he focused on the feeling of your heart beating,counting in a low voice and taking deep breaths. It seemed to work,and when he felt you stirring and turned to the side to face you,he was much calmer. "Sorry,didn't mean to wake you up." He murmured,and you shook your head. "It's fine. You okay? Did you have another nightmare?" You whispered back,rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. "No,it's not that,I just..." He trailed off,and only then did you notice the blood on the sheets. Your face went from confused to horrified in a second as you realized what had woken him up. "Fuck,I forgot your shots! Shit,I'm so sorry,damnit,this is all my fault,I'm so sorry." You said quickly,trying to get up. His hand flew to your shoulder and he pulled you back down. "It's okay,you just forgot. It's not your fault." He said and despite everything,his voice did calm you down a bit. You layed back down and leaned into him,murmuring apologies as you placed a kiss on his chest. He shivered and you stilled. You kissed him again and his arm thightened around you. You and Simon hadn't been intimate yet since he came back. You were far too worried to do anything more than cuddle,and he seemed fine with just holding you as close as humanly possible. But now,with his bare skin under your lips and the smell of him overpowering your sense,it was rather difficult not to let your mind wander to certain places. You kept pressing your lips to his chest and shoulders and his fingers moved to curl into your hair,pulling you up and into a desperate kiss. You pulled away after a few seconds. "Are you sure you wanna do this? If you don't want to after everything that has happened to you,it's totally understanda-" He cut you off by crushing his lips with yours again. You wanted to argue further,to make sure this was okay,but the way he was melting into you,his body pressing into yours,and he was starting to grind his crotch against your leg made it very hard to think straight. You could feel the damp fabric of his pants rubbing against your skin and you grabbed the waistband pulling both the pants and underwear down his legs and off of him. You brought your hand up to his pussy,pressing on it,and he moaned into the kiss. You pulled back after a few more seconds,both of you panting slightly. You could fell blood on your hand,and maybe a normal person would have been grossed out,but God you were not normal for Simon. Your lips went to his neck and traced a path down his body. By the time you reached his belly button,he was whining,his finger holding your hair thight,trying to pull you down to where he wanted you most. You let him guide you,your face finding his thigh and nuzzling it,licking the blood off of it. He moaned and his hips jerked forward,deperate for more stimulation,for you to pleasure him. And really,who were you to deny the love of your life anything?

Your mouth finally found his pussy and you started eating like a man starved. Your tongue found its way into his cunt,the taste of his blood intoxicating and heavy in the best way possible. Your tongue occasionaly pulled away from inside him to tease his clit just to hear him moan louder. He whined as you pulled away completely,licking your lips and patting him on the hip,signaling for him to move. You guided him until he was on his knees,hovering over your face,and then pulled him down with all your strenght. He yelped,surprised,and dropped his whole body weight onto you,causing a moan to leave both of you,followed soon by another from him as you immediately resumed your attack to his cunt. He gripped your hair,trying to keep his balance as he grinded down onto your face,which revealed itself to be quite a task with only one arm and your tongue fucking him stupid. He had to hold on pretty hard,and he could feel a few of your hair being pulled off from his grip. He opened his mouth to apologize,but could only make a sound somewhere between a whine,a moan and a scream as he felt you gently bite his t-dick. The sensation was a mix of pain and pleasure that left him gasping,panted 'yes' and 'more's leaving his lips,his grinding increasing in strenght along with his grip. The second time you bit down on his dick,he came. It was sudden,unexpected and absolutely overwhelming,a loud whine being torn from his throat. You fucked him trought it,helping him ride it out. As he slowly came down from his high,he tried getting off of you. He gasped as you grabbed onto his hips to stop him,pulling him back down to lick him clean from all the blood and other fluids,the tip of your tongue occasionally teasing his entrance or his clit,making him gasp. Once he was troughoutly clean,you let him go and he collapsed next to you. You wrapped you arms around him and pulled him so he was half laying on top of you,his head on your chest and one of his leg thrown over yours. His arm instinctively went around you and he closed his eyes,taking a deep breath. "We should clean up." You murmured lazily after a few moments,the few remaints of juices on your face starting to dry out already. "In a minute." He whispers,and you smile. Yeah,you can take another minute to bask in the afterglow,and in eachoter's warmth.

...

Maybe two minutes.

[local-crying-boy]

Holy shit, I just remembered something I want to rant about it for a second.

Literally, I only remembered this because I'm writing something for a trans!Reader. I remember reading something talking about x male!reader on here, and how they were complaining that when its a ftm!reader it's heavy on talking about how the reader is transgender and how it was annoying and such (something along those lines, I can't remember it was a couple of months ago). I just got thinking about how it is kind of the point that it's heavy on the reader being transgender because its directed at the reader being trans!

I get that there's very limited character x male reader on here and that sucks, but there's even less trans!male reader fics here. The fact that people get annoyed over trans!reader fics being 'heavy' on detailing that the reader is transgender is so fucking stupid. It's specific for trans readers, of course it's going to mention how the reader is trans and focus on problems for them, ect: because it is FOR a TRANS reader.

It's not for cis people, is what I'm saying because some of these fics focus on trans issues such as insecurity and gender / body dysphoria. Like, c'mon, this is like if I got annoyed over a character x fem!reader was too heavy on describing the feminine characteristics in a fic. Like... why would I get annoyed if it specifies it's a fem reader like SOME people get annoyed over a fic specifying over it being a trans reader.

The only way I could kind of understand this is if it didn't specify in the beginning because tags and fic summaries exist for a reason.

Anyways, that's my little rant I guess.

[cybervampirequill]

I see your Vox x Trans Reader and raise you one Vox Gifting You A Box of Blahaj

(Say that 5 times fast)

...I got a plush shark just before blahaj got popular... however it's not a blahaj... maybe i should get a blahaj...

[finnxxtt]

I hate that 90% of X trans reader fics are so fucking cringe. Like wdym I didn’t tell the character I was trans up until 2 MONTHS INTO DATING. Like that is UP FRONT information what are we TALKING ABOUTTTT 😭😭

[kiwisandpearls]

I love you x trans!reader writers, I love you x nonbinary!reader writers, I love you x genderqueer!reader writers, I love you x aro and/or ace!reader writers

I love you x queer!reader writers

[letsdeerintheheadlightsuniverse]

Masterlist Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Pairing: David!Clark Kent x Ehlers-Danlos!GN!Reader

Synopsis: Loving you was second nature to Clark Kent, as easy as breathing. For you, life took a little more effort. So, when your freely-given heart starts to break under the weight of unimaginable sadness, Clark begins to wonder if he's 'super' enough to save you?

A/N: A huge, huge thank you to @glomp-me for the assistance with this chapter. The dreaded writer's block was plaguing me once more. I'm so excited for you all to read this instalment. I have plans- plans, I tell you- for chapter 11...

There are a couple of hints sprinkled throughout the paragraphs, can you find them. 👀

Content Warning: Mentions of illness, depression, eating difficulties, pain and hospital emergencies/injuries. This series is 18+. So, minors dni and (politely) go away. The reader has EDS, POTS and Fibromyalgia. I know that, each person suffers differently with it, so I'm just going off of the experiences my friend's have in their day-to day lives. ❤️

As always, my work is unbeta'd, unmoisturised and dehydrated.

DISCLAIMER: PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, REPUBLISH, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK ANYWHERE WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT PERMISSION. I DO NOT OWN SUPERMAN, DC OR ANYTHING AFFILIATED TO IT. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. LIKES, REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE ALWAYS WELCOME.

Two weeks passed without much complaint. Aside from tender ribs and the usual rollercoaster of symptoms, you managed to get through the days with a general sense of ease. Having a household seeing to your daily needs, certainly allowed you to recover from your latest ordeal in peace.

The sadness did not lift but sort of...plateaued. A constant heaviness you learnt to carry. Though you wished the dismal forecast would pass sooner, rather than later. You fell into a comfortable enough routine, that allowed you to live, rather than just simply exist.

Each morning was met with a loving kiss to the brow and a Clark-mandated cuddle (EDS allowing), before you even fully woke up to take your first round of medication. It had to be said that your golden retriever partner was indeed, very enthusiastic when it came to any form of physical intimacy. From hugs to hand holding, the kryptonian all but melted into a gooey puddle of affection, whenever you touched him. Big or little spoon, he did not mind- he just constantly craved some form of closeness.

Breakfast, lunch and dinner consisted of three square meals, lovingly presented to you by your hosts, which you ate with a little more gusto, than had been mustered previously. In Martha's eyes, all progress was good. And if you managed one or two more bites than usual, then that was a win in her books. Of course, no one in the household drew attention to your ever-so-slightly increased appetite. It felt inappropriate to do so. Instead, they just smiled and happily plated any seconds you politely requested during the odd meal time.

By the evening, you either retired to bed early or relaxed with the family, in front of the television. Clark's Pa had a penchant for late night talkshows. So, you often ended up watching taped episodes of Kimmel or Colbert. Your beloved sometimes joined you both or opted to sit with you tucked safely by his side- book in hand, glasses perched on his nose out of habit, rather than visual assistance and wondering how he had gotten to be so blessed in this life.

One particular Thursday morning brought forth promises of admin, emails and zoom meetings. All of which you got through with minimal difficulties, bar the headache that had made its home within the confines of your skull.

Clark had been sat with you at the kitchen table, for the better part of the morning but calls with his own boss, now had him hauled up in the guestroom. With Jonathan Kent tending to the pigs, it was just you and Martha left in the kitchen.

"Do you ever miss going into the office?" she asked, taking care whilst retrieving a tray of freshly baked cookies out of the oven. Oatmeal and raisin, a particular favourite of her son. Every birthday, you had a tradition of buying an artisanal dupe from a local bakery and slipping it into Clark's lunch, for him to enjoy with his morning coffee. If Jenny was the one manning the till, she would even go the extra mile and write a message in icing for you.

"Sometimes. It can get a little lonely working from a kitchen table." you admitted, pausing in your current reply to a fairly disgruntled email from a client, to cast a glance at the older woman. Man, those cookies did smell good. "It's better now, though. I'm getting sick less by working remotely. There's no strain on my body from commuting. I'm more productive now, than I was before."

"It's good your workplace were so accomodating."

For once, luck had been on your side. Workplaces were generally not all that understanding when it came to disabilities. Like many avenues in society, those who needed extra requirements or modifications, where usually viewed as not beneficial to the capitalist hellscape, you now had to navigate on a day-to-day basis, if you had any hopes of earning a minimum wage. To the government, you were a drain on resources. To the average employer, you were a drain on their profit margins. It was a never-ending cycle of rejection letters and decreases in financial aid. Not that the system even gave you enough to get by on in the first place. But of course, everyone needed a scapegoat for their shortcomings. Targetting the most vulnerable in society was the easiest solution. "My boss is really understanding. She suffers from chronic back pain. So, we bonded over our respective bodies betraying us."

That earnt you a chuckle from Ma, as she ventured over with a steaming mug of (beverage name).

The day eventually retired to bed, allowing the night to clock on for its graveyard shift. Upon the stars and moon blanketing the clear skies of Smallville, your beloved decided that it was time to clock out for the evening. Whatever words still needed to be typed, would have to wait until the next rooster call. Pushing away from the worn desk, Clark navigated his childhood home on autopilot, his one track mind focused on you and you alone.

Your paths had crossed during lunch, since you both sychronised your breaks to coincide together. The dark-haired kryptonian had managed to coax you into splittling a sandwich with him. His cooking may not have been up to Ma's standards but sandwiches? Clark knew how to make two pieces of bread and some random filling from the fridge taste edible at least.

He always enjoyed those random snippets of domesticity with you throughout the work day. Moments of calm, where nothing beyond the window pane mattered except you and him. Where you would talk about everything and anything, yet nothing at all- forgotten anecdotes or comments on the weather. Never anything of any substance or weight. Just a stolen minute or two of peace before respective responsibilities spirited you away once more.

He found you still sat at the kitchen table, whiling away the hours, typing your hundredth correspondance of the day.

Sensing his presence, you dared to glance away from your screen. Heavy-lidded eyes met yours, as Clark casually leant against the doorframe, setting your heart aflutter. "Hey." he greeted you, voice a low rumble, as he refused to disturbed the serenity of the scene before him.

"Hey." you breathed, surveying his every move, as your boyfriend pushed away from his post and sauntered towards you.

With a brief scrape, a chair was pulled out from under the table and your beloved's proximity grew only closer. "Missed you." he admitted, all toothy-smiles and sickening earnestness. As if confessing something so sincere was the easiest thing in the world. Perhaps it was, when you constantly wore your heart on your sleeve.

Despite having seen him during your lunchbreak, Clark's absence suddenly felt amplified by his reappearance. It bloomed like an aching flower in your chest, hot and wet as blood. Seeping through the very fabric of your top, as your heart clawed- snarling and screaming- in the prison of your ribs, urging you to abandon your current assignment and show your lover, just how missed he had truly been.

Except, you remained rooted to the spot, unable to bring yourself to make the bold declaration of love, through the act of physical intimacy. Memories of your latest shared kiss flitted through your mind. The ghost of Clark beneath your fingertips, no matter how brief, would usually set your senses aflame but despite your heart's howling disappointment, you did not feel quite so ready to fling yourself into another embrace so soon.

You wanted him. Oh, by the light of the stars and the moon, you craved that man but not only did your body still need time to heal from its latest medical ordeal, unsaid words still hung between you. A conversation cut short by the treacherous sounding of a text alert. Your ribs were not the only part of you still recovering. Soon, you soothed your distraught heart, not yet but soon. I promise.

With a hushed call of your name, you were pulled away from your grumbling inner monologue and met with Clark's melted expression of singular adoration, reserved for you and you alone. "Are you doing overtime tonight?"

"No, just finishing this final email now." with a final click of the 'send' button, you were officially off the clock. Laptop lid closed, there was nothing stopping you from bestowing Clark with your undivided attention. "And done."

"Hey." he greeted you once again, you loved it when he became all dopey and besotted like this. Crows feet walking in the corner of each eye, as he gazed upon you, like you were something truly celestial.

"You already said that." you teased.

"Come here." he quietly beckoned you, a hushed command you seldom disobeyed. Taking your hand in his- he was so delightfully warm to the touch- you moved around the side of table, until you found yourself stood directly before him.

Crystal blue eyes surveyed you with a lazy hunger, as the corner of his mouth tilted into a easy grin. With his hair mused in that way that, made you want to gently tug at the curls, you did not think it possible for your golden retriever of a partner to be anymore enticing, yet you stood corrected. He looked mouth-wateringly alluring. Surely, you could allow yourself just a little taste?

On instinct, Clark met you halfway for a ardent kiss, full of restrained desire for more. Never one to take more than what was offered, the great love of your life savoured every second of your entangling. Letting the closeness of you overwhelm his senses. Drowning in your very presence. Before too long, you broke away from his touch but did not venture too far. Chest heaving, Clark dared to peck at your swollen lips once more, before be raspily begged, "Need you closer, sweetheart."

Urgh, how could you not allow yourself to be pulled into those arms you loved so much, as your beloved sat you so prettily upon his lap.

"Careful, I'm heavy." you warned, equally breathless, as your arms snaked around his neck

Eyes rolled in response, Clark chuckled at your trivial complaint. "Even if I hadn't literally lifted a skyscraper last week, I'd still disagree."

And you believed him, having witnessed the footage first hand on the news. "Show off." you playfully nudged him with your elbow.

Grinning at your joviality, Clark realised that...he had missed his side of you. Truly missed these fleeting snippets where all that mattered was to love and to be loved. Of course, he treasured every day with you but he also enjoyed sharing laughter, rather than just mutual sorrow. Conspiratorial smiles and private jokes helped sustain him in his own moments of darkness. Your smile, your laugh, your kisses- they left him feeling warmer than the sun.

Hands gently resting on your waist, he revelled in the sensation of you in his hold. Whilst not touch starved exactly, your boyfriend could certainly be described as 'affection esurient'. Hence the ritual of morning cuddles, that sometimes extended to him holding you, even while you brushed your teeth. Clark Kent was unashamedly clingy. "What's the number?"

"Five." you admitted, hoping it would remain a neutral enough digit. Any higher and you would be forced to retire for the night. You wished to avoid that at all costs. The demand to spend some quality time with your "martian man", had you threatening your body to keep its shit together for the remainder of the evening.

"We can work with that." he nodded, talking more to himself, than you. Coming back to you once more, the far off look in his eye dissipated, as Clark gently squeezed your hip. "Ma's having a night off cooking. So, I was going to get started on dinner. Wanna keep me company or go have a lie down?"

"I'll stay for a bit. I may end up migrating to the sofa eventually. Want me to help prep the (ingredient name)?"

"Sure, let me set you up with some stuff at the table."

Tick tick tick, the seconds hand of the clock moved steadily on by, while you whiled away the minutes, helping Clark prepare the various ingredients for dinner. A peaceful scene, calm. Both of you focused on the task at hand. Taking pause every so often, to glance away from your fulfilling work, to share a smile, a knowing look. Like the sands of time, your mind slipped away from the present and towards more pressing matters. "I can't remember the last time we cooked together like this." you commented, discarding another accumalated pile of vegetable pealings.

"It has been a hot minute." your beloved agreed, unaware of your growing turmoil. Or perhaps...being as perceptive as he was, he already knew of the words that fought for prominence on the tip of your tongue, falling over one another. Until finally, one of them broke free to wreck havoc on the calm, domestic tableau.

It felt wrong to sully the tranquil moment with questions still left unanswered but when would a better opportunity arise? Waiting any longer posed the risk of another phone call, a power-hungry tyrannt or another medical crisis, pulling focus once more away from the one thing that continuously plagued your mind...

"Hey, Clark?"

It was now or never.

"Hm?" he hummed in assent.

You were convinced someone had turned up the thermostat, as you found yourself overcome with a hot flush, that undoubtedly warmed your cheeks, leaving you feverish and bothered. Nervousness, you deduced, not from the impromptu flushing but definitely from the rapid increase of your heartbeat. You questioned if Clark, with his heightened senses, could hear it too? "Does it ever get annoying, having to pick up the slack for me all the time?"

The increased divot of a frown, formed between his brows, as the dark-haired kryptonian stilled in his current task, cooking utensil placed upom the hardwood table with an audible thud! Ocean eyes regarded you warily, in an attempt to assess the situation. "What do you mean?"

Wiping your clammy palms upon the material that covered your thighs, you noted how the action did nothing to stem the perspiration, that seemingly sprung up once more upon your skin. "Like, with the cooking, the laundry, the general upkeep of the apartment and...I can't even list it all, Clark. You do so much for me on a daily basis. Things that, if I weren't sick, I'd be doing myself without second thought."

"I'm not keeping a tab of everything, (y/n)." to a mere bystander, his tone would have read as resentful but you knew your lover better than that, what with being well versed in the gospel of Clark Kent. Offended? No. Hurt by the postulation? Most likely.

"I know you're not. You're selfless like that. But...I am. Keeping a tab, I mean."

"I'm not entirely selfless."

The scoff that escaped you was involuntary at best but still, the sentiment was valid. There were many words used to describe the "martian"- clumsy, kind, focused but selfish? You were surprised the word even existed in his vocabulary. The kryptonian was so considerate, you had often witnessed him literally tripping over his own feet, at the first sign of someone needing help.

Ms Oliver had been a victim of this particular chronic complusion...her carton of eggs had not survived Clark's attempt at being a helpful neighbour. "Oh, please-"

"No, it's true. I'm not being coy here, either. The things you mention benefit me too. A tidy home, food on the table- heck! Clean socks are a daily essential. I'd be doing these chores anyway, whether you were sick or not. You being "well" wouldn't automatically delegate you to being my maid."

It was clear that, Clark truly did not begrudge you needing the extra assistance around the house- that much was true but it begged the question, was he doing such chores out of love for you or because the word 'no', just did not seem to be in his daily vernacular? Were you just another duty for him to fulfil?

As Superman, no task was too big or too small. All that mattered, was keeping the city safe and happy. Despite claiming that he and his alter ego were two separate identities, you often wondered if there was overlap, a blurred line, that even Clark himself was unaware of, in which his sense of obligation fuelled his willingness to support you, rather that it being born out of love. "Do you ever feel like mine?"

"No, never." the slight shake of his head, dislodged some of the looser curls from their product-induced hold. It was borderline unfair how naturally disarming your beloved could be, just by merely existing. You thanked the stars that Ma and Pa had been the ones to raise him. With looks as alluring as his, coupled with a knowing ego? Clark Kent would have been a danger to society, not a saviour.

"But it must be draining sometimes, to come home after a long day and know that the work isn't over? You must feel some sort of resentment on occasion, towards my lack of contribution?"

That gave Clark pause, did it bother him? Whilst he did not tire as easily as his human counterparts, there were certainly nights he longed to return home, take refuge in your arms and maybe sleep for a thousand years. Days like that usually involved a takeaway or premade meal from the grocery store. Laundry would be cast aside until the next day. Although, on several occasions, you had taken it upon yourself to use your few spoons and put the load on yourself.

You did that a lot, he realised, just wordkessly got on with things because you were so used to pushing your body to the point of overexertion. It was second nature to you to hurt yourself in the name of ableism. How many times had society forced you to do more than your fair share, just so you could earn a proverbial seat at the table? "I mean, I'd be lying if I said I didn't get frustrated sometimes, sure but it's never directed at you personally. I get exasperated by how much effort you put into existing and yet, your body doesn't give you your just rewards. It hurts, seeing you suffer time and time again. Yet, you just have to roll with the punches. That, is where my annoyance stems from. Not you being able to stand long enough to do the dishes, which- by the way- is why we got the dishwasher installed in the first place. If able bodied people can rely on electrical appliances, so can you. There's no shame in that."

"But-"

"There's no 'but', (y/n). I know..." he sighed, air leaving his lungs in a single huff. Your constant waiting for him to abandon you, did sometimes have the dark-haired journalist considering if you actually wanted him around or not. There had been times, he hated to admit, where he wondered if one of these days, the push would be too much and the red thread that tied you together, would finally snap? Severing your connection. Such notions, Clark knew he would never voice aloud.

Allowing a mere glance in your direction, told him all that he needed to know, such a division would never occur, he would always come back to you. If the thread ever did break, he would find a way to fix it. Time and time again, if necessary. Whether with glye, tape or tying a knot, he would repair any rift between you. "I know you're constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. For me to just walk out on you one day but that's not going to happen. I'm not staying with you out of obligation or because I'm waiting around for a better offer."

"Do you ever wonder though, what life would look like if I wasn't chronically ill?" you asked, after a tenative pause. Unsure if you really wanted to know the answer but...there was only so long one could stay haunted by their biggest fear. You needed to know. Regardless of the words that would follow in response, you would finally be free from your doubt, from the poisonous voice in the back of your head, that whispered the worst, when such questions plagued your mind.

"From our very first date, you've always been transparent with me about the parameters of our dynamic. I've never been under any false pretenses of what our life would look like together. I don't feel duped o-or stuck with you out of obligation. I'm with you because I want to be." daring to be so bold, Clark took your hand in his. The familiar under oxygenated cold of your fingers, warming beneath his imploring hold. "I love you, (y/n). I'm so fricking in love with you." he choked out, overcome with an array of emotions, all of which warred within him, fighting for dominence in this torrid conversation. Love won the battle, he desperately hoped it would conquer the war.

"I...I just don't want..." you began, taking a moment to collect yourself. "At the hospitals," the image of him glaring at the doctors, incredulous at their blasé suggestions and indifferent care plans, played on loop in your mind. He never stopped caring, never got exasperated at you for being sick. Most did. You had seen more looks of disappointment, marr the features of those you called friends and family but Clark was yet to look at you in the same disdainful regard. It only felt like a matter of time before... "you advocate for me everytime and I know how disappointed you get, when I don't receive the help I need. That's all I can bring to the table, Clark. A life of disasterous appointments, cancelled plans and more bad days, than good. Surely, you want more from life than that?"

"I don't want or expect a lifetime of good days, (y/n). Sick or not, I'd be living a delusion, if I did. Yeah, I love it when you have the rare days, where pain is low enough for you to indulge without much consequence but I live for the smaller moments in between. Like when we tried those oatmeal cookies from that new bakery. Or when we stayed up late, binge-watching Happy Days, one random Tuesday. Or...or! Remember when we played Scrabble during that power outage?"

"When I won four times in a row?"

"Semantics." he scoffed, playfully before becoming serious once more. "My point is, I adore the quieter moments with you. Being Superman brings enough chaos into our lives. I cancel plans just as much as you do but you've never held that against me. So, I like that I get to come home and have a gentle routine. Cooking, sweeping the floor, cleaning out the lint trap- it grounds me, allows me to feel human and you have no idea how grateful I am for that. That's a blessing I wouldn't trade for anything." his steady gaze held yours, almost imploring you to finally take his word as oath. A spoken vow he hoped to one day say... "It's you, (y/n). It'll always be you. As long as you want me, I'm yours."

Glassy eyes surveyed over your beloved's earnest features, as you exhaled a shuddering breath. How couod you possibly argue with his logic and reasoning? You had asked for honesty and in his usual Clarkian fashion, your boyfriend had met your request with nothing but transparency. Whilst you may not have been wholly in agreement with his self-assessment, for being anything other than alturistically motivated, there was no doubt that the dark-haired journalist was completely devoted to you. To borrow a phrase from one of his favourite television show, Friends, you were his 'lobster'. "I'll always want you." you breathed, a watery smile upturning your lips.

Gods, it was like looking at a sunrise when he beamed at you, elated that you had chosen him too. As if there was ever any doubt that you would. You had never really stopped to consider if Clark worried about being "enough" for you too. You made a mental note to find more ways to remind him of just how precious he was to you. It was an honour to be adored by the kryptonian, a bestowal you did not take lightly. "Then, no more worrying about if I'm going to stick around. I'm here, (y/n). I'm all in."