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Summary: Helmut finds letters you thought you had hidden away. [WC 833] [Ao3]
Warnings: feelings?,fluff
He wasn’t looking for them. That’s the part that would matter later—when you stood there, heart halfway up your throat, watching the man who never missed anything hold pieces of you that were never meant to be seen.
It started innocently. A search for a misplaced file. A drawer opened without thought. Paper. Folded. Worn at the edges. Not official. Not coded. Not anything that belonged in his world.
Helmut paused. His fingers hovered for only a second before he picked them up. There was something about the weight—too light, too personal—that made his chest tighten in a way he didn’t quite understand.
He unfolded one.
And then he stilled.
Helmut,
I don’t know how to say this to your face without feeling like I’ve overstepped something sacred…
He didn’t breathe. Didn’t blink. The room—the carefully curated, controlled environment he existed within—fell away into nothing as his eyes scanned the page with terrifying precision.
Another letter. Then another.
Helmut,
You mean more to me than anything I've evr loved….
Each one dated.
Helmut,
How can i tell you how I feel….
Each one never sent.
Helmut,
I need you to know this….I see you in ways I have never seen anyone. You are the world to me in ways I cannot explain to you in person.
Each one… him.
You look lonelier when you think no one is watching.
I wish I could sit beside you without you pulling away.
I think I would stay, if you let me.
His grip tightened, the paper crinkling slightly between gloved fingers. You had seen him. Not the persona. Not the carefully constructed mask he offered the world. You had seen the quiet. The grief. The man he buried beneath control and calculation. And you had written to him like he was something fragile. Something worth loving.
The door creaked behind him. You froze when you saw him standing there. Saw what he was holding. Your blood ran cold. “…You weren’t supposed to find those.” Your voice came out smaller than you intended. Barely there.
But he heard it. Of course he did. Slowly he turned to face you. And there was something wrong in his expression. Not anger. Not amusement. Something deeper. More dangerous. “…No,” he said quietly. “I don’t believe I was.”
Another step toward you. Measured. Controlled. But his eyes—God, his eyes—were alive in a way you had never seen before. “You wrote these,” he continued, lifting one slightly, “with no intention of ever allowing me to read them.”
It wasn’t a question.
You swallowed. “They weren’t meant to… complicate things.”
A faint tilt of his head. "Complicate,” he repeated softly, like he was tasting the word. Then, quieter, “And yet they explain everything.”
That made your stomach drop. “What does that mean?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked back down at one of the letters. Thumb brushing over your handwriting. “I had wondered,” he murmured, “why you stayed.” Your breath hitched. “There was no logical reason. No advantage to be gained. No safety in proximity to a man like me.”
His gaze lifted to yours again. Sharp. Unrelenting. “And yet you remained.”
Another step closer. Now he was too close. Close enough that you could feel the shift in the air around him—the tension, the restraint barely holding.
“You cared for me,” he said.
Not a question. A realization. “And you chose silence.”
Your chest tightened. “I didn’t think—”
“No,” he cut in softly, though not unkindly. “You thought perfectly clearly.” His voice dropped, something almost intimate threading through it “You believed I would not return it.”
That silence? That was answer enough. For a moment, neither of you moved.
And then he exhaled. Slow. Controlled. Like he was steadying something that had been knocked dangerously off balance. “…You underestimate me.”
Your heart stuttered. “What?”
He folded the letters carefully like they were something precious, not something to be discarded. Then he stepped even closer, until there was nowhere left for you to retreat. “You saw me,” he said, voice quieter now. “More than anyone has in a very long time.” His gaze dropped briefly—to your lips, your hands, the space between you—before returning to your eyes. “And you wrote as though I was capable of being loved.”
There it was. That fracture in his composure. Small. Controlled. But real.
Your voice trembled. “You are.”
Something in him snapped—no, not snapped. Shifted. Decided.
His hand came up—hesitant for only a fraction of a second—before settling lightly against your jaw. Not forceful. Not possessive. But certain. “You should have given these to me,” he said.
You barely breathed. “Why?”
And that, that earned you the faintest, most dangerous hint of a smile. Because it wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was the kind of expression that meant he had reached a conclusion—and nothing would move him from it.
“Because,” Helmut said quietly, “I would have answered.”
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Summary: well, you certainly believe in deities now.
warnings: Graphic Smut, Dom!Thor. Filthy Smut, Sex in a Church, Blasphemy, Masturbation/Mutual Orgasm
WC: 287
Read on ao3! Tag List
Tugging at your ponytail, he yanks your head back, resting on his shoulder as he leans forward to whisper in your ear, “say it again,” he purrs, causing a whimper to slide out between your teeth.
“I need you,” a beg ripples through your tongue. He’s the only god you need. Fuck the holy Spirit. “Please, Thor, please,”
A rough grunt spills from his lips, snagging his hand away from your cunt to glide up your midriff before tweaking at your breast, pinching a nipple. You could feel the smirk gloss his mouth as his head falls against your spine with each thrust of his hips. Your vision blurs as he whispers against your skin, “you want me to fuck you harder, saint?”
WIth vigor, you nod, an inviting moan falls past the back of your throat, causing his cock to twitch inside of you.
“Oh, precious little girl,” he coos, leaning his head next to your ear, “how does it feel to seee a God for all he’s worth, hmm? Oh, the sinner sins, hmm?”
A boistroius whine escapes your lips once more, lip quivering at the soft voice next to you as you allow your head to fall forward, his thrusts rocking your body on the cold stone steps of the church. Thank the heavens for he cover of hte night.
“Oh, my gods,” a stutter climbs its way pass the moans from your chest as you clench his cock so tightly inside you, causing him to erupt moments later.
“That’s right, my girl,” he hums in pleasure as he feels you tighten around his body, ending in a moan himself as he thrusts harder inside you before meeting your end. “You belong to me.”
Summary: You realize the nice guy in the office knows more about you than you'd ever though possible. [WC 1.1K] [Ao3]
Warnings: Dark! Clark Kent, Stalker!Clark Kent, angst, stalking
Request @clarkswhore-jpeg Hi lovely!! For your 3k celebration, would you happen to be okay with writing DCU Clark Kent? If so, then what about this prompt: [#8] "You looked happiest last October. Blue sweater. Coffee in your left hand. I was right there."?? Absolutely adore your writing. P.s. still thinking about that Thor x Nurse!Avenger fic you wrote... Lord Almighty he is so FOINE.
3K Writing Challenge
The first time he says it, you think he’s joking. Because it’s Clark Kent. Sweet, awkward, Kansas-farm-boy Clark Kent with the gentle smile and the careful way he moves through crowded rooms like he’s worried about bumping into people. The one who brings extra pastries to the office because someone mentioned liking blueberry once.
So when he’s standing in the doorway of your apartment, shoulders nearly filling the frame, glasses slightly crooked on his nose, and he says—
“You looked happiest last October.”
—you blink at him. “…What?”
Clark’s gaze softens like he’s remembering something fond. “Blue sweater,” he says quietly. “Coffee in your left hand. It was raining. You were standing outside that little café on 8th. I couldn’t stop watching as you waited for the bus.”
Your stomach tightens. You’ve been to that café. A lot.
“…Clark,” you say slowly, “that was months ago.”
His head tilts slightly. “I know.”
The way he says it makes your skin prickle. Because he doesn’t sound embarrassed. He sounds certain.
You give a small, uneasy laugh, leaning against the kitchen counter. “You’ve got a really good memory.”
Clark steps inside your apartment. You don’t remember inviting him in. The door clicks shut behind him. “It isn’t memory,” he says gently.
Your fingers tighten around the mug in your hands. “…Then what is it?”
Clark’s eyes flicker over you. Not casually. Not politely. Slowly. Carefully. Like he’s comparing you to something. “Observation.”
Your pulse jumps. “You… observed me drinking coffee last year?”
“Yes.” His answer comes too quickly. Too simply. Like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
You set your mug down. “…Why?”
Clark is quiet for a moment. Then he takes a step closer. The floor barely creaks under his weight. “You smiled that day,” he says.
Your chest tightens. “I smile a lot.”
“Not like that.”
Another step closer. “You had just read something on your phone. A message, I think. Your shoulders relaxed at whoever was texting you.” He lifts a hand slightly, like he’s tracing the memory in the air. “You tucked your hair behind your ear and looked up at the rain.” Your breath catches. “You closed your eyes for a second.”
The room suddenly feels too small. Too quiet.
Clark’s voice lowers. “You looked peaceful.”
You stare at him. “How do you know that?”
Clark doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he studies your face like he’s reading something only he can see. “You don’t look like that much anymore.”
Your heart thumps. “That’s… a weird thing to say.”
Another step. Now he’s only a few feet away. “You work too much,” he says softly. “You sleep less than five hours most nights. Your heart rate spikes when your phone buzzes.”
Your mouth goes dry. “…Clark.”
“You skipped lunch today.” The air leaves your lungs. “And yesterday.”
Your brain scrambles. “How would you—”
“I hear it.” Your voice cracks. “…Hear what?”
Clark finally lifts his eyes fully to yours. And for the first time since you’ve known him— there is nothing shy in them. “I hear everything.” The words land heavy between you. The refrigerator hums. A car passes outside. Clark takes another slow step closer. “You were happiest last October,” he repeats quietly.
Your back presses against the counter now. “…Why are you telling me this?”
Clark studies you for a long moment. Then his hand lifts. Your heart stops when his fingers brush the sleeve of your sweater. “You wore this one today,” he murmurs.
Your throat tightens.
“It looked good on you then, too.”
You swallow hard. “Clark… this is starting to feel a little—”
“I was right there.”
Your breath stutters. “You… what?”
Clark’s voice is calm. Matter-of-fact. “Across the street.”
Your skin goes cold. “You were standing under the café awning,” he continues. “You almost spilled your coffee when someone bumped into you.” You remember that. You do. “And I caught the cup before it hit the ground.”
Your mind scrambles through the memory. You remember the cup tilting. You remember it not falling. You thought— You thought you’d caught it. “…That was you?”
Clark smiles faintly. “Yes.”
Your pulse pounds in your ears. “Why didn’t you say anything?” His gaze darkens slightly. “I wasn’t ready yet.”
A long silence fills the apartment. “…Ready for what?”
Clark finally steps close enough that you can feel the warmth coming off him. His voice drops. “To introduce myself.”
Your stomach flips. “That’s… not normal, Clark.”
“I know.” He says it so easily. Like he’s already accepted that part.
Your fingers grip the counter behind you. “So what—you’ve just been watching me for a year?”
Clark’s eyes soften. “Longer.”
Your breath catches. “…What?”
“You moved into this apartment two years ago,” he says gently. “You cried the first few nights because you felt lonely. Because you’d just wished thigns had goen differently with your ex.”
Your heart slams against your ribs. “How—”
“You dropped a box in the hallway.” Your chest tightens. “Your neighbor helped you pick it up.”
Clark’s voice lowers. “You thanked him three times.”
Your legs feel weak. “You remember… all of that?”
Clark looks at you like the answer should be obvious. “Of course I do.” The room feels suddenly very, very small.
“Clark,” you whisper, “that’s not normal.”
His expression softens almost sadly. “I know.” His hand finally settles against the counter beside yours. Not touching. Just there. “You looked happiest last October,” he repeats quietly.
Your heart pounds. “Why does that matter so much to you?”
Clark watches you like you’re the only thing in the world. “Because I decided something that day.”
Your throat tightens. “…What?”
Clark’s voice drops to something deep. Certain. “That it’s my job to make sure you look like that again.”
Your breath catches. “That’s not your—”
“I can fix it.” The calm confidence in his voice is terrifying. “You’re tired because people keep hurting you. Stressing you. Taking things from you.”
Your pulse spikes. “Clark…”
“I can stop that.” He leans down slightly so his voice is softer. Closer, his mouth is barely inches from your ear.. “They don’t have to be a problem anymore.”
Your heart stutters. “…What does that mean?”
Clark studies your face. Then he smiles. Not shy. Not awkward. Something far more dangerous. “It means,” he says gently, “I’ve been paying attention.”
And suddenly you realize something that makes your stomach drop. Clark Kent didn’t start watching you last October. That’s just the day you happened to accept the fact that your life would be a lot better alone. He’d already been there long before that.
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Started this blog to get a handle on my fics. I realised I've been quite messy with reblogging all of my fics on my main @castielscaplan and i wanted to clean it up a bit. This space is solely for my own fics.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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updated June 14 2026. Going through some of the lists sporadically and placing dialogue prompts in their respective sections. My focus this time around is enemies/lovers prompts.
PLEASE reblog if you use any of these/wanna share with your writer friends!!
