#*indentation (not intention)

[creaturefeaster]

all drawn with my stupid broken mouse so it's no masterwork but still. here take it!!!!!

[freefallfiction]

Pendulum: Prologue- A Peak Of Claire's Diary

They think in straight lines. It’s a weakness—this pedestrian, plodding kind of logic. Step by step, A to B, like little toy soldiers marching in time. But I don't see lines. I see webs, threads connecting every thought to an endless series of possibilities, all tangled but elegant, glittering with potential. It's like weaving stars into constellations, but only I know how to see them.

It's not that they can’t learn, not that they’re slow—no, even Reid, with his encyclopedic memory, is still stuck in the same labyrinth as everyone else. He doesn’t even realize it. His brilliance is bound by rules, by structure. He’s confined by his mind’s meticulous order. And there’s beauty in that, I suppose, but what’s the point of a flawless machine if you don’t know how to break it?

I learned that early. In kindergarten, while the others fumbled with blocks, I saw the way patterns formed naturally, spiraling out like the Fibonacci sequence hidden in nature. How each person, every single one of them, followed predictable rhythms. I watched, I catalogued. Then I began to manipulate. Shift the rhythm, change the pattern, and they’d break—crumble like brittle glass. The look in their eyes when I did it... confusion, fear. They didn’t understand why, but it didn’t matter. I didn’t need them to.

I loved it. I loved the power of knowing I was different, superior. It made the loneliness bearable. No one could come close to seeing the world as I did, and that isolation, that separation—it wasn’t a curse. It was a gift. A glittering, sharp-edged secret that sliced me away from their dull, gray world. I could see the pathways no one else could, turn their every assumption inside out without lifting a finger. My thoughts are a symphony, each note twisting in perfect harmony, building to crescendos no one else hears.

Children never understood. Of course they didn’t. They found me strange, unsettling, because they couldn’t see it. The beauty, the intricacy. I would sit there, staring at their faces, tracing the patterns of their facial tics and nervous blinks. I’d speak in ways they couldn’t follow, asking questions that weren’t really questions, and they’d shrink away, afraid. But how could I explain it to them? How could they ever grasp the way my brain spirals and leaps, while theirs are trapped in rigid, linear pathways?

Even now, when I close my eyes, I can feel the whirl of it—the chaos, the endless connections forming and breaking in an instant. It's why I don’t fear Reid. He’s brilliant, yes, but he’s grounded, tied to reality by those facts and figures. But me? I’m free. My mind doesn’t stop. It doesn’t need boundaries or facts to anchor it. That’s my power, the thing that separates me from everyone else, from even him.

And when I see him, when I watch his lips move to explain the obvious, I feel it—this heady, electric thrill coursing through my veins. Because he’ll never know how much farther I can go. He'll never see the webs I weave, the traps I set with every word, every calculated silence. He might solve puzzles, but I create them. And the best part? He doesn’t even know he’s playing my game.

[keepyourpantsongohan]

Ayesha Liveblogs Attack on Titan S4

Heading into the next season b4 I can think too much about it

Who are any of these soldiers? What an abrupt change in narration, considering Armin has done every intro until now

“Wasn’t I just flying around with a couple of swords in my hands? And there were Titans too.” That is also what I’m wondering, Falco 

“The successor to the Armoured Titan.” PARDON?? ALSO DOES REINER HAVE A BEARD NOW??? THAT’S NEW

So wait, if the loss of Bertholdt and Annie’s Titans are what caused the war, does that mean this war has been going for a year, since the battle of Shiganshina? Or has more time elapsed that I’m not aware of

“This war has dragged on for four years now.” I guess that answers my earlier question, assuming my premise was true

I must once again offer a hearty ‘Military bad’ to all of this:

“Look, Colt, you’re the chosen successor of the Beast Titan.” How do ur Titan soldiers feel exactly when u tell them u’ve chosen who’s gonna eat ‘em

"Honestly, you might never find a warrior candidate who is as talented as me.” What I would give for Gabi’s level of unwavering self-confidence 

“I don’t shoot kids,” said an adult, for the first time ever in the history of this show

Honestly, the context that Reiner, Annie and Bertholdt knew about the outside world and then still chose to make things worse for the people already living in Titan Hell Island just makes them harder to understand

[Zeke yells out of a blimp] [Dozens of parachuting Titans are created mid-air] So the Beast Titan ability is just to fucking??? Yell people into Titans??? ZEKE WHAT ON EARTH

This does explain where all of those Titan ppl were coming from in Shiganshina tho

“I’m sick and tired of all these walls.” Is that why you kept destroying them, Reiner?????? 

As a sidenote, now that there are visibly brown people on screen: The ONLY action anime that hasn’t made me feel weird about their brown-skinned characters is Bleach; granted I haven’t watched that many shows, but the depiction in AOT is about as yikes as I expected 

[ATLA voice] “Did Reiner just die?” “You know, it was really unclear.”

“My father, Grisha Jaeger, set something great and terrible in motion on that island, and as his former son, I would like to be the end of it,” said Zeke, like he had nothing to do with anything terrible happening on Paradis and as if he can renounce paternity like a belief system

So it’s not a known factor that Zeke has royal blood? Also why is royal blood so important in this show lmao like isn’t a king just whoever conquered ur country most recently

Ymir confirmed for bury ur gays (poor Historia) but when one female Titan disappears, another one must apparently reappear 

Also weird that there have been a number of Titans who are women but Annie gets to hold the Female Titan title just cause her Titan got tiddies 

Reiner being an older brother figure to these Other Military Kids gives me acid reflux why am I compelled to have stake in someone who has done so many wrongs 

“Surpass Gabi to protect her.” You see, ACID REFLUX

Also nausea-inducing: The transparent H******** analogies!! WHY

We interrupt this griping to notice: IS THAT EREN IN MARLEY WITH THE BLINDFOLD? THAT LOOKS LIKE EREN’S HAIR

Setting other things aside, that they had to have Reiner’s uncle say “Sorry nephew,” as a way to intro the fact that Reiner and Gabi are cousins is funny, bc no one would say that, why not just have Reiner say “Uncle”????

Because they’ve yet to check in at all with what has been going on on the island, it really does feel like a whole different spin-off

Annie’s being able to summon Pure Titans confirmed as a Female Titan ability

“Well, I’m running away as fast as I can,” said Reiner’s father, summing up the attitude of almost every parental figure on this show

Mad relate to Reiner becoming reliable to fulfill a need in the team

Reiner, Annie and Bertholdt don’t look older than 12 in the flashback, why must the core force of these armies always be pubescent 

What even was the point of Annie tracking Kenny? Bc he was Uncle Uri’s BF?

“His legs are saying it’ll snow today, right?” “Yeah, but his torso’s saying clear skies.” Thomas and Connie using Bertholdt’s sleep positions to predict the weather 😭😭😭😭😭 Boys ur friend is a douche

“Thing is, I don’t want this other candidate to be picked.” “Why not? Is this rival of yours a girl by chance?” It’s DEFINITELY Eren, and wow, Eren assuming the only reason u would not want ur friend to be a Titan is bc she’s a girl, quit projecting ur life onto Falco 

How exactly is Eren missing a leg can he STOP himself from regenerating? 

Also whose idea was it for Eren to be at exactly the place that wants to kill him the most kjghkgjh what kinda weirdass plan 

“I’m doing this for you!” “He really just up and said it!” The guards being invested in Gabi and Falco’s potential tween romance 

I really cannot follow the Commander and Willy’s conversations, are they going to overthrow the governments of the world orrrrrr

“My name’s Jaeger, I’m an internment zone physician.” Oh my god, Eren’s meeting his grandpa 

Ah, so Eren’s crazed rambling is hereditary, I guess

“I think I know why [this woman would save me]! She must be an Easterner from Hizuru.” Dshkjdhkfjh u must be East Asian in this Marleyan society in order to acquire empathy

Perplexed by the man in the kaffiyeh holding alcohol but perhaps that’s on me for not interrogating my own preconceived notions

“I got [Reiner] to come!” announced Falco to Eren excitedly, not knowing that he was facilitating a meeting of probably the two least sane people in the world at the moment 

Lmao @ the sudden content warning on episode 64, like should I be newly worried

“What do you plan to do?” “The exact same thing you did. As for why? That’s the same too.” Incredible that all it takes to threaten Reiner is ‘I’m rubber you’re glue’ (also yikes at Eren implying he’s gonna fuck-up one third of Reiner’s country) 

“I feel like I’ve seen you before.” Me too Pieck, I think Shady Helmet is Annie, and I love that for her 

Falco’s lesson of the day: Stranger Danger 

What exactly has Eren been doing the past four years that he now views himself as a villain and Willy feels confident to label him as such in a crowd of the whole world 

“If all that was to save the world, then you didn’t have much choice,” said Eren, even though Reiner definitely did, and Eren definitely does now (military bad!!!)

Eren has defeated Reiner through the power of empathy and 10 years of deep-seated psychological trauma 

“If I escaped while my people died en masse, the world would not rally to our cause.” Willy Tybur really willingly offered himself and a bunch of civilians to die to both smoke out Eren and to start a world war. And Eren really went through it, knowing he would be offering the first blow in the war, and killing a bunch of people of his same heritage! A game of cat and also cat (war crime edition)

“But I’m just as sure that we’re devils ourselves.” Who’s he calling the devils? Him and Tybur? The military? Non-Eldians as a whole? Commander Magath’s vibes are constantly oscillating, what’s his deal

I’m going to guess that the War Hammer Titan is Finé, since she is the only Tybur child to get a name 

Update from 6 minutes later: It’s Auntie War Hammer, actually

The parallels between Udo and Eren trying to lift something off of their loved ones who have been crushed by debris. Sickening 

Is it wrong to be happy that the Scouts are finally showing up? I mean, everyone is clearly on Murder Avenue, but hey, they are the protagonists 

“You’ve killed so many civilians. Innocent people. Kids.“ Not to be pedantic, Mikasa, but he did that in Stohess like five years ago with Annie, that ship has sailed 

Fascinated by everyone’s new looks now that they’ve abandoned most of their morality - not loving the slicked hair and goatee for Jean but Mikasa’s hair is fun 

“Are a bunch of humans... really about to come and kill me?” U can’t put people on Titan Hell Island for 100 years and expect them not to learn how to kill Titans 

“Stay alive; that’s an order.” Levi's steadfast look and personality are a welcome constant

I’m like, pretty convinced Eren is going to die at some point in this season, he seems pretty down and out and Armin ain’t the narrator for nothing 

Oh hey, speaking of Armin, been a while since we’ve seen you, your hair looks nice but I guess you are also Unwell™

Did Levi just detonate a bomb on Zeke’s Titan face while he was still standing on it, what kinda wild tactics

“Did I hesitate because of that kid?” We’ll call it a mild victory that we didn’t have to watch Jean murder a child in cold blood

Wow the scouts have blimps now? They’ve really seen some benefit from travelling across the sea; decades of knowledge in five years

But seriously what the fuck did Eren, Armin and Mikasa DO in the past four years that caused them to look so haunted? I get that they’re fucked up by what they’re doing NOW but it seems like a pre-existing condition

“You have a real kickable face, you know that?” Ah, it seems that Eren did not have permission to go live in a place where people wanted to eat him

“We’ve fought the New Eldian Empire’s first battle, and it ended in Victory.” Guess Titan Hell Island has decided to embrace their title as Eldians? They didn’t even know what that was five years ago jghjgh

“Honestly, I’m just glad that we made it. I know this isn’t fair to the others, but you guys will always be special, to me.” Connie treating being close friends with Sasha and Jean like it’s a betrayal to the military kjhgjkhg

“Mr. Zeke was killed right in front of us.” Oh so Zeke’s like, dead dead?

“You’re one of the good ones.” Again, I want to emphasize how much I hate everything that’s happening right now

YIKES @ Sasha being shot by a child, are they gonna kill Gabi now?

Once again I must be thankful that Jean doesn’t love murder

Whomst the heck is Yelena, I thought we would be seeing an Annie comeback?? RIP

“Quite the performance, coming from a mangy furball.” SO WE’RE WORKING WITH ZEKE NOW? THE HELL IS GOING ON 

“You noticed that trend [of rescuing Eren] and used it against us. Held yourself hostage to force our hand.” Both more manipulative and shrewd than I have come to expect from Eren; growth??????

I suppose we’re going to find out whomst the heck Yelena and Onyankopon are

“I was concerned for Historia’s safety.” Eren what happened to youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu three years ago you were all still relatively.... yourselves

“Welcome to our defiled island of filth-blooded devils, you’re gonna to love it here.” Again, thank u to Levi for being who he is

“But as we gradually set aside the labels we have for one another, and worked to see each other as people, we can reach an understanding.” SCOOOOUTS WHAT HAPPENED TO UUUUUUUUUUUU WHERE ARE THE TEENS WHO PLAYED IN THE SEAAAAA

“Thank you for every tasty meal you made for her.” Ahhh Nicolo loved Sasha even despite their different upbringing that’s so sad

“Right, Annie? Say something, please.” Can’t remember if I brought this up when Armin first ate Bertholdt but imo it’s been an underpinning of Armin’s actions throughout the series that he has some deeper feelings for Annie, so it is not lost on me that both vessels of the Colossal Titan have liked Annie

It tickles me every time Hange calls Eren out for his crazed muttering

I can’t believe the pay-off for Mikasa being the only East Asian person on this island is that she’s a lost princess but of course, why not? 

“But I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect match than you.” Okay Historia, I see your subtle flirt with Mikasa, I am not opposed to wlw princess vibes 👀👀👀👀👀👀

“Zeke will pass on the Beast Titan to an individual who has royal blood, and that person must spend the 13 years they’ll have left bearing as many children as possible.” Gross. Also if this so-called royal blood is so important, it really should be Zeke who fucks as many child-bearing people as possible bc someone with functioning testes can typically make waaaaaaaaaaaaay more babies in that time than someone with a uterus 

EUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I HATE THAT HISTORIA IS HAVING A BABY JUST FOR MILITARY PURPOSES; GROSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh wait, she chose to find a partner and get pregnant in opposition to the military’s timeline? Hmmmm, still hate it 

Hahahaha I guess now we know why everyone’s so much beefier, they were building railroads

“You brats got taller. It’s like you’re sprouting up just to spite me.” Hahaha Levi 

Eren’s friends all going around and offering to be his Titan heir (and, as a result, EAT HIM) is so fucking funny, Jean being too smart, Connie and Sasha being too dumb, Mikasa being too valuable (not to mention the fact she could never eat Eren jkhgkjhg)

“Because you’re important to me. More than anyone ese. I hope... you’ll live long lives.” [Eren’s entire friend group blushes] I too wonder, Jean, what the hell kind of mood they’re trying to set here kjhgkhgkgh

Jean raises a very fair point about Eren not caring who lives or dies if he’s willing to send his whole friend group into battle 

Tho as a counter to Connie, he of all ppl should recognize laughter as a trauma response 

Like, laughing is exactly what Eren did when Hannes died, and he was definitely mourning then

Also good that we are finally getting some Current Emotional Narrative Focus on the literal PROTAGONISTS 

“All are welcome at the Braus Stables,” I can’t believe Sasha’s parents are taking in the kid who killed their daughter oh nooooooooo

Wow Louise, what an unexpected callback to the evacuation of Trost

“But [the invasion of Marley] was recent, and my mother was killed four whole years ago.” Kaya is also an unexpected callback, but damn, I don’t think u can talk Gabi out of her dedication to generational sin 

Side note: The legacy of Sasha rescuing a child vs the child who murdered her, super fucked up 

“You don’t have to apologize for Marley, you just happened to be born there.” Kaya killing Gabi with kindness

Incredibly pot-kettle for Reiner to have any objection to Zeke defecting lmao he did exactly what you did, dude 

“Well, you are a boy at that age; I bet you’d like to do all kinds of ‘discovering’ with Annie, if you could.” On one hand, Hitch u right, on the other hand, Armin would never get involved-involved with Annie unless it was reciprocated, and on a foot, he’s like 20 now right? Shouldn’t he have a grasp on his hormones by this point hgjhgkjhg

Yelena’s description of Eren’s divine fury is truly filling in the Venn diagram of Death Note and AOT fans huh

“You’re right that there would be no harm in letting us talk to him, so why would [Premier Zachary] forbid it?” My current guess is he’s testing how well Armin and Mikasa will abide by military orders

Well, Armin’s guess is usually better than mine, so I guess it’s Plan E(at Eren)

Did Eren just bisect the Premier?????????? Eren, once again I am asking, what the fuck??????????????

“We believe that whoever delivered the chair must’ve planted a bomb in it.” Oh good, it was not Eren, but it was probably those fanatic scout recruits 

“Armin. The hell is going on right now?” Same, Mikasa, same 

On a more lighthearted note, was the timeskip (aside from being a shorthand for large leap in character motives) mostly to age and beef Eren up, because it would’ve been harder to pull off this Messiah on the Hill moment if Eren were still a skinny fifteen-year-old?

“But as a result [of adapting to turbulent times] our prestige has been reduced to the point where we’re now derided as a pack of wretched, money-grubbing vixens.” Hey now, Lady Azumabito, what’s wrong with being a money-grubbing vixen

“Armin and I were there when the bomb went off; we almost got killed by the blast.” But whether Eren instigated the assassination or not (I suspect not) seriously I do not fuck with any version of Eren that would let Armin or Mikasa die what happened to the boy who was ready to have an all-out brawl with Levi on the chance Armin could get to live?????

Another mild bit of knowledge I recently had was that Eren would eventually look older and have long hair. In S3 Part II, I was incredibly convinced that that would come as a result of defection based on Armin’s death. And I’m not saying timeskips are always pointless, but they are often used to get around the fact the character you wrote just Wouldn’t Do That

Eughhhhhh they are finally explaining how Zeke has been long-distance Titan transforming, poor Ragako and Connie :(

“And seeing as you murdered every person who lived there, you should learn the name, you bearded shit.” Levi is the only person in this show that gives me any kind of peace

HAHAHAHAHA a moment of recognition for this dialogue (it’s me I’m the ladies - also RIP Petra)

Zeke: Doubt you were well-liked by the ladies. Considering how you think you know what everyone else is feeling.

Levi: I do know. And I was liked enough. So.

Zeke, who has never been liked by a lady, bitterly: Well, good for you!

“Guess that makes us even, you Eldian devil.” 1) The fuck, Nicolo 2) Is that wine poisoned or smth

Update from 7 minutes later: Yes, but also no 

Well I think with Gabi’s murderous monologue there goes the last of whatever sanity Nicolo had left

The Scouts still not wanting harm to come to Gabi despite her killing their friend :(

The way that Mr. Braus is holding that knife against his fingers really looks like he’s about to cut his hand a la the Titan Gang but that would be an abrupt change of scene 

“Way I see it, when it comes to shoulderin’ the sins and hatreds of the past, that burden should fall to adults like you and me.” MR. BRAUS <3

Kaya’s murderous rage about Sasha was entirely expected but still sad

So like...... everyone in the military who drank that wine will become a Titan whenever Zeke wants? HORRIFYING

“What the hell became of the hope we all looked towards?” Oh don’t worry Levi, things are about to get much, much worse 

“Why would I want that? Always with the killing. It’s like it’s all you ever think about. Just like someone else I know.” Armin said: Gabi, you remind me of my BFF Eren, who also loves murder <3

Eren said: Speak of the devil and he doth appear

Floch has never had a good opinion in his whole damn life, everything he says, I’m like ‘go fuck yourself, Floch’

“And you wouldn’t put us at risk either. You care about us more than anyone!” THAT’S WHAT I’M SAYING MIKASA (itslazywriting.jpg)

“Then part of you has become Bertholdt. Within you is an enemy, who has feelings for another enemy.” I think Armin had feelings for Annie pre-eating Bertholdt, but maybe that’s just me 

Eren calling Mikasa, a survivor of human trafficking, a slave, is gross as hell. Eren can go fuck himself too. WHAT HAPPENED TO ‘YOU’RE IMPORTANT TO ME!’ THESE ARE YOUR FRIENDS, MAN!!!!!!!! THE NARRATIVE HAS YET TO GIVE ME A GOOD JUSTIFICATION FOR WHY YOU’RE SUCH A DICK NOW

“The mere sight of you has always made me so damn angry. And now I finally know why. I just couldn’t stand to look at a slave with no mind of her own, who always followed orders without question.” SHUT THE FUCK UP EREN, ARMIN AND MIKASA WERE YOUR FRIENDS FOR YOUR ENTIRE CHILDHOOD, AND YOU LOVED THEM, DUMBASS

“Believe me when I say this, Mikasa. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve hated you.” I will note that Eren and Mikasa’s relationship has always had a weird tone bc Mikasa was exuding a ‘siblings by chance <3 lovers by choice’ energy but Eren, despite not responding to those feelings, LOVED HER AS A FRIEND! WHAT HAPPENED TO THE GUY WHO VOWED TO PROTECT MIKASA AND DISCOVERED HIS COORDINATE POWERS IN AN EFFORT TO PROTECT HER???? WHY ARE WE IGNORING THE PAST THREE SEAAAAAAASONSSS UGH

HONESTLY? GOOD FOR ARMIN, I’D ALSO PUNCH EREN!!!!!

“Is there any wine left?” “Of course not, we’ve been here a month, there’s not a single drop left.“ If Levi becomes a Titan or is killed I will riot. This show is already hot wet garbage, I can’t see it getting any better in the remaining half season

Thank god for Levi, who has done so many wrong things, but has principles, and I love him with my whole dumbass heart 

“I want you to beat up the Commandant here mercilessly until he can’t stand anymore.” Eren and Floch 2022 for the Worst President and Vice President that any nation has ever seen 

Update from two years later: I can’t believe I am STILL watching this stupid fucking show

“Your throw has some serious heat behind it, Zeke!” You’re telling me that Zeke’s entire Titan fighting style and ideology is based on the fact that he’s good at baseball and Ksaver zoned in on his daddy issues

“The truth is, [your parents] never loved you,” said Ksaver to Zeke, in what might be a true statement, but still probably is something you shouldn’t say to a child 

So given his youth respective to Annie & co., Zeke is supposed to be what, max 10 years older than Eren? He’s 30? He’s aged like sour milk 

“Would it be possible for the Founder to make it so that none of us can have children anymore?” What’s the endgame of this eugen!cs plotline 4 real bc it makes me want to throw up

So Zeke’s plan... is to have Eren... enforce eugen!cs by way of mass sterilization????? Why would someone write this story? Why am I still watching this story? I hate it, I hate it so much 

“If the Eldians in this town had never been born, then none of them would have to suffer and die in the plan that you and I are about to carry out,” said Eren, like he and Zeke weren’t 100% responsible for each and every suffering from hereon out 

WHY DO PEOPLE IN REAL LIFE HAVE EREN POSTERS ON THEIR WALLS?? EREN GIVE ME SOME HOPE UR NOT ENTIRELY THE WORST AND YOU’VE GOT SOME OTHER OBJECTIVE OR PLAN IN MIND, PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!! 

Me, still trying to finish this show despite the bone arsenic it gives me every episode:

I still don’t think Levi is dead despite being exploded upon (twice), however he dies (as I’m almost sure he will), he’s gonna go out fighting 

Now that I think about it, I assume he will fight Eren, and I hope he kicks him in the ass

“Assuming that he hasn’t just lost it, I don’t see him [hurting Armin and Mikasa] without having some kind of reason.” Finally, a word of sense. Jean and Levi 2022 for a Government Which Still Probably Sucks, But At Least The Public Can Trust That They Have Some Kind of Sense of the Common Good 

I can’t believe Gabi is STILL holding onto the Good Eldian/Bad Eldian dichotomy in spite of everything she’s seen

“But to think that your cause was so noble. It just touched my heart!” I am assuming Armin’s crocodile tears to Yelena also have some greater plot purpose

Eren said: Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal Pieck 

Turns out, I was wrong. Levi is dead. THANKS FOR NOTHING, AOT

WAIT, HANGE TOOK HIM, I’M HOLDING OUT MINIMAL HOPE

“I saw a girl I didn’t know, sculpting the earth to reform my body.” Queen Ymir, I guess? 

“I don’t trust Marley one bit. Having said that, I trust the comrades who fought at my side completely.” Pieck as the only person in this dumbass military who has some perspective

They really do just breeze past Gabi being chained to Pieck’s severed hand LMAO, where does the cuff go?

Yelena’s learning of Eren’s no. 1 skill: Not listening to anyone

“Who else could talk Marley into doing something so stupid?” Firstly, pot-kettle, Eren, and secondly, yeah, sounds about right. Reiner and Eren remain the most out of their minds of anyone in this whole show

Magath really talking about bringing an end to 2,000 years of hatred like Marley had nothing to do with it 

I’m not sure what the Jaegerists were expecting, their artillery isn’t really designed to fight people one-on-one

“I’d like to hear [Onyankopon] out at least. ‘Kay?” Armin’s kekkei genkai is immeasurable patience. My god

“[...] That the world is more interesting with different kinds of people. I think you believe that. And I think that belief goes against everything Zeke’s doing.” I just don’t understand what the end game is here! Like, what is the point!!!!!!!! What are you trying to say!!!!!!!!! 

“Do you actually believe Eren wants to stop all Eldians from having children? You honestly think he’d go along with that?” NO ARMIN, THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN SAYING FOR THE LAST HALF SEASON

All this said: Starting to lose my faith, buddy, seems a little too optimistic at this point

Fnfjnfjfnf Eren’s friends said: I’ll rescue him, but I’m not happy about it

Poor Falco and Nile, hate that that they’re sitting in a dungeon, waiting to be turned into Titans. Zeke, ur the worst

“I’m glad that we’re fighting towards a common goal, now.” Can I just say, I am glad that for once since this season began, the Scouts/104th cadet corps have some sense of agency? Good grief 

Quick question, what in the fuck is wrong with Yelena? What kind of Junji Ito-ass expression did she just make? 

Also, doesn’t bode well for Armin that Yelena agrees with him

If Nile gets shot for trying to help Falco see his brother, I’m gonna scream

“There were never any devils on this island.” FINALLY, GABI!!!!!!!!!! It took like, at least 4 different encounters with kind people (Jean and co., the Braus family, Armin, Nile) for the lesson to stick 

“So yeah, Udo and Zofia are dead ‘cause of me. And also, I’m in love with you.” Being 12-years-old is tough in this economy

Colt really has a lot of information to process about his brother today. Confessing to unintentionally facilitating mass casualty, love, and his imminent death/dehumanization 

“So that’s where my dear little Pieck met her end.” Is it though? No body, no death

Yeah, thought so. Zeke’s never been correct about anything

Does the ep title ‘Two Brothers’ foreshadow both Zeke and Falco dying, as one of half of two brothers? Truly unfortunate for Falco, he’s just a little guy

The real question is if the Scream can also compel Armin, or Annie. They’ve never tried it on Intelligent Titans, I don’t think

Also, Annie was able to Scream Titans to do stuff, back in those woods. She could also be of royal blood?

Also speaking of the whole royal blood thing, if Zeke’s spinal fluid’s ability to turn people into Titans is unique, how were they doing it before Zeke inherited the Beast? Like how did the whole penal colony angle function if Grisha and Dina were turned BEFORE Zeke inherited? Does any Titan spinal fluid work, and if so, why is it so difficult to obtain? Riddle me that

I don’t even have the energy to process how fucked up what just happened was. Nile, Pyxis, and every damn soldier down there getting turned into monsters with no out but death. Falco inadvertently incinerating his brother (for nothing! Porco is going to sacrifice himself anyway!! Colt’s death served NO purpose other than demonstrating his love for his brother)

UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

WHAT

WHAT

WHAT??????????????????????????????????

EREN?????????????? WHAT???????? THE FUCK????????? 

“Those chains around your neck.” “I was starting to wonder if you ever going to say anything about that. Well, even if it took a while, I appreciate your concern.” Zeke said: Don’t worry, we may be in Titan Purgatory, but I have still retained my passive aggressive personality

“Do you seriously believe I’d euthanize the Eldian people?” FUCKING FINALLY EREN! PLEASE TELL ME YOUR PLAN IS TO GET RID OF THE ABILITY TO TRANSFORM INTO TITANS

“I waited to hear your true feelings, and that was the right decision.” This really is the season of sudden but inevitable betrayals

What’s the point of having a Founding Titan or Coordinate at all if you need royal blood to use it? Seems redundant, since it seems like Zeke can more or less control Titans on his own. Is it only the biology thing

“He sacrificed his children on the altar of nationalism.” Absolutely hate to say it, but Zeke, for once in his life, has a point

If the rest of this season could be Baby Eren chasing butterflies, that would be much appreciated. I’d watch 10 hours of that

“He was a shitty human being who did a shitty job as a father.” I like it that it’s Dumping on Grisha Hours, it’s vaguely cathartic 

Lmao at Eren ‘you’ve undone his brainwashing’ hahaha u could hold ur stupid fucking plan for months or years, but somehow u think this’ll work? Same old impatient guy

“Why did he wait so long [to take the Founding Titan]?” Hahaha Zeke’s finding out the reality that not all siblings are raised equally

“He set aside his mission for the sake of his son. Would’ve been nice if he could’ve done that for me. Good for you, though.” Take a shot every time Zeke is passive aggressive and develop severe liver damage

The one bit of world-building here that doesn’t give me bone arsenic is that people can develop autonomy within these memories, and seem to have some access to the future. It’s interesting

“I came into this world ready for a fight.” Eren said: Murder is my only personality trait 

“I won’t move on if it means abandoning you.” Wild that both Grisha and Zeke decide to put their plans on hold for Eren’s sake, when Eren seems to care so little for it in response 

Eren really does have his dad’s whole face, huh:

“The power of the Attack Titan offers us brief glimpses into the lives of those yet to inherit it. Meaning, it allows to witness events in the future.” Ohhhhhh so it turns out Paternity-TSD is not just a Titan thing, it is an Attack Titan thing

“Eren will get everything he wants.” I can’t believe that Grisha’s fall from grace comes from EREN being the one to force his hand, through memories alone, to kill the Founding Family. Eren said: Uno reverse, Dad! I AM THE SHITTY FATHER EVERYONE DIDN’T KNOW ABOUT

Imagine, momentarily, being followed around by a grown version of your 9-year-old who incites you to commit violence. No wonder Grisha’s like this

“But even so, I will always love you. If only... I’d let you be my son instead of trying to make you a soldier.” Is this a hurtful or a healing experience for Zeke

So ur tellin’ me Founder Ymir got Titan powers by falling down a well inside of a tree? Okay Grimdark Inuyasha

Pretty fucked up that the royal family got the Founding Titan power through coerced reproduction, but what in this show isn’t fucked up? I’m so tired

If Maria, Rose, and Sina all had kids, I still think Annie could be from the royal blood line. We’ve got Zeke and Historia from two different blood lines, that still leaves one blond to go

Also also also this backstory doesn’t answer the question of how everyone else became a Subject of Ymir. Is everyone from Titan Hell Island her direct descendant? That doesn’t make any sense, because then everyone would be descended from Fritz also. Honestly the thing I suspect (and have suspected, ever since Ragako) is that anyone can be turned into a Titan, not Eldians specifically

Although, this Foundervision makes it seem like all Eldians do specifically have a specific link to Ymir. Is the implication all the people in that society had a little piece of her? Honestly none of the royal bloodline stuff makes any sense if you think about it for more than a few minutes

“The Titans of the Walls will continue their march until every trace of life beyond our shores is trampled flat, and the people of Paradis, are all that remains of humanity.” Eren said: Survival of the craziest

To paraphrase a tumblr post: If you go to the circus for advice, don’t be surprised when it’s delivered to you by a clown

This episode is called Thaw, which means FINALLY Annie. I have been waiting for her to come back to the side of the Scouts!

Honestly, kind of surprised it’s taken Reiner this long to give up LOL

“We’re doing what they feared we’d do, because we have to.” Do you have to, Jean? DO YOU?

“He did this for his friends. Eren wants to protect us, even if it means killing everyone else on the planet.” [B99 VOICE] COOL MOTIVE, STILL MURDER, JEAN 

Well, Connie’s psychological break is much to be expected, I guess

The Braus family and Nicolo automatically protecting Gabi despite how much she’s hurt them personally <3 I love them

“There’s a devil in me, Kaya. And in you, and in everyone else. That’s why our world’s the way it is. There’s a devil inside us all.” I mean, yeah, but I fail to see why you use this framework of oppression metaphors if ur suggesting that everyone is on equal moral standing, because it reeks of ‘there are bad people on both sides’ which like. Then why frame it as slave and subjugator? Why not just frame it as a conflict of nations? They are different metaphors

Armin thanking Pyxis and wishing him rest as he puts him down. Ahhhh oh Armin :( <3 

“You survived.” “Damn, no need to sound so excited about it.” That’s also how I feel about Floch, Jean

“I can’t say for sure, but if Eren could do [a Titan transformation reversal], I think he would’ve done it for our comrades that Zeke turned into Titans, instead of leaving them for us to kill.” Armin still hoping for empathy from Eren despite his plot to kill everyone in the world

Although, this does make a bit of sense as to why Eren also reacted so strongly to Zeke trying to scream. He couldn’t undo what Zeke was about to do

“When he brought the walls down, he did it by breaking all Titan hardening, everywhere.” ANNIEEEEEEEEEEE

Turns out Hitch, Annie’s former roommate and prison guard, is voiced by the same VA as Wendy from Fairy Tail. I knew she sounded familiar LOL

Gjklgglhgkjh @ Annie’s story being ‘your found family can also be garbage’

Annie [Tiktok audio voice]: Traumatize ur parents BACK

LMAO @ THIS BANTER, GUESS IT’S BEEN ROUGH FOR ANNIE NOT TO BE ABLE TO SAY ANYTHING FOR THE PAST HALF DECADE

Hitch: Okay wait. I don’t need to hear your entire life story.

Annie: I didn’t need to hear about every failed relationship you’ve had in the past four years. It’s not going to kill you to let me talk for a few minutes.

Did Annie’s dad just die???? It remains unclear

Not to state an obvious point but the Jaegerists are so icky. Who has the capacity for a military coup in the middle of a mass casualty event which affected EVERYONE, including them. Fuckhead Floch, that’s who

Also Shadis admitting he’d let the recruits attack him on purpose and advising them to not fight the coup! He really is a good teacher

“There’s no point in worrying about Eren. We can’t stop him, he’s a lost cause!” Armin has finally reached the limit of his near infinite patience

Not Mr. Braus calling Connie a decent sort to Gabi when Connie’s mid-way through a plan to murder her friend

“Be as annoying, selfish and arrogant as you please.” “Well, that’s kinda rude.” Jean truly deserves to be the protagonist of this show

Connie and Armin going to bat who will be the most mentally unwell companion to their traumatized 12-year-old. Based on Armin’s “Levi saving the wrong person” comment, there seems a very real possibility that Armin might offer to let Connie’s mum eat him instead

“He’s just a poor bastard who refuses to die.” LEVIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII LOVE U, NO BODY NO DEATH

I can’t believe Hange’s explanation for Levi not dying via explosive blast is ‘he’s just built different’

I guess he did lose a couple of fingers but my real question is why have u advanced in all technologies except for prosthetics. Feels like that should be a common need here

Appreciate Levi stating Pieck (Finger) and (Theo) Magath’s full names for exposition lol

“Sasha. Would you have understood what I’m about to do?” Considering all of Sasha’s love towards her siblings and protecting kids, no, probably not, Connie 

DEAR GOD. THE BEST PLAN CONNIE COULD COME UP WITH IS ASKING FALCO TO BRUSH HIS TITAN MUM’S TEETH. HE TRULY IS THE DUMBEST OF THE ALIVE SCOUTS, AND THAT’S INCLUDING EREN

Full disclosure I had to stop watching this episode bc of all the things this show has made me watch, the concept of Connie trying to Hansel and Gretel this 12-year-old child has pushed me to my limits. I’m back now and I’m gonna try my best

PLEASE DON’T MAKE ME WATCH ARMIN DIE AGAIN, I WILL CRY. PLEASEEEEEEEE 

Update from 1 minute later: OH THANK GOD 

“I want to try and become the kind of soldier my mum would be proud of,” said Connie, as the child he’d almost murdered wheezed in the background 

“Guess whatever you’re worried about doesn’t really bother Jean.” Is it weird that I am kind of hoping Mikasa and Jean end up together? There’s something compelling about how they’re both simultaneously so fucked up in slightly opposite ways now

KFJHKFH the comedy of Annie just being sat right beside Armin and Connie as they theorize about her 

“Goodbye. Sincerely, your gloomy roommate.” Me whenever I leave the house

[Mocking] “And I get to live out my life with your sad little gang of xenophobic shitheads?” Onyankopon makes a direct and accurate hit

YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I KNEW JEAN WOULDN’T MURDER HIS FRIEND!!! GO SCOUTS!!!!!!!!!

“Don’t you ever brush your teeth [as a Titan]?” “You shouldn’t ask such things, I’m a lady, remember?” LMAO Hange asking the real questions about titan dentistry 

“Then that burning pile of bones would’ve haunted me for the rest of my life.” Jean truly has never stopped being in love with Marco this whole time. Bisexual king 

“Let’s go.” “Go where?” “To end this, and save the world.” Alright, alright, they do know how to refocus my attention:

The scar on Jean’s dream wife’s cheek showing he still has feelings for Mikasa <3 Ahhh

I appreciate this retrospective on how they coordinated the attack, though it does probably mean the last eps in this part will not advance the narrative that much 

“I’ll do it. Eren’s killed too many already. I won’t sit back and watch him steal more lives.” Good for Mikasa!!!

“You remember Willy Tybur’s speech. What’s the world gonna do when we prove him right?” Jean reasonably points out that Eren has essentially guaranteed the destruction of either civilization (Paradis v. the Outside World)

I continue to be surprised about how explicit Armin and Hange have been about the fact Eren is committing geno-[GUNSHOT NOISE]

I know it was established last episode that this was still about Marco for Jean but it’s brought into sharper relief when they have a mise en scene dedicated to every single person they’ve lost, and then Marco gets his own panel. Everything always returns to unresolved trauma and transparent metaphors for bisexuality: 

“Hange. In the end, I’ll always be a Scout.” Jean said: I will prevent our friend from committing crimes against humanity, but I’m not like, happy about it 

“Compared to the sum of the carnage and misery wrought by Eldia, your island’s suffering is a joke.” I know Magath is probably trying to test their conviction in standing against Eren, but what a dick thing to say to the people whose lives and homes you have been actively destroying for ten years

Also Magath being a poster child for propaganda efficacy

“If we’re going to be at each other’s throats, let’s stick to arguing about stuff we’ve lived through ourselves.” That’s what I’m saying, Hange

God. Mikasa and Armin STILL wanting to get through to Eren to convince him to stop the Rumbling AFTER everything that’s happened. The residual loyalty Eren has proved himself beyond reciprocating 

“We shouldn’t be fighting,” said Annie, right after provoking Mikasa to fight

Are we finally going to see the fucking point of Yelena as a character? Being from Marley makes sense for her, but honestly I feel like all she’s done is be like, Non-Island Floch (inciting violence and planning insurrection in her group of volunteers/Jaegerists), and we don’t really need two of those, do we?

“Who wouldn’t want to imagine themselves as the saviour of hundreds of millions of innocent lives? To wash the bitterness of hatred out of their mouths with the honeyed taste of righteousness. From where I sit, it seems like that’s what all of you are doing right now.” Yelena said: Actually, you guys are stopping the wholesale slaughter of all other people on earth for selfish reasons 

How the fuck do any of these guys trust drinking alcohol after what happened with Zeke??????????? JEAN YOU WORRY ME

Kind of glad the Scouts got an explanation from Reiner and Annie for how Marco died? At least they get some closure 

“We all just started fighting, and assumed it had to be to the death.” Well. In more direct terms, Reiner, Bertholdt and Annie did actually try to kill you all, Jean, but I see what you’re saying about non-lethal force being an option in your lives 

“Don’t forgive me. I’m truly worthless.” Bold of you to assume anyone was gonna forgive you, Reiner? LOL

Yeah, Jean beating him up is a very fair response 

“Gabi. I’m sorry about kicking you. You okay?” “I’m tougher than I might look, I’m fine.” “I’m glad. Reiner, you’re not getting an apology.” Hahahaha love every bit of this for Jean <3

The way the ep preview is a pic which looks like it’s promoting Armin and Connie’s buddy comedy film, Unhinged and Unhinged-er

I’m glad the Scouts still advocate for non-lethal force, however idealistic

“For now, just stay out of it.” Annie and Reiner said: Our bad for destroying your homeland <3 We will kill your friends so you don’t have to; that’s teamwork! 

“Forgive me. All of you. I was... a fool. I’m sorry for my behaviour last night. We were never in the right. I deluded myself into thinking we were the good guys. I wanted to believe the evil I’d done was justified as part of some great cause.” What an absolutely rapid as hell turn-around for Magath, choking out Yelena one (1) time and hearing Gabi and Falco plead for help caused him to self-reflect? Or more likely it’s a Erwin-esque Inspire-to-Death speech

“There’s no way to avoid spilling more blood today. So please, look the other way.” “I’m not doing that. I refuse to let someone else stain their hands in my place.” Armin said: We can murder our OWN friends, thank you very much, Magath

“You won’t make your world any less violent by making it smaller.” Lady Azumabito having some of the realest dialogue of any character

“In any world, it’s important to understand our place [...] This [island] is the world now. You need to recognize your place in it.” Floch said: Have you heard of racism? I have reinvented it 

You see? This is why we don’t need two Flochs. One is already too much

Floch has never said anything worthwhile in his whole damn life. Get got Floch. I don’t have a lot of faith in Armin’s plan, but if Floch dies, that’s probably a win for everyone 

Fully didn’t realize Daz, Scout who loved to cry about how he was going to die, was still alive. I imagine not for long

Update from 8 mins later: RIP Daz and Samuel 

“We’re with you. Eren has to finish the job or this island is doomed.” Armin. This is the best plan your huge brain could come up with? Connie has rubbed off on you in a bad way 

It’s a good thing being shot through the face cannot kill Armin atm

Better to have tried and failed at a non-violent solution, I guess

There go the last crumbling threads of Connie and Armin’s mental health

How did Floch NOT die at point blank range of two Titans transforming? Proximity to one transformation was enough to kill Colt! Unbelievable

Well, he got his about 15 minutes later, so there we go

This entire season is just a glorified trolley problem, huh? 

“Violence will always be part of human existence. Won’t it, Captain?” Levi looks exhausted. Me too, man

Falco has really handled being in charge of one of the world’s only nine sentient biological weapons as best he could for being 12. He’s trying his best to help

SHADIS!!!!!!! I was curious who took out the reinforcement train

“Last chance for you to take a swim.” “No. I’ll stay. I’ve been looking for a good end to this life.” Shadis said: I must die in the most dramatic way possible

“It’s far too late, but I’ve finally realized how happy I would’ve been if those kids could’ve led normal lives.” Magath is the only adult in this show ever to admit that having child soldiers is bad LMAO:

I’ll hand it to Shadis and Magath, that was a pretty cool way to die

Though Magath’s comment about Shadis being remembered as a hero doesn’t make a lot of sense, considering he was about to explode any and all witnesses to Shadis being there 

Annie taking the inevitable loss of Liberio the hardest (unsurprising as everyone else there has lived through the hell of the past four years, while Annie was quite literally frozen in time, regardless of physical aging)

“I don’t want to fight anymore. Not with any of you. Not even with Eren.” Oh, Annie

“It could be that he’s always been like this inside. But if this is the real Eren Jaeger, what did I see in him, that made me keep him so close?” A question we’ve all perhaps been wondering, Mikasa 

“They’ll try to feed the car carrots if they manage to catch it.” “Hahah, give them more credit than tha—Wait, are they buying carrots?” I appreciate that we get this reprieve after all of the violence

Also I haven’t said much about Onyankopon because he’s normal and nice, but I do enjoy him 

“Well, look at that another enemy immigrant.” To be clear, this show DOES feel like it’s hate-criming me but it seems redundant to discuss that when they’re in the middle of a [LOUD FORGORN NOISE]

LMAO @ Levi being the one to cause the scene after his snark

“You’ve come to make it known that the people of Paradis wish to coexist in peace?” Well, that plan didn’t go very well, it seems

“Mikasa, what am I to you?” Eren said: It is time to talk about the unspoken crush you’ve had on me for 9 years, Mikasa

Hahaha good for the 104th cadets, getting to party and let loose with one another like actual teens for once. Also the way that Mikasa, Eren, Armin and Jean are laid out in the centre does pull at my heartstrings:

“What If I’d given him a different answer? Would we still be in this situation right now?” Mikasa, I don’t think romance would’ve fixed Eren

Eren would literally rather kill everyone on the planet than make Historia become a Titan and have children for the military’s sake. Chivalry is not dead I guess, unlike everyone else on the planet

I can’t believe Eren floated this plan by Historia!! Replacing one burden with an even heavier burden 

“There are straightforward explanations for all the behaviours you’re describing, that have nothing to do with genetics or conditioning. [Mikasa] doesn’t slaughter Titans out of some inborn compulsion to keep you alive. She does it because she adores you.” LOL @ Zeke having to be the one who explains this to Eren. The closest he ever comes to actually being a big brother

Now that I’m thinking about it: Where the hell is Zeke? He seems nigh unkillable, are we saying that Eren’s transformation did him in? No body, no death

“That’s what I need. For them to live long and happy lives.” 1) Did you really think, knowing your friends, that any of them would be happy with you killing everyone? 2) Armin is on a timeline just like you, so if we have to take the 13-years-since-Titan-inheritance to live at face value (Idk that I do. I do think it’s something they could lie about), he’s also got less than ten years to live and 3) Doing cruel things out of love does not make them any less cruel!!

Can I just say a big fuckin hoo boy to Eren’s whole life 

Their vaguely-brown accents have gotten a lot worse since that first battle with Marley LMAO. 3/10, hire a brown person 

“I imagine, we learn that our wish isn’t possible. We never find a way to save Paradis.” My name’s Eren Jaeger and I was born with the gift of self-fulfilling prophecy

This genuinely is sickening to watch. What’s the fucking point 

Of course Eren is killing his and Zeke’s grandparents. Why not?

“It’s weird how at ease I feel,” said Armin to Annie, as if it were not kind of a dick thing to say whilst her hometown was being trampled

“What I wanted was to see you.” Armin said: It’s time to talk about MY unspoken crush I’ve had on Annie for the past 4 and a half years!!

“Good is just what people call people who help them.” Armin really dropping some of his most compelling moral philosophy mid-confession

“So when did this start?” “When did what start?” It is SOOOOO funny that they’re choosing to address the romance angle between Annie and Armin NOW, when the whole fucking world is being brutally, unforgivably murdered. YOU COULDN’T HAVE DONE THIS, LIKE, A COUPLE OF EPISODES AGO

Are Yelena and Pieck the same voice actress because they both have a mild lisp like they’re talking around a retainer

“Even trying to say sorry feels presumptuous.” It is, Reiner! You’re learning something. Perhaps, like 10 years too late, but still!

Annie hugging Reiner goodbye even after acknowledging he’s the one who started all this. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh

It’s very kind of Team Save the World to all be so understanding of the fact Annie no longer has any desire to fight

Floch said: I would like to be a problem one last time before I mega-die

“Armin Arlert. As of now I appoint you 15th commander of the Scout Regiment.” Hange said: I volunteer as next for mega-death!!!!

Levi scout-saluting Hange on her heart instead of his.... Ahhhhhhhh

Hange joining all the fallen Scouts in what seems like a very chill afterlife. Good for her

“Killing Zeke should end the Rumbling.” Ah, apparently Zeke is somewhere in his little brother’s Titan body like an extremely fucked up babushka doll. Or a tick

“He died cursing my name. Calling me a traitor, while I told myself I was saving the world. Was it the same? For your team? You, Bertholdt and Annie. Is this what it felt like?” It is also extremely funny that whenever someone does something really terrible to a huge group of people they look at Reiner and go, ‘Is this what it’s like to be you?’ and he goes, ‘Yeah. :(’

It’s also a callback to when he and Bertholdt were Connie’s dads. Shout-out to a less complicated time

“It’s like he wants to find how we’re going to respond to what he’s done.” 

Eren Jaeger 🤝 Itachi Uchiha

Deciding the appropriate judgment for committing a pre-emptive massacre against a huge group of people is having your loved one(s) beat your ass

The fact that Eren’s friends are STILL trying to talk him down. God. It is so much more than he deserves:

“But from you, I will take nothing.” Except most of the buildings on our island, the Scout leadership’s influence over the government, the fellow recruits I have radicalized for my cause, at least two of our closest friends who died as a direct result of my actions, every friend you made in Liberio, your sense of personal agency over the future, any hope you had for peace, and any remnants of sanity that you have left

“You will only stop my advance when you stop me from breathing. And you are free to try.” Eren said: We interrupt this plane ride for a message from our Founder. Hey besties, please beat me to death!

“They told us back in training that the Female Titan can manifest the abilities of the rest of the nine by taking in parts of their bodies.” OHHHHH so THAT’S why Annie can scream Titans to do stuff. I still think she could be descended from royalty, but this does explain it in part

Hmmm is Zeke’s spinal fluid why Falco had the memory of flying around with swords in his hands? A pre-transformation memory from Zeke? I had wondered if it was from Cadet Ymir 

Turns out Annie’s father is NOT dead, nor are any of the immediate family of the other Marleyan Warriors. Instead, they’re probably going to die very shortly

“We cultivated hate. Nurtured our resentments. Let ourselves believe that could save us. And what came of our failings, we simply dumped onto the ‘Island of Devils.’ This is the result. Those failings gave rise to the monster you see. And it’s marching our hatred back upon us.” General Muller said: Turns out, oppressing people for their ethnic heritage is BAD! Who knew!!!!

All the Marley Eldian parents being like. My bad for inflicting generational trauma onto my children, xoxo

Is Zeke straight up throwing LIGHTNING NOW? Zeke has chidori? What is going ON

“The forces of Paradis are trying to end the Rumbling.” Oh HELL YEAH they are

I’m going to be real honest with you, I am incredibly attached to most of the remaining Team Save the World, so when some or even most of them inevitably die, I will cry. Or be sick. Or both

“Exactly one minute from now, I’ll blast these bones apart.” Armin preparing to kill his best friend to save everyone else. Awful

EREN JUST SWALLOWING HIS BEST FRIEND WHOLE INTO THE FUCKED UP BABUSHKA DOLL WITHOUT HESITATION???? WHAT?????????

“He’s being restrained, but he’s not hurt. The problem, is that he was whisked off towards Eren’s ass.” What a thing to say at a time like this, Levi

“Theses husks are the people who bore the Power of the Nine before us. I don’t know if their minds are still in there or not. But I’m betting the Founding Titan has the ability to resurrect them as many times as it needs to.” Eren said: Hey besties, please fight these Big Fucking Skeleton Ghosts of Your Ancestors and Friends

I suppose the friends part disproportionately affects Reiner, since he was closest to the most former Titans (Marcel, Porco, on top of them all being friends with Bertholdt)

Bertholdt crying in Armin’s Founder Ymir-Induced Suffocation Scape implies the former Titans are CONSCIOUS of being used to hurt their friends and commit gen-[GUNSHOT NOISE]? HATE THAT

“Do you still think we can win?” “Nope. But I don’t care. I wanna fight to the bitter end.” I am in love with you, Jean Kirschtein 

“You’re kinda in the way, Mikasa!” ANNIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Colour me bananas, but if Falco (I see why they named his character that now) was so certain he could turn into a Bird Titan, why’d he have to do it ON the boat. Couldn’t HE have been on one of the little lifeboats, transforming in the water and swooping away? 

“Hang on, where’s Arm—I mean, where’s Pieck?” Annie, you’re allowed to care that Armin’s alive, it’s not weird HAHAHAHAH. It’s weirder that you said it that way

“Your childhood friends sure have a way of getting themselves captured,” said Annie, as if she had not been the first person to capture them 

“Damn it. I had a long list of things to tell that dumbass off about.” This is Levi saying how much he loves Eren and doesn’t want to kill him :(

Gjgkgkjgjgjg Annie’s advice to Mikasa about how to deal with their comrades killing the man Mikasa loves: Try not to think about it

“That one. Isn’t it an okapi?” “What the hell’s an okapi?” I too would like to know what an okapi is, Mikasa

“Erwin, I didn’t choose you, and I don’t regret that. I’m entrusting the future with the same look in his eyes as all of you.” I LOVE YOU, LEVI, AND I LOVE YOU ARMIN

The subsequent cut to Armin screaming at his inanimate body about how much he hates it and himself. This show is exhausting

“I should be in a Titan’s mouth right now, so how do I know what’s happening to my friends?” This is a question I also had Armin, but I wasn’t really expecting an answer

“You still seek to multiply? Why? Is continuing the species really that important to you?” Zeke said: Actually, y’all are saving the world because you wanna fuck (Zeke and Yelena fight over who projects a more insane motivation onto the Scouts)

“This strange, lovely thought popped into my head. I felt like maybe I’d been born to race Mikasa and Eren up that hill.” Oh, Armin

Armin seeing this object in the paths as a leaf that reminds him of Mikasa and Eren while Zeke sees it as a baseball him and Ksaver played with. Everything always comes back to baseball and absent fathers

Is the payoff for Armin being Babushka'd for a solid thirty minutes going to be that he’s going to convert all of these Former Titans in Purgatory (aka the Paths) to stop being Eren’s Skeleton Ghost Army? Incredible 

I was wondering when Cadet Ymir was going to make an appearance. Good for her! 

I also appreciate that Eren’s own (skeleton ghost) father is among the people actively fighting against him. PARENTING 

Zeke, as he gets decapitated, probably: See, I CAN be helpful!

“The rumbling just stopped.” THEN WHYYYY are there 45 more minutes in the episode!!!!!!!!! What are you going to do!!!!!!

I would like an explanation on what the glowing-worm-spine-thing that gives people Titan powers is. An alien? A sea creature? A really vengeful spirit? Explain!!!!

“If [the Titan Worm] survived that explosion point-blank, we can’t kill it. The one we should target is Eren. This nightmare won’t end until we take him down.” To be fair, Levi, you just had Armin try to explode Eren too, so can you really kill him?

“Could this be the same gas they used on Ragako village?” “Mikasa, Pieck, get on Falco, we need to leave. Cause only Ackermanns and Titan wielders are immune, remember?” OH MY GOD THEY’RE GOING TO TURN JEAN AND CONNIE INTO TITANS. I KNEW THIS BATTLE WASN’T GOING TO PASS WITHOUT KILLING SCOUTS, BUT OH MY GOD. JEAN. I AM CRYING, THIS IS THE WORST POSSIBLE WAY HE COULD DIE. THE WAY ALL OF THESE PEOPLE’S FAMILIES COULD DIE. I HATE THIS. I AM SICK. 

“You’re gonna live without me for a long time. So forget you knew me. Forget, and be free.” I don’t care about this Eren-isn’t-a-mass-murderer fantasy sequence. Any remaining energy I had for this narrative died with Jean

Mikasa kissing Eren AFTER decapitating him is an incredibly weird way to end this battle. Why write this show? What was the point?

HKFHKJFHKFJHFKJHF not them having Eren appear as a child and say sorry for the mass murder!!!! What kinda Naruto behaviour is this!!!

“So you did all that to push us away, huh? To make us turn against you and become the heroes who prevent the annihilation of the human race by killing you.” “You got it. Every human left outside of the walls will owe you a debt of gratitude.” This is the most backwards ass, stupid ass plan I’ve ever heard of. I can’t believe THIS is the excuse for everything I’ve had to witness. 

Eren Jaeger 🤝 Itachi Uchiha

If I do ALLLLLL the murders, no one will think badly of my fellow people, even though I am one of those people

“You’re hoping we can all become like the Tybur family and protect Paradis from reprisal.” Except for Jean and Connie who are mega-dead, and Annie, Armin, Reiner and Pieck, who will presumably all die in less than ten years, Falco who has thirteen years left, which leaves Levi and Mikasa to stand for their whole island? 

“Founder Ymir, she loved King Fritz.” Of course, who doesn’t love someone who murdered their parents, enslaved them, ripped out their tongue and then [redacted] them and had their kids [LOUD HONK OF A CLOWN CAR]

The way they’re cycling through Eren and Armin’s ages. It does hurt me 

“The past and future, it’s all happening at once. And so, I had no choice That day, in that moment, Bertholdt would’ve died, but he had to live, so I sent it away from him and towards mom.” So, not only are you saying that Eren was retroactively controlling Titans from the wall’s breach, but also that HE is responsible for his mum getting eaten? Why does Eren have to be responsible for everything? Can’t things be also Reiner and Bertholdt’s fault?

“You’re a selfish heartbreaker, and I hope she does forget about you because she deserves to be happy!” Sweet of Armin, but I can’t take this seriously inside of everything that’s happened 

INSANE OF ARMIN TO BE MORE MAD ABOUT EREN DISREGARDING MIKASA’S FEELINGS THAN HE IS ABOUT THE GENOC!DE. Armin said: Two can play at the unrelentingly crazy takes on what chivalry means, Eren!

“But hey, the good news is, I know of one charming young fella she’s pretty close to already.” You mean Jean, whom Eren’s worm ally Titan-murdered??????

[Sobbing] “No. That’d break my heart. I don’t want her to find someone else. I want to be her one and only love! Even she does get over me, I think it should take her ten years at least!” “Oh, I see. Sorry, I didn’t think you’d say something that pathetic.” HAHAHAHAHA I genuinely just can’t absorb Eren saying this dialogue as true, because it feels so stupid and out-of-character, however, Armin’s response is VERY funny

“Twenty-percent of humanity is all that you manage to save. It’s been determined.” “’Been determined?’ But you determined it. You’re the one who kills them!” Eren said: [Count Frollo voice] It’s not my fault, it’s in God’s plan

“I trampled the world because I wanted it.” This is like, the third set of motivations Eren’s played his hand at. When will we land on one that sticks?

“Why? Why did it turn out this way? I finally know. Because I’m an idiot. I’m nothing more than a garden-variety idiot who got his hands on power. That’s why this is the only resolution I can bring about.” I guess this is motivation #4

“You’ll be joining me? Where?” [Pleasantly] “Assuming it exists, in hell.” Armin’s dialogue is so unrivaled in how crazy it is, I almost admire it

“Yeah. Look for me in hell. I’ll be waiting.” “Right. We’ll be together, for all time.” This is the opposite of meet me in gay heaven energy. Meet me in White Boy Hell:

God. Armin’s scream when he sees Eren is dead. Unbearable

“He said that you would make a choice, and that in the end it would cause the Power of the Titans to be erased from this world.” JEAN AND CONNIE AND GABI ALIVE? ARMIN AND REINER AND ANNIE AND FALCO STAYING ALIVE? ALSO WHY WAS THIS NOT AN OPTION BEFORE? Finally, a reason for all of this. The longest, most chaotic, worst path to a reason, but a reason nonetheless 

Eren being like, surprise!!! Here is my post-mass-murder voicemail about how much I love you all, besties! Except you, Pieck, I don’t know you. And everyone’s just like, ‘Aw, I missed him!’

I was worried for a moment that Levi seeing the fallen Scouts was an indication he was dying, but it seems like it’s some kind of goodbye present from Eren

“My name is Armin Arlert. And I killed Eren Jaeger. I stopped the Attack Titan and ended the rumbling.” Armin said: I am not afraid to take credit for the murder of my best friend

“All this time it was you, peeking into my head.” Mikasa’s headaches are actually Maternity-TSD from Founder Ymir? Sure, why not

I suppose it would be unrealistic if the fraction of people alive DIDN’T want to retaliate against the Island. What else could you expect? 

“But if we must fight, let it be for an end to fighting.” Historia finally gets some agency after her Farm Pregnancy Arc LMAO

“You know, it’s a real shame your life got longer, Reiner.” HAHAHA Jean. This is the kind of bullshit I missed 

HAAHAHAHAHAH ARMIN, I see you and Annie haven’t gotten any better at communicating:

Armin: Don’t forget that we’re Scout Regiment. We’re a bunch of dreamers who don’t know when to quit.

Annie: But I was in the Military Police. 

Armin, ignoring her: Anyway—

“After trying to kill each other again and again, we put down our weapons and began to call for peace.” I suppose this is the most tolerable possible resolution to an incredibly deranged show

I can’t believe this series has beaten me down so hard with its bare fists that I feel like 80% of the world dying is not the worst outcome. That is OBJECTIVELY AWFUL. I guess it helps that there’s no death/fighting scenes for last third of this episode. It’s just been so unbearable that if I’m not crying or actively nauseous, it’s some kind of victory. What a horrible show

Are we suggesting Eren has been reincarnated as a bird? Sure, fitting for a wings-of-freedom Scout metaphor moment, I suppose!

I’m not going to comment on the mid-credits scenes. This show has put me through enough. I have followed it through to its conclusion, and its conclusion was as brutal and absurd as the rest of it. Goodnight! 

[quilveor]

the woes of making a piece of text that breaks the typical word positioning

is that it won't look right in everything that is not my .txt file

my demons

. culling white space

. fonts that aren't

. monospace

. wrap around

. [i'm using those spaces

. thank you.]

i will have to screenshot it

. i wonder if the dots help

...............i don't trust this site. so i'm checking.

[xenogendermaker]

Femomnigender, a gender where one may indentify with most, if not all FIN genders!

Mascomnigender, a gender where one may indentify with most, if not all MIN genders!

Neutraomnigender, a gender where one may indentify with most, if not all NIN genders!

[mantas-ray]

Simon loves it when you bite him.

He loves finding the indent your teeth left on various parts of his body the morning after you made love. Whether it’s on his arms, thighs or neck, it didn’t matter, his thick fingers idly trace the curve of the marks any moment he gets, even through layers of his clothing.

Simon couldn’t get enough of you marking him — claiming him as yours. Although it’s hidden beneath his gear when he’s out, he knew your intent, and fuck did warmth spread throughout his body like he was a teenager all over again.

He shouldn’t like it as much as he does. It’s banal, but when your teeth graze his sensitive neck, and dig into his flesh, he doesn’t bring himself to care, especially when you kiss it after. It made Simon’s head spin and cock ache.

Everything about receiving a love bite from you was intense. The pain feels fucking euphoric in the moment. Your incisors pierce his pale flesh, pink blooming on his tainted skin from the wound inflicted on him. Simon’s head tilts back in pleasure, and a low groan escapes him as your tongue drags along the mark, soothing the delicious ache. You kiss him better like you weren’t the reason for the treatment.

Simon’s favourite mark you ever left on him is located between the junction of his neck and shoulder. It was distinct, the spacing of your teeth, the differing sizes of each one and the imperfections. It was you, leaving a temporary reminder of yourself on his body.

He turned it into a permanent reminder, getting the bite mark tattooed. The ink imitated his reddened, irritated skin and the dents your teeth carved into him. The tattoo artist captured every detail of the bite, leaving guidelines for you to follow. Simon was yours.

[gloomwitchwrites]

141 with a partner who likes to bite

Okay, anon. I'll be honest. When I read this prompt, I immediately thought of "cute aggression." Not sure if that is what you meant or if you meant something else, but that's what I went with. Kinda. There are some more suggestive undertones in a few of these. I had a lot of fun with this one. Thank you so much for sending it in!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings (MDNI): swearing, biting, cute aggression, established relationship, teasing, flirting, suggestive themes

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

"Are you teething?” asks John. “Do I need to get you a pacifier?"

John sounds annoyed, but you know that he isn’t. Not really. He happily puts up with your shenanigans.

"Can't help it,” you reply, showing your teeth. “You're too tempting."

The two of you are curled up in bed. He’s trying to read. And you’re trying to annoy him. When John is shirtless and reclined in bed, you have a clear view of his muscles. The temptation is always there, and it’s a pull you can’t resist. The aggression isn’t violent. It’s just overwhelming.

Clearly not liking your answer, John grunts. He tosses his book aside, uncaring of losing his place. One moment you’re next to him, and the next you’re fully on your back, trapped beneath his weight.

Giggling, you playfully shove at him, but there is no intention to escape from him. It’s not like you could break out of his grasp if you tried. He is warm and taut. A weighted blanket. This is what you wanted all along. To be beneath him.

"Stop."

He nips at your throat.

"Fucking."

Then he nips at your shoulder.

"Biting."

Finally, John nips at your upper arm.

"Me."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

"Someone's going to think you're abusing me."

You grimace, even though Kyle’s tone is teasing and not at all upset. His arm and neck are peppered with small teeth marks. Most of them look like random little indents in the skin while others appear to be in the beginnings of bruising.

“I might have used excessive force,” you murmur, thumbing one of the marks.

Sometimes you can’t help yourself. The need to do it is overwhelming. Most times, you shake it off.

Kyle grins. “I like them. They’re little reminders.”

You laugh. “Oh yeah? Reminders of what?”

Kyle leans in, hand sliding up your back to grasp the nape of your neck. Pulling you close, Kyle lowers his voice. It’s all sultry smoothness.

"Of how many times I can make you come,” he coos.

“Kyle!” You lightly smack his chest, face heating as his gaze softens.

He shrugs. “You also just like to bite me.”

“Can’t help it,” you mutter.

“You’re like one of those small dogs,” he teases.

You roll your eyes. “Don’t you dare,” you scold.

“Adorable. Sweet at first glance.”

“Kyle.”

“Mean bite.”

“I swear to God, Kyle.”

“A—”

You place your hand over his mouth.

John "Soap" MacTavish

With Johnny as your bed, you spread yourself over him, head resting against his right pectoral. A rugby game is on. Johnny’s completely focused on the television as the two teams move about the field like small insects.

Johnny’s large, muscled arms are draped over your back, but his left bicep is dangerously close to your face. Every vein is pronounced. Tempting. You want to trace them with your tongue.

A naughty little urge creeps in. Makes itself known. Slithers around your brain to whisper that you should.

What’s one little bite?

It won’t hurt.

Like an itch that needs to be scratched, you lean forward, lightly chomping down on Johnny’s arm. The urge settles, the neurons in your brain content and happy.

Startled, Johnny jerks. Then, he laughs, arms tightening around you.

One second, you’re in full cuteness aggression. The next, Johnny is rolling you over, trapping you beneath him against the couch. Instead of you biting him, it’s Johnny biting you.

You shriek playfully, but he continues to nibble.

“Let me go,” you laugh. Smacking at him does nothing.

“You little goblin,” he mutters, dragging you off the couch and hauling you toward the bedroom, rugby match forgotten.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon wears only a thin, black shirt, leaving his arms bare. Your mouth waters at the sight of the protruding veins and taut muscles. The urge to touch and taste is overwhelming. It burns bright and hot beneath your skin.

"What are you looking at?" asks Simon without looking away from the menu board on the far wall.

“Nothing,” you reply instantly, glancing away like you weren’t thinking about his muscles.

A few seconds pass, and then you slip an arm between his, clinging to Simon. He doesn’t react. The menu board has his full attention. Simon is more worried about filling his stomach.

Turning your face into his arm, the urge to bite down—to unleash the aggression—wells inside you like a tsunami. At first, you resist, reminding yourself that you are in public and this behavior is inappropriate.

But you lose.

Your mouth starts to open, teeth poised to lightly bite.

“My arm isn’t a chew toy,” says Simon out of the corner of his mouth.

"I didn't bite," you mutter.

Simon slips his arm out of your grasp and then drapes it over your shoulders.

He leans in close. "You can bite me all over later."

[svtswhorehouse]

CASUAL DOMINANCE W/ CHEOL — sfw

walking on the side closest to the road

Swinging your interlocked hands as you two walked, you babbled on and on about your day — occasionally drifting off onto topics that weren't necessary.

You were excited for god knows what, but still, Seungcheol listened to you intently, letting you yap without interruption. Despite you having an entire conversation with him more like yourself, he couldn't help but let his eyes wander the street as oncoming traffic and the honking of cars overwhelmed him.

"Are you even paying attention to me?" You question, furrowing your brows.

"Yes baby, I'm listening," Seungcheol states as he grips your elbow to change positions with him. In one swift movement, he was able to pull you over to his side, now leaving him walking on the side closest to the street.

You thought nothing of the action, in fact, you didn't even notice it at all. Seungcheol always tended to have habits such as this — whether it be exchanging positions on the street, or covering the corners of tables so you didn't hit them. To you, this was completely and utterly normal.

"What was the last thing I said?" You narrowed your eyes, intending to catch him in a lie.

Instead of answering you, Seungcheol answered the question you last asked relating to the topic. "No, we're not getting a puppy."

You immediately opened your mouth to speak, but he was quick to cut you off. "And no, we’re certainly not getting a fluffy cow."

Visibly deflating, you looked at the ground muttering to yourself. "It was worth a shot."

From beside you, Seungcheol laughed, pulling you closer by your hand to kiss your cheek out of cuteness aggression.

doing “manly” tasks such as taking your car to the shop, opening jars, and fixing things around the house

“Need help?” Seungcheol watches in amusement as you wrestle with the jar of pasta sauce.

“No,” You grumble, determined as you plant your feet on the ground and give the lid another forceful twist. Your palms ache as the pressure cuts into your skin, leaving indents behind. “God damnit! Is this shit super glued or something?”

Your boyfriend leans against the counter, lips twitching as he fights off a laugh. He could sense that you were becoming more frustrated the longer the lid refused to budge, but he thought your stubborn nature was too adorable to intervene quite yet. He knew better than to jump in too soon, especially when you looked as if you’d fight both him and the jar.

You let out a huff, grip tightening around the glass like it personally wronged you. “I got it.” You insist with a strained voice, wiping your now sweaty hands on your jeans for a better hold.

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, doubting your abilities. “I don’t think you got it, baby.”

The glare you send his way is somewhat intimidating — a silent warning that now is not the time to be teasing you. You continue to try and pry the lid off, slamming the jar on the counter with a grunt when it doesn’t move an inch.

Wordlessly, Seungcheol walks towards you and takes the pasta jar himself. He twists the lid and the soft pop of the seal breaking was almost offensive to your pride. He didn’t as much so break a sweat, his arms not even flexing as he was able to do what you had been attempting with ease.

Your mouth falls open in shock, eyes narrowing when he hands the opened jar back to you with an irritating smirk.

“I loosened it for you.” You mutter defensively, snatching the jar back from him.

He smiles smugly, ruffling your hair in affection. “Sure you did, baby.”

“I did,” You press, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing that you needed him in that moment, despite denying it at first. You elbow him in the chest half-heartedly, lips formed into a pout.

Seungcheol only laughs, leaning down to kiss your head as you begin to pour the sauce into a pot. Your resolve cracks when his arm wraps around your waist, holding you close to him.

“I highly doubt that, but thanks for loosening it I guess.”

You roll your eyes, slightly annoyed, but nevertheless, his playful gratitude doesn’t fail to make you blush.

paying attention to things that catch your eye

"What's this?" You ask, wiggling your eyebrows with a smile on your face. You stare down at the gift box laid on your bed, running your hands over the cute red bow tied neatly around it.

Seungcheol started to remove his tie, glancing at you briefly before shrugging. "Just a little something." He muttered, not making a big deal out of it.

If there was one thing he noticed about you throughout the years of your relationship, it was that you hated asking him for things — at least, things that costed money. For something as cheap as a bottle of water on a hot summer day, you would shake your head no if he asked whether you wanted it or not. To say he hated that habit of yours would be an understatement.

One of Seungcheol's love languages was giving, so won't you just let him spoil you every once in a while — it's not like it’s going to make a dent in his wallet anyways.

"A little something huh?" You tease with a grin, opening the box in front of you before gasping at what was inside.

The necklace was even more gorgeous up close, than it was from afar when you saw it while walking past the window display. "Wh-, I-, Cheol-, oh my god." You stutter over your words, struggling to form a proper sentence.

He lets out a small laugh, walking over to where you sat. "What? You like it?" He already knew the answer to that question, having seen you glance at it on a shopping trip with heart eyes for a millisecond, before sighing and walking away.

Despite you not mentioning a thing and choosing to forget about it altogether; Seungcheol didn't. No — in fact he called the store and bought it online that same day, only picking it up today after one of his work schedules.

"I-I love it." You spoke up, touching at the small detailing of the rhinestones. You glance up at him after a minute of admiring, not being able to bite back the words. "How much was it?" You question, already knowing that the store itself was designer and very, very expensive.

Seungcheol sighed, running his hand over your hair. "Don't worry about it."

"But-,” You tried, to which he cut you off.

"Don't worry about it." He repeated insistently, this time with much more emphasis on his words.

It was your turn to sigh, as he took the necklace from your hands and clasped it around your neck. All worrying thoughts drifted from your head as you caught sight of it on your body in the mirror. It was absolutely breathtaking.

You kept your eyes on your reflection, admiring the gift before turning around to face him. "Thank you."

Seungcheol smiles at you, his heart reacting to the words as he feels the warmth of adoration spreading throughout his body. "Anytime baby."

making you hold his hand when crossing the street

"What are you doing?" You ask, curiously looking at the extended hand Seungcheol holds out for you. You two took on a busy street, waiting for the crosswalk signal to change so you could continue your adventures to the other side.

Your boyfriend glances at you expectantly. "Hold my hand." He says, gesturing to it with the tilt of his head.

Huffing at him, an annoyed expression crosses your features. "But why? I can cross the street by myself you know?" Your eyes were wide, a clear sign that you were irritated.

Seungcheol took the time to think carefully about his next words, knowing that your patience was wearing thin. "I know you can, but better safe than sorry."

You roll your eyes, anger bubbling inside of you. "No. I'm an adult Seungcheol. I can do it myself." To prove your statement, you ignore his hand entirely, stepping out onto the street to begin your journey to the other side.

It all happened too quick for you to process. One second your foot was on the road, and the next, Seungcheol was grabbing your arm firmly to pull you back quick as a car sped by, honking at lightning speed. You crashed into his chest, heart racing as you came to the realization that you almost got hit.

"See." Seungcheol scolded. "This is why you should listen to me."

Still in shock, you let him take your small hand in his big one, not putting in any effort to resist. You gripped your other hand onto his forearm tightly, letting him lead you safely across the street as he's offered to do every single time you guys are together.

[atlabeth]

bittersweet - joel miller

summary: you stumble into joel's life and he has no intentions of keeping you there. too bad you're just as stubborn as he is.

a/n: did someone order a whole novella of plot mixed with occasional banter ending with no relationship in sight but a new bond that will inevitably grow to be more? no? here it is anyways!

set before joel gets to boston but he's already been separated from tommy but who tf cares about canon tbh we're just having fun here. i started this when the show first began and as usual, abandoned it and as usual, came back with a fervor 2 years later. hope you all enjoy! i barely proofread this bc ive already read it so many times while writing and i physically cannot do it one more time rn so please let me know if there are any glaring mistakes

wc: 20k (officially my longest one shot! congrats joel)

warning(s): fem!reader (she is southern); decent age gap (joel is 40 and r is 27), half and half on fluff and angst; canon typical violence, some directed at reader; a lot of cursing; a lot of gun violence throughout most of the fic; numerous gunshot wounds; threats of sexual violence against reader but nothing ever happens! joel kills a lot of people (and is kinda mean for the first half of this); inaccurate medical stuff!! i did my research but am prob wrong on some stuff so pls dont flame me

both gifs bc i imagined both of them while writing and bc theyre both so hot jfc

You wish you weren’t so accustomed to waking up to gunshots. 

You dart up from your bed immediately, the sound rattling around your brain as your weary mind tries to make sense of the situation. You have your pistol in your hand before you even fully realize it, your instincts honed even in your grogginess.

Screams accompany the gunfire and you push against the grimaces trying to fight their way to the surface. This isn’t the first time the compound you’ve stayed in has been taken over by force, but it’s the first time you’ve been this unprepared, and the first time you haven’t been on the ground floor for easy evacuation. No one is in your room trying to kill you—not yet, at least—and you have to take that blessing while you’ve got it. 

You throw on your jacket and shove your feet into your boots, thankful you tucked your laces in months ago. You can handle the minor discomfort in exchange for the advantage. You throw what you can into your backpack, ensure your knife is secured in its sheath, and edge towards the door. 

Normally, you share a room with Devon, but she went on a supply run alongside a few others a couple days ago—you regret not taking her offer to come along on account of your many patients, but you can’t waste what could become a very short life on regrets. 

You open the door and peer out, trying to gauge your chances. The gunshots are getting closer and the screams are louder. If you weren’t on the top floor, you would have considered the window. But you have to get to the infirmary first, and you don’t really feel like breaking your legs. 

Soon as there’s an opening, you run. Your most recent area of refuge is a run down high school, and you know it well after your months here. You practically throw yourself down a hallway to hide from a group of men coming up the stairs, and your heart threatens to beat out your chest. 

Their rifles and shotguns are much bigger than the little handgun that you’ve carried state to state. You have to press your body against the wall to stop it from shaking, and grip your pistol so tight you feel the ridged handle indent into your palm. 

“Go room by room!” one man at the front shouts. “Leave no survivors!” 

Your only hope is to get out before they find you. The infirmary is in the old nurse’s office on the first floor—if they’re already up here gunning down the last of the compound, then you have little doubt that your patients are already dead. There’s no point in joining them out of some false sense of heroism. 

There were no heroes anymore. 

You back up slowly, making sure you stay flush against the wall while you keep an eye on the hallway. You think about slipping into the classroom you’re next to, but you decide against it. You can’t afford to get trapped. 

You continue to stealth your way down the hallways, keeping your head on a swivel as you try and think through all your escape routes. 

There’s another staircase on the other side of the top floor, but that might be too out in the open. A couple of stairwells are tucked behind unassuming doors, but that would leave you even more trapped if things went south. And of course, you can always throw yourself out a window and hope you don’t break your legs. 

More gunshots, more screams—you hear the thumps of bodies falling to the floor and you have to steel yourself. It doesn’t matter that these people were your friends or acquaintances or anything close to it. They’re dead now, and you refuse to join them. 

You turn the corner and immediately retract—a trio of armed men are going classroom by classroom, and you hardly stand a chance against one. Once you retrace your steps, you poke your head around the corner only to be greeted with the sight of more bandits. You press yourself against the wall, heart racing. 

You’re stuck in this hallway, dead if they see you. Might as well make things a little worse and at least get yourself some cover if you’re trapped either way. 

The ceiling is crumbling above you, has been falling apart for a few months. You pick up a piece of tile, take a deep breath, and throw it as hard as you can. Two of the trio go to check it out, and the third is focused on them to watch their backs. You dart out of your hallway and run as quick and quiet as you can, and you make it to the alcove leading into a classroom. 

Twin classrooms actually, connected by a door in the middle, so you’re not completely stuck. You breathe out a sigh of relief, but it’s immediately short-lived when you hear the pump of a shotgun.

You whirl around to see the empty shell fall to the ground, your hands already flying up on instinct. You’re staring down the barrel of the gun, held by a man standing in the doorway between the two classrooms. He doesn’t look particularly nice, but he hasn’t shot you immediately, so you should learn to count your blessings.  

“I’m a doctor!” you proclaim, your heart threatening to pound out of your chest at this point. You’ve learned it’s the best thing to lead with. “Don’t shoot, I—” you suck in air as fast as you can, but all this running with your life on the line is wearing on you— “I’m a doctor.” 

Again, he doesn’t instantly kill you. He keeps his gun trained on you and takes a few steps closer, and you’re making much more eye contact with the barrel than him. 

“A doctor?” he repeats skeptically. “You look a little young for that.” 

“I was a surgical resident before the outbreak,” you lie. “I just have a young face.” 

He lowers the gun just slightly, so it’s not aimed at your head anymore. “You’re a surgeon?”

“Yes,” you nod repeatedly. “They said to leave no survivors, but I— I can help any of your wounded. As much as you need, just— just please don’t kill me.”

The man stares at you and you tense every muscle in your body to not shift under his scrutiny. Eventually, he fully lowers his gun. 

“Thank you,” you breathe. You feel like you could collapse from the relief, but it doesn’t last long as he moves in. Soon as he’s close enough, he slams your hand against the wall and your gun falls out of your limp grasp. 

Your heart rate spikes as you flatten yourself against the wall in an effort to put space between the two of you, but it’s fruitless. 

“If you’re fuckin’ lying,” he mutters, his hot breath hitting your face as his grip on your wrist tightens painfully, “you’ll end up like the rest of your people.” 

“I’m not lying,” you enunciate stiffly, staring him right in the eye. 

The man holds your gaze for another moment before he nods, seemingly satisfied. He lets go of you to pick up your gun from the ground and tuck it in his holster, and you stumble forward when he pushes you with the barrel.

“Get movin’, little lady,” he says. “I’ve got an awfully itchy trigger finger.” 

You fight the urge to talk back. You’ve avoided getting shot for this long, and you don’t really fancy getting a shotgun to the face in such close quarters. You keep your hands up and start walking, hoping by pure will you can stop them from shaking. 

You walk out of the classroom and through the hallways, and you’re able to catch glimpses of dead bodies as you go. You recognize far too many of them—those with their features still intact, at least.

These people welcomed you into their community with open arms, treated you like family even though they’d only known you for a few months. You knew anyone like that didn’t last very long, but you tried to ignore it. 

You couldn’t think about that now, though. That was how the world worked—how it had worked for a long time now. 

You stumble your way down the stairs and finally make it to the lobby. Even more bodies litter the first floor—you see Eleanor, the woman who brought you back here when she could have left you for dead; Delilah, who you worked with in the infirmary; Cade, who flirted with you too much for his own good but always managed to make you laugh—

Your focus is jarred from thoughts of your comrades survival to those of your own as the man pushes you hard with the barrel of his gun. You just barely manage to catch yourself with your hands as you fall to your knees. You look up to see yourself in the middle of a group of bloodstained bandits, and you clench your hands into fists to keep them from shaking. 

“What part of ‘no survivors’ do you not understand, Jake?” one of them says. “We don’t need another mouth to feed because you want a plaything.” 

Your skin crawls at the thought, but he just shakes his head with a grumble. “I’m not like Marshall. Didn’t kill her ‘cause she says she’s a doctor. She can get Becca and Joel back on their feet,” he looks pointedly at a woman, “can make sure Nadine’s still in working order.” 

“How do you know she’s not lying?” the woman counters, and she squats down to look you in the eye. You meet her inquisitive gaze, refusing to look away—she breaks first, at least, and stands back up. “Could be tryin’ to save her own ass.” 

“I’m not lying,” you grind out. “Wouldn’t do me any good to get shot at your camp instead of here, would it?” 

“Watch your mouth,” she says, but she backs off anyways. 

“Check her for weapons and tie her up,” another one says. “We’ll take her back once we’ve picked this place clean.” 

Again, you swallow the words you want to say. You bite your tongue when you’re wrestled from the ground and searched for weapons. You don’t fight back as your hands are tied together behind your back, you don’t fight back when Jake prods you with his gun even as he follows you to the infirmary to get your medical bag, you don’t fight back against anything. 

You’re a captive of the people that slaughtered your friends, only alive because of the overexaggerated skills you’ve used like a shield since the outbreak started. Your continued survival depends on helping people you might not even be able to save, and you doubt this group will want to listen to your medical explanations. 

But you are alive. And that’s all you care about. 

(You’re not breaking the one damn promise that still matters.)

-

It’s not a very fun ride back. 

These people travel by horse and they don’t want you running off, so you have to sit in front of Jake, the man who spared your life who seems to be some kind of leader. He makes idle comments to pass the time, and it’s not as bad as it could be, but you dislike him anyway. He did help murder your whole community. 

Sunrise comes around just as you make it to camp—you have to fight to stay awake on the ride, and when you jump down, you’re reminded that this slaughter happened in the middle of the night. 

It doesn’t matter how tired you are, though, because your work starts almost immediately. You think about asking Jake for coffee as he leads you to your first patient, but you don’t think he would take too kindly to it. 

He mentioned Becca when he was pleading your case, and she ends up being your first stop. She’s got a nasty gash on her leg that she got from hopping a barbed wire fence and it’s kept her off her feet since it happened. 

You clean it out as best you can and stitch it up with what these people have on hand, which happens to be a needle and thread. At this point, you think you’ve done more stitches this way than the normal way. To her credit, she bears it well—better than Jake, who grumbles every time you ask him for the materials you need. It’s like he doesn’t even want you to help, which doesn’t really make sense when he’s standing there with his gun like he’s ready to shoot you at any moment. 

Next is Nadine, and you’re accompanied by the woman who accused you of lying. They must be close, because she doesn’t leave her side during your entire checkup. Nadine has a broken arm that you can tell she hasn’t been resting properly, but at least there’s no swelling. They’ve already done a makeshift sling for her, so you just do a par for the course checkup then refashion her sling to be more effective. None of them appreciate you telling her she needs to rest, but you figured that would be the case. This doesn’t seem to be the happiest bunch of people. 

Finally, you’re hauled off to your last patient, Joel. You’re exhausted from your sleepless night and walking on glass with every passing second, but he’s the last one. He can’t be too difficult to deal with. 

You reach the final room and Jake pounds on the door. 

“Joel!” he calls. “You decent?” 

“Do you know what time it is?” a gruff voice responds, and you hold back a sigh. Is everyone here difficult? 

Jake opens the door anyway and gestures for you to walk in. You do, and you see a man laying down in bed atop the sheets. His eyes are closed but he doesn’t even look peaceful—just annoyed. 

You purse your lips. Everyone here is difficult. 

“We got ourselves a doctor,” Jake says. “So stop complainin’ and let her look at you.” 

“I don’t need a doctor,” he says. 

“You got shot two days ago,” he retorts. “Only reason no one’s looked at it more is because no one thought you would make it through the night.” 

“I’m fine.” He sits up with a groan characteristic of someone who is not fine, and he levels his gaze at you. “You’re wasting your time.” 

“I’ve got nothing but time,” you say. “I don’t think he’s gonna let me leave until I look you over, so…” 

Joel scoffs. “Don’t tell me you went and kidnapped a doctor.” 

“We got lucky at the school,” Jake says. 

He rolls his eyes. “I told you, I’m fine.” 

You glance at your captor. “I don’t think we’re getting anywhere.” 

“You better get somewhere,” Jake says. 

“I might make better leeway without you standing over me,” you say. 

He frowns. “You’re a prisoner. Can’t trust you alone.” 

“I’ve gotten through the past two patients just fine.” 

“I don’t need you jumpin’ out the window and running the first chance you get,” Jake says. 

“Look,” you say, a muscle working in your jaw, “do you want your man to get through this or not? Because if you do, I need to work in silence, and it doesn’t seem like the two of you are very good at it together.” 

He doesn’t budge, and you let out a loose breath. “You can wait outside, and if I do anything suspicious, feel free to shoot me. But at least give me the room.” 

The approval of your own murder seems to satisfy him, however temporary, because after staring at you for another moment, he grunts. He goes over to the door, then lifts his gun and looks at you. “Remember, I’ve got an itchy trigger finger.” 

He leaves the room to let the threat sit in the air, and you close your eyes and sigh deeply. You don’t know when, but you know you have to get out of here eventually. 

“And just who the hell are you?” 

You open your eyes to see Joel staring right at you, very unimpressed. He looks to be in his 40s, the greying in his scruffy hair and beard giving it away—if that didn’t do it, the hardened weariness in his eyes would. 

Men like him tend to be the worst patients, at least in your limited experience. Something tells you Joel won’t be any different. 

“A doctor,” you say. “What’s wrong with you?”

“You don’t look like a doctor,” he says. 

You already hate this guy. “Sorry. I lost my white coat and stethoscope when people started eating each other.”

“I mean you look too young.”

“Well, you look too old to still be this annoying,” you retort. “Now tell me what’s wrong with you so we get over this quicker. ” 

Joel grumbles and rolls his eyes, but he eventually answers you. “Got shot a couple days back.”

“There an exit wound?” you ask. 

He nods. 

“How much does it hurt?” 

“Like hell.” 

You narrow your eyes at him. “You this short with all your doctors?” 

He grunts, and you sigh as you kneel down next to him. “Alright. Show me.” 

Joel stares at you for a moment before relenting. He shrugs off his jacket then pulls up the bottom of his shirt, revealing a shoddily bandaged wound on his lower chest. 

You raise your eyebrows. “Who patched you up? And when?” 

“Does it matter?” he asks. 

“Yes, actually. Helps me know the likelihood of infection, and if there is one, how fucked you are.” 

“Why do you need to know who did it?” 

“Because it’s pretty shitty handiwork,” you say. 

“Kept me alive,” Joel says. “Far as I’m concerned, that means it’s pretty good.” 

You roll your eyes. “You tell yourself that when you’re dying of sepsis.” 

“Not everyone has your luxuries, doc,” he responds dryly. 

“I’d say you certainly have some luxuries,” you say. “Looks like this missed your major organs, for one. You’re extremely lucky.”  

 He huffs a mirthless laugh. “Wouldn’t really classify myself as lucky.” 

“You should,” you say, glancing back up at him. “Takes an awful lot of it to get by these days.” 

Joel remains silent. You sigh again and take it as your sign to start working. 

You gingerly peel back the bandages, and to Joel’s credit, he only grimaces the smallest bit. 

“No infection,” you murmur. “That’s good.”

“Guess it was patched up pretty well then,” he says. 

You glance up at him. “You dressed it yourself, didn’t you?”

Joel shrugs. “Maybe.” 

“You seem pretty normal for someone who got shot a few days ago,” you say. 

“‘Cause it’s not the first time,” he says. “You tellin’ me you haven’t been shot?” 

You shake your head. “Stabbed, sliced, scratched, bit, but never shot.” 

His eyebrows rise. “You’ve been bit?” 

“By people, not infected.” You chuckle. “The one thing I’ve managed to avoid, at least.” 

He makes some noise of acknowledgement. “Things get crazy in that hospital of yours?” 

You smile wryly. “Nothin’ crazier than I see out here everyday. And nothing worse than Outbreak Day.” 

Joel goes quiet at that. You don’t know why you continue on as you clean out his wound, why you’re talking so much when you went through the last two patients in relative silence. Maybe it’s because Jake isn’t standing over your shoulder. 

“I worked in a hospital in the middle of Boston,” you explain. “The city practically imploded when it all started—felt like we were the epicenter of it all. Patients turned their nurses, folks in the waiting room killed their families, and all the infected that managed to escape went on a rampage in the city.” You shake your head with a sigh. “Sometimes I still don’t know how I made it out alive.” 

You feel Joel’s gaze on you for a long time after. You can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes, so you busy yourself with dressing both sides of his wound now that you’ve cleaned it out. Eventually, though, he speaks. 

“Boston’s a long way from Kansas,” he says. “How’d you end up here?” 

You shake your head again as you finish taping the last piece of gauze across his exit wound. “Can’t reveal all my secrets day one.” 

“Bold to think I care that much,” he says. 

You frown. “You were the one that asked.” 

He opens his mouth to say something, but he’s interrupted when the door opens. Both of you look over to see Jake, looking unapologetic. 

“I got bored,” he says, answering your unspoken question. “Can’t take this long to bandage someone up.” 

You set down your nearly depleted roll of gauze. “I just finished, actually.” 

“He gonna live?” Jake asks. 

“Bullet went straight through and missed any vital organs or arteries, so he really avoided the worst of it,” you explain. “I cleaned it the best I could and covered it with gauze—I think it would do more harm than good to stitch it up. He should be okay, but someone should really monitor him for the next few days to make sure it stays that way. And if you have antibiotics, send ‘em his way. Better to be safe than sorry when it comes to infection.” 

“Good,” he nods. “I think we have a couple—I’ll get ‘em to you.” 

“Good,” you echo. “Then I think we’re done here.” 

You stand up from the bed, thinking you’re finally in the clear, when he pulls out a pair of handcuffs. You’re about to question it when he opens them and clips one side around the radiator next to the door, then looks at you. 

“We got one last order of business,” Jake says, and it clicks in your head. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you say incredulously. 

“You said it yourself,” he says. “Someone’s gotta keep an eye on him. Might as well be the one that treated him.” 

“This is ridiculous,” you spit. “I did what you asked, and you treat me like— like a goddamn animal?” 

“You’re a prisoner,” he says, like he has to remind you. “I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you. You’ll run off the second you can.” 

You grind your teeth together. “Can’t even put me in a cell like a dignified prisoner?” 

“If Joel dies, it’s your head,” he says. “You should thank me. This gives you the best chance possible.” 

You want to fight it, but you can’t. Not when he could put a bullet in your head with that shotgun he seems very fond of.

So you clench your jaw, swallow your pride, and let him handcuff you to a radiator that looks like it’s a decade older than you. This motel they’ve hitched up in really has all the luxuries. 

“What if I do start dyin’ in the middle of the night,” Joel says dryly. “She can’t exactly work her magic with one hand.” 

“I’m sure she can do plenty magic with one hand,” Jake chuckles, and your skin crawls as he looks you over. You clench your jaw so hard you think your teeth might crack. 

“Real clever, jackass,” Joel intones.

Jake rolls his eyes. “Just walk your sorry ass across the room if you have to.”

“You really thought this out,” he says. 

 “Don’t make me regret makin’ her save your life,” Jake says, and he turns his attention back to you. “Don’t do—“

“Anything stupid,” you interrupt despite yourself. “Yeah, I know.”

You feel the pain before you even really see him pull the gun out, the glint of metal the only hint to the searing fire in your cheek. You fall to the ground, hissing as your free hand darts up to nurse the wound rather than try to catch yourself. The pain smarts both on your knees and your cheek, blood already spurting from the cut he opened up. Your vision swims in front of you. 

“Watch your mouth, bitch,” he growls. “Remember why you’re here.” 

You just grit your teeth as he holsters his pistol—no, your pistol, the bastard—riding through the wave of dizziness. You want to remind him you won’t be of much use if you’re fucking dead, but you don’t feel like earning yourself another badge of his approval. So you just nod in submissive acknowledgement, and he looks at Joel. 

“Keep her in check, will you? I don’t feel like dealing with more of this bullshit in the morning.” 

“Sure,” Joel says. 

That seems to satisfy him, because Jake only gives you another dirty look before he leaves and kicks the door shut behind him. 

Your eyes begin watering against your will, lesser pain than you’ve experienced in the past somehow managing to bring you down. You bite down hard on the inside of your lip as you shift to sit against the wall, hoping a different source of pain will force the blood trickling down your cheek into the background. 

You can’t cry over something like this. Not in front of a man like Joel. 

“I know you’re looking,” you say bitterly. “If you want to call me an idiot, just do it.” 

“You’re an idiot,” he says. You don’t really know what you expect. 

“It’s one hell of a group you’re running with.” You pull your hand away from your cheek, grimacing at the concerning amount of blood coating your fingers. Between this and the dull pain in your knees, you’re going to bruise something fierce. 

Nothing like getting pistol whipped with your own gun by one of the hunters that slaughtered your community like sheep to make you feel at home. 

“They’re the same as everyone else,” he says. “Don’t know how you’re still surprised after all these years.” 

Your thoughts go back to the first group you had to leave. The first time you were forced to be terribly, horribly, woefully selfish, when you lost the only thing that mattered. You wonder if he thinks about you as much as you think about him. 

Screams echo in your mind. You shut them out. 

“...I’m not,” you say. “Just acknowledging.” 

As silence consumes the air between you, you can’t help but pull your legs closer to yourself in an effort to be as small as possible. You’re intimately aware that you’re at Joel’s mercy, and you can only hope he’s not that sort of man. Jake’s comments don’t bring you much solace. 

He must notice how tense you are, because he sighs and shakes his head. “Relax. Ain’t gonna hurt you.” 

“Sorry if I don’t believe that,” you mutter. 

Joel scoffs. “Don’t matter what you believe or not.” 

“Well, I believe that I’m royally fucked,” you spit. “I’ve been here for five hours and I’m already bleedin’ and stuck in a room with you. Doesn’t fare well for my future.”

“How’d you even end up here?” Joel asks. “We ain’t exactly bringing in new folks.”

You huff. “You weren’t too far off with them kidnapping a doctor.”

He doesn’t seem fazed, and you think that should concern you. “What, they just wander into a hospital and pick you up?”

“They wandered into a high school and murdered my whole community,” you correct. “I’m only here because I pleaded my case before they could shoot me.”

“...Wound does feel better,” he says. “Least you kinda know what you’re doing.” 

You glance away. “Bandaged more GSWs these past few years than I ever did in med school. I’m used to it by now.”

There’s another knock on the door and your whole body tenses. Joel calls out that it’s unlocked, and you’ve never been so grateful to see the woman from before. Nadine’s sister, you remember— Rachel. She breathed over your shoulder the entire time you fixed up her sister’s sling. 

“You better?” she asks. 

He nods. “Back on my feet, at least.” 

“Good,” she says. She seems to notice you, bleeding and deflated and restrained, and looks back at Joel unfazed. “What’s the deal here?” 

“Jake did it,” he says. “Wants to keep her in check.” 

“Long as it means she’s not a problem, I couldn’t care less,” she admits. “But you gotta get your ass in gear, Joel. Community meeting in the lobby.” 

“Y’all woke me up at four in the morning,” Joel complains. “Can’t let an old man sleep day after he gets shot?” 

“You said it yourself; you’re back on your feet,” she says. “Better see you in five.” 

She leaves and closes the door behind her, not even passing a second look at you. You felt less alone when you were moping your way through Missouri. 

Joel heaves a sigh and stands up. He grabs his jacket from the bed and slips it back on, buttoning it up in the middle. You watch him go through the motions because you have nothing else to do, but you notice the roughness of his hands. 

“You gonna do anything about those torn calluses?” you ask. 

He glances at you with a frown. “Why’re you lookin’?” 

“Got nothing else to do,” you say. “You don’t cover those up, they could lead to infection.” 

“Sounds like everything can lead to infection,” he mocks. 

“Kinda does,” you say. “‘Specially in this world.” 

Joel huffs a laugh and he pulls a couple bandaids out of your medical bag, still sitting on his bed. “That good enough for you?” 

“Don’t do it for me,” you say. “Do it for yourself.” 

He grumbles as he tucks them into his pocket, and you continue to watch him as he gets ready. Ties up his boots, shoves knives into sheaths on each leg, fixes the watch on his wrist—

“Quit starin’ at me,” he mumbles. 

“I told you,” you say. “Nothin’ else to do.” 

“Look at the wall,” Joel says as he slings a rifle over his shoulder. “More interesting than me.” 

“The wall doesn’t have your overwhelming charm,” you say. 

He scoffs. “Can’t believe I’m stuck with you.” 

You shrug. “Can always kill me yourself and be done with it.” 

“Who’ll save me when I crash in the middle of the night?” he mocks. 

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” you say. “You patched yourself up, after all.”

Joel exhales a little harder than usual out of your nose, and you figure that’s what passes as a laugh around him. You take a strange amount of pride in it. 

You think he’s about to leave, but instead he picks up your medical bag and slides it over to you. 

“Patch yourself up for a change,” he says. “Don’t want you bleedin’ all over this expensive flooring while I’m gone.” 

That gets the slightest laugh out of you as you pick it up. “Thanks.” 

Joel grunts in acknowledgement, and he moves over to the door. You start unzipping the bag but have to pause, the sight of your blood all over your hand making you grimace. You’ve gotten some on your jeans unwittingly, and you can’t help but sigh. Sure, they’re already covered in dust and grime and blood from other people, but you didn’t want to add yours to the mix. Especially on your favorite pair of jeans. 

Maybe you’d be able to scrounge a bottle of hydrogen peroxide up sometime. It’s the least this world could give you. 

You look up to see Joel standing in the door frame, looking at you instead of leaving. 

“You’re gonna be late,” you say. “Then we’ll both be on Jake’s shit list.” 

Joel blinks. He looks like he wants to say something, but he just nods. 

“See you ‘round,” he says. 

“Not like I can go anywhere,” you say wryly. 

You go back to rummaging through your bag, trying to find the gauze you haphazardly shoved back in. Joel’s still looking at you, and his gaze burns your skin. You hope if you ignore him, he’ll leave. 

He does. He shuts the door behind him when he leaves, quieter and gentler than you expect. 

You stare at your hands, one bloodstained and the other cuffed. You’ve taken care of your calluses better than Joel, at least. 

The thought is warmer than it should be. 

Makes you realize how cold the room feels.

-

Joel doesn’t come back for a while. Half the day, you think. 

It’s difficult to keep track of time in here. With the door closed and the window shutters down, what little light streams through doesn’t give you much of an idea of the hour. 

You also don’t really have much to do, which makes the time pass even slower. 

You clean your cheek out the best you can and tape it shut with some small butterfly bandages. You hope that’ll make it heal quicker, or at least keep it protected from the elements. You can’t let it get infected after all you’ve spouted to Joel. 

It still smarts, but you try your best to ignore it. Jake did a number on you, and with your own pistol at that. 

He might have spared your life, but you’re killing him before you escape this place. 

You try to sleep, but it doesn’t really work. You’re exhausted, plain and simple, but you think your body will have to give out for you to get some rest at this point. The position you’re stuck in is too damn uncomfortable for your brain to shut off, and every time you get close, you just see the bodies of your friends, see the same nightmares you’ve relived for a year and a half. 

So instead, you decide to test your boundaries. 

You’re handcuffed to one of the middle pipes, which goes all the way down to the ground and about a third of the way up the wall. You use your finger to measure and figure out you have around five inches of leeway with the chain. Not enough to do much of anything with, but still something. 

Once you’re done with that, you just… look around. There isn’t much else to do, but this is Joel’s room. You were a psych minor before the world ended—maybe it’ll give you some insight into him, give you something to use. You’re not above manipulation if it means you can get someone on your side. 

But frustratingly, there’s almost nothing. It’s not like you expect him to have a whole decorated room in the apocalypse, but he’s really giving you nothing here. 

An open pack of bullets sits on his bedside table. His sheets are still a mess from his rude awakening because he didn’t bother to make his bed before he left. The extra unused pillows lay scattered on the ground, 

So you can’t analyze him using his barebones room—you have nothing but time, so you think back to how he looked before he left and go from there. 

Joel’s beard and facial hair were both relatively under control, so he’s someone who cares a decent amount about cleanliness and hygiene. He carries two knives and a rifle outwardly, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he had a handgun hiding somewhere or more weapons in his bag. He speaks with a Southern accent—stronger than yours, but you lost some of it while you were studying in Boston. 

You used to not mind. People seemed to respect you more without it, seemed to take you more seriously, and that was all you wanted in med school. Now, it just feels like another part of yourself that you’ve lost. Like you can’t even call yourself an Okie anymore. 

He looks to be in his forties, but you don’t remember a wedding ring. Whether he’s been a life-long bachelor or loved and lost and just chooses not to wear it, you don’t know. From what you’ve seen, all hardened survivor-like, it’s hard to imagine him with a wife and kids and a white picket fence life. 

But what do you know? Anyone who’s still alive at this point has to have a hardened heart. There’s no other way to survive. There’s a reason you’re fucking handcuffed to a radiator. 

Maybe before this all started, Joel was kinder. Softer. Maybe he did have a wife and kids, and he loved them more than anything. Maybe he actually smiled. 

You shake your head. No use thinking of the past, and certainly no use judging him. You’ve changed too. Everyone has. And if he has a family that he lost, then you’ve got more in common than you think. 

Maybe you can use that. 

Joel is covered in blood when he eventually comes back into the room. He gives you half a glance before he pulls his pack and rifle off and sets them on the bed. 

“Can’t believe you’re still here,” he says. 

“Can’t exactly leave,” you respond. “How’re you all bloody after a meeting?”

“Went huntin’ after,” he says. “Things move quick here.” 

“Well, how’d that go?”   

“We ain’t gonna starve, so as good as it could be.” Joel passes another glance at you, this time a little longer. “Your cheek looks better.” 

“Feels like shit,” you say. “How’s your chest?” 

“Feels like shit,” he echoes. “But I’ll live.” 

“None of that blood is yours, is it?” 

“No.” He points his finger at you. “And you’re not doin’ another checkup, doc, so don’t even think about it.” 

You smile sweetly and hold up your shackled wrist. “Couldn’t even if I wanted to.” 

Joel huffs. “Still can’t believe Jake did this. Like he’s tryin’ to punish me, sticking you with me.” 

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I feel like they’re punishing me by sticking you with me too.” 

“You can’t be stuck with me,” Joel says. “This is my room. You’re the intruder.”

“I’m real threatening, huh?” you mock. “So much so that I gotta be restrained.” 

“Threatening, no. Annoying, yes.” 

“You’re too kind,” you drawl. You watch him unpack some more, then you purse your lips. “Y’know, you really shouldn’t have gone hunting when you got shot a couple days ago.” 

“Was only half a mile out.” Joel scoffs. “There you go provin’ my point.” 

You hum. “Guess you really are stuck with me, then.”

“Lucky me,” he mutters. 

-

Joel is in and out for the rest of the day, and even when he’s in you don’t really talk. When he comes back for the night he at least brings some stale bread and a small ration of meat for you—you and your growling stomach are appreciative, but it makes you feel like a prisoner even more than the handcuffs. 

What’s worse is how annoyed he seems about it all. Like this was your choice—like you not only chose to throw in with these people, but you chose to stick yourself with him. You think about telling Joel that, but you decide against it. 

Just because he said he wouldn’t hurt you doesn’t mean he won’t go back on his word. People tend to not really care about their word these days. 

You try to make small talk, but he doesn’t give. Eventually, when he settles in for the night, you decide to try as well. 

It’s even more uncomfortable than when you tried earlier. You lay down on the ground, you lean against the radiator, you settle against the wall— it doesn’t matter what position you try because they all cause some part of your body to start hurting within minutes. 

You thought it would be easier, considering how many nights you’ve spent sleeping on hardwood floors and cold dirt, but it’s not. Blame it on your privilege from the bed in your previous compound or the unsettling nature of being stuck in a stranger’s room or the endless nightmares that follow you wherever you go—it doesn’t really matter. 

A few pathetic hours of tossing and turning pass, and Joel ends up throwing a pillow and a blanket in your direction. When you thank him, he just grunts in response and goes back to sleep. 

It makes it a little easier. Makes you feel a bit better about your forced company, at least. 

Jake comes by in the morning to send Joel on his way for whatever task he has to do that day and pick you up. He unlocks your cuffs and takes you on the world’s shortest version of rounds. You look at Becca’s leg wound (no infection), ensure Nadine is resting her arm (she is), and by the time it’s Joel’s turn, he’s already out and about. 

Turns out him lounging in bed was an oddity caused by being shot the day before, because you and Jake find him in the parking lot with a couple others getting ready to go out on a supply run.

“You know, you really should be resting,” you say as you walk up to him. 

Joel scoffs when he sees you approaching and puts the last bullet into his rifle’s magazine. He’s got his sleeves rolled up, allowing you to see the slight ripple of his forearm muscles as he pushes the bolt back into place. 

“I’m fine,” he says. “Certainly don’t need you followin’ me around.” 

He grimaces a little when he stands up, and though he hides it well, you see his arm move for just a millisecond as he fights an instinct to press against his wound. 

“Clearly,” you respond dryly. “Look, I know what I’m talking about.” 

“You look like you learned medicine from watching Sesame Street.” 

You scowl. “I know more than you ever will. Just like how I know that if you ain’t careful, you’re gonna ruin all my hard work.” 

“I’m not gonna run a marathon, so stop bothering me, will ya?” 

“I’m your doctor,” you say. “This isn’t bothering.” 

“You’re not a doctor,” he says. “And you’re certainly not mine.”

“I am one, and certainly the closest thing you’ve got to one,” you huff. “You’re not dead, are you?” 

He rolls his eyes. “Just keep your mouth shut. It’ll do you a lot more good around here than whatever the hell you’re doing.”

“If you just let me do my check up, I would be gone already,” you insist. “Instead, you’ve gotta be a stubborn asshole.” 

Joel looks behind you at Jake. “You put her up to this?” 

He shrugs. “None of us really want you to drop dead out there, I ‘spose.” 

He groans and shakes his head—you’d think you were asking him to shoot his mother the way he’s protesting. But eventually, he sits back down and does a flourish with his hand. 

“Make it quick,” he tells you. 

“I’ll do it well,” you retort. “Pull your shirt up.” 

Joel does, revealing the bottom half of his chest once again, and there’s a whistle behind you. You see Joel shoot an absolutely scathing look out of your peripherals, and you do your best to ignore it all. 

The gauze is bloody, but it isn’t soaked through. You remove the dressings and redo them, glancing up on occasion to make sure you’re not hurting him. He doesn’t grimace or wince, but when he tenses every time your fingers brush against his bare skin. 

“Sorry,” you murmur. “I should’ve asked if I could touch you.” 

“I don’t care,” he says, but you feel him shift anyways. 

The rest of it goes by pretty quickly, since you did all the important work yesterday. Once you’re done, you zip your medical bag up and nod. 

“You’re good to go,” you say. “Just keep it clean to avoid infection. And don’t get shot again.” 

He snorts. “Don’t plan on it.” 

Joel walks off to rejoin the other hunters, and you watch him go until Jake clears his throat behind you. 

“Time for you to start payin’ your keep, little lady,” he says. 

You hum. “So I don’t just get to stay handcuffed to a radiator all day?” 

He pushes you with the barrel of his gun to get you moving, and you stumble into a walk. “I hope you’re better at maintenance than you are at jokes.” 

You just sigh and bite your tongue. He sucks, but he’s not actively threatening you. Might be the least you can ask for, at this point. 

-

Your keep, it turns out, is doing miscellaneous chores. 

You do laundry. You clean rooms. You help reinforce the wall. Bits and ends of a lot of different odd jobs, but you honestly don’t mind. It’s better than sitting in Joel’s room, shackled to a radiator and going stir-crazy. 

The one bad thing about leveraging your skills is that it makes you useful, and therefore, important. These people can’t risk you running out on them when there’s new injuries to deal with every day, so you’re constantly being watched. 

Random survivors that run off are just freeing up space and food. Random doctors that run off are risking lives. 

Jake tries to make conversation, and it’s painful, but you go along with it. You swear your cheek hurts every time you look at him—he doesn’t even apologize for it, even though he’s there in the background the entire day. You want to ask him if he has any other job than to stand around you and threaten you into submission with a shotgun, but you decide to keep your mouth shut. 

Night is falling by the time you finish things up, and you sit on a milk crate in the parking lot with another stale piece of bread and half a can of beans as your dinner. Not the most glamorous, but enough to fill you up. 

You’re beginning to think it’ll be an uneventful night when you hear yelling. 

“Open the fucking gate, now!” It’s Joel’s voice, angry and frantic. “We’ve got wounded!” 

You jump into action before you even really know what you’re doing and run to the wall, following two other men that were eating their own dinner in the parking lot. Jake is on your heels as the three of you push the dumpster working as the world’s worst gate out of the way. 

“The fuck happened?” Jake yells. 

“The fuck you think happened?” another one responds. “Runners and hunters and—”

“And Paul’s fuckin’ bleeding out,” a woman continues, out of breath as she runs in. 

You look up to see Joel bringing him over in a fireman’s carry, and you meet each other’s eyes. You let out a deep breath and nod, then pull your jacket off and lay it on the ground. You snap your fingers at another one of the supply runners. “Gimme your jacket.” 

He frowns and looks at Joel, and he narrows his eyes. “You fuckin’ deaf? Do what she says.” 

He does, thankfully, and you put it down next to yours. “Put him down, Joel.” 

Joel shifts him off his back slowly then squats down to get him on his feet. Paul’s knees buckle and Joel catches him, then lowers him to the ground. 

“Go get my medical bag,” you say. “It’s in your room.” 

He nods and runs off, and you look down at your patient. The top half of his shirt is completely soaked with blood, but you see it’s coming from his arm. You put as much pressure on the wound as you can, ignoring his groan of pain. At least that means he’s still alive. Unconscious, but alive. 

You look at another one of the supply runners. “What the hell happened to him?” 

“One o’ the hunters shot ‘em in the arm,” he says. 

“And where the hell is Daniel?” Jake suddenly says. “And Lee?” 

“What the hell do you think?” the woman spits. “They got bullets in the head before we even knew what was happening— runners had us distracted.” 

“And you thought it was smart to lead ‘em right back here?” Jake asks incredulously. 

“We already lost two,” she grits. “I wasn’t gonna lose a third.” 

“God fucking damn it!” he yells, and he points at the men that helped you open the gate. “Close the damn wall off, get your damn guns, and shoot on fucking sight! You hear me?” 

They nod and get to work, and Jake runs off just as Joel gets back. He has your bag in his hand and you look up at him. 

“Get down here,” you say. “I need your help.”

He nods and kneels down beside you, setting your bag next to you. 

“Put pressure on the wound,” you say. “I’m trying to stop the bleeding, but I think the bullet hit his ulnar artery. That’s why it’s gushin’ like hell.” 

Again, Joel does what you ask without questioning you. You’re thankful that everyone is listening to you when you need it—you only hope he survives this so they give you a little more leeway in the future. 

You rifle through your bag until you get your water and gauze. You push Joel’s hands out of the way and you hastily clean the wound, just enough to ensure any dirt and debris is gone. You start packing the bullet hole with gauze, again ignoring his groans as you push it in deep. You do the same to the exit wound so you don’t have to get your ungloved fingers all the way in his arm—thank god, because dealing with bullet fragments is a headache you don’t think you can handle right now. 

You see Jake run past with a number of people behind him. You recognize some of them from the raid on your commune, and it makes you realize your patient wasn’t one of them. 

They all have their guns drawn out of an abundance of caution, and you think it’s a bit ridiculous, but you keep your focus where it’s supposed to be. You get Joel to apply pressure again while you check Paul’s pulse, two fingers on his neck then his wrist. It’s weak, but it’s there, and right now that’s all you need. 

You’re just about to let yourself take it down a notch when a bullet whizzes right past your ear and buries itself into the pavement. 

Your scream gets stuck in your throat, and your hand flies up to your ear on instinct. You can’t even tell if you’re bleeding because there’s already so much on you. Guess it wasn’t ridiculous. 

Joel instantly shoots up from your side, bloodied hands already pulling his rifle off his back. He’s fired before you know what’s happening, and you lunge back over to put pressure on the wound again.  

A firefight erupts immediately. Jake and another woman are yelling orders, and you can’t see whoever is shooting at you all but your only thought is that of your patient. 

You watch Joel take another shot, and then he looks over his shoulder at you. 

“Get out of here!” he yells, fire burning in his eyes. You don’t need to be told twice. 

You slip your arms underneath Paul’s shoulders and stand up, then you pull him up as much as you can. You start dragging him, a mixture of adrenaline and pure willpower getting you through it. You get to the infirmary, thankful you stopped by there earlier when Jake was putting you through the gauntlet of odd jobs, and you get him onto a bed. 

You check his pulse once more—still there at a similar strength. His wound isn’t actively gushing blood anymore, and he’s regained some color in his face. Since it’s not worse, you collapse into a chair next to the bed. 

Gunshots ring out in rapid succession, and each one makes you wince. You would join to help, but you don’t have your fucking gun. At least if Jake gets shot, you’ll be able to get it back. 

You don’t think you have any friends here. But god, you really hope Joel makes it out unscathed. 

-

You don’t get to relax for very long. Three more wounded get brought in over the course of twenty minutes, each facing death in different ways. When the second is carried in, you force the escort to run out and get your medical bag, then stay with you so you can delegate. You only have two hands and you can't do every goddamn thing at once. 

One man dies almost immediately. He took a couple bullets to the chest and one hit an artery. He bleeds out before you can even start trying to pack one of his wounds. You can’t even take a moment of silence for him because your second patient starts crashing. 

It all blends together, honestly. Reminds you of the times you were with the code team for a shift, when everything was a life or death situation and everything could go wrong at once. But there’s only so much you can do in a motel room without any hospital equipment. 

You tie a tourniquet with pieces of your shirt and a stick from outside. You pack wounds once more. You drag chairs and pillows around to elevate limbs. You put pressure on the wounds until they stop bleeding. You get blood on every damn thing you touch because you haven’t been able to find latex gloves anywhere for the past two years. 

There’s only so much you can do when you have so little. 

Eventually, though, it settles down. The gunshots stop, the bleeding stops, and the pulses get stronger. Everyone that was alive stays alive over the next few hours, coming in and out of consciousness. It’s still quiet, though, because most of them immediately fall back asleep. Getting shot takes a lot out of you. 

Your assistant leaves after the first hour when you assure him you can handle the rest. You wish the sinks worked so you could get all this fucking blood off your hands, but you wipe off what you can and deal with the rest. Your shirt’s already covered in it. 

Maybe you’ll convince Jake to let you go on a supply run so you can stop by a lake or something. You don’t want to waste what little water you have on cleanliness, but you make a point not to touch your face more than you have to. The last thing you need is to get an infection because you got blood in your eye or something—you think that would be the stupidest way for you to die. 

You’re rifling through the barebones medicine cabinet, trying to see what would help in case of an emergency, when you hear approaching footsteps. You turn around to see Joel, and you can’t help but smile. 

“Joel,” you say, relief rampant in your voice, “you made it.” 

“So did you,” he says. He doesn’t sound half as glad as you do, but you’ve learned over the past two days that he doesn’t tend to show emotions other than anger. “How are they?” 

“One’s dead, three are alive,” you say with a gesture. “Dunno their names besides Paul, so I guess you can spread the word.” 

Joel nods as he looks at each of them. Again, he hides his emotions well—if he feels a particular way about any of them, he doesn’t show it. Eventually, he looks back at you.

“How are you?” His eyes trail up and down your body. “Any of that blood yours?” 

“Thankfully, no,” you say. “The worst is over. I found some antibiotics, so hopefully we’ll be able to avoid any infections. Barring those or any freak changes, the rest should make it.” 

“Good,” he says. 

“Any of that blood yours?” you ask, inclining your head. He already has a fair amount of dried blood on his jacket—comes with the territory of being Joel, you think—but there’s some fresh. 

“No,” Joel says. “We got most of the hunters, but some ran off. Couple of us went after ‘em to finish the job.” 

“Did you?”

“Yes,” he says. “Tracked ‘em to their camp and did what we had to do.” 

You nod. Seems these people are pretty good at taking out other communes, Joel especially. 

He probably wasn’t in the group that killed your people because of his gunshot. Had he been healthy, you bet he would have slaughtered them like all the rest. 

But he didn’t. And he’s shown you more kindness in his own way than anyone else here has.  

You realize hypotheticals don’t really matter to you as long as the bullet ends up in someone else’s head. You don’t really know what that says about you. 

So you look back up at Joel and ask, “We safe for the night?” 

“Yes.” 

You nod again. “Okay.” 

And that’s that. 

-

You spend the next few days in the infirmary watching over your patients. Jake is in and out, mostly checking in during the day to ask about the injured and make sure you’re not about to run away. When he stays, he lets his shotgun rest against the wall rather than keeping it pointed at you. Maybe he trusts you more—you think it’s more likely he assumes you won’t run because you have critical patients.

He’s right. You don’t know them, and you only know Paul’s name, but you feel like you have to save them—have to save him. 

Maybe it’s because this guy wasn’t part of the group that killed yours, maybe it’s because you think he’s your age, maybe it’s because he looks shockingly similar to Connor. But you feel a strange amount of obligation to this man to save his life. 

Even if you were in here alone, you don’t think you would run. Guess the Hippocratic Oath stays with you even after the world has ended. 

On the third night, Joel comes in. He has a bottle of water, your rations, and your jacket. 

“You left it in the parking lot,” he says when he hands it to you. “I picked it up when we got back from the hunt.” 

“...Thanks,” you say. You’ve been in these bloodstained clothes for way too long, but you don’t really have any changes. You were ripped out of your community as a prisoner, after all. 

You pull your shirt off and slip into your flannel. Even though some of the blood soaked through to your skin, you already feel better. You’re doing up the buttons when you realize Joel has turned his head, making a point not to look at you. 

“Uh, sorry,” you say. “I didn’t really think you’d care.”

“Figure at least one person here should respect your privacy,” Joel says. 

You chuckle. It’s oddly touching from someone like him. 

“Thanks.” 

You hang your shirt on the back of your chair. It kinda is your only top, so you can’t just go throwing it away. You’ll get it clean eventually. 

“The number’s down,” Joel says, looking at the beds. “Maya’s good?”

“I guess.” You still don’t know their names. “Bleedin’ stopped, and she was talking up a storm. Sutured her wound, gave her some pain meds, and sent her on her way.” 

“Good. How’re the rest doing?”

“Okay,” you say. “I’m mostly just waiting until they’re consistently awake and making sure the wounds don’t get infected.”

“You talk an awful lot ‘bout infections.”

You shrug. “Out here, they’re usually a death sentence.”

“Noted,” he says wryly. 

The two of you stand there for a while. The silence is awkward, but but you prefer that over the heaviness of the first night. 

“Just make sure you get some sleep,” he finally says. “You won’t be much good if you’re fallin’ asleep when we need you.”

You chuckle. “Noted.”

Joel nods again and walks off. You sit back down in your uncomfortable chair, ready for another night of anxiety, when he stops in the doorframe and speaks up.

“I’m sorry ‘bout how you ended up here,” he says carefully, as if he’s unsure of his words. “But it’s probably a good thing someone like you is at this motel.”

You smile. You think this is the first time you’ve heard him be this genuine.

“Thanks, Joel,” you say. “You’re a stubborn jackass, but you don’t make for a bad roommate.”

That gets the smallest laugh out of him. “Night, doc.”

“Night, Joel,” you say softly. 

-

Things change after that week. 

Joel looks at you differently. Everyone does, honestly—no one thinks you’re lying anymore, thinks you’re some naive twenty-something. You can hold your own, and you’re not someone to mess with. 

But not everything changes. 

(“Are you fucking kidding me?” you protest when Jake takes you back into Joel’s room. “I save three of your men and you still don’t trust me?”

“I trust you to save my men, not stay put,” he says. Since you don’t offer your hand, he just grabs your arm, pulls you forward, and locks the cuff around your wrist. “And you’re more important than ever now, little lady.”

You lunge at him, but you come up just short when Jake steps out of your range. He tuts and shakes his head at you. 

“No need for that,” he says. “I’d hate to ruin that pretty face all over again.”

“This really necessary?” Joel asks, a hard edge to his voice. 

Jake shrugs. “Way you’ve been spendin’ time with her, figure you’d jump at the chance to have her to yourself. Just don’t break her.” 

Joel clenches his jaw as Jake leaves, letting out a growl when the door shuts.  

“Un-fuckin-believable,” you mutter. Now you’re sure you’re going to put a bullet in his head before you get out of here. 

“Took the words outta my mouth,” he grumbles. 

“You wanna shoot him for me?” you ask. 

Joel shakes his head as he sits back down on his bed. “Not yet.”

You blink. “Not yet?”

He grunts. “Ain’t talking about this with you.”

So you don’t. You don’t say much because he doesn’t say much—after your conversation with Joel in the infirmary, you’re not too keen on annoying him.)

You’re good enough to save lives but still can’t be trusted on your own. Maybe it’s actually a smart move, because you spend every spare moment thinking about ways to escape and ways to put Jake six feet under. 

You also can’t stop thinking about Joel’s words: not yet. 

You might have found an ally in the most unexpected place.

Another week passes with more of the same.

You check on your patients who have all survived their wounds. They’re out of commission for another week at least, but they’re alive. You finally have a conversation with Paul and he’s so much like your brother you want to cry.

You do the chores asked and now expected of you, and though you mainly keep to yourself, you find a friend in a woman named Trish when you spend a few afternoons together sewing up holes in clothes.  

Though you’re still not trusted alone and you don’t have your own room or the freedom to move around at night, you’re no longer expected to spend every moment inside the walls. You end up doing weekly supply runs with Joel and you don’t hate it as much as you thought you would.

They never let you take the horses out, and you still don’t get a fucking gun. Apparently, you’re still a flight risk. 

They’re not wrong, but you wish they would fall for it. It would be so easy to run with a horse.

So instead you’re given a knife, and you and Joel have to set out on foot each time. Always you and Joel, because apparently you can’t get away from each other. Maybe they think he’ll kill you if you do try to run. Maybe they can see you’re starting to warm up to him. 

You don’t know, and you don’t particularly care. Joel has made it clear he won’t hurt you if you don’t try to hurt him, so you feel safe hunting with him. Besides, he’s a killer shot and you’re great with a knife, so you make a good team either way. He even gives you his revolver to use on the road sometimes, though you always have to return it before you’re back at the motel. 

But if Joel is looking at you differently because of a newfound respect, you’re looking at him differently because of newfound feelings. 

He’s handsome, anyone can see that—gruff and grizzled and muscled from the life of a survivor. He has sharp, dark eyes that narrow at everything, so much so that you bet his crows feet are from years of distrust rather than years of laughter.

You never really paid attention to it at the beginning because you were terrified you were going to die. Anything you tried to figure out about him or his life was in the name of survival, was about pinning him down in order to manipulate him. 

Joel is angry and impatient and mean, and he's probably killed a hundred different people in a hundred different ways in the name of survival—but since that night he visited you in the infirmary, you swear he’s softened around you. 

Quite frankly, it’s ridiculous. He’s at least fifteen years your elder, this is the apocalypse, and you’re still in a camp full of enemies. You have no time to be making heart eyes at Joel.

So you don’t make heart eyes. Instead, you just stare at him like you normally do and tell him he’s crazy when he questions you about it. 

But god, it isn’t easy. You spend more time with Joel than anyone else—you guess he’s your Jake-appointed chaperone now—and the second time you go out on a supply run with him, you run across a lake. 

You convince him to stay for a bit so you can wash off, finally cracking when you swear to him you still have lingering blood on your hands from your night running the camp ER. You strip down to your undergarments with little care and dive in, and when you catch Joel looking you up and down in what he thinks is a covert way, you think your heart might burst. 

It’s been a while since you’ve done… well, anything sex-wise. You doubt you will ever get there with Joel, mostly because you’re going to take these feelings to your early grave, but you’re allowing yourself to be delusional when absolutely everything else in your life sucks.

After all the shit you’ve been through, you think you deserve it. 

You end up having to cut your luxury excursion short when you hear the distinct croaking of stalkers. Joel grumbles the whole time you’re getting dressed, saying you’re gonna be the death of him and this was stupid and he regrets ever saying yes to you, but he puts himself in front of you every time he thinks he sees one. 

It’s the little things. 

Two weeks later, on your fourth supply run, things go a little differently. 

Everything close by has been picked clean either by Joel’s group or people traveling through the area, so Jake and Marcos, the group leaders, decide that you’re going to go out farther than usual in order to get more supplies. Even though you go out every week, and other people hunt when they can, but it’s not enough. 

You’re fine with it and Joel grudgingly agrees to it, so after getting some extra rations and water just in case, you set out on your way. 

You find an abandoned convenience store when you’re walking down the side of a road that still has some water, meds, and cigarettes behind a couple toppled over shelves. It’s better than nothing.

When you venture into the woods you find a house. Joel insists on going first in case anyone’s inside—he checks the bedroom and the kitchen and says they’re clear. When he’s going up the stairs with his gun drawn, you a few paces after him on the bottom step, you get grabbed from behind. 

Your scream of surprise gets Joel’s attention immediately, and there’s a knife to your throat before you even know what’s happening. Joel has his gun trained on the head of whoever’s got you just as fast. 

“Let her go,” he says. 

“Not everyday I get a couple bargin’ into my house,” your captor says smoothly. He has one of your arms in an iron grip, and your other hand is an open palm to convince him you’re not a threat. “She’s too pretty for you, don’t you think?” 

“Joel—”

“Let her go,” he growls. 

“Y’all were gonna steal from me,” the man says. “Don’t see how we can walk out of here all friendly-like.” 

He presses the blade into your throat just enough to draw a thin line of blood, and you clench your jaw so hard you think your teeth might crack. Joel meets your eyes, and they actually have something in them you haven’t seen before—fear.

“What d’you want?” Joel asks. 

“I think you know what I want,” he says. His grip on you tightens and something inside of you snaps. 

You stomp on his foot as hard as you can. He grunts, the action shocking him more than it hurts, but his grip loosens and that’s all you need. You move faster than him as you rip your knife from your belt and reel it backwards to stab him in the gut. You grab his wrist and wrench it to the side, giving you the space to turn away from him and kick him in the chest. He falls to the ground, you pull Joel’s revolver out, and you shoot him in the head. 

Your breaths are coming out as pants by now, your heart threatening to beat out of your chest as you stare at his dead body. Pools of blood are already forming behind his head and gut, and you feel nothing but red-hot rage. 

You’re so fucking sick of men thinking they can take whatever they want, thinking they have a right to whatever they want. You’re honestly glad this happened. It meant you got to put a bullet in his head. 

Joel says your name and you realize it’s the third time. You can barely hear him over the ringing in your ears. 

“You’re bleeding.” 

“I feel fine,” you say. This isn’t the first person you’ve killed, you want to tell him, far from it. This isn’t the first time you’ve killed to save your life, you want to tell him. 

For some reason, the words don’t form. 

“He tried to slit your throat,” he says. “You’re not fine.”

“Still standing, ain’t I?” 

He says your name again, a bit stronger this time. “You’re bleeding. You need to sit down.” 

“I’m—”

“If you say you’re fine again, I’ll throw you over my shoulder and get you out of here myself.” 

You huff. “Now you know how I felt that first night.” 

Joel shakes his head. “Always gotta be right, don’t you?” 

“You know me,” you say faintly. 

You do sit down, eventually, if only because Joel looks like he would absolutely make good on his promise. You sit on the third step and he goes one below you, and you pull your medical bag out of your pack. 

“I can clean it out,” you say as you rifle through it for your gauze. “Your hands are probably dirty.” 

“Y’know, I’m not a complete idiot,” Joel says. “Remember when you said my bandaging was good?” 

“I said it was passable,” you correct. 

“‘Good enough to keep you alive’, I recall.”

“And you think I want good enough?” 

You finally get to your gauze—you swear, it falls to the bottom every time—when Joel puts his hand on your wrist. It’s gentler than you expect, even with the calluses. 

“Let me do it,” he insists. “Need to feel fuckin’ useful somehow.” 

You stare at him, hoping your pupils aren’t dilated or something else just as stupid to reveal that your heart is beating out of your chest. 

“That’s what this is about?” you whisper. 

Joel clenches his jaw and glances away. “He could have killed you and I just stood there.” 

“You didn’t have a clear shot,” you say. 

“I should have made one,” he says. “Out here, we’re a team. Partners. You don’t let your partner get grabbed.” 

“We had no idea he was here.” 

“I should have known,” Joel says roughly. “I shoulda known and I shoulda stopped him and you wouldn’t have had to kill him.” 

You cover his hand with yours before you can doubt yourself, and Joel looks back at you, surprised. He doesn’t pull away. 

“It was a mistake, and we got out of it,” you say. “If we’re partners, then you can’t put all the weight on your shoulders and none on mine. I held my own, didn’t I?” 

Joel doesn’t respond, and you sigh. 

“If they keep sendin’ us out on these things, then you’ll save my ass so many more times,” you continue. “And I’ll save yours, and we’ll joke about it when we get back to that shitty motel and Jake locks me to the radiator for the hundredth time.” 

“So it don’t matter that I pulled more weight this time,” you say. “Because it’s a whole lotta push and pull—you just can’t pull away from me because of this.” 

“Clever,” he says wryly. “You sure you’re not a writer?” 

You manage a smile. “Not even close. Are we good?” 

Joel pauses for a moment, his gaze falling down to your hand on his. He clears his throat and pulls away, then holds his hand out. You huff a laugh and give him the gauze. 

“We’re good,” he nods. 

You sit together in silence as Joel cleans the blood off your neck, only interrupted by your occasional wince. He’s surprisingly gentle with you in a way that you never would have expected, never touching you more than he has to. Your skin burns wherever he does, and it takes everything in you to keep your breathing steady. You don’t want him to know, and you don’t want to mess up his work. 

Joel finishes soon enough, and after a quick investigation in a broken bathroom mirror, you approve. You take what’s left from the house in supplies and then you get out. It takes a little longer because Joel refuses to leave your side—”what if a clicker bursts in through that broken window? You’d be dead like that.”—but you don’t argue. You think it’s sweet, actually, but you don’t tell him that. 

When Joel insists on heading back early, you don’t fight him. When you insist you want to keep his knife back at the motel, even if it has to be a secret, he doesn’t fight you. 

You don’t talk much on the walk back, but things are different. The air is lighter between you two. Joel doesn’t frown at everything. He actually manages to joke around with you. 

Things are different. 

You’re finding out that you don’t really mind. 

-

You go even farther on your next supply run. The area isn’t as scarce as it could be, but Marcos insists on stocking up before summer, when it’s too hot to constantly venture out like this with little water. 

Things are going pretty well, all things considered. You run into a decent amount of clickers over the miles that you’re able to take down with you distracting and Joel stabbing each time. You don’t run into any people, though Joel keeps his head on a swivel.

Eventually, though, it starts to rain. Clear skies shine above you, but you still get drenched within a couple miserable minutes. 

“Where the hell did this come from?” you complain. 

Joel takes a cloth out of his pocket and wipes down his gun. “They not teach the water cycle in schools?” 

“You know that’s not what I meant.” You scowl at the sky. “Was ‘sposed to be clear skies all day.” 

“We’ll just call it short,” he says. “Go back to the motel.” 

“We’re five miles out,” you say. The rain starts coming down harder and you curse. “We’re not making it back without getting soaked.” 

“You can’t handle a little water?” Joel asks. 

“I’m already miserable enough being around you,” you say. “Don’t need to add trench foot to the equation.” 

He shakes his head with a huff. “Fine. I remember a cave a while back— you have another mile in you?” 

“As a matter of fact, I did cross country in high school,” you say. “Also walked a whole lot when I was getting away from the coast.” 

“Always gotta one up me, huh?” 

You smile. “Always.” 

It ends up being a little more than two miles, but you and Joel make quick work of it. Soon enough, after you’ve checked for any infected, you’re sitting in a little grotto waiting out the rain.

You’ve both taken your top layers off to let them dry, alongside your boots and socks. It feels a bit strange, a bit too familiar, to be doing all this with Joel—but like you said, you’re not too fond of trench foot, so you deal with it. 

You sit near the opening of the cave, entranced by the downpour. The tension in your shoulders has slowly dissipated as you’ve watched the storm. There’s something calming about the sight, the sound— the way the world feels once it’s over. 

“You shouldn’t be so close to the outside,” Joel says. Miraculously, the tension comes back. 

“It’s fine,” you say. 

“Ain’t so fine when everyone can see you,” he says. “Ain’t so fine when a passing hunter doesn’t like how you look and puts a bullet between your eyes.” 

You sigh as you adjust your position to look over at him. He’s taken to sharpening a stick with one of his knives. “You always this positive?” 

“I’m realistic,” he says. “How do you think I’ve survived so long?” 

“Well, I’ve survived too,” you say. “And I’m not half the miserable bastard you are.”  

“You’re half my age,” Joel says. “Give it time.” 

You shake your head with a huff. “Got a bright future ahead of me, then.” 

“I’m alive,” he says. “That’s as bright as it can be these days.” 

“That’s so sad,” you murmur, your gaze turning back to the rainfall. 

You hear him stop with his knife. “What’d you say?” 

You know he heard you. Probably just trying to give you a chance to take it back, but you don’t care. “I said it’s sad.” 

“Don’t see how it can be sad,” Joel says. “Survivin’s all anyone wants out here.” 

“Maybe on a base level, but I—” you pause and shake your head again, trying to collect your thoughts. “I got a life I’m trying to build. Things I’m chasin’— things that make this all worth it.” 

“Like I said, you’re half my age.” The joking lilt he’s had fades, and you know you’ve struck a nerve. “Everything you’re trying to get, I’ve already lost.” 

“Joel,” you attempt, but he shakes his head. 

“I built a life and I lost it,” he says. “I’ve trusted people and I’ve paid for it. So don’t act like I’m doin’ all this for no reason.” 

“Then tell me,” you say, bolstered by his tone. “Tell me what you’ve gone through, what justifies this, so we can move past this— this barrier you’ve put between us, and actually get to know each other.” 

“I don’t have to tell you shit,” he grumbles. 

“Fine,” you say. “Then I’ll go.” 

By this point, you’ve shifted your position completely to face him. Joel still won’t look at you, but he’s gone back to sharpening that damn stick. 

“I’m not actually a doctor.” 

Sure enough, that gets his attention. He stops so abruptly that you think he might slice his fingertip off. He doesn’t, but he looks at you incredulously. 

“What?” 

“I’m not a doctor,” you repeat. “Or a surgeon, really.” 

He frowns. “Then how do you know how to do all this shit?” 

“I was studying to be one,” you say. “But I still had a pretty long way to go.” 

Joel glares at you. “How long?”

“I was in my third year of med school when the outbreak started,” you say. “Got to be MS3 for all of two months before everything went to shit.” 

“You didn’t even graduate?” he marvels. 

You shrug. “I passed my boards. Well, Step 1, at least. The world ended before I got to the others—”

“Oh my god,” he mutters. 

“I was still a student doctor,” you assert. “I know plenty—” 

“Not enough,” he interrupts. 

“Enough to keep my patients and myself alive,” you remark. “And more than enough to stitch up your sorry ass.” You gesture at him. “How’s that gunshot feel?” 

Joel just scoffs and shakes his head. He doesn’t look mad, like you thought he would be—just looks shocked, surprised, annoyed. Maybe angry just for the hell of it. 

“Why are you tellin’ me the truth now?” he asks. “No one else is around. I could kill you right now for bein’ a liar—tell the group clickers got to you.” 

“A liar with medical experience is better than nothing,” you say. “From what I’ve seen over the years, folks aren’t too keen on killing people like me. ‘Specially after I saved their people.”

“Besides,” you incline your head, “I don’t think you have the guts. Not after last week.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Joel says. “I’ve killed plenty of people less annoying than you.”

“Well, I don’t go down without a fight,” you say. “And I’m very good at stayin’ awake. So if you decide to go for it, you can’t take the easy way out.” 

He scoffs, but you notice it doesn’t have the malice you’d expect behind it. 

You should be wary. You’re alone together in the middle of nowhere, miles from your group—and they wouldn’t save you if it came down to it. For God’s sake, Joel has a knife in his hand. He could take you down easily enough if he wanted to. Weren’t you terrified of that when you were first stuck in his room a few months ago? 

But you’re not. You can’t deny that you like him anymore, and that could be clouding your judgment, but you’re not scared of him. Not since that night in the infirmary. 

You go back to watching the rain, making a point to have your back to Joel as you do. Maybe as a sign of trust, maybe to show you’re not scared of him—you don’t really know. But nothing happens. He doesn’t stab you in the back, literally or figuratively. 

And eventually, he speaks up.

“I’m from Texas.” 

You laugh wryly. “I tell you I’ve been lyin’ to everyone this whole time and you tell me you’re a Texan.” 

“It’s somethin’,” he says. “Ain’t that what you wanted?” 

You turn around and raise your eyebrows. “Where in Texas?” 

“Grew up in Arlington,” he says. “Was in Austin ‘fore everything went to shit.”

You nod. “That makes sense. The accent and the attitude and everything else.” 

Joel snorts. “‘Everything else’?” 

“The way you carry yourself,” you say. “How stubborn you are. Classic ‘Don’t mess with Texas’. You ever have a bumper sticker like that?” 

That gets an actual laugh out of him. A genuine laugh, a genuine smile. “Hell no. I didn’t need to showboat like that. Sarah woulda never—” 

He stops suddenly, his smile fading just as quickly as it appeared. You feel the moment slipping out of your grasp quicker than you can run after it, and you feel a little desperate. 

“Who’s Sarah?” 

Joel shakes his head. “No one you need to know about.”

Just like that, the moment is gone and the barrier is back up. You try to hide the disappointment you feel. When Joel’s not being a jackass, you really enjoy talking with him. 

“...Okay,” you say. You’ve already pushed him once. You don’t want to push him again on something that brings out that sort of reaction. 

Joel goes back to sharpening the stick. It’s half the size it was before, but he doesn’t let that stop him. He’s got a couple to keep him busy. 

You go back to watching the rain. The downpour continues, and eventually, you hear the crackling of thunder in the distance. 

“Great,” you murmur. 

“You see any flashes?” Joel asks. 

“No lightning,” you say. “Least it ain’t close.” 

“That means we can still get out of here tonight.” 

You shake your head. “No way I’m doin’ seven miles in a thunderstorm.” 

“We went five miles out,” Joel reminds you. 

“And then went two miles off course to get here,” you say. “It’s already getting dark, and these woods have infected. You really wanna go through all that just to get back to that shitty motel?” 

“They got food there,” he says. “We have nothing.” 

“We’ll be fine for a night,” you say. “It’s not like we’re in danger of freezing. We can sleep in shifts so nothing can sneak up on us. We’re tucked away pretty well, anyways.” 

Joel stares at you for a good, long second. You can tell he wants to fight—he always want to fight, you’ve learned—but eventually he lets out a sigh and makes a flippant gesture. 

“Fine,” he concedes. “But we’re leavin’ at first light, rain or not.” 

“Fine,” you echo. 

You’re able to relax a little after that, knowing Joel’s not going to make you hike back to camp in these conditions. 

The rain doesn’t ease up, but as night falls, your anxiety gets the best of you and you end up sitting against the wall, across from Joel. You have a sad little dinner together, the usual of stale bread and meat from whatever animal was hunted that week. 

Soon enough, it’s pitch black outside and you only have the rain and the crickets for company. Better than rain and clickers, you suppose. 

You wish you had a book, or a ball of yarn and some needles, or literally anything to give you something to do other than stare at a cave wall. Joel isn’t much of a talker, even now. 

“I’m from Oklahoma, you know.” You decide to fill in the blanks, unable to take the silence much longer even with the rainstorm. “So we’re two southerners in a pod.” 

“Knew you had some kinda accent,” Joel says. “Just couldn’t place it.” 

“It faded while I was in Boston for med school,” you explain. “I wanted to get out as soon as possible.” 

“How’s it feel, being back in the middle o’ nowhere after spending all your time in the city?” 

You chuckle and look over at him. “You’re not gonna believe it, but I grew up in the middle of nowhere. Born and raised on a cattle ranch in Beaver.”

“No shit,” Joel says incredulously, and he actually smiles. “No shit you’re a farm girl.” 

“Don’t act so surprised!” you exclaim. “I’ve more than held my own out here!” 

“Thought you were some big city hotshot doctor when I first met you,” he says, shaking his head. “Turns out you’re just a farm girl med student.” 

“Well, you’re just a jackass from Texas,” you retort. 

“And you’re a jackass from Oklahoma,” he says. “Guess we ain’t so different after all.” 

You laugh and look away, unable to bite back a smile of your own. “Whatever.”��

That lightness from your walk the past week returns, and you and Joel spend the next few hours just… talking. You do most of it, because getting Joel to talk about his past is like pulling teeth, but you don’t mind. 

You tell him stories from your childhood, what it was like growing up as a rancher’s daughter. How you spent your whole life trying to claw out your roots and how, now that it’s gone, it’s the only thing you want. What undergrad was like, what med school was like, how you spent just as many nights blacked out from alcohol as you did studying until your eyes bled. 

Joel contributes in smaller places, like telling you what he was like as a kid or relaying his own high school stories, because he didn’t go to college. Tells you about his work as a carpenter. You find it hard to imagine a younger Joel when it’s near impossible to look in his eyes and see something other than the world-weary, grizzled survivor he is now, but with his words you’re able to piece it together. It helps that his voice is so nice to listen to when he’s not yelling. 

You want to ask him about Sarah, but you don’t. Things are going so well that you’d be an idiot to ruin it. You hope he trusts you enough one day to tell you. 

In the middle of it all, you realize the way you’re thinking: into the future, long-term future, with Joel a part of it. Your plan from the start has been to bide your time until you can gather enough supplies to run, get your pistol back from Jake and use it to put a bullet in his head, then get the fuck out of here. 

But now you can’t stop thinking about Joel, and you realize you want to keep him in your life. You don’t want to stay here, but you don’t want to leave him. You don’t care if he doesn’t like you the way you do, you don’t care if he doesn’t even want to be your friend—you’re just tired of running from everything and defending yourself with lies. You’re tired of being alone. 

Eventually, you can’t fight your yawns anymore. Joel tells you he’ll take first watch and you can already tell he’ll refute any arguments. You put your jacket and shoes back on and make sure Joel’s revolver is in grabbing distance, then you lay down using your pack as a pillow. 

“Y’know, this is the first time we’re sleepin’ in the same room without a radiator.” 

Joel huffs. “Yeah. You get through the night without runnin’, maybe I can threaten Jake into getting you your own room.” 

“I dunno.” Your eyes are closed at this point, the mixture of Joel’s timbre at a softer volume and the downpour all around you almost lulling you to sleep. “I kinda like being in the same room as you.” You smile. “We can ditch the cuffs, though.” 

Joel is silent for a while. If your brain were sharper, if you weren’t nearly asleep, you might’ve had the sense to worry or be ashamed. You’re sure you’ll regret it in the morning. 

“Get some rest,” he finally says. “You need it.” 

“Night, Joel,” you murmur. “Wake me up in a couple hours or I’ll kill you.” 

He laughs quietly. “Night, doc.”  

-

You dream of your old life. Early mornings on the ranch. Fighting with your brother to get the better chores and swearing you’ll never talk to him again when he gets the ones you want, just to end up racing him to the boundaries of the farm and back to settle disputes as usual. Waking up in the middle of the night to make your favorite dessert for the two of you, homegrown strawberries with whipped cream. 

You dream of the day everything fell apart. Screaming in the hospital and your coworkers being killed and sights so brutal in the streets of Boston that you will never, ever forget them. Connor forces you to keep running through it all, tells you that you can’t stop to save anyone because you’ll die too, and he is not going to let you die. He swears he won’t leave you. 

You dream of the night you saw him for the last time. Having no choice but to break the one promise your mom forced you two to make before she died in your arms, and making another one that you refuse to break for anything. The last time you saw Connor, a night that you’ve relived a million times where you’ve failed to change the story each and every time. 

You wonder what he would think about the kind of person you’ve become. 

-

It’s light outside when you finally wake up. You expect your back to be killing you, but after sleeping against a wall, floor, and radiator for most of the past few months, this was actually kind of comfortable. 

You rub the grogginess out of your eyes and realize there are dried tears on your cheeks. You hope to god you didn’t actually cry in your sleep over some nightmares—you don’t need Joel to see something like that. 

When you sit up, you see Joel cleaning his rifle. 

“Mornin’, sunshine,” he says wryly. 

“Mornin’,” you say, interrupted by a yawn. You have to shield your eyes from the sun, and you’re about to ask him how he’s doing when it hits you. 

“Oh my god— what time is it?” 

Joel says nothing, just focuses on wiping out the barrel. 

You push his shoulder. “Why didn’t you wake me up, you jackass?” 

“You needed your sleep,” he says simply. 

“Like you don’t?” you retort. “You’re twice my age, old man. You need it more than I do.” 

“I’m fine,” he says. “I’ll sleep when we get back to the motel.” 

You scoff. “You’re unbelievable.” 

“And don’t you feel so much better?” 

You shake your head as you stand up and begin to gather your things. “First light, my ass.” 

Joel sighs. “Helpin’ you out is a thankless job.” 

Though you want to stay mad, it’s a champagne problem that you get over it pretty quickly. You feel more refreshed than you have since you ended up in this group, and considering you were sleeping on a cave floor with your backpack as a pillow, things aren’t really going to be better for you back in Joel’s room. 

You give him a grudging thank you right before you’re about to leave, and he accepts with a smugness that makes you regret it. 

You make casual small talk for the first mile, but things go in a different direction when Joel pops an unexpected question on you. 

“Who’s Connor?”

You trip over your own feet, and you know it’s wishful thinking to hope he didn’t see it. You regain your footing and keep walking, making a point to not look at him. 

“Where’s this coming from?” Your words might come out a little too aggressive, but you don’t really care right now. 

“You talked in your sleep half the night,” Joel says. “Kept muttering about some guy named Connor, how you didn’t wanna leave him.”

“It’s none of your business,” you say. 

“You don’t get to pull that shit with me after tryin’ to go all Twenty Questions last night,” he insists. “You told me ‘bout half your life anyways.” 

Just because you told him about inconsequential childhood and college things doesn’t mean you owe him actually important stuff. You can do what he did and just shut him down again, and every other time if he happens to ask again. 

But you were preaching all that shit about togetherness and getting to know each other and breaking down the barrier. Joel might be a hypocrite, but you have to be better than Joel. 

“...He’s my brother,” you finally say. The words feel heavier saying them to him for some reason. 

“He dead?” Joel asks. Leave it to him to be blunt. 

“No,” you say roughly, hastily. “No, I—” 

You swallow the lump in your throat and shake your head. “I don’t know. We lost each other a while ago, and I’ve been trying to find him ever since. So I guess I just really, really hope he’s not.” 

“When did you see him last?” 

“Two years ago,” you say. “We were in some commune in Ohio with a buncha hunters that tolerated us because I was a doctor and he was a good supply runner. One day, one of the leaders started accusin’ a bunch of people of stealing meds. Swore the supply was goin’ down—accused every person I’d treated the past few months of bein’ a junkie and stealing. Killed every single one of ‘em over the course of a week.” You shake your head as the memory comes back in full force. “Meds kept disappearing. Soon enough, no one was left to blame but me.” 

“Did you take ‘em?” Joel asks. 

“No,” you say. “I had no reason to. Still don’t know who did it. But Connor realized I was next on the chopping block and no amount of reasoning would bring him down from the edge, even if that meant killing his only doctor.” You bite the inside of your cheek to hold the tears back. “Connor and I fought like crazy that night, but eventually, he won. He gave me all his supplies and got me to leave in the middle of the night. I wanted him to come with me, but he said they would hunt me down. Said he had to stay cover my tracks. Told me to go back to Boston, find the QZ— he would meet me there.”

Joel is silent for a moment. When he speaks up, it’s his usual. 

“You’re pretty far from Boston.” 

“Roads I was tryin’ to take were completely overrun,” you say. “I had a car back then, in pretty decent shape—decided I would try and get back to the farm just to recuperate. Resupply, take a breather, just try to shit out before I had to get all the way to Massachusetts.” You shrug. “And I guess a part of me thought that Connor might have thought the same thing.” 

You huff. “Pretty clear I never fuckin’ made it there, though. I just gotta hope he had better luck than me, and that’s waiting for me there—not dead in a ditch in Ohio.” 

“He probably is,” he says.  

“Fuck you, Joel,” you snap. “That’s all you gotta say?”

“I’m bein’ honest—”

“Well, I don’t need your honesty,” you bite out. “We made a promise to each other. Far as I’m concerned, he ain’t dead ‘til I see his bones. I don’t care how stupid you think it is.” 

He doesn’t say anything for a while, but when he does, it’s about what you expect. 

“It is stupid.” 

“Joel—” 

“But it’s also admirable.” 

You glance at him. “You hit your head back there or something?” 

“No. Just think it’s rare to be able to keep up hope like that.” He shrugs. “One of the things I’ve admired ‘bout you for a while.” 

Again, you feel your cheeks heat—your whole body, honestly. You busy yourself with the path ahead of you while you try to remember the art of subtlety. 

“...Thanks,” you finally say. “But I think you’re lyin’. You thought it was stupid when we first met.” 

Joel snorts. “Things’ve changed since then. You’re way less annoying now—can’t hold that against me.” 

“I am the same level of annoying, thank you very much.” You smile at him. “You like me more now. Face it.” 

He just huffed and shook his head, though you could tell he was fighting a smile of his own. “Just shut up and keep walking.”

You do, for the most part. Your path is pretty straightforward, only having to take a few detours due to infected that you take out pretty easily together. You and Joel have really found a groove working with each other since you started going on these supply runs. 

Maybe that’s what gets you to speak up again. 

“You really think my brother’s dead?” 

Joel doesn’t respond immediately. He lifts a low-hanging branch so you can duck under it, and when you glance over at him, he looks conflicted. 

“Doesn’t matter what I think,” he says. “Only matters what you do.” 

“You say all the time that you’re older and wiser than me,” you say. “So give me some of that elder wisdom.” 

Joel frowns. “I’m only forty.” 

“Can’t be only forty when you’re constantly sayin’ I’m too young to know things,” you retort. “So tell me the truth. Do you really think he’s dead? That I’m wasting my time trekking across the country?” 

“...I don’t know,” he says. “Been eight years since all of this fell apart. Logically, neither of us should still be kicking, but we are.” 

“So you think he’s alive.” 

“I think people beat the odds all the time,” Joel says. “And if your brother’s got the same stubborn genes as you, then I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s beat ‘em too.” 

You nod a few times. Whatever Joel said wasn’t going to change your mind—you meant what you said, that you won’t believe Connor is dead until you see his lifeless body. But it feels like Joel is on your side, even if it’s just one foot over the line. 

Those words echo in your head again: not yet. 

You decide to test the boundaries. 

“I think so too. It’s why I’m putting up with all this,” you say. “This… group. Jake’s bullshit. So I can get out when it’s time and keep trying to find my brother.” 

This is bigger than the doctor thing, and you’ve just dropped it on a casual walk. You’re still considered a flight risk, hence Joel’s constant companionship and the radiator nights even after you’ve more than proven yourself. You don’t know how much Joel ever believed it, but this pretty much confirms that it’s true.

“Shouldn’t talk like that out in the open,” Joel says after a moment. 

“We’re in the middle of the woods,” you say. “Who—” 

“Anyone,” he interrupts. “Here or there. So whatever shit you’re planning, don’t tell me about it.” 

“Joel—” 

“I mean it,” he continues. “I don’t care if you get yourself killed. Just don’t get me pulled into it.” 

You walk the rest of the way in silence. 

-

Joel is barely around the next day, or the day after that. You earn your keep like normal, but it makes you nervous. You try to talk to him at night, but he doesn’t give. You shouldn’t have tested the boundaries. 

It’s not like you think he’s loyal to this group—you don’t think he’s loyal to anyone but himself—but he’s been with them for longer than he’s known you. Why would he choose you over them? It doesn’t matter if he got scared when you were grabbed, if he let you sleep a little extra. It’s probably just a glitch in his programming or whatever. 

One thing you should always remember about Joel is that he will always put himself above anyone else. You might have thought differently at some point, but it’s the truth. 

You just hope he finds it in himself not to turn you in. 

-

You barely sleep the next night, too paranoid about everything going wrong just because you decided to trust Joel with something other than watching your six. 

That means when gunshots start erupting, it’s less of a rude awakening and more of a reprieve from your pitiful attempt at sleep. 

You dart up so quickly you nearly slam your head against the radiator. You don’t like most of the people in this group, but at least they tolerate you—most of them respect you. You’re not too keen on pulling this stunt again with another group of hunters that could be even worse than this one. 

That is, assuming this is an attack by humans and not infected. People, you can bargain with. Runners and clickers, not so much. 

The thought makes you look over at Joel’s bed, surprised he’s not the one that woke you up. You quickly realize why.

He’s gone. 

His materials, his bag, his weapons—it’s all gone. What’s more surprising is that he’s actually made his bed for once. 

You don’t think he’s dead. But you also don’t think he’s coming back, so you’re officially on your own. 

A part of you hopes against it. But why would he leave without saying goodbye if he wasn’t leaving for good? 

You blink back tears. They shouldn’t even be falling. You’ve only known him for a few months and you spent half of those fighting him. But you liked him, damn it—sharp, jagged edges and all.

But it doesn’t matter. 

You’re so tired of being at the mercy of others, constantly begging for your life with white lies you can only hope are enough. You can’t sit here and cry. You have to get out of here. 

You pull your cuffed hand. It hurts, obviously, and you immediately switch tactics: pulling at the pipe you’re attached to. You grip it as tight as possible and pull, your feet pushing against the body of it for more power. 

This radiator doesn’t even work anymore. It’s old and rickety and it can’t be that sturdy, even if it’s made of metal. You’ve been stuck to this thing for your whole time here, and you are so fucking sick of it. 

You finally pull the pipe apart from the radiator with a yell, and you land on your back a few feet away from the force you used. You try to even out your breathing as you recover, and pull yourself back into a sitting position. The door suddenly slams open and you wield the pipe like a weapon, pushing away from the entrance on instinct. 

Instead of an intruder or a clicker, it’s fucking Joel. 

He stumbles inside, covered in blood with a hand pressed against his side and curses waterfalling from his lips. Your eyes widen as you continue to breathe heavily. He looks towards the radiator, then to you, but he doesn’t even seem surprised. 

“The hell are you doing?” he asks. 

“Trying to escape,” you respond breathlessly. “The hell are you doing?” 

“Comin’ back for you,” Joel says. Your face heats inexplicably. “But it looks like you already handled half the job.” 

He pulls something from his pocket and tosses it over to you. You loosen your iron grip on the pipe to catch it. 

It’s the damn key to your handcuffs. You can’t help but laugh. You wasted all that effort just for Joel to show up ten seconds later, your knight in bloody armor.  

“What’d you do?” you ask. 

“What needed to be done,” Joel responds. His voice is gruff from the pain, though he tries to hide it. You don’t understand why. There’s no point. “Now get yourself out of those things and let’s go.”

You blink and look up at him. You’ve been dreaming of getting out of this place from the moment you got here—of killing everyone that killed your people, of clawing your freedom back from those that stole it from you. You can’t believe Joel got to it first. 

“Why’d you do it?” You can’t help but ask. Far as you knew, he got along with these people. If not that, he at least survived with them. Didn’t care about the people they murdered. 

“Because I had to,” he says. “You just gonna stare at ‘em?” 

You want to ask more, but you have a feeling you won’t get anything out of him. Not now. So you push down on your thoughts of lost revenge to finally free yourself from those cuffs rather than relying on another. 

“You’ve got a minute to grab anything you need,” Joel says. You’re just starting to massage your raw wrist when he starts to walk off, hand pressed even harder against the wound he’s trying to hide.  

“Wait!” You shoot up, nearly tripping over your feet trying to follow him. It’s not hard to catch him when he’s doing more stumbling than walking. 

“There’s no time to wait,” he says. “Gunshots bring people and clickers, and I ain’t dealing with either.”

“You’re hurt,” you say, only proven correct by how easily you get in front of him. The growing patch of blood on his shirt, holding his weight on his uninjured side, his labored breathing—you don’t need to be a med student to see the obvious. “Was your murder spree interrupted?”

Joel scowls. You find it funny how he always seems to take offense to you caring about his health. “Don’t act like it tears you up inside. I did you a favor.”

“Yeah, I appreciate that,” you say wryly. “Now, can you chill out for a second and let me at least look at whatever they did to you?” 

“We don’t have—” 

“We do have time,” you interrupt. “I assume you killed everyone in here, so we don’t have them to worry about. It’ll be a second before any infected get here, but if it makes you feel better, the doors lock. And in my medical opinion—” 

“You’re not a doctor,” Joel bites out. 

“I’m the closest thing you’ve got to one,” you retort. “And I don’t think you’ll make it a mile before your adrenaline fades and you’re out of luck.” You cross your arms. “Without bandaging it, you’re practically begging for an infection. How’s sepsis sound to you, Joel?” 

He stares at you—glare is more appropriate, actually. “You and your fuckin’ infections.”

You stare back, refusing to move. “Not my fault you haven’t taken a shower since the outbreak started.”

Eventually, he groans in annoyance and walks back over to the bed, taking a seat that causes him to wince. 

“Can’t believe you just wanted to walk out of here,” you say as you grab your medical bag. 

“Save the preaching, get to stitching.” 

You laugh and shake your head. “Pull your shirt up.” 

He does, and you get to work, going through the same motions as the first time you met. 

“You get shot or stabbed this time?” 

“Stabbed,” he says. “You ever gonna wine and dine me, or you just gonna keep tellin’ me to strip?”

You smile. “You find some good wine out here and a kitchen that works, I’m more than happy to do it.” 

You feel his gaze on you as you continue to work, feel his muscles tense then relax every time your fingers brush his skin, and you like it. You like knowing that he killed all these people without a second thought and he still reacts this way to your touch. Maybe it’s sick—this sort of lightness does feel wrong after what he did—but the more you think about it, the more you don’t care. It’s not like there’s anyone still around to judge you. 

“Noted,” he says. 

You bite back your smile to keep it from growing. “Who did this to you?” 

“Don’t matter,” Joel says. “They’re dead now.” 

You sigh and shake your head. “How’d you do it, then? These people are capable—tore my community down like it was nothing. You’re just one man.” 

“Why d’you think I did it in the middle of the night?” Joel looks away. “Surprise is one hell of an element. They expected it from you, not from me. ‘Sides, it’s not the first time I’ve done this.” 

“Ah.” 

“Always known I would do it,” he continues. “Ever since I joined this group. They were just a means to an end—they were too reckless for their own good. Woulda gotten me killed sooner or later, and I ain’t lettin’ that happen.”

“Awful lotta time to make a murder plan,” you say. “Mine feels half-baked compared to yours.” 

Joel shrugs. “Guess that’s why I did it before you. Helps not being handcuffed to a radiator. 

You shake your head with a huff. “Worst way I’ve ever slept.” 

You continue on in silence for a good while. You don’t mind because it helps you focus, especially once you start sutures—you’re usually the one that starts the conversations anyways. But then—

“I have a brother too,” Joel suddenly speaks up. 

You smile wistfully. “Now you’re openin’ up.” 

He shakes his head. “Just answerin’ your question. Why I did this.” 

You frown. You continue suturing without faltering, but Joel must see your face because for once, he keeps going. 

“You weren’t gonna get outta here anytime soon,” Joel says. “Not with Jake up your ass, makin’ those kind of comments. You didn’t hear the way he talked about you with everyone else.” 

A chill runs up your spine. You fight to keep your hands steady. 

“There was only so much I could do to protect you the way things were here,” he says. “So I changed things.” 

He talks about it so simply. Slaughtering a whole camp of people is changing things. 

But he did it to save your life. Can you really cherry pick any of that? Especially when you thought about doing the same countless times over the months? 

“My brother and I fell apart,” Joel continues. “He didn’t like the shit I was doing to survive— said there was a line we had to draw, that there was more to life than just survivin’. I didn’t agree. So we went our separate ways.” 

Joel meets your eyes. “I ain’t gonna let that happen to you. Not when you’ve still got a chance.” 

You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek when you feel the pinpricks of incoming tears. 

He really did do this for you. To keep you alive—to keep you safe. 

When you fell asleep that night, you thought he was only a couple steps away from betraying you. 

Instead, he was your salvation.

-

After you stitch Joel up, give him some painkillers, and make sure he’s not going to die, you take your time going through the rest of the camp. There’s a surprising amount of materials around, especially that was being kept in individual rooms. It’s a little difficult seeing all the bodies, but not as hard as you thought it would be. 

When you get to Jake’s room, you take your pistol from his body and shoot him in the head with it. He’s already dead, but it still brings you some sort of satisfaction. You think Joel will chastise you for wasting bullets, but he doesn’t say a thing. 

You fit as much as you can into both of your packs and even more in your horses’ saddle packs. You pick the two that look to be the strongest and set the others free—they’ll stand a chance on their own rather than tied up here. 

It’s nearly morning by the time you’re done, and you stand next to Joel as you watch the sunrise. It might be the one thing you never get tired of—one of the few things that remind you of how beautiful the world used to be. 

Dawn is… oddly silent here. You grew up with frogs and cicadas and all sorts of barn animals making themselves heard into the night and early morning, but the apocalypse brings a strange sense of serenity. When it’s not being interrupted by infected or hunters, that is. 

“Feels wrong standing out here,” you murmur. “Knowin’ what you did.”

“I told you, it had to be done.” Joel shakes his head. “You wanted ‘em dead anyways.” 

“Doesn’t make it any easier,” you say. “Nothin’ does.”

“Maybe for you,” he says. 

You hum in acknowledgment. This isn’t something you want to fight over—not know. 

“Where’re you goin’ after this?” you ask. 

“No clue,” he murmurs. “I sorta… drift from place to place. Anywhere I can survive.”

“I understand,” you say. “Spent a lotta time like that.” 

You feel Joel’s gaze on you. “What about you? Where’re you off to?” 

“Boston,” you say. “It’s where Connor and I agreed to meet again. We heard about a QZ there, so figured it would be a safe place to meet after however long it takes to get there. Been tryin’ to get there for a while, but I’ve been thrown…” you chuckle, “majorly off course. Seems like a pipe dream now, but I’m still gonna try.” You glance over at him.  “Can you believe we’re stuck in Kansas?” 

“Got no idea how the hell I ended up here,” Joel says with a chuckle of his own. “Figure you would like it, though. Close enough to your panhandle.” 

“Close enough but farther than ever,” you say, and you smile wistfully. “I miss the farm.” 

“I miss Texas,” he admits. 

“Someday, we’ll get back,” you murmur. 

Joel hums in acknowledgement. He looks back at the sky, and a good ten seconds of silence pass between you before he speaks.

“I’ll get you to Boston.” 

Your eyes widen. For a moment, you’re not sure if you’ve heard him correctly. “What?”

Joel shrugs. “Didn’t save your life back there to leave you to die out here.”

“I can’t ask you to do that, Joel,” you say. “You— you barely know me.” 

“Actually, you talked my ear off enough that I know plenty,” he says. “‘Sides, I’m gonna need someone to keep an eye on this wound—rather have it be the devil I know.” 

You feel a certain warmth settle in your chest, alongside a growing smile on your lips. “You’re serious.” 

“As a heart attack,” he nods. 

You stare at Joel for a good, long while, and then you hug him. 

You can’t help it. You can feel his staggered heartbeat, his uneven breathing—the way he just… stands there, like it’s the last thing he expected. It makes you wonder how long it’s been since someone last hugged him, showed any kind of affection. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he says. It takes a second, but he hesitantly wraps an arm around you. He pats your back more than anything, but when you pull away, he’s fighting a smile. 

“I mean it, Joel.” You laugh, almost giddy. “It felt like a death mission on my own. But with you… seeing my brother again feels real.” 

“No sense in lettin’ someone else lose a brother when I can try and stop it,” he says. 

“You’ll find Tommy again,” you say. “I know—” 

“No,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “We made our choices. But you and Connor still got a chance.” 

You swallow the lump building in your throat and nod. No use arguing with him over one of the sorest subjects. “This means more than anything, Joel. I’m serious.” 

“Then let’s not waste it on being sentimental,” he says. “C’mon. We’re burning daylight.” 

You let out a breathy sort of laugh, full of relief, as you follow him over. Joel locks his fingers together to give you a step up onto your horse, and once you’re on, he gives you an amused look. 

“You do know how to ride a horse, farm girl?” 

“Please,” you huff. “I grew up around ‘em. Probably know better than you.” 

“Let’s not get crazy now.” 

Joel gets on his horse and you ride up closer to him so you can look him in the eye. 

“So we’re goin’ to Boston,” you say. “Any idea how the hell we get from here to there?” 

He pulls a rolled-up paper out of his pack and flattens it out. “Just so happens our benevolent leader Jake had a map. It ain’t the best, but it’ll give us a path to follow.” 

You nod a few times, your resolve steadily growing. “We can actually do this.” 

“‘Course we can,” Joel says. “Didn’t do all this just to fail.” 

“Some actual optimism,” you marvel. “I can’t believe it.” 

He shrugs. “Balance is important.” 

“And a joke, too,” you say. “If the world hadn’t already ended, I would think it was right now.” 

“Alright.” Joel huffs and shakes his head. “Let’s get goin’ before I regret bringing you with me.” 

You don’t try to bite back your smile this time. 

You stir your horses into action as you begin to ride, Joel in front of you to lead but little distance between you. 

You knew you would get out of this place somehow, but you thought you’d slip out in the middle of the night alone, running for your life with no idea of where to go next. You’d run into a group of people, barter your skills in return for your survival, and so on and so forth until you somehow made it to Boston. A pipe dream indeed. 

Instead, you’ve got a horse, a pack full of supplies, a plan, and Joel. 

You’ve got Joel, and you feel like you can breathe for the first time in months.  

[xxsabitoxx]

Yuta is sick of you getting injured, so he decides to take matters into his own hands…

Yuta, fucking you with the intent of getting you pregnant so you have to stop being a sorcerer for a long while. All because he can’t stand to see you keep getting injured because of your strenuous curse technique.

Yuta who has you nearly bent in half, hands gripping the back of your knees with such ferocity that you’re sure there will be nail indents left behind.

Yuta who has your knees nearly touching your chest, his full body weight on top of you as his hips piston in and out of your sopping cunt.

Yuta who is babbling nearly incoherently about how this will keep you safe, that you’ll be such a good mommy, that you’ll never have to worry about getting injured ever again.

Yuta, who only whimpers in return when you babble the same sort of nonsense, begging him to make you a mommy.

Yuta, who’s coming inside of you in record time, not daring to pull out after and not even thinking about setting your legs down. Mumbling about how he needs to make sure all of it stays inside.

[pascallftv]

purity

pairing: knight!steve harrington x f!reader

summary: on night patrol, steve notices you slipping away to the woods. his curiosity gets the best of him and he decides to follow you one night (aka steve finds you masturbating in the woods and decides to take matters into his own hands)

warnings: mdni 18+ only! graphic mature content: f!masturbation, a dash of voyeurism, virginity loss, oral f receiving, fingering, breeding kink, unprotected p in v, creampie, cockwarming, slight dubcon, steve is down bad

word count: 4.8k

a/n: we’re going to pretend like this is historically accurate and that i totally have my terminology correct .. also joe for the iron shoot had me in shambles and i had to write this

Most of the other knights hated night patrol. It was cold, quiet, and lonesome. But that’s exactly what Steve liked about it.

There was something about the stillness and the way the world softened when the sun went down. The village would go quiet, the townspeople finding their way to their beds, sleeping until sunrise. There was no one to bark orders at him, no shouting in the cobblestone streets. Just the occasional howl of the wind or the sound of a horse whinnying from the stables.

Out where the village ended where the cobblestones faded into the fields is where Steve loved to patrol the most. It was the most peaceful, a brief distraction from civilization.

He walked the same route every night, his boots softly pressing down onto the tall grass. His sword hung at his side, more habit than necessity. The only conflict he’d run into in the last few weeks was the occasional drunk wandering home late or the rare fox nosing into someone’s henhouse.

And then he saw you that first night.

At first you were just a flash of white out of the corner of his eye. The pale fabric of your nightgown caught the moonlight as you crossed the open field to your place below the crooked willow tree, right next to the creek at the edge of the woods.

He assumed you were off to get some peace and quiet, or maybe even to meet a lover. But there wasn’t anyone else who showed, it was just you.

Steve noticed it was a reoccurring thing. Night after night, you slipped out of your cottage and wandered toward your spot in the grass beneath the tree. You’d sit in the grass with your head tilted back, eyes closed. Sometimes you’d stay there for a while, motionless from what Steve could tell from a distance.

One night, Steve stalked closer, his curiosity getting the best of him. He kept to the trees, his glove holding his sword as his side, steadying his breath. He watched as you padded barefoot to your spot, the grass holding an obvious indent from your consistent place. He watched intently as you sat beneath the willow, stretching your legs out, your nipples peeking through the thin fabric of your nightgown. Steve’s heart rate picked up as his eyes trailed from the soft pudge of your belly to your breasts, the sight of your nipples making arousal begin to bubble at his core.

His breath hitched in his throat as your hand landed on your chest, briefly ghosting over your nipple, before slowly trailing down your stomach.

He should’ve turned away. He was a knight, bound to honor, his oath, and to discipline. But as your breath hitched, and your fingers moved beneath the hem of your gown, pushing it up over your panties, Steve felt the discipline in him withering away.

As your fingers began to slide beneath the waistband of your panties, Steve retreated, the guilt curling hot and sharp in his chest.

The following night, Steve waited for you again. He waited where the cobblestone ended, and he watched as you wandered to your spot. He watched as you settled in the grass. He quietly stalked through the tall grass towards the trees, settling behind the same tree as the night before. He watched as you slid your dress up over your thighs, the mound of your pubic bone visible through the tight fabric of your underwear. Your hand slid under your panties just as it did the night before, your core throbbing at the thought of chasing another release.

Steve made a rash decision. He stepped out of the shadows, suddenly not caring if his sword clanked against his armor. You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of him stepping towards you. You gasped, your hand flying from between your legs, scrambling to pull your dress down.

“S-sir, my apologies.” You stammered, your heart thumping against your chest. “I didn’t expect anyone to be out here.”

Steve didn’t speak as he crouched before you, his brown eyes even darker in the moonlight. You watched as he took off his gloves, tossing them on the ground beside you, his gaze not leaving yours. His hands reached up to his helmet, slowly removing the metal, his brown locks messily falling into place. You took in his appearance, your heart fluttering as you eyes trailed from his hair to his eyes, then down to the stubble above his top lip.

You sat frozen, the hem of your dress hastily tugged back over your thighs, your breath coming shallow. The heat from earlier still pulsed low in your belly, but the shame of getting caught by a knight tangled with it, pulling your strings tight.

His voice broke the silence.

“Do you come out here every night?”

You hesitated, your lips parted. Before you could stop yourself, you whispered: “No.”

Steve’s brow twitched. He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t lie to me.”

You looked away, your fingers curling into the grass.

“I’ve seen you. Three nights now. Same path, same hour, same gown.” His voice was low, almost gentle, but there was a hint of something under it.

You said nothing, your heart pounding in your throat.

“So tell me.” He said, moving in a little closer. “What do you do out here, all alone?”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

Steve’s gaze dragged down your body, slow and heavy. “Do you just sit here and listen to the wind? Watch the moonlight on the water? Or do you do something else?” His voice dropped further, barely above a whisper. “Something you don’t want anyone else to see?”

Your lips parted in a soft gasp, and Steve saw the way your thighs pressed together instinctively. He leaned forward, bracing a hand on the ground between you, close enough that you could feel the heat of him even through the cool night air.

“I’m not here to punish you.” He said, his hands reaching to his sword belt, unfastening it and letting it clang to the ground beside him.

“Tell me what you do to yourself.” He said, his eyes fixed on yours. “Tell me how you touch yourself when you think no one is watching.”

You swallowed hard, your voice a shaky murmur. “I didn’t think anyone was watching.”

“I know.” He said, softer now. “That’s why I stayed hidden.”

His honesty burned. So did the way he looked at you, like you were something sacred and sinful.

“I just…” You started, your breath shaky. “I just needed.. something. I don’t know what.”

“Release.” Steve said, the word thick in his throat. “You wanted to feel good. Safe. You came out here all alone to fall apart where no one could see.”

Your face heated up, shame and arousal twisting in your gut.

“Do you do it slow?” He asked, his voice even softer, but a little rough around the edges. “Or quick, like you’re desperate?”

You shivered, your fingers twitching in the grass.

“Do you slip your hand under your panties like you did tonight?” He continued. “Or do you ride your palm through the fabric first? Work yourself up until you can’t take it anymore?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

But Steve leaned in, a little closer.

“You don’t have to hide from me. Not out here.” Steve whispered, so close that you could feel his breath panning over your face.

He reached out, slow and deliberate, and brushed a knuckle down your cheek.

“I can help you.” He said softly.

Your lips parted. “Sir…”

He crouched fully now, his knees falling to the grass. “Steve.” He said, offering his name.

“Steve.” You repeated softly, swallowing hard.

“Let me help you. Let me be the one who gives you what you need.”

You didn’t speak, but your silence said enough. His hand trailed from your cheek to the column of your throat, not pressing, just feeling.

“You don’t have to lie under this tree in the dark pretending like your fingers are enough.”

Your thighs squeezed together, your body betraying your hesitation. Steve noticed it, but he didn’t touch you there, not yet.

“If you let me touch you.. I can give you what your fingers can’t.” He paused, his breath catching like he was afraid to say it.

You swallowed hard, but your eyes burned hot and your chest tightened.

“I’m not sure..” Your voice cracked. “I don’t think that’s allowed.”

He froze. Your gaze dropped to your lap. “What if someone finds out? What if I’m— not pure anymore?”

Steve’s fingers stilled on your throat. You rushed to finish, your voice trembling.

“They say if a man breaks your maidenhead, you can’t take a proper husband. That you’re.. ruined.”

Steve was quiet for a long moment. Then gently, he reached for your jawline, cusping it softly in his fingers. “That’s conditioning.”

You looked at him, confused.

“That’s someone else’s voice in your head. Some priest or hag warning you that your body is only good if it’s untouched. That’s not the truth.”

He ran the back of his knuckles along your jaw.

“I don’t want your purity.” He said, his voice sharp and low. “I want your honesty. I want your heat.” He paused, his hand trailing for your neck downwards, his fingertips ghosting over your hardened nipples. You gasped, feeling your cheeks get hot at his touch.

“And I want you to look at me while you fall apart.”

You trembled, lips parting.

“If I touch you.” He continued. “You won’t be ruined. You’ll be mine.”

You blinked as his hand rose back to your throat, his fingers curling lightly into the sides of it to hold you in place. “Tell me what you think about when you lie in this grass. Tell me what you wish someone would do.”

Your thighs clenched again, your breath catching.

“Say it.” He whispered. “Say you want me to help. Say you want more than your own hand.”

You shuddered. You hesitated a moment before speaking: “I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

Steve leaned in, his lips nearly brushing yours. “Good girl.”

He hovered his lips over yours, not closing the distance quite yet. His hands trailed from your throat to the back of your hand, winding his fingertips up in your locks.

“Now tell me, where do you want me?” He whispered, his breath hot on your mouth. You breathed shakily, letting your forehead fall against his. Your hand trembled as you grabbed his wrist, dragging his hand from your hair, and directing it downward. You let his hand ghost down your body, from your chest to your soft belly, and down further, below the hem of your dress. You slid his hand beneath your gown, trailing it up your knee, up your thigh, towards your bundle of heat that felt like it was seconds from catching on fire.

You swallowed hard and furrowed your eyebrows as his hand pressed against your mound. You flattened his fingers against your lips, the heat radiating through the thin fabric of your undergarment.

“Here.” You whispered. Steve’s brows furrowed, his tongue gliding over his lips.

Steve regained control of his hand, and gently ran his fingers against your clothed slit, rubbing it up and down, your wetness collecting through the thin fabric. You gasped, your head tilting back at the newfound sensation. Your hands came up to grab his shoulders. Steve lowered his mouth to the front of your neck, leaving an opened mouth kiss there as he used his free hand to gently lean you back, letting you lay flat against the Earth.

“You should’ve known someone would find you eventually.” He murmured. His hand between your legs worked more intensely, your hips bucking at the sudden pressure added to your clit.

“I bet this is what you wanted. Wanted someone to find you, wanted someone to take care of you.” Steve said further. His hand suddenly stopped at your core, a heavy sigh falling from your lips at the lack of pressure.

You watched as Steve lowered himself away from your throat, his body settling between your legs. The metal of his armor was cold against your bare skin, making you jolt and whine. Steve leaned down, his hands reaching up to push your gown up over your belly. You watched through hooded eyes as his fingers looped under the waistband of your underwear, then slowly dragged them down the flesh of your thighs. His gaze left yours, settling on your folds. They glistened with arousal under the moonlight, a sigh falling from his lips.

“So pretty and wet for me.” He murmured.

You watched as he lowered his face to your core and pressed a soft kiss to your folds. Your fingers gripped the grass beneath them, your lower back rocking, trying to get him closer.

“Patience, sweet girl.” He said. One arm looped underneath your leg, and the other snaked up to your pussy. With his forefinger, he tested the waters, dragging the pad of it up your folds, collecting some of your arousal.

You inhaled sharply, then tilted your head to the side to fall against your shoulder.

Steve lowered his mouth to your clit, his tongue prodding at the nub in flicks, his finger working in stripes against your labia.

“Oh my.” You breathed out suddenly, your lower abdomen clenching tight at the sensation. You were extremely sensitive, much more sensitive than you’d ever been for yourself. The feeling was heightened when it wasn’t your own touch, and you knew it wasn’t going to take you long to find your release.

Steve vibrated a groan against your folds, pulling away to allow his finger to trail up to your clit. He began working soft circles, your thighs trying to clench around him. He propped himself up on his elbow to utilize his other hand. His other forefinger found its way to your entrance, the tip prodding gently at it.

“Have you ever been inside?” Steve asked, watching as your brows furrowed hard in pleasure. You shook your head, your breaths falling in sharp inhales and exhales.

“I’ll take it slow. It might feel strange at first.” Steve warned you, then watched your reaction as he slipped his finger inside, your walls only resisting for a moment. He used his other thumb to keep circling around your clit. Your thighs began to tremble beside him, and you knew you weren’t going to last much longer with his finger curling up inside you.

“How does it feel?” Steve asked, his finger working with expertise below your waist.

He must’ve had lots of practice, and the thought sent a pang of jealousy through you, but the feeling soon dissipated when his fingertip curled up into the spongy flesh of your g spot, sending a wave of pleasure through your lower half.

You were so focused on the way his fingers felt on you to answer his question, but you let out a shaky moan instead, which answered his question enough.

Steve’s fingers worked faster, and the pleasure was climbing. You could feel the muscles in your abdomen beginning to tighten, and your legs were beginning to tremble from the pressure. Steve added another finger, slipping into you with ease. You whined at the added fullness, and your hands gripped tighter on the grass beneath you.

“That’s it.” Steve assured you, his mouth coming down to plant a kiss on your pubic bone.

Your breath caught in your throat as your orgasm hit you, your walls clamping down on Steve’s fingers, and your legs vibrating beside him. Your vision went white as you tipped your head back, your mouth parting unknowingly. It was unlike any release you’d given yourself.

Steve watched you with hungry eyes, his fingers not slowing down as he worked you through your climax.

“So pretty when you come..” Steve muttered. He almost sounded muffled, as your hearing was still fuzzy from your orgasm.

Steve fingers slowed as you came down from your high, your pussy now almost dripping from arousal and your come. You gawked down at him, watching as he pulled his glistening fingers away from your folds and reached up to his mouth, wrapping his lips around them. You watched as he hummed as he tasted your release. Your chest heaved in pants, Steve’s eyes falling to your nipples.

“How do you feel?” He asked, lowering himself down, his mouth hovering over yours. You could smell yourself on his breath, and that sent a pulse of arousal through your core.

“Amazing.” You breathed out, then closed the distance between your mouths. You kissed him deeply, your hands reaching up behind his head and into his curls.

He hummed into your mouth and kissed you back. He hovered above you, holding himself up with one arm, while his other slid down to the front of his pants, palming his erection through the fabric. He grunted as you rocked your hips up into his and whined into his mouth.

He pulled away, licking his lips as he gazed into your eyes. You broke eye contact and let your gaze fall to where his hand was holding his erection. You glided your top teeth over your bottom lip and dragged your hand from his neck and down his chest, and to his hand. You followed his actions and palmed his bulge with him, his brows taut.

“You feel that?” He asked, rocking his hips into your hand. “That’s all for you, sweet girl.”

You stared up at him in admiration, watching how his swollen lips parted in pleasure. Steve stopped your hand and stood up, his armor suddenly feeling like a thousand pounds. He held your gaze as his hands moved to the buckles at his sides, unfastening them. One by one, he undid the clasps, and let his chest plate fall to the ground, then the pauldrons from his shoulders. His body revealed itself, his muscular arms catching the moonlight.

He didn’t speak as he stripped off the last of his armor. He looked less like a knight now and more untamed. He ran a hand through his tousled hair and stepped back towards you, his dark colored tunic on display. You sat up and pushed yourself up to stand, placing your hands on his chest. You ran them upwards, feeling his shoulders and his neck, his warmth radiating into your skin now without the armor to block it. Then your hands journeyed downward, grabbing the hem of his tunic, pulling it upwards. Steve helped you pull it over his head, revealing his toned chest. You ran your fingers from his belly up to his chest, running across the hair there. You planted a kiss to his chest, then trailed up to his neck, placing an open mouthed kiss below his ear. His hands wrapped around you, kneading into the soft flesh of your waist.

You ran your hand from his chest back down his front to his crotch, your fingers closing over his bulge that was now straining against his pants. You palmed him, his hips bucking into your hand, his mouth falling open as you kissed his jaw.

“Y-you sure you haven’t done this before?” He breathed out, his eyes closing in pleasure.

You fought back a grin and kissed the corner of his mouth. He turned his head, kissing you passionately, his lips dancing against yours. His hand moved from your waist to your breast, giving it a gentle squeeze. His hand moved to the straps of your nightgown, pulling them off your shoulders, then pulled away from your kiss to tug the gown down your body, revealing your bare skin to him. His gaze fell to your bare breasts, your nipples pebbled, and goosebumps littering your skin in the cold night air.

Steve took your breasts in his hands, gently massaging them as he kissed you again, this time his tongue sliding into your mouth. He pressed his front against you, his erection rubbing against your belly. You whimpered, clenching your thighs together.

Steve pulled away again, his breath fanning over your lips in pants. “Need you to lay down.”

You obeyed, and laid back down in the grass, propping yourself up on your elbows to look up at him. You were suddenly overly aware of how naked you were. You could feel the cold nipping at the soft skin of your belly and breasts. Steve watched your body as he removed his shoes, then his pants and undergarments, his cock springing free.

He was big, bigger than you thought he’d be. This wasn’t your first time seeing a penis, but it was your first time seeing one like this, one that was so erect and leaking from its angry tip. Steve’s hand dropped to haphazardly stroke himself, then he lowered to his knees. He hovered over you, his warmth relieving you from the cold air.

“Want to fuck you now.” Steve said, not sugar coating his words. His hand left his cock and dropped to your folds, your pussy still soaked. His fingertip found your hole, and you held onto his shoulder as he slid his finger into you, testing to see if you were still ready for him. You moaned as he pumped his finger in and out of you for a few seconds before adding another, your walls stretching intoxicatingly around him. It didn’t take long for your walls to readjust to his intrusion.

You were nervous, scared even, but you were too aroused and enamored to change your mind about this. This was everything you’d ever fantasized about. The whole situation was taboo, something you never thought would happen during your time, but here you were, giving yourself up to a night guard.

Steve leaned back a bit and guided his cock to your pussy, his tip brushing against your folds, collecting some of your arousal. Your breath hitched when it glided over your clit, as it was still sensitive from your orgasm.

Steve’s mouth dropped to your breast, taking your nipple is his mouth, sucking on it gently, before moving to the other. He was obsessed with your tits, and suddenly the thought of knocking you up crossed his mind. His cock twitched in his hand at the thought of your belly swollen with his child, your breasts swollen and full of milk. He groaned into the flesh of your chest, the tip of his dick notching at your entrance. A gasp fell from your lips, and your hands wound themselves in his hair.

“Going to stretch you so much.” Steve muttered as he stared up at you with hooded eyes.

He’d put this off long enough. His tip was sensitive and angry, the precum dripping down his shaft now. You whimpered as you felt him press harder into your entrance, not quite pushing himself in yet.

“Please.” You breathed out. Steve gawked up at you, your voice not only surprising him, but also yourself. You were aching for him.

At this point the furthest thing from your mind was losing your purity. You didn’t care if it was about to hurt, and you didn’t care if you bled. You were entirely consumed by the want to feel every inch of him inside of you, and the anticipation was killing you.

“It’ll only hurt a bit, sweet girl.” Steve reassured you.

With those words, Steve pushed into you slowly, his tip breaching your hole. He entered you with ease, your hole swallowing up the first inch of him. You gasped at the new sensation. He stayed there, slowly moving the head of him in and out of you, testing your stretch. You were more than ready for him, your walls not even attempting to squeeze him out.

“Taking me so well.” Steve muttered, his gaze falling to where he was entering you.

He pushed himself further, sheathing himself another couple inches. The stretch was consuming you. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as you had expected. If anything, you were obsessed with the feeling of him splitting you open, marking you as his.

Steve rocked his hips against yours, pushing the rest of his length inside of you. You let out a strangled moan and dug your fingertips into his biceps. Another gasp left you as Steve brought his thumb up to your clit, ghosting the softest of circles to it. Your thighs involuntarily jolted at the added sensation, your walls clamping down on his cock.

“That’s it.” Steve spoke, then leaned down to place a hot kiss to your neck, dragging his lips downward to your collarbone, where his teeth grazed the heat of your skin.

You whined as he picked up the pace slightly, his strokes now a slow, but consistent pace. You could feel his length reaching a depth that you’d never felt before. His length curled up, hitting your g spot perfectly.

The sound was pornographic— you were soaking wet, the sound of his length sliding in and out of you was a sound that permeated the air and made your muscles clench. He was moving even faster now, his tempo hitting you deeply, and you knew there was no chance you wouldn’t bleed from this.

“Can’t get enough of you.” Steve panted. He hovered lower now, the heat from his chest radiating down into yours, his breath hot against your neck.

You reached up to his scalp, tugging on his brown locks. He whined into your skin, then trailed his mouth upward to yours, meeting your lips in a heated kiss. He grunted into your mouth, his thrusts becoming harder and more frequent.

“Oh my god.” You said against his lips, your eyes beginning to roll back. His hand was now at your nipple, pinching and flicking it softly.

Perhaps tonight would be the night he’d put a baby in you. Then you would truly be his. He imagined coming home from patrol to you and his child, a hot meal waiting for him at the stove. He pictured you waiting for him in your shared bed, your beautiful bare body on display for him, waiting to add another member to your family.

His thoughts went straight to his core, and he could feel his release creeping up on him. His thrusts were becoming choppier and slower. He could feel his balls tightening as it drew near, and he imagined how intoxicatingly you’d look with his seed dripping from your folds.

“Going to fill you so full.” Steve muttered, sweat beading on his forehead.

Your head tipped back, you breath catching in your throat. Your body was hyper aware of everything. How hard your nipples were in the night air, how your tits bounced with every thrust. You felt his body heat transferring to your skin, his chest hair tickling the soft flesh of your breasts.

“Please.” You muttered again, your tone strangled and exasperated.

“Fuck.” Steve grunted, his release hitting him hard.

He shot hot spurts deep inside of you, and selfishly thrusted as deep as he could. You whimpered under him, feeling his cock beginning to soften inside of you. He kept himself nestled inside of you, plugging you full of his seed. He needed this to be the moment he fucked his child into you.

Steve stayed above you, lowering to lay on you, but making sure he still held himself up enough as to not put his full weight on you.

His hips rested between your thighs. The rise and fall of his chest brushed against your collarbone in even waves. His nose was buried in the crook of your neck, lips parted, and his skin damp where sweat had gathered.

One of his hands was braced by your head, fingers buried in the grass. You didn’t know if he was holding you close or holding you down, but it really didn’t matter to you.

He finally stirred, just slightly. His hips shifted, cock nudging deeper, pulling a sharp gasp from your throat.

“You’re still tight.” He murmured against your skin, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Still holding me so close.”

You bit your lip, your skin flushed from head to toe. He still refused to pull out, like he belonged there now. Steve leaned back just enough to look at you. His hair was messy, a curl falling over his brow.

“You feel that?” He asked quietly, a hand sliding up your side. “I’m still inside you, still filling you.”

You nodded, unable to speak. He dipped his head low, kissing the hollow of your throat, soft and slow.

“I don’t want to leave.” He said into your skin. “Not yet.”

His hips pressed forward again, and your walls throbbed around him.

“I’ll keep your secret.” He said after a while, barely above a whisper. “But don’t expect me to stay away after this. I won’t.”

And with the moonlight bleeding through the trees, illuminating the beads of sweat on your skin, Steve moved again, not with urgency, but with slow need. You realized there was nothing you wanted more than for Steve to take you again, again, and again.

[wild-jackalope]

summary :: virgin sex with your sinister boyfriend, Mark!

warning :: rough, virgin sex, p in v woo, fem reader, relationship is def fucked up, 'I can fix him', sex hurting, missionary, not my usual smut so lmk if its any good, smut w/ no plot, fucking u will make me stronger!! - sinister Mark, dub-con (?)

note :: inspired by stuff written by @slutla love that b, go read her stuff

He hadn't knocked—he never really did. You just looked up and saw him. Floating in the centre of your room like it was his.

"Mark?" His name slipped out soft and gasped, a flicker of fear in your throat. The feeling settled in your stomach when the black and yellow registered.

That look on his face—you knew it. The specific knot in his brow, the strained frown. It wasn't tender sincerity, it never was.

I'm about to feel you up like you're my personal doll. The look said.

It had become your role, unspoken but absolute: be there.

Take him in. Soothe the ache in his skull with your soft body. Let him bury everything he didn’t know how to say beneath your bruising skin.

He moved without a word, kneeled at the edge of your bed, and pushed your legs apart. His mouth met yours with intent and a surprising reverence.

You tried to soak it up as much as possible, tasting the crumbs of love through his lips. Kisses like that made it all worth it—to you at least.

It was a needed reminder that Mark loved you.

His tongue swiped across the cavern between your lips, a claim.

Affection had crept in over time. Mark had never known kind love, Nolan was a cruel father who only offered praise when shown incredible power and his Mum had passed at such a young age he likely didn't hold any memories of her cuddles. You knew that well, it being a piercing reminder that kept you tethered to him.

Mark didn't care for casual touches, curt kisses or cuddles at night.

The feeling of you opening your lips to let him in and letting loose a moan which you couldn't hold back was what he preferred.

"Fuckin' missed you," he murmured, his guttural words vibrating onto your lips.

Mark shed the tight fabric of his mask, tossing it across your floor.

He stared down at you with dark eyes shaded by frantic hair, jaw tight and face littered with a light flush alongside red cuts.

"Mark..." you frowned, taking his face in your hands.

He took your wrists, holding them with a pressure that made it hard to move your fingers. "I'm fine."

He hated words. He preferred to hear you sob.

He returned to the feverish exploration of your mouth, releasing you only after guiding your hands to his hair. Clear in what he wanted: your touch.

Your fingers dipped through his messy hair, nails running along his scalp in long, gentle rakes. They trailed down his neck and across his shoulders. A tremble passed.

"God," he grunted, closing the minuscule space between you to have you compressed to the place where he longed for you the most.

Hungry fingers devoured you, sliding under your shirt and chasing the desire to feel your flushed flesh.

Then one had dipped lower, between your legs.

His palm cupped your heat, holding you there and feeding off your startled reaction. This was new territory. You were familiar with the feeling of his hand palming the fat of your breasts, or the squeeze of his hand against your thighs until he left bruises in his wake.

But his middle finger pressing into the indent of your clothed sex was entirely new, and it made you shrink beneath him.

"This your first time?" He asked, no hints of affection lacing his question only something territorial and dog-like.

"Yeah," you nodded once and swallowed thickly.

Your eyes peered down without thinking, catching on the obvious bump over the base of his suit, demanding to be freed of the trapping fabric.

A grin grew across his face, both satisfied and threatening. "Cool."

He let the pressure of his palm sink in further into your heat, his other hand pressed into your ribs and keeping you still against the plush bed.

"You gonna let me?" He asked, too casually.

"Do—do you want to?" the way you considered him was so sickeningly sweet. He puffed an amused exhale.

"I wanna hear you say it."

He didn't care for consent, he wanted devotion.

You nodded, slow and dizzy. "Yes, I want to have sex with you."

His lips fell to yours with a crashing passion again, his tongue already fighting to explore yours.

"Marhk—" his name muffled in your mouth, enunciation taken by his hasty exploration of your spit-soaked cavern. You weren't sure if he was too taken up in the lust of it all, or if he did hear and just didn't care.

You attempted to recline your head back, but Mark only followed you until you were wedged between him and the bed. Then, you took his burly shoulders in your hands and pushed against him.

He stilled, annoyed.

"What."

"I love you." You said, offering a weak but certain smile.

He kissed you harder, like a punishment for your empty words. "I know," he muttered, "that's why you'll take it."

His fingers slid under your pants and underwear, finally dragging along your bare slit. The first direct touch made you jerk, a helpless cry punched out of your throat.

"That's right," he exhaled, a breathy chuckle in his chest, "I wanna feel how much you love me."

He teased you for a moment longer—circling, dripping, spreading—until he decided it wasn't torturous enough. His fingers hooked around your bottoms, yanking them down your thighs in one strong pull.

You barely had time to breathe before he was stripping himself too, dragging his tight suit down to his waist, the shade of his cape no longer shielding your body. You closed your legs, unwilling to bear the naked humiliation.

But it didn't matter, because Mark pried your legs open with casual strength, like your legs were made up of nothing but thin bone.

Between the open space of your legs, you caught a glimpse of him—already hard, already glossy with pre.

He coated his tip in your slick and your body jolted in reaction. Which only had Mark forcing you further into the bed in an attempt to keep you still.

Then—without a breath of warning—he pushed inside.

He'd only glided against your insides halfway before you constricted at the sudden, alien pressure.

"Mark!"

But he continued, slowly, surely, concealing his thickness inside you. “Shit, that’s too much for you?” He asked, pressing his thumb to your clit.

It was. He could feel it in the violent tremble of your insides, and the way blood soared through your veins with how quickly your heart pumped. Your body was fighting him, but you weren't going to stop him.

You forced down the ball building up your throat with a swallow. "No, I'm okay," you assured.

His thumb began moving against your clit, drawing slow, deliberate circles. The only sign of softness.

"Don't lie to me," he muttered, "does it hurt?"

"Y-Yes."

The admission, the way you look up at him with something fragile in your eyes jolted his dick, and it throbbed against your constrictive insides.

It caressed something broken in him, something that made him press deeper into you. He leaned over you like a shadow and kissed you again, muffling your gasp as he started to move.

The first thrust felt like agony, his length forcing itself inside you and slowly sliding out before stuffing you again. Each rut of his hips jolted your body, but his hand kept you firm against the mattress.

You cried out, every blow to your insides shooting a stinging pain across your abdomen that followed with a quick aftertaste of pleasure.

His lips crushed yours, devouring every gasp and whimper. He kissed with teeth, with tongue, with the kind of force that sent your head spinning. His tongue grazed against your lower lip, before he sucked on the tender skin, leaving a bite sharp enough to leak hot blood, which he smoothed over with a slow, filthy lick.

You couldn't even try to keep up with him.

No one else could take him, not Cecil, not the guardians, not even his father, but you could—like this. Flushed and abused below him.

You could take the bruises, the nasty words, because you loved him. You loved him. It satisfied something deep and cruel inside him.

"Fuuuck." His head dipped to your shoulder, his lips still sweet with your metallic blood. "Let me go faster," he groaned, the words quavering against your shoulder.

"Okay," you nodded, squeezing your eyes shut in preparation.

"Yeah? Can I?" He asked—but it wasn't really a question, just a sweetly dressed demand to hear you say you wanted him to wreck you.

Each thrust that drilled into you after was a broken reminder that you were his, a reassurance that your body would remember him long after he'd pulled out and disappeared into the sky.

The previous pace had teetered near too much and now, with the quick smacks of skin and the way Mark's tip surged against your nerves had reached an overstimulating point, the pain and pleasure forced you too quickly over the waves of your climax.

Mark felt it—the full body shake and the throbbing tightness of your insides. The way you clenched around him in rhythmic waves.

Your nails clawed his shoulders, leaving desperate, white lines. Your eyes welled with shining tears and they escaped you in burning streams.

Mark skipped a thrust, only for a heartbeat to let you overwhelm his senses. Though he'd never say it aloud, Mark thought you looked beautiful.

When he threw his hips into you again, your next orgasm followed quick and hot behind your first.

This time, the sucking of your inside threw him over the edge, too.

You felt a new warmth pool inside you, sucked in by the twitching of Mark's dick. He groaned through clenched teeth, milked of his climax far too soon.

He pushed into you as deep as he could go, one final time, forcing his cum to dribble out of your stuffed sex. It had been tinted a light pink, mixed with specks of your blood.

You could hardly feel the tension that first strained your insides, just a numbing buzz left in the wake of Mark's quick thrusts.

He didn't speak, but his hand, rough and warm lifted you from its bruising entrapment of your body. You gasped, a space in your lungs that you hadn't known was stolen by the pressure filled again.

"Breathe," he muttered.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of your breathing.

He only stared at you, eyes dark and feral. As if daring you to say you loved him.

You took his cheek with a shaky breath and pressed a weak kiss to his lips, raw and filled with sincerity. It was confession enough.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

34 / 3.2k / part 2 of shark mermen Gaz and Soap for mermay >:)

...

You wake up to the morning sunlight glimmering off Gaz's salt-glazed skin. He's leaning over you, watching you intently with those fathomless all-black eyes.

You gasp and immediately drag yourself away--or try to, given the way his tail is wound under your legs like a snake's. In your haste, you bump up against Soap, who lurks behind you, somehow again taking you by total surprise.

Your heels scrape against sharp gravel as you fight to get out of reach. Gaz's tail coils inward as if to drag you back in, and you almost collapse over it in your scramble. But you finally manage to get out of reach. You stare down at them, your heart pounding in confusion and panic.

Soap smirks like this is the most fun he's had in weeks. His tail swishes in the shallows behind him. "G'morning."

This is a nightmare. A hallucination.

"Don't look so shocked," Soap says. "You've still got all your pieces. You really should try being more thankful. We saved your life."

"Saved my--" You cough and sputter. Salt and sand coat your throat. "You tried to kill me!"

"You would've died anyway," Gaz says. His matter-of-fact tone of voice is somehow more terrifying than Soap's high-energy arrogance.

"We were havin' a little look at you," Soap says. "That's all."

"You bit me!"

"Just a nip," Gaz admits. "I was curious."

"I wasn't," Soap says with a flash of his sharp teeth. He looks down at the second set of teeth marks--his teeth marks--on your calf. "That's a love bite."

⬇ nsfw, monster mermen, overt predator/prey dynamics, blood kink ⬇

You pull your legs in, withdrawing further up the rocky beach as you get to your feet. You don't have much space to get away from them. Worse, this tiny cove will be all but swallowed by high tide. The only way out is either back into the water or up the rocky face of the cliffs on all sides. You can only imagine the rock cutting into your bare hands and feet--or worse, climbing halfway up, slipping, and landing on the carpet of glass-sharp gravel.

There’s nowhere to go.

Soap stretches toward you again as you back away. He does it in this motion like a shrug, like he's luring you into a false sense of security by making you think he just happens to be putting his hands near your ankle. He can’t hide how the muscles in his shoulders bunch, wanting to pounce. "You'd have a better chance jumping back into the sea and holding your breath than climbing those rocks, human. Maybe you outswim us this time, even. Want to try?"

"I'll take my chances," you snap. His claw brushes your foot, and you quickly backpedal, climbing up onto the biggest boulder you can manage. It's only about as waist-high, though, and unsteady. Not quite tall enough to boost you toward any solid footholds up the forty-or-so-foot cliffside. Still, you have to try.

Gaz watches with annoyance as you reach for a shallow indent in the rock. "You'll kill yourself. Be reasonable," he scolds.

Your fingers find uncertain purchase in the shallow ridge overhead, and you force your toes to get with the program and grip what might be a rocky shelf to your side.

The two mer watch you haul yourself up a few feet. Soap pushes himself up the beach to get a better view, tail curling. Gaz studies the muscles in your legs. Then he watches your hands grip the rocks. You look even more defenseless in the sunlight, skin battered from exposure and clothes torn from the waves. His eyes follow the curve of your calf to the blood that's dried on your ankle. It looks bad.

He doesn't see you making it high enough for the inevitable fall to kill you, but it irritates him that you're choosing to act like this. You're fragile. Obviously, if he and Soap wanted to kill you, you'd be dead. They did their best to not kill you. He did, anyway.

"You think we'd let you drown when the tide comes in after keeping your fragile human body alive and intact this long?" Gaz calls up.

You ignore this in favor of boosting yourself up another foot. Your fingers slip on the next hold. Gravel clatters down the rock and showers both mer.

Soap smirks. "Gonnae fall, aye?”

Gaz's voice is flat. "Let her."

You make it up another two footholds before you slip.

Soap's smirk morphs into a wild laugh as you topple backward. You land on the rocks, hard, air knocked out of you with a surprised gasp. Both mer prowl toward you.

You dig the heels of your hands into the wet sand to scramble to your feet again. A sudden, sharp pain makes you hiss. You rip your hands out of the gravel to see a shard of curved glass sticking out of your palm of your dominant hand. Blood stains the base and wells up, trailing down your wrist.

Soap clocks the smell of blood. "What d'you want to try next, hmm?" he muses, tail swishing behind him. "Hurry up before the tide comes in or that cut'll attract somethin' unfriendly."

You glare at him. You want to scream. Or cry. You need help, but what are the chances the rescue boats will come back this way?

"So?" you snap, hiding your hand against your chest as he leans closer. "What does it matter to me if you eat me or something else does?"

"We don't care to eat you," Gaz says. "And if we did, we wouldn't share."

"Don't know about that, Gaz," Soap purrs. "You think she looks delicious, don't ya?"

You look from one to the other, still clutching your bleeding hand. "Why would you bring me here if you didn't want to eat me?"

"Curiosity." Gaz's eyes dart back to your face. “I told you.”

Frustration burns in your chest. "You bit me. You dragged me around the water. What else is fucking left to be curious about?"

Gaz hesitates. To him, you are a sight. Tattered clothes clinging to your damp body, he can see more of you than when he first spied you on that little boat, sitting so carelessly with your legs dangling in the water.

He stares at the bite wound on your arm. It's not just a “nip” like Soap’s--it's deep. A bite that left a deep, dark, ugly mark surrounded by a ring of dark blue-purple bruising. It will scar. The memory of his teeth will always be in your skin. He can still taste you: fresh adrenaline, copper blood, and seawater.

"What you feel like." His voidlike eyes are half-lidded, his voice soft. "Up close."

You glance back at him, your heart pounding. You're defenseless right now--you have been since they threw you onto this beach. So there has to be some truth to what they're saying, right? You remember reading somewhere that sharks are curious. That they sometimes investigate with their teeth, biting without any real intent to injure. So... maybe...

Soap leans in behind you and skims his clawed fingertip up your arm, his voice just past the shell of your ear. "We can take you back to shore, easy. We just need to clean those wounds. How about it," he purrs into your ear. "Gonnae help us help you?"

You shy away from his touch, feeling goosebumps break out all over. "Okay. Okay, fine." You glance down at your hand, then at Soap. "But not... not you."

You look at Gaz, hesitant, but your meaning is clear.

Soap's smirk twists into a frown. "Why not me?"

Gaz snatches your wrist. "Come here, then."

You find yourself pulled into the arms of a shark again as Gaz shuffles you into the crook of his arm. You're awed at how much bigger than humans these shark mer are. He coils his tail under you both. He grips your bloodied wrist in one hand and plants the other firmly on your hip to slide you even more flush against him. Any protest you had dies in your throat as he repositions your injured hand in his and plucks the glass out in a single, rough motion. A gasp punches out of you. The noise has Gaz pulling you closer, his arm wrapped tight around you.

You tense up, watching the claws on his hands very carefully, but he seems to maneuver you in such a careful, conscientious way to keep from hurting you with them that, once he has you positioned on his tail, you relax somewhat. They really are being careful with you, you realize. Some of the tension leaves your shoulders. You breathe out through your teeth. You can let this happen. Some people would love to be in your position, even. There's something tender but not quite gentle in how he grips you and how his thumb presses into your thigh.

He tucks your head under his chin. A low hum vibrates in his chest. Something about the sound is soothing. Or at least distracting enough that you don't notice him moving your hand to his mouth until his hot tongue laves over your wound.

Your blood--in his mouth--and roaring in your ears. How did you let yourself be tricked into letting a shark lap up your blood while he’s holding you close enough that you can see the beads of sea water clinging to the scarred ridges of his chest?

Even Gaz is somewhat surprised at the way his tongue instinctively scrapes over your wound to stem the blood flow. It's not an entirely animal compulsion to lick the wound clean--it's a practical enough way to clear away the blood. Tasting you is a bonus. That's what he tells himself as he trails his tongue down your arm to catch what's dripping down in rivulets to your elbow.

You squirm at the sting. Gaz tightens his grip.

"Is that all you were curious about, then?" Soap asks, sliding closer. He's talking to Gaz but looks down at you with glimmering solid blue eyes.

"Steady," he breathes, his voice still rough. He can smell your nervousness. He can feel your heart pounding. "She's got cuts all over. Let me..."

You feel his hands begin to peel away your tattered clothes and slide under them. You bite down on a squeal, grabbing his wrist. "Hey--!"

Before you can voice your protests fully, Soap's fingers brush the small bite mark on your ankle. You jolt, pulling your legs away and hugging them to yourself. Distracted by this, Gaz lets his free hand glide over the outside of your leg. His calloused fingers follow the curve of your hip, your thigh, your calf. He tugs your leg free so he can study the underside, too. He runs the pads of his fingers all the way back up to the bend of your knee, along the flesh of your hamstring, across the inside of your thigh. You shiver.

At the same time, Soap tugs at the bottom of your tattered shirt with interest. "Why d'you humans wear cloth? Is it because your skin is too thin?" Before you can reconsolidate yourself enough to answer, he scoffs. "All the good it does you. Shreds easier than seaweed."

“Mm,” Gaz agrees absently. He shifts you so your back is back braced up against his chest, your legs bunched up atop his tail. This way, he can keep you here and keep his hands free. He’ll have as much access to you as he needs.

At this angle, you feel rather than see the smooth dark planes of Gaz's chest and stomach. It should be wrong to notice the scars that run over his arms as they pass over you. Or the way his muscles ripple under your back. His body is a dichotomy: warm to the touch and smooth as fine silk, but rough and coarse with scars. Plus there’s the shark half.

Soap snatches up one of your ankles. He prods at your foot. "You get around on these?"

You huff. "When I can, clearly."

He runs the edge of one of his claws over the top of your foot, follows the arched bone underneath, and presses into your instep. He pokes and prods and presses hard on the ball of your foot with a curious look. "Must be slow."

"Doesn't have to be fast," you mutter.

"Then how d'you catch food?"

"I don't have to catch my food."

"You're a predator, though. You've got eyes facing forward."

"I can hunt what I need to hunt.” Salads and instant noodles, but you don’t bother saying that.

"That's good." Soap's hands slide to your toes. He finds it weird how your feet sort of resemble his hands. Little fingers and claws and everything. "As long as you've got prey slower and smaller and softer than you are."

"If that's even possible," Gaz says.

You scowl. Rude.

Gaz seems to enjoy your sour reaction a little too much. "I suppose your prey must be stupid, too."

"Watch it."

A smirk plays at his lips as his gaze flicks down to the rest of you, curled up on his lap in his arms. "Do you think you can make me? What'll you do--scratch me with your claws?" He laces your fingers with his. Your soft, blunt human fingers and his thicker, sharper, callused ones. "Bite me with your razor-sharp teeth?"

"Maybe."

"How vicious." He nudges your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. "Go on, then."

You consider it. Then you realize it would just prove his point, so you turn your face away with a huff. You wish you'd paid more attention to all those National Geographic specials about mer. You don't specifically remember any real-life cases of shark mer eating humans, but there are definitely made-for-TV movies about it.

Soap's hands creep up to your calf. His thumbs prod your shin and then your kneecap. "I can feel her bones," he says in surprise.

"We both have bones.”

"Well, yours are like rock. Ye got thin skin, hard bones. 'Cept your claws." Soap's fingers wander up your bare legs past your kneecaps. When they make it to your thigh, he grips it with his whole hand and squeezes lightly.

He's fascinated--amazed, even--by your body. It's almost enough to make you feel self-conscious, but everything you'd cover up is a fascination for them. Bumps, stretch marks, pock marks, folds, fat, stubble--you feel yourself tense up when hands wander to those parts of yourself you've learned to be ashamed of, but they don't react. Of course they don't, but still. It feels strange.

Gaz notices your discomfort. He keeps his grip light and loose on you, but his eyes linger on the flesh of your thigh in Soap's hands, the way your skin dimples under the pressure. "It's like a seal,” Gaz says.

"My thigh is like a seal?"

"Soft and blubbery,” Soap adds. "And seals are delicious." He leans down and pinches a bit of skin in his teeth.

You squirm a bit at the harmless little nip, but moreso at the way his hand slides a little too far up your thigh. You put your uninjured hand over his to stop it from going any higher.

Unfortunately, that just seems to draw his attention to what might be up there. His eyes flick up to your shorts. "What is it?"

"Nothing."

"Doesn't seem like nothing." He grabs the hem of your shorts to slide them higher.

You grab his hands. "Hey!"

He grins. "You're a bit twitchy.”

"That's not allowed," you tell him, face burning.

"Isn't it?" Gaz says. He loops his long fingers under your thigh and lifts it up as if to give Soap more room. "Whose rule is that?"

You quickly snap your thighs shut anyway, curling your legs into yourself as best you can. "My rule. Don't touch."

A low noise of frustration rumbles in Soap's chest. "Why do humans cover up so much?" His hands slide up your outer thighs, and he bends until his face is almost level with your stomach. His frown deepens as if this were the thing he was really curious about. "Just let me look for a second."

"Absolutely not."

"Waste of nice soft human skin," he mutters. "Hiding it all away."

“Let us in,” Gaz says.

“No.”

"Not even me?" he asks.

"No."

They both frown.

"Why not?” Gaz asks. “What are you keeping there?"

You huff. "It's my-- my reproductive things. Happy?"

"Your... reproductive things." Soap furrows his brow and turns his head to Gaz. "Reproductive like a fish?"

Gaz's fingers continue to squeeze your inner thighs in slow, deliberate motions. "No," he says after a beat. "Like a mammal."

"Ah. So?" Soap gives you a blank look. "Those are all up inside you then, aye? Nothin' to see."

He takes hold of your knee again. You immediately pull out of his grasp and turn to the side, sitting up on your knees this time as Gaz shifts his tail to accommodate you. "Nothing to see as far as you're concerned," you respond, curt.

Soap continues to leer at you, but his prodding is less insistent at your clear refusal. "Just tell us then. Where is it exactly? In the front? Or the back?"

You cross your arms. "None of your business."

"Don't humans mate for fun?" Soap asks.

“I didn't say that.”

"They doooo," Soap singsongs. He smiles and bares his teeth, the sharp points on his canines glinting in the light.

All the heat that had gone out of your cheeks comes rushing back in. " Do you?"

Soap grins again in that annoying way. "We do. Very fun. So what's the big deal?”

"We're not mating is what," you snap. You push yourself off of Gaz’s lap and stumble a bit, catching yourself with a splash into the deepening tide. "When are you taking me back home?"

Soap looks disappointed at the possibility of being deprived so suddenly of his new toy.

Gaz frowns too. "Now you're talking like you didn't enjoy yourself." He pushes himself up and follows you into the water, his fins cutting through it smoothly. "But a deal is a deal. We’ll take you back to shore. Once night falls, of course."

"But it's morning!"

"So it is." Gaz circles your legs, forming a crescent around you as he comes to a rest on his side in the shallow water. He smirks at you like he finds your confusion endearing in a tedious way. "Night will come again. We've got time until then."

"But the tide will come in," you remind them, casting a look back at the tiny little cove.

"It will,” Gaz agrees.

You don't like the way his smirk grows. Soap grins, too.

A slow realization that you're being toyed with comes over you. "What am I supposed to do, then?"

Gaz's smirk turns to a lazy little grin to match Soap’s. "Keep letting us entertain you.”

You hem and haw, but ultimately, when they pull you back into the shallow water with them, you don’t fight it. You’d rather conserve your energy.

Soap's hands join Gaz's, running up your strange human legs again. "We're going to keep her. Right, Gaz?"

"Of course," Gaz murmurs. The sea doesn't like to release its gifts. "Why would we bother leaving a catch intact without keeping it?"

...

part 1 / [part 2] / part 3 / part 4 / part 5

more Gaz / more Soap / more mer au / masterlist tag

[aomiiine]

I just read your works and god you write Caleb so well😫 So..with all due respect,my head is filled with Caleb doing..hole inspection after a frat party because duhhh

It’s a crime that I responded to this so soo late but I come w a peace offering ☝🏼AND thank you so much for loving the way I write Caleb!! it means a lot w how reluctant I am to write ab him nowadays 🫶🏼 🫶🏼 newayyss, here’s my long awaited 2 cents on fratboy!caleb <3

frat boy! caleb, pussy inspection?, jealous caleb, banter, sweaty, messy & uncoordinated pussy fingering in the car🧍🏻‍♀️ ‘pip-squeak’ once!!! wc. 733 turned out longer than expected but that’s okay :’)

A frat party.

Nothing special. Just same old loud music and even louder people. Caleb had no idea why you insisted on going to one of these parties with him. Sure, he came here often, but only because he was practically lured out to it by his mates who covered it up as an ‘emergency’.

so now, Caleb’s forced to watch you socialise around with these vultures. As much as he wanted to snatch every drink you gulped, he knew better than you restrain you of your own fun—and suffer being accused to be a hypocrite by you later.

Minutes passed and yet he stood as still as a rock at one of the many corners of the room, arms crossed and jaw clenched tight. His eyes were sharp and intent on staring at you from afar, holding a conversation with a few other guys. Socialising. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Except, it was the type of ‘socialising’ he loathed to see you doing—dating or not.

and when the heat burned too hot, his jealousy spilled from it’s pot—overflowing.

“Getting with someone else right in front of me, huh? Not bad, pip-squeak,” Caleb spat, uttering the ever-so-endearing name he used for you in such a condescending manner that it made you shiver.

His wandering hands between your collided bodies in the cramp space of his car only made it harder for you to protest, every word dying in your throat and changed to a pathetic mewl or moan that just spurred him on his possessive streak.

“I barely knew the damn guy, Caleb,” you whined, hand held on his shoulder drifting down to his firm bicep in the dark of the vehicle. His big hands mauling on your thighs made you squirm further, frustration at his control over your body that refrained you from shifting on his lap in the position you wanted.

“Oh and he definitely wants to get to know you though. You and dirty panties,” he retorted with a humourless scoff, curling his fingers beneath your crotch to cup your sex, insistently delving past the thin fabric of the damp panties you wore. Your brows furrow at the slightest show of a smirk on his lips, knowing he could feel your arousal seep through and smear the pads of his digits already.

“Don’t say a fucking thing,” you warned, tightening your grip on his muscular upper arm, nails burying crescent-shaped indents on his skin.

“What? Like you’re gonna do shit to stop me with that drooling cunt,” Calen refuted, hooded eyes looking down at you, finding your threat as feeble as a kitten’s hiss.

Before you could open your mouth to return his wit with your own, he decided slide your panties to the side, a finger finding your slit with ease before sinking it deep within your depth without warning. A second finger followed suit, stroking your fluttering walls immediately after entering.

The sudden invasion made your breath hitch, lips parting open in a silent moan then crying out his name in a whine that sounded little like complaint. Your thighs seized, muscles flexing and quivering in an effort to stay kneeling on the carseat over one of his thighs.

caleb’s fingers were relentless, plunging in and out of your warm channel languidly. His movements were effortless, but so damn effective still. And as if he hadn’t caught you by surprise enough, his thumb snuck near between your parted folds, finding your clit and adding just enough pressure on the sensitive bud to make you get louder, uncoordinated, needy like he wants you to be.

“Don’t be tease—fuck me proper,” you mumbled between pants, eyes narrowing at the careless way his fingers were moving inside your wet pussy, eager to suck him further inside to the spongy spot that he could’ve reached so easily if he weren’t so damn sloppy.

“Nah, I’ll do that later.. Need to make myself sure this pussy belongs to me first.” Caleb’s reply only annoyed you further, leaning in to him and grinding your hips in vain to plea for his mercy. But he remained firm, spreading your pussy open until you hissed at the burn of the stretch, his thumb circling and flicking on your swollen clit repeatedly.

When recalling his words, you realised he truly was serious with inspecting your depths all over again. Just to assure himself—and you especially.

[kay-great]

Invincible Variants!xReader Imagine

This got WAY longer than I expected it to. I wrote it in a way that wasn’t specific to an individual variant. Reader is referred to as ‘girlfriend’ a lot and has references to their cunt and pussy. M/f Sex scene, consensual but under false terms (reader is dating mark and doesn’t know the variant has swapped him out). Lots of blood mentioned, and reference to character death! (Main character died in different dimension). Also like, facist ideas? Variant thinks those with power deserve to do whatever they want with it.

Enjoy!

———————————————

-reader and OG Mark have been dating since Highschool, but have known eachother since childhood

-you both dreamed of becoming superheros when you grew up, and bonded over childish fantasies of glory and power and adventure and fun!

-you have the ability to control light! Refracting it, bending it into rainbows and high-intensity beams, and simply creating it from yourself. It’s very beautiful, but eventually you had to reconcile that it was not strong enough to fight crime

-this reconciliation happened right around the time that OG Mark got his powers

-at first he tried hiding it from you, but eventually he confided in you, needing your support.

-knowing that he’s living your childhood dreams while you live a civilian life has been really difficult for the relationship, but you guys make it work. Besides, seeing how bloody and bruised he gets- oftentimes you are thankful to be out of the line of fire

-of course, he always comes to you after a fight if he can. And you’ve gotten into the habit of patching him up. Sometimes you tell him to go seek a real doctor, and that you’re not trained enough to stitch him back together, but he insists that his healing abilities render intricate patch-work obsolete. Besides, he says that your soothing hands heal him in more ways than one.

-if all that’s not hard enough, you’re also a Junior in college, and midterm season has been hitting you HARD

-you still have one last big test tomorrow, but the exhaustion of studying for all your other classes has really caught up to you, so you turn off all your electronic distractions, and crash for 16 solid hours

-suddenly you wake up to the distant sound of sirens. Damn- college dorms always have faulty fire alarms. The fire department has probably visited your campus 4 times since the semester started. Your pillow welcomes you as you nuzzle into it- praying it will drown out the distraction.

And it works! The sound is immeadiately muffled as your dorm window closes with a ‘click’.

-your right cheek bunches up against your face as you smile into your pillow. You know that ‘click’ so well- and you have missed your boyfriend.

-the crust in your eyes breaks as you turn to look at your beloved intruder. Strange, it’s dark. They must have pulled the curtains over the window- maybe because they didn’t want to interrupt your sleep? Wow, Mark is the sweetest :)

-Your fingertips gently glow as a delicate sprinkling of warm light floats above you. Mark loves how your powers shimmer to life.

-did you know that your sense of smell is the last thing to wake up? Yes, scent and taste don’t kick in right away. But suddenly you can taste the blood in the air

-and as your gentle light makes its way to the shadowed window, your stomach drops as your boyfriend stands DRENCHED in red, staring at you

-the glowing lights cast strange shadows across the room, and as you leap towards your boyfriend, the lights scatter- throwing their shadows around at lightning speed, disorienting the room in hectic growings and shrinkings.

-but that doesn’t matter right now, your boy NEEDS you right now. Is it all his own blood? God, you hope not! Whats wrong with him? Why is he staring so intently? What’s wrong? What should you do? What should you do? What should you do?

-your finger leaves a clean indent where you caress his blood-ridden cheek. You uncover some of his mask, and somewhere in your subconscious you intake that his mask is different than usual. But your panicked and sleep-torn state doesn’t allow this information to dwell. He’s not moving! Just staring at you! He’s fucking unresponsive- you’ve got bigger problems.

-“Mark?” He notices the tremble in your throat as you choke out his name- oh his name. He hasn’t heard you say it in so long. And now you’re even touching his cheek! Even though it’s all covered in blood. You must really love him, huh? Even though he’s scaring the shit out of you right now. He can tell. His fingers twitch as he thinks to reassure you. He could mark your body with his bloody handprints as he took you in his arms- never letting you go. You’d look pretty like that.

-“Mark?” You repeat. “Are you alright?”

-pleasure crosses his face- you were just the sweetest weren’t you?

“I’m fine now that you’re with me, y/n.” -he luxuriates your name. Like it was a treat to call your name. Like he hasn’t said it in a while. He hasn’t.

“Mark you’re covered in blood!”

-Awwww, you care so much, “Its not mine.”

-This does stand out to you. This is not the first time Mark has come to you like this, but when it’s not his blood, he usually tries to stop from dripping on your carpet. You yelled at him once about the dorm-cleaning fees at the end of the year- and he’s never forgotten. But he’s forgotten now. And he’s talking weird. And he won’t quit staring at you. And the sirens outside don’t really sound like fire alarms. And your instincts tell you that something is wrong.

-And he notices.

-The slightest twitch in your eye, the smallest back step, the tiniest hitch in your breath- and he knows you’re on to him.

-But he knows exactly how to work you. You are the sweetest girlfriend after all. He takes a breath-

“But I needed to know you were alright- the villain I fought, he…” pause for dramatic effect, “…he threatened you. I don’t know how he knew your name but he did. I could never let anything happen to you, you know? And I.. I couldn’t help it I… I mean I had to I…” you look at him frantically, maybe he’s milking it too much “I killed him. Oh GOD! I killed him. Do you think I’m a monster?”

-You gasp, and tear up a little- bingo!

“Oh Mark of course not. You did what you had to do. Oh you could never be a monster, you’re just put under more stress than any person ever should be. Oh I’m so sorry baby, come on- let’s get you cleaned up.” You croon over him. Sticky stains be damned, your arms wrap around his head; and he does not hesitate to pull you flush into him. His arms rub soothingly over your form as his hands find purchase in many bundles of your flesh. He paints you red, and although it spikes your discomfort, you try to work through it- after all, you need to be a supportive girlfriend right now! He’s obviously so vulnerable right now that he can’t even register small things like covering you in blood.

-He can register it. In fact he’s taking pleasure in it. Also he’s not vulnérable, he’s a conniving lovesick psycho who is willing to sacrifice a bit of ego to get you to coddle him. Besides, he’ll regain all his cocky supremacy when you realize his “sad puppy” performance was an act. But until then, he has determined that taking advantage of your sympathy is the most lucrative option. After all, now that he’s got you all dirty, you’re pulling him towards the shower. Just how far can he take this rouse?

-the moldy college shower reminds you of the infamous PSYCHO scene, as the water start to pull the blood from your boyfriend’s being. You are unashamed to be washing him with your honey-scented bar soap. You ARE dating after all. But you think better than to join in; you want to give your poor boy room to process his recent breakdown.

-but apparently he does NOT want space to process. Your eyes blur with water as he pulls your face right under the shower head. He takes advantage of your temporary blindness to remove his suit.

-damn, that’s too bad. You wanted to take a closer look at his suit. But as you fully step into the shower, you are pressed very close to your boyfriend’s incredibly muscular body. And thoughts of clothes quickly melt away.

“Were you going to keep washing me? Or are you busy with something else?” His smirk boils your cheeks as you realize you’ve been caught staring.

-you set out to get all the blood gone. God it smells terrible, but as you uncover more and more of your boyfriend’s muscular body, the less you are able to focus on the blood. Focus on the blood! He has just been through a traumatic experience he does not need to fuck right now! Just focus on the soap. Didn’t he used to have a scar here? Trailing down towards his.. shit is he hard?

-Fuck, it’s disgusting in this fucking shower, but you can’t help the heat pooling between your thighs.

-his eyes are dark.

“You’re doing perfect, y/n, but I think now it’s your turn.”

-oh fuck. Your slick fingers seem to vibrate against his as he takes the soap from your hand. God he’s acting different, but you can’t find it within you to complain.

-since he so uncerimoniously pulled you into the shower, you’ve been in your wet-ass pajamas this whole time. You’ve been grateful to them actually, as they’ve been very helpful in suppressing your arousal. Now, however, as his strong fingers delicately pull as your clothes- you curse them.

God those fingers- fingers that could stop a fucking train, that could catch bullets, and punch buildings- and they were so gentle on your skin. You didn’t know what it was, but somehow it all felt different than it usually did. Your subconscious screamed at you that he was dangerous. That somehow he was different than your usual Mark. Maybe it was the recent battle, but whatever it was, he seemed volatile.

-and yet, coupled with the delicate confidence with which he pulled apart your clothes and groped at what was left- you were intoxicated.

-why couldn’t he be like this all the time?

-and he took full advantage of your intoxication. he soaped up your tits and watched them bounce as he started humping you mercilessly. He didn’t bother to clean off the blood from your neck before sucking at it- seeming to take pleasure in the perverse taste. And his eyes fucking bore into yours- greedy for every pleasured expression he could bribe out of you. And once he had you moaning good and loud for him, he finally leaned in to your ear and whispered-

“I can smell your cunt”

-And with that he pushed in two fingers. And you were reminded just how powerful those fucking fingers were.

-And after he coaxed an orgasm out of you? With that shit-eating grin? He lines himself up to your cunt with all the credence of a hunter putting a knife through an animal they successfully caught. Like he fucking owns you. Like putting his dick in you was his fucking birthright. And he fucks you like that too. Slow and fast and forward and back. He watches your tits bounce until you orgasm, and when you do he flips you over to watch your ass do the same.

-by the time you’re done there is not a trace of blood.

-he carries you back toyour bed bridal style, as you whine that you can’t walk.

-you invite him into bed with you, but he instead just gives you a small forehead kiss, and caresses you again, before he tells you he has to get the blood stains out of his suit first. He goes back into the bathroom, and the sink squeaks as he turns the water on. He doesn’t close the door, but from your view on the bed you cannot see him.

-you decide it’s time to finally open your phone, and you grab it from off your nightstand and turn it back on.

-as soon as the screen lights up, the phone spasms with the bombardment of seemingly hundreds of urgent texts, notifications, alarms, alerts, and missed calls. They all come in in a matter of seconds:

“URGENT: MULTIPLE HIGH-THREATS: SEEK SHELTER IMMEDIATELY”

“INVINCIBLE LOOK-ALIKES HIGHLY DEADLY, AVOID AT ALL COSTS”

Mark💖: “Are you okay?”

“Campus Update: ALL STUDENTS EVACUATE TO TORNADO SHELTERS”

Mark💖: “babe you gotta wake up, if you see an invincible, that’s NOT ME!!

“INVINCIBLE Doppelgängers ATTACKING POPULATED CITIES, EVACUATE CITIES”

13 Missed Calls

Mark💖: “BABE THATS NOT ME”

“AVOID INVINCIBLE AT ALL COSTS”

—

-and the faucet squeaks off.

-and suddenly all you can hear in the whole apartment is the distant sirens and your wild heartbeat

-and Mark strides out of the bathroom

-and his suit is clean, but it’s still not right

-and nothing about him is right

-and it all makes sense now

-but he looks at you- hungry, wild

“Anything on the news?” His voice is poisoned honey.

“What- what do you want with me?”

-And he looks down at your cum-ridden pussy, and you instinctively clamp your thighs together, but it just makes him chuckle a little- god you feel so helpless

“Good question. Today has been a great start for what I have planned for you.”

-And you can’t help the frightened look in your eyes. You always thought you’d be able to stare death in the fucking face, but looking at the eyes of Mark Grayson was too much. He likes the way your eyes sparkled when pin-pricked with the smallest tears. But he wants your compliance, so he offers,

“Hey now, don’t worry. You’re going to love it. Just like how you loved me all of today. You did. I watched you. You let me bloody you just so you could ‘console’ me. You told me I could never be a monster. You washed me. You served me- and got yourself turned on in the process. You let me fuck you any way I wanted. And you loved it. You let me fill you up with cum, and you invited me to your bed afterwards. You knew I wasn’t what you were used to. You knew I wasn’t the right version of myself- you didn’t care. You loved me. And I know you will continue to do so.”

-Like steel. Your body felt like steel. With every word your stomach plummeted further down. Because it was all true, and there was nothing you could do about it. And now you really felt like crying, and he took this vulnerable moment to snare you.

“I lost my y/n. In my dimension. She had the same powers as you- she was weak. But she wanted to be a superhero so badly. She was killed by a common thief. She was protecting some arbitrary civilians.” He started walking towards you, pain on his face- but pain you weren’t sure you could trust.

“If she had just let me protect her- I told her I would. But she was stubborn. She didn’t want to admit that beneath me was her place- that some of us are stronger than others. That I was the strongest of all. Her death made me realize the importance of power. That people who have it must use it. She made me into what I am today. You made me into this.”

-Bile threatened to rise out of your throat. But as he slowly sat down next to you on the edge of the bed, nothing but adoring eyes, you found you couldn’t move at all. Not even when he reached a hand onto your bare fucking hip, rubbing circles into your flesh with his thumb.

“And now I know how to protect you. How to take care of you. I deserve you.”

-Tears spilled freely now, and to your horror he brought his free hand to your face to wipe them away. God he was too fucking close now.

“So I’ll give you a choice. I’m supposed to go back to my own dimension soon. Either you can come with me calmly, or we can stay in this dimension.”

-At that you quirked an eyebrow, the smallest amount.

“Of course, if we stay here, I’ll have to kill this dimension’s invincible so I can take his place. I’ll have to tie you up and use you as bait. He will probably be here within the hour to check on you. Pitiable really. Notice how I have been here protecting you so much sooner than him? Really it’s an upgrade.” His eyes gleamed.

-Fucking hell. Oh god. How are you supposed to choose ?

-You can’t wish death upon your real boyfriend; your best friend for years now. He’s certainly been fighting all the other invincibles- he will be exhausted. And if this fucking sadist in front of you has the element of surprise? Your Mark stands no chance. You can’t do that. And what happens to the rest of the world when your goofy hero with a heart of gold gets replaced with this psycho? You’d be sentencing the whole world to the whims of this monster

But how can you leave your whole life? Your family, your friends- you’ll never get to say goodbye. And instead you’ll be sentenced to servicing this look-alike in front of you. This liar, murderer, fucker who could kill you in a heartbeat. Torture you for not complying. This man who wears the face of your true fucking love. A constant reminder of what you’d lost.

“What will you choose, y/n? Tick Tock.”

—————————————————

Wow this was way fucking longer than expected whoops I hope you enjoyed!! Please interact cuz it’s my favorite thing ever!! 🙏🙏

[tahliafox]

Can't Stop.

Natasha Romanoff x Reader.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, Mommy!Nat, choking, spitting, slight clouded consent that turns into clear consent, dumbing down, scissoring.

Word count: 2992

The window was open ever-so-slightly, but every word spoken and every noise made seemed to ring within Natasha’s ears. Everything was you, all her thoughts were just you. She could frame the way you were laying on your stomach on the grass, leaning on your elbows so you could continuously flick the page of the Oxford Classic in your hands. Little stars shimmered in your eyes from the sun, you’d been out there for hours so it had moved to shine directly onto your face - how you could see Natasha did not know, but she was oh so thankful for the clear view of you front on because the tank top seemed to shimmy down just enough to have a clear view of your cleavage, and with your arms pushed together Natasha was practically drooling. The white linen shorts you had on had ridden up as you fidgeted from the itchiness of the floor and she could see - if she looked hard enough- the little indents of grass blades pressed into the sides of your thighs. 

She stared at you intently, drying a porcelain plate with a blue-chequered towel had become a mindless movement- as had everything else dissipated in her brain because,  oh God , your lacy white bra was just peaking above the pretty pink tanktop you were wearing and her mind was spiralling. Your father stood besides you, looking down, talking about something that caused your brows to furrow into confusion and look away from the book you were reading - Roxanna by Defoe. 

Natasha put down the plate that was completely polished at this point, cleared her throat and brought a bitten-red lip between her teeth. If your father wasn’t standing there she would have taken the silver digital camera on the kitchen shelf and started treating you like her little model, positioning you in all the poses that were flashing throughout her mind. Pricks settled in her stomach as the realisation that you still lived with your father sobered her dirty mind. You were a teenager, at only 19. Not even that, you were her best friend's daughter. 

Steve’s daughter. 

She’d only met you last year, why he kept you a secret from her she would never know but it was certainly a good idea. The corruptive thoughts that clouded any rational judgement being able to form in her mind had slowly gotten worse, and worse as she got to know you more. The first time you’d stayed round Natasha’s was practically a test of self control for her- which she’d partially lost from stealing a pair of your lacy, baby-pink underwear and keeping them for activities she hoped only you’d imagine her doing. Not that she’d admit to anyone, but the sheets you’d slept in were never washed, nor used again, and sitting in the same house that you now lived in. The thought of setting up a camera in the spare bedroom was maybe a thought too far in her head…  she only wanted to see you.

After her and an ex-girlfriend broke up she moved away from the tower and stayed with Steve in his countryside retirement house- the fact that you also lived there totally had nothing to do with it. With every week you got more comfortable with Natasha, the naivety of her actions never faded. Consistently testing the boundaries, she’d sit so close to you as you watched a movie, when she’d talk to you her hands always found a way to your thigh, or shoulder, or neck, or any skin she could see. Steve never thought anything of it, after all you were both girls- for all he knew Natasha was much of a motherly figure to you.

Rolling over onto your back, completely abandoning the book in your hands, a loud, exacerbated sigh left your mouth - stopping Natasha’s whirling train of thought.

“I told you I had to go away for the week! I cannot help that.” Steve spoke sternly. 

You groaned and threw your hands over your eyes to finally shield them from the sun. a smile creeped up on Natasha’s face at your teenage ignorance. Your movements seemed to freeze for one second and you arched your back to look at Natasha in the window upside down.

“Natty! Come here please.” You spoke so sweetly, with a menacing grin on your face. She immediately stepped out onto the patio and went to stand in the shade. Steve smiled at her sheepishly, then looked back at you. 

What on earth you were going to ask her, she did not know. Nonetheless, she’d do it with no hesitation.

“You’ll be here to take care of me, right?” You sat up onto your ass and asked, giving Natasha your best puppy-dog eyes. She blushed so obviously, then walked over to stand behind you. You lent back onto her shins and looked up at her as she looked directly at your father. 

“Not quite sure about that, my love. Maybe I'm going with Steve.”

You gasped and lent away from her.

“How dare you!” You stood up. “I cannot be here all by myself, I beg… please you know I hate the dark.” You whispered the last bit only to Natasha. 

And of course, two days later Steve had gone and you and Natasha sat comfortable in the living room watching TV. The idea of going with Steve to visit the squad never even crossed her mind. A movie that Nat had let you pick was playing in the background. Recently, you had been obsessed with Cate Blanchett so you picked Carol. It was an innocent choice, knowing nothing about the movie itself. Natasha, however, knew everything about it… the sheer glee that ran through her when you brought it to her was slightly shameful.

A pale, thin hand slowly stroked a pattern on your thigh, red acrylic nails tracing forwards… then backwards, then down to the inside of your thigh, then back up onto your knee, then over and over again. A soft flutter beat inside your ears, cheeks flushed a continuous red and little breaths kept pattering out your nose. If Natasha had any idea the way her hand was affecting you, you were sure she would laugh at you.

The pattering of the rain on the window matched your heart beat, fast and irregular. Summer showers were common, and you knew that within the hour there would be some thunder. 

Natasha had her hair in a loose bun, pulled through the hair tie and just left in a knot. It was like silk anyways so Natasha probably had no worries of it becoming tangled, you could tell how soft it was from the way little face-framing pieces fell against ivory cheeks. Her freckles seemed to stick out more today from a rosey-blush against her cheeks, when Nat removed her makeup it must’ve irritated her skin a little.

She was sitting there so beautifully, and… God her hand was on your thigh, and you were hardly breathing, and if you could you knew she wouldn't want you, there was no way, and oh my god were you a pervert thinking of her hand like this, and you were wet, so, so wet and she was just sitting there so innocently, so motherly-

“What's up?” the groan of her joints was practically audible as she turned to face you, interrupting your slow cascade into a swoon-induced panic attack. She figured it out, she totally must have figured out what a creep you were-

A soft hand groomed its way through your hair. “Sweetheart, talk to me.”  Natasha soothed, her voice dripping with honey. 

The juxtaposition of an empty house and a motorway in New York was personified by your racing mind and the words coming out of your mouth. Why was it  so hard  to form some sort of coherent sentence? 

Natasha just waited patiently, somehow she knew that something was up, maybe your dad being away freaked you out, or the movie was too much. She tried something that, dear lord, did not help the situation.

The hand that was once stroking your thigh scooped around the underside of both your legs, pulling them across her own lap. She guided your head to lay against her neck, resting her own on top of you. A loving kiss was pressed against the parting of your hair, and in that moment you stupidly wished you were bald just so you could feel the tenderness of her lips against your skin. 

“You don’t need to talk to me if you can’t. I promise I understand, my sweet girl. I’m right here, ok.” as she said the latter of the sentence her hand pulled yours against her cheek, framing her face as to prove that she was, in fact, right here. And she knew you understood by the way you nestled into her without response. 

This stayed fact for a while, your eyes barely staying open as you fell into a comfort-induced sleep.

Natasha was restless watching you. The wrong message had gotten to her head, that maybe her hand on your thigh was not a comforting movement, but something that made you uncomfortable. Pulling you into her, and forcing you to sink into her was the only way she could think of avoiding the possible confrontation. 

Of course, to you, it was not force, nor was it unease you were feeling from her hand, but a heat inducing bother in between your legs. 

Your thighs tightened against Natasha’s chest, and she moved her hand to rest just above your forehead. She fluttered gentle kisses against your hair, then your forehead, then nose. God, your skin was so soft. Natasha’s heart picked up and immediately she was hot. Eyes squeezed tight together and a strained breath was brought through her nose. The vanilla musk of the sweet, innocent perfume that you wore everyday was sucked into her veins. 

She couldn’t stop.

The kisses got wetter, pecking your cheek over and over, so quickly. Her tongue started to get involved, she licked down to the corner of your mouth and pecked there some more. If the older woman's head wasn't absolutely deluded with a sheer need to keep her lips over your hot skin she would be concerned about how rough she was being. 

You were asleep, it kept her going. 

It was finally when she had to shift her whole body to get at you when you were woken up. Something wet and sharp was digging into your neck, your body convulsed away but Natasha was strong, so strong, and there was no way that you could shift away. She was not forceful, nor would she be, but to the older woman you were still asleep. A soft groan came out of her mouth, so close to your ear and you realised what she was doing.

Her teeth were sinking into your neck, and there was surely a hickey there. 

A shrill, scream-like moan came out your mouth, and Natasha whined. Oh god, you were awake. 

She still couldn’t stop. 

Her hands were gripping your thighs, leaving white rings where her fingers were clutching at you. And, god she kept going -licking, sucking, doing everything she could at the grove of your shoulder. The red, blood-splotched mark that she saw did not foster her self control, her mark was on you. On her baby. The moans coming out her mouth were nothing but desperation, dripping with need. 

You had to be dreaming, there was no way this woman was keening into you like she was. Her forehead was sweaty, and there was sweat sticking on her back from the adrenaline that was going through her. Natasha was finally on you, she was all over you and she was not going to get off.

“Natty, what… what are you - oh my god” Her teeth sunk in another spot and your hands gripped into ginger hair, “please, I dont- Nat!” You were moaning in an out of breaths and words and by some miracle she was able to pull away. 

Calloused, rough hands cradled your face. Her sweat-dripping forehead came to press into yours and her eyes were locked shut. She was panting like an animal and all you could do was stare. She’d moved you so you were laying underneath her against the couch, her body locked against yours.

And the movie- oh God the movie was still playing and if Natasha turned her head she’d realise that the scene where Carol and Therese are together for the first time was about to come on and the room would fill with moans other than hers. 

“Baby.” She whispered like a dirty secret. You nodded. “Tell me to stop, baby. I’m sorry. Tell me to stop and I will. You need to tell me”

Her lips started pecking at your lips. You wanted to beg her not too, please don't stop, don't ever stop, but the words didn't leave your mouth. You parted your lips to draw in some air as you were suffocating in the need that was reverberating off of Natasha but all this did was give her the opportunity to properly kiss you.

Her tongue swiped at your lips and her hands squeezed your face together tighter. Another shrill moan hit the walls, but it wasn't you. If anyone was listening to Natasha without realising what was happening, they’d think she was overdosing by the noises she was producing. All she needed was you.

“Baby, you need to tell me to stop.”

Her tongue was in your mouth again and you sucked at it, she could’ve come. 

And she couldn’t help it.

“My dumb, little baby. Tell mommy to stop.” Her voice was so sultry and low. The words were hush against your lips and your eyes closed with a sharp moan. The title hit you and your hands gripped at her biceps. 

“Mommy.” You moaned. She nodded her head and kissed at your mouth again.

“Oh, fuck- baby… say it again.” She moved her hands off your cheeks and started to unbutton the shirt, her shirt, that you were wearing. 

“Please don’t stop, mommy. Please, please, please.” You begged, over and over. She kept nodding and whining. The buttons were too much, so she just ripped the shirt open and got you undressed underneath her. Her hands were on your skin, and she still couldn't stop. She wouldn’t stop.

“My dumb little girl, keep begging mommy. I’ll give you whatever you want, baby. Anything.” 

You kept whining and begging, she had to lean away from you to get her shorts and tank off- you took your underwear off yourself. It felt like forever, but her hands were back on you again and you forgot she ever left. Her words clouded your head, consuming you entirely. 

“Come on, baby. Talk to me.”

You stayed silent, unable to form a thought and Natasha smiled down at you condescending. 

“Oh, is my little angel to dumb to talk?” She cooed. “You just need your mommy don't you. You need me to tell you what to do, huh? Oh, sweet girl.”

She got back on top of you, and oh dear was she wetter than you were. Her cunt pressed against yours and both your eyes shut. Her mouth opened and she started rubbing herself against your pussy. Moans filled the room and you realised it wasn't just yours.

As her hand came and gripped at your neck, you turned your head to look at the television. Carol was going down Therese’s body, going to eat her cunt. You looked back at Natasha and she leaned forward into you, your tits pressing together. Her nipples were so incredibly hard and you could feel them against yours. A gush of wetness came in between your thighs and the older woman could notice.

“You like that, angel.” You couldn’t tell if she meant what you and her were doing, or what Carol was doing to Therese but you nodded. “I’m going to eat you out so good one day, mommy is going to make your body hers.” Your moans started to get shorter and higher as she humped against you faster, a hand cradling the back of your head so your foreheads were together again. “Maybe i'll do it when your dads home , make you all quiet for me. Are you a naughty girl for me, baby?”

You screamed and opened your mouth so she could get one of her hands to hold your jaw open. Her tongue licked at your lips and she spat directly into your mouth.

“Mommy needs to cum on you first, wanna cum in you, baby Oh, i wish i could cum in you, fill you up with me. Mommy needs to be in her sweet girl, make you all mine. You wanna be mine don’t you, all mine. Let mommy think for you.”

You were so close- her words only spurring you on. “Want you to fill me up mommy. Wanna feel you inside me.” You choked out. 

Natasha was close as well, her body was convulsing against yours quicker, and even more desperate. “Cum with me, baby. Be a good girl and do as mommy says.”

Screams resonated in Natashas mind and she swore the orgasm that just hit her like a train would never end. Her teeth marked your forehead as she bit into you to try and curve the sheer overwhelming pulsing inbetween her legs. You were no better off, tears seeping through the corner of your eyes as you came against her pussy.

“Fuck, fuck- fuck. Oh shit, mommy is coming so hard. That's it.” She spoke you through your orgasm, one hand pressing against your lower stomach. “Oh baby, that’s it - keep coming for mommy.”

Your moans slowed down and she wiped the tears away from your eyes. “Such a good girl for me, aren't you? Mommys baby.”