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lizardho · 9 months ago

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I came out to my dad as bisexual at 14 and I was PANICKED because I had a crush on a guy in my Boy Scout troop and thought I was Going To Hell Forever and he was so kind and understanding of my distress, but he had NO idea what bisexuality was. He just said “yeah but you like girls too? This is normal. Everyone is like this.” And I love my dad and trust him with my life to this day and the idea that the concept of bisexuality had not occurred to him had not occurred to me so I put it off.

By 16 though I had a crush on like THREE boys. Three entire boys in my Boy Scout troop. I felt like my sin was slowly advancing, until like an untreated cancer it had become metastatic. I remember bawling my L’il limp-wristed sissy eyes out in his big rumbly truck on the way home from a scout meeting and him telling me that it was OK, that he still loved me if I was gay, but that he knew I wasn’t gay because I still had crushes on women and that meant I was straight. I didn’t quite know how to explain that those felt *~*different*~* and that I felt like I was losing a fight to evil inside me but I again felt comforted by his reassurances and his genuine fatherly love.

At 18 I was like “hey I’m realizing all my friends are going on missions. I don’t wanna do that. Idk how to say that and I don’t have a ‘good enough’ reason to not wanna go.” So I just put it off. Again, my parents were extremely supportive of the information I gave them (I blamed it on perpetually forgetting to start the paperwork.) and one day my mom texted me that she had done the paperwork for me! And that all I needed was to get a physical! So I did that (it was awkward af tbh, my hernia check was done by a trainee doctor and she spent like 3 minutes fishing around my inguinal canals before her attending rescued me) and was sent to Mexico City where I learned that in addition to dipshit himbos with strong hands and scruffy guys with artistic hearts I was REALLY into chubby Latin men with strong personalities who bullied me a little when I lived in Mexico.

I remember my first companion got annoyed with me during an argument and said we were just gonna wrestle and whoever won the wrestling match won the argument (I stg I am dead serious this happened.) I was like…SWEATING when he tore off his tie and threw his white button-down shirt onto the ground (I won btw, don’t ask me how).

I remember one of my companions with this really intense, almost manic energy telling me that he was gonna make sure I was safe in a new area I didn’t know very well. He cooked breakfast for me and we’d go shopping together on P-Days and in the mornings before breakfast he’d jog around and do pull-ups with his shirt off and I’d do anything but look at him because my face would break out in a sweat so intense he’d think I was crying and come over to see if I was OK and somehow make it worse. He let me play D&D with myself in the evenings even though it was against mission rules because he knew how lonely and stressed I was.

I remember one of my companions was a big chubby man with a loud voice and a great sense of humor. He was kind and direct when addressing conflicts with me, and always bragged about how he knew the secrets of women’s minds and it felt like he really did since it almost always boiled down to “Treat Them Like People and Love Them a Lot. Don’t Stop Being A Person For Them. Also Eat Them Out Sloppy Style.” Our P-Day activities sometimes felt like dates, and it seemed like he was more attentive to my emotional state than I was since he was always the first to suggest we slow down our Divinely Mandated, God-Ordained, Super Sacred Work and Wonder to get a snack or check out a Pawn Shop (I love Pawn Shops).

I remember another companion who asked me to bully him every time he did something against his goal of losing weight. It was like he gave me Carte Blanche to take out my crush on him by being a nuisance and I LOVED that. I remember having a breakdown one day after we’d spent the afternoon frantically cleaning our disgusting-barely-habitable mission house to make it look less vile that it was (not our fault imo?) and I started bawling and he pulled me into a hug and he smelled good and he told me he knew it wasn’t just the house and that I was mad at him for being a Huge Dickhead for about a week (true) and that he would work on it. (He’s also a huge chaser but that’s a separate thing.)

I remember one of my companions waking up early (and our schedule is already built for sleep deprivation) to make me a “birthday cake” from knock-off Nutella and bread. He used matches for candles and woke me up, lit the ‘candles,’ pulled them out, then smashed it in my face and took a bunch of pictures while I was still madrugada and disoriented as fuck. He had the same sense of humor as one of my HS crushes and I could push his buttons pretty easily which was so fun.

I came home from my mission and started back at BYU where I became actively and aggressively suicidal. I had a stalker the year I moved up there and my dad’s solution to that was to get me a gun. I know he wouldn’t have bought me a gun if he could have read my mind, but I had a loaded pistol under my bed during a trifecta faith/sexuality/gender crisis and that was not helpful. I remember that the day I decided to kill myself I figured I’d call the BYU CAPS and see if I could get into therapy because it felt like what I was “supposed to do” so I could check my suicide boxes. My therapist was the guy who’d helped me pick a major the year before and was this drop-dead gorgeous Hawaiian man who cried when I told him how I’d been feeling.

A few weeks into therapy I met another stunning man with soft eyes and a scruffy illegal-at-BYU beard he kept pushing his luck with. He was funny, kind, patient, married, and wouldn’t give me the time of day if he knew I was crushing on him. We were in my history of psych class, which was inarguably the worst psych class I have ever had, and we studied together for every assignment and test and I realized that my feelings for him and for all the men I’d already mentioned were in direct conflict with my faith and relationship with God. My already agonizing spiritual conflict became even more wretched and as a result of this plus some other tightly-packed experiences with Mormonisms bullshit, I left the church.

After leaving the church I decided to move back to AZ and transfer to ASU. My mom helped me get a dog since I think it had started to dawn on my family that my mental health was barely getting me through the day, and she knew that we both loved dogs. Madi made my last year at BYU livable while I got my shit together and transferred. In that last year, I went on a date with quite possibly the only semi-openly-out trans person on BYU campus. It was not a great date imo, I was not doing well, but the person I spoke with was fun and fascinating and talked to me about Gender Dysphoria and it really cemented my need to go. To leave and never come back to that fucking school.

I started at ASU a month after my last semester at BYU and within a very short time frame it felt like I was coming back together, like a puzzle magically putting itself together in an environment that wasn’t slowly draining that puzzle’s will to live.

On the 4th of July, the year I started at ASU, I saw a transition timeline photo of a gorgeous happy beautiful happy radiant happy woman and her former Mormon missionary self and I realized the light that was on in her eyes was the light that was off in mine. I looked into transitioning for 3 days, sleeping about 10 hours total during that time. I started talking to other trans people on Reddit (one of whom is now my beautiful fiancée @cintailed) and after about a month of making preparations to be disowned and kicked out, something I was not sure would happen but was ready to go through to Turn On The Lights, I came out to my family and it was amazing. I started HRT a month after that. I secretly dated some dorky guys for about a year while I applied to grad schools. I got into a great grad school for me and my needs. I got FFS. I did my trainings and classes. Me and my fiancée moved in together after some LDR shenanigans. We’ve lived together now for 4 years of basically marital bliss. We have a cat named Grandmother Esmeralda Weatherwax who bites the hell out of my feet about three times a day. My bi-cycle continues to be part of my life but now it’s not as scary. Baby gays in my life have started to look to me for advice. Idk how this all happened so fast. When the years, months, weeks, days, and hours seems to crawl by so slowly now they are rushing past me so fast it’s almost bewildering. Whereas before I felt like I was living on borrowed time, past my ‘expiration date,’ now it feels like I can Fucking Breathe. I’m training myself to slow down now and it feels worth it to Live In The Moment.

Idk why I wrote this. Idk why these thoughts only seem to come up on Sundays when I’m supposed to be writing my dissertation. Idk why I’m crying rn or why I feel so happy. I’m gonna post this shit then get on with my dissertation I guess. Read more Terry Pratchett and give yourselves the time you need. Get a pet. Talk to someone. Re-examine the events that brought you here. Be gayer. Love y’all 💕

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salthusiast · 2 months ago

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Who you truly are

Viltrumite Mark x Female Reader

Summary: When the Invincible variants arrived on Earth, you never expected to get involved. It’s not like you knew Invincible personally. What you didn’t know was that you’d ended up housing one of these variants, and you didn’t know for weeks. Basically Viltrumite Mark pretends to be the Mark you know.

Word Count: 5.1k

Next parts: 2 , 3

Warnings: None! Maybe some violence, but if you watched the show, it’s basically nothing. Maybe slight ooc? In my defense this guy is pretending to be another person though.

Quick A/N: Hey, this is actually my first post on Tumblr so sorry if the formatting is weird or anything. Let me know if you guys want a part 2 :D

Life was so much simpler when you didn’t know. Who knew that in a singular month, your life would change so much? You could lie and say that you expected it to happen, but again that'd be a lie. Hell, even now you can barely believe the course of events that went down.

Sometimes you think about how many others got hurt during the war and its aftermath. You were so oblivious. You think about how he spared you like he did.

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“Mark! Eve!” You call out, waving your hand to your friends across the hallway. Mark stops in his tracks, along with Eve.

Mark is more of your friend than Eve is, but you get along with her well. You walk purposefully to Mark, feeling like he may disappear if you take too long to get to him. It seems like he disappears all the time now.

“I haven’t seen you recently. Where have you been?” You approach him smiling.

Mark shares an indecipherable look with Eve, and chuckles awkwardly, “Around… You know, I’ve been busy with… stuff.” He says gesturing to his backpack. You raise an eyebrow seeing his backpack filled with books.

“Studying? You? My, we really haven’t talked in a while. The last time we all hung out, you bailed halfway through.” You smile teasingly, not truly mad, but more concerned than anything.

He grimaces, “I know, I know. I’m sorry. It’s just been so hectic lately.” He looks over at Eve once again, she seems to empathize with whatever Mark is going through. You can’t help but feel… insignificant.

Mark was once one of your closest friends. What happened for them to grow so close? You can’t even bring yourself to be mad, Eve seems to understand him way more than you ever could.

Perhaps at one point, you would have felt different about that truth, but Mark as your friend is more important.

“Woah!” You chuckle, “It’s okay, really. I just want to make sure you aren’t, ya know, dead.” You smile, jokingly gesturing to your neck as if it was slit. He smiles and shakes his head, “Nope! Still kicking. I’ll be around for a while.” He glances at Eve, who seems to find what he said extra funny.

You laugh, “Yeah huh... Hey, I was wondering if you’d wanna hang out with us sometime soon. You, William, me, maybe one of my friends? Serena perhaps?” You raise a finger for each person you talk about. “Eve is free to join us too of course.” You smile at her, which she returns in good nature.

Mark nods, “Yeah, I’ll make time for it. It’s been a minute since we’ve all hung out. Eve, would you wanna join?” Mark asks, turning to Eve.

“Sure. It’s been a while since we’ve all hung out as a group. I look forward to it.” She smiles at you. “I should be busy for a bit, but I’ll let you know when I’m free.”

You smile, “Great! That works for me!” You start to walk off before you stop abruptly and turn around. “You know we’re always here right?” You look at Mark and glance at Eve. He smiles back, but it looks more like a grimace.

”Of course.” Suddenly he stands up straight. “Oh shoot I gotta go.” He announces before looking at Eve silently expressing… something?

“No worries, see you guys…” They’re already speeding off to who knows where. They certainly have a mission in mind. They weren’t that rushed five minutes ago. Could whatever Mark forgot be that important?

(You didn’t know it at the time, but the reason he left was actually important. You later found out the reason on TV, even if you weren't aware it was him under the suit.)

“Hey, did you see what happened on the news?” Your friend, Serena, asks you later that day back in your apartment. She would often come over after classes to hang out.

You raise an eyebrow shaking your head, “No? Why? Anything interesting?” You sit down on the couch, leaning your head on the back as you respond.

“Somebody was trying to get Invincible’s attention earlier. He was talking for ages. Was claiming that he was the one who killed all those people in Chicago. I don’t know, he definitely has some issues he needs to sort out.” She waves a hand dismissively.

That catches your attention, “Really that happened today? How’d I miss that? Wait, he was mad that Invincible ‘killed those people,’ but he is trying to kill people to get his attention?” You ask, doing air quotes as you say “killed those people.”

“I’m not sure, it mainly just seemed like he wanted Invincible. I don’t know, I stopped questioning these villains a while ago. I only know the bare details.” She sighs.

You nod in agreement, “Fair enough.” You search for the remote and find it between the couch before turning on the TV. Perhaps this story is on the news?

“ . . . just in! The newest villain, going by the name “Powerplex” has been arrested. Invincible was there to stop him this time, but that did not come without a cost. There were two casualties during this specific attack by him, not even counting his other attacks during this week. The casualties of this attack were his wife and child, who were electrocuted to death. It appears he took them hostage to get Invincible’s attention. You will all be happy to know that he has been arrested. . .”

“That’s awful.” You frown. “Can’t believe he brought his wife and kids into it. That’s such a cruel thing to do… You think she knew what she was getting into with him?” You ask, turning toward Serena.

“I mean maybe he was just a good actor? Perhaps he was able to blend in for a while?” Your friend throws out suggestions. “She could’ve also known though. Not that it’s my business. We’ll never know, and I don’t think I want to know.” She sighs before standing up.

“It’s horrific in either scenario. Imagine living with somebody for that long and not truly knowing who they are.” Serena chuckles, but there is no humor. You both stare at the TV screen, watching as the reporter drones on about the details.

“I think I’m going to head back home.” Serena stands up, grabbing her keys and swinging them in her hand. You nod, “Okay, drive home safe… Don’t get electrocuted.” You give her a thumbs up and smile. Is it wrong to joke about events like this? Probably, but if you don’t laugh you cry so…

She gives you an unamused expression “Ha. Ha. Very funny.” She rolls her eyes good-naturedly, “I’ll see you later.” You wave as she walks out, turning your attention back to the TV.

You have no connection to Invincible or any of that “superhero” life. The idea of superheroes excites you, but after seeing what occurred in Chicago, you can’t help but feel like it’s not all it’s made out to be.

It’s not like you’d be able to help. You’d end up as a casualty, another body to clean off the field. The thought makes you shiver.

Every time you see a story like this you wonder if there is a universe where it was you that died. It’s easy to just brush these events off like nothing when you aren’t living them.

That was how most people do it nowadays. Doesn’t affect you? Not your problem. It was a frustrating way to live. You didn’t like to think about how people are dying every day due to these villains.

However, you can’t not think about them. Hearing about this whole situation with, what’s his name, Powerplex? It creates this feeling of dread, a feeling you’re unable to ease. Who is to say that you aren’t going to be the next casualty mentioned on the news?

It truly was easy for the whole world to live in that ignorance. It was easier for you to live in ignorance, then they appeared.

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DAY ONE

Honestly, the first day wasn’t that eventful for you. It wasn’t until the late evening you even heard about it.

You didn’t live in an area that was immediately affected by the attacks, so it wasn’t as if your apartment suddenly came crashing down on you. Instead, you got a call from Serena. You raise an eyebrow before picking up the phone.

“Uh hey?” You wonder why she called you, it wasn’t like you got calls often.

”Oh my God, you’re okay.” She breathes out in relief, and now you know something is up. “Please tell me you’ve seen the news.” Her voice is filled with worry.

You stop moving, “No… You know I don’t check the news that often.” You respond. Admittedly, that's on you. You probably should keep up with the news more often.

She sighs, “Turn it on. There’s like over a dozen Invincibles out destroying major world cities.” You feel your heart drop before immediately moving to your TV and turning it on. You switch to the news.

No words are being spoken, they don’t have to. The screams of panic strike fear into your heart.

The camera shows a gigantic building in Chicago crumbling down. The cameraman focuses their lens on the figure floating above it all. Whoever it is, they’re wearing a white uniform.

The camera isn’t advanced enough to zoom in on their face, but you don’t find yourself doubting Serena’s information. Suddenly a white blur knocks the camera away, and it fades into static. You watch in horror.

“Oh shit…” You whisper to yourself, forgetting that you are still on the phone.

“It’s being recommended that we don’t exit our homes. We just pretend like nobody is home.” Serena’s words barely register, but you nod, forgetting that she can’t see your visual response.

“Okay… So we just sit here until they leave?” You ask, feeling stupid for asking the question. What else could you do? Fight them? You’d sooner kill a bear with your bare hands than somehow survive facing off one of them.

The silence between you two is loud, “Not like we have any other choice.”

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DAY TWO

By this point, you had been living in relative darkness for a little over a day. Serena sent you a link to an article advising citizens what to do: keep the lights off, and stay away from windows. You don’t want them to know you’re there. You had occasionally gone to get some food and drinks from the kitchen, but besides that, you were pretty much locked in your room.

The small peeks you took of the outside world showed promise. Realistically, the chances of one of the variants coming to your suburban neighborhood to wreak havoc aren’t high.

You close the curtains and look away from the window. To be fair, they also aren’t zero.

After being bored and doing nothing for over a day, you were instantly aware when something changed in your environment. You felt your heart stop for a moment. It sounded like somebody entered your apartment.

You remain frozen as you try and listen for any more signs of life outside your room. Eventually, you hear something. A voice calling your name, whoever it is sounds familiar. However, that doesn’t mean you’ll come running out. You don’t respond immediately, sitting there in silence and fear, slowly inching towards the closet to hide.

On the way, you pass by your door, which was slightly cracked open. The intruder could walk in whenever they wanted. It wasn’t the most brilliant move you’ve made, but it wasn’t like you were expecting guests okay?

Your eyes widen as you take in who it is. “Mark?” You push the door open hesitantly. His attention immediately snaps to you. “What are you doing here?” You ask, exhaling slowly and calming your pounding heartbeat.

He stares at you stoically, before walking over to you, his steps are unhurried. Suddenly you realize that he left the door open behind him. You feel your heart rate spike up again.

“WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU!?” You whisper yell as you push past him to the door. You accidentally bump your shoulder onto his while walking by, causing him to halt and falter in surprise.

”How did you get in? I thought you said you lost that emergency key I gave you.” You lock the door and turn to him again. He observes you silently.

“I found it.” He responds, tone even.

“Well yes, I kinda assumed that.” You respond dryly before feeling the anger leave your body.

“Hey…” You place your hand on his shoulder and he stiffens. “Are you okay? Did one of those variants attack you or your mom?” He finally looks you in the eye for the first time since he unexpectedly entered. His stare is piercing, it feels like he’s looking at your entire soul.

He pauses for a moment before answering, “They came through and destroyed my house.” His voice sounds detached like he’s somewhere else right now.

You feel your eyes widen and your heart drops, “Oh my God, is your mom okay?!” You guide Mark back to your room, he seems to follow with no resistance. You sit on the floor, but he remains standing.

“She’s fine. She wasn’t there.” He responds, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

“That’s good… I mean not good that your house was destroyed, but good that she got out of there. I mean have you seen the damage that these Invincibles have done?” Mark looks at you like he’s expecting something, and you feel slightly unnerved. Maybe he’s in shock? You can’t exactly blame him. You do feel kinda awkward though. How exactly do you comfort somebody who just had their home destroyed and almost had their mom killed?

“I was watching the news when it started, there was this one I saw. I think it was Chicago he hit?” Mark freezes slightly, his eyes narrowing in on you, but you don’t notice.

“It was crazy… He didn’t look like Invincible at all. However, judging by how many of the other attackers look like Invincible, I want to say that this one was probably some weird Invincible variant in white.” Mark gives you a weird look.

“What’s wrong? Still worried? Don’t worry we should be safe here. I don’t see why an Invincible variant would attack me. I don’t even know who is under that mask. We’ll be safe here if you wanna stay until it’s over.” You feel like you’re talking too much at this point, so you stop before you embarrass yourself more than you already have.

“So I can stay.” Mark eventually speaks, getting your attention. The phrase is less of a question, and more of a statement, like he needs you to reaffirm what you already said.

You nod, “Of course, stay as long as you need.” You smile at him. Mark stares down at you before nodding and sitting right next to you on the floor.

You raise an eyebrow, “You know you can sit on my bed right? You don’t have to sit on the floor.” He looks at you and slowly nods.

“Right…” He sounds hesitant, but eventually stands up walking over to your bed. He sits down on it and looks back at you. He stares at you expectantly. You feel scrutinized under his gaze.

"Uh, is there something on my face?" You ask. He continues to stare at you before he looks away.

"You look different." Well okay then. Is that an insult or compliment?

“Uhh, I don’t exactly look much different than the last time I saw you. Maybe it’s the lack of sunlight.” You joke. He looks at you like you’re stupid. “Hey don’t give me that. Come on wanna play a game or something? I’ve been bored out of my mind here.” You stand up stretching.

“A game…” He repeats dryly. “What ‘game’ would you wanna play?” He asks.

You hold your hand out giving him the “wait” gesture. He watches as you search around your room before finally finding what you're looking for. “Here we go!” You show him your deck of Uno cards.

“Uno?” Mark responds confused. “You want to play this... ‘Uno?’” He gestures to the cards. You raise an eyebrow looking back at the cards.

”Yes…? Something wrong with that? I only have the original one if that’s what you’re upset about. Couldn’t find the Seance Dog version, I must've lost it.” You sit next to him starting to shuffle the cards.

”That’s not the problem…” Mark starts to sound unsure looking at the deck of cards. ”Do you perhaps have its original packaging?” He asks.

You blink in confusion, “No, why?” You start giving him his cards.

”I just need to see its instructions.” He looks at the cards blankly.

You sigh, “No, stacking plus twos and plus fours is not in the rules. Yes, we will play with it anyway.”

You give yourself your cards before setting the giant stack down and flipping over the first card, it’s a green four. “I’ll go first.” You place a green seven down.

Mark stares at the cards, before looking up at you. He stares at his cards for half a minute. “You gonna play a card or are we just gonna sit here?” You joke.

“Just…” He sounds frustrated, “Just give me a moment…” He looks at the cards.

After another period of silence, you eventually break it, “Dude just place down a seven or green, please. Whatever strategy you’re thinking of, it clearly isn’t working.” You chuckle.

He looks at his cards before slowly placing a green five down. “Right… I was just planning something.”

You immediately slam down a blue five. “Yeah sure, try all you want. You aren’t gonna win this time.”

He looks at you with the most serious look you’ve ever seen on his face, “I wouldn’t count on that.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“HOW?! YOU CAN’T DO THAT!” You point at the stack of cards in the middle, telling you to take 14 cards.

“The rules are the rules. Take the cards.” Mark points to the deck of cards, his lips upturned slightly.

You glare at him before smiling. That was the first time he’s "smiled" today. He’d been off all day, and if losing a game of Uno was what it took to cheer him up, it was a price to pay.

You both play a few more rounds before you get tired of losing. “Okay, you never win this much. Are you cheating?” You jokingly ask.

He scoffs, “Cheating? I don’t need to cheat to win.” He taunts holding his singular card in plain view. The words "UNO" in the back taunt you for the seventh time. The trace of a smile is gone from his face, but you can see the mirth in his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, enjoy it while you can.” You sigh placing down your only play. You look up at him, and he stares at you for a long moment.

“You know dramatically holding out your move doesn’t make you mysterious. Just draw more cards, I know you don’t have a yellow or two.” You roll your eyes.

He looks at his card and sighs in the most contrived manner possible, a stark contrast to the serious demeanor he had when entering the apartment. “You’re right. I don’t have either…” He places his last card down, a wild.

You look at him blankly, he returns the stare with a smugness he didn’t previously have. You place your cards down before walking out into the kitchen, Mark follows you. “What are you doing?” He asks, the smug tone gone.

“I'm gonna sacrifice myself to those variants running around, that fate might be better than having a seven-time losing streak.” You respond sarcastically.

“You know what,” You point out to the window, “at least I would beat them in Uno.” You say referring to the Invincibles out destroying the world.

Mark looks at you, then at the window, then back at you, “I doubt that.”

You lean back on the counter dramatically, feigning offense, “Oh how you wound me! I think I could beat their asses in Uno! I bet at least one of them doesn’t even know how to play it!”

“I’m sure.” He replies, there seems to be amusement in his voice, but you can’t imagine why.

“Hey, I beat you in Uno all the time. Consider this your lucky day.” You grab a bag of chips. “I was going easy on you today.” You say before you begin grabbing chips out of the bag. “Want some?”

Mark looks at the bag, his face turning to a grimace, “I’ll… pass.” You shrug and continue snacking before putting the bag away.

”Suit yourself. Feel free to eat whatever I have, just don’t eat it all.” You gesture toward your pantry, his gaze following the direction you point.

You start to walk away, “Where are you going?” He asks as you pause.

”Pillows? Blankets? I need to grab some extra for myself. You can take my bed.” You look into one of your cabinets, grabbing an extra couple of pillows and a blanket.

“Is it not your bed though?” Mark asks, frowning.

”Well, yeah, but you’re my friend and my guest.” You smile walking towards your room, and he follows behind you. “I mean with everything you’ve been through recently, I’d feel bad if I forced you to the floor.” Mark remains silent.

You start to create a pile of blankets on the floor, rearranging the pillows how you like them. Mark watches silently.

“Hey, could you turn my TV on? Make sure it’s muted. As long as the lights aren’t flashing too bright on it I think we’ll be okay.” You ask Mark, he gives a hum of acknowledgment before heading back to the living room.

You finish setting up the makeshift bed before joining him. You look around making sure all the windows are closed and secure before joining him.

“Oh my God…” You whisper as you watch different clips play out on the TV. These Invincible are destroying cities. You can only stare in shock, you watch as buildings topple over, skyscrapers crumble to the ground, citizens get buried under rubble, and nearby life burns.

What you saw that Invincible in Chicago do was a fraction of the damage.

Mark doesn’t say anything, and the initial glance you took towards him when you walked in reflects that indecipherable look once again. Who knows what he’s thinking? These monsters almost killed his family.

You look over to him to see if he’s watching, his gaze looks detached and uninterested. You turn back toward the TV. “I’m sorry…” You mutter, feeling his eyes turn toward the back of your head.

“For what?” He asks, and he sounds genuinely confused. “You didn’t do it.”

You look back at him, his eyes reflecting disbelief at an apology. “No, but I’m sorry it happened to you.” You look at the screen, showing the burning buildings. It feels like you can hear their screams despite the muted volume.

He looks at you, not that you can see, as if you're a puzzle. “Why apologize for something you didn’t do? Seems pointless.” He asks.

You look at him, your eyes meeting again, “Sympathy, perhaps.”

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DAY THREE

You open your eyes to the blinding light of your window. You blink the sleepiness away before processing that your window is OPEN.

You stand up quickly, tripping over your pillow before you reach to close the window and curtains. You look at your empty bed, perfectly made.

”Mark?” You call out. You open your door to see him in the kitchen with a mug in hand, windows all open, and lights bright as day.

You gape for a minute before walking over and closing all of them. Once you close them, you turn off the lights, you can still see, but you will admit you kind of missed lighting like that. “What are you doing?!”

Mark looks at you, raising an eyebrow.

You gesture wildly to the house around you, “Uhh I don’t wanna burst your bubble, but we are not Invincible. What are you gonna do if one of those variants attacks us? The attack on your house proves that nobody is safe.”

Mark looks at you uninterested, “Nobody will attack this place.”

”You can’t guarantee that, Mark.” You respond exasperated. “If you could, you wouldn’t be here right now.” You frown as Mark stares at you stoically.

“Look, I’m sorry. I really don’t want to take this out on you, but it’s scary out there. I don’t want to be this paranoid, trust me, but I can never be too sure what will happen.” You sigh looking at him.

“Hell I mean, one of those Invincibles could kick that door down, and we’d be toast. I mean how many even are there?” You ramble.

“Sixteen total.”

“Sixteen?! Damn.” You exhale in disbelief. “That’s sixteen different Invincibles who could essentially destroy the world. Wait, how’d you even know there are sixteen?” You ask.

Mark gestures lazily toward the TV. “Righttttt, that was a dumb question.” You sigh. Suddenly you pause that train of thought, “Wait, what happened to Eve?”

Mark takes a slow sip of his coffee, “Not sure.”

You frown in concern, “Have you had contact with anybody since they invaded?”

”Just you.” He takes another sip.

”Damn, that’s sad… Do we want to try and contact her?” You ask hesitantly. It doesn’t seem like he wants to talk about Eve.

He shrugs, “Lost my phone.”

You frown, “Oh… Do you wanna. . .” You look up at him, his eyes dead set on you. “You know what, never mind.” You make a mental note to check if you have Eve’s number later, and maybe ask what his whole attitude is about.

“Anyway, were you up long before I got up?” You ask, changing the subject.

He shakes his head, “No.” He responds.

“Okay good, I was worried I had slept in or something.” You feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. You pull it out and see that Serena sent you a new link, you’re so grateful that she keeps up with news better than you can.

”Hey it seems like the variants disappeared from the cities.” You casually mention, Mark looks up, suddenly interested.

“Where did they go?” He asks. You shrug in response, reading the rest of the article. He walks over to try and read over your shoulder.

“It seems like they all left at roughly the same time, perhaps something called them. Maybe they have a ‘Boss Invincible’ or something.” You joke.

Mark chuckles humorlessly, “You think?”

“You don’t think that?” You retort, smiling.

“No, I mean you’re probably right.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “It just sounds strange.” He continues.

You nod understanding, “Yeah, but I mean what else could bring them together? They have to have a leader of some kind. This attack seems too coordinated to just be unplanned.”

Mark sips his coffee loudly, “I guess.” It sounds like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t.

You feel your phone vibrate again. You check it and see a text from William. “Hey, William texted me! You’ll be glad to hear that he is okay.” You hear Mark hum in acknowledgment before opening the message.

It’s safe. They’re gone for good.

You look at the text message surprised. You have multiple questions.

How do you know?

Just trust me on this, I know some people who work with the government. The Invincibles are gone.

Mark notices your silence, “What is it?” He asks.

You turn towards him, “They’re gone gone. The Invincibles apparently vanished, completely. They didn’t just stop attacking the cities or get called away, they aren’t here anymore. They’re gone for good. ” This catches his attention.

“Are you serious?” He asks. His eyebrows furrow, is he mad?

”...Yeah.” You pause before confirming. “Are you okay?” You walk up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He immediately tenses up.

“Hey, they’re gone. They can’t do any more damage. Everything will be okay.” You try to reassure him.

He looks down before relaxing. “They’re gone.” He repeats, you nod. “All of them?” He asks quietly, you nod.

“All of them.”

--------------------------

“What do you mean they’re not all accounted for?” Cecil yells out walking down the hallway as one of the assistants follows closely.

“You mean to tell me that there is still one of those Marks out there?”

The assistant nods frantically, “We accounted for every single one that died, and the ones that were sent to that alternate dimension. There is still one here, and he’s not our Mark.”

Cecil stops walking, “Does Mark know?” He asks.

The assistant shakes their head, “No… We weren’t sure if we should tell him. I thought it was best to tell you first.”

Cecil nods in approval, “I’m glad you did… Do you know where he was last seen?”

“It was the Invincible that destroyed Chicago, he left after decimating that city. We aren’t entirely sure where he went. He could be on the other side of the globe, but we do know he hasn’t left the atmosphere.” The assistant replies.

"Good, we need to see if there’s a way to locate him. For all we know, he’s already aware that his counterparts have been banished. I can’t imagine he’d serve himself up on a silver platter for us to eliminate." Cecil starts walking towards Eve’s room, there’s a large chance Mark is still there.

“He can’t hide for long, sir. We’ll find him.” The assistant follows closely behind him.

"Like you already said, he could be halfway across the globe. We can’t leave a threat like that lying around ready to strike whenever. We need whatever leverage we can get right now. If we make it public information that he’s wanted, he might just leave the planet."

"I don’t know about you, but I don’t exactly feel safe knowing an evil version of Invincible is out there somewhere in the universe. We were unprepared for this attack, next time we’ll be ready." Cecil walks down the hall watching through the windows as more ReAnimen are being created. He continues to walk past them.

“There’s only one of him. We’ll bide our time. Keep me updated on any status updates on him. If you hear anything that sounds like Viltrumite sightings, I need to know as soon as possible. I will spare no expense, understand?”

”Yes, sir.”

#invincible #invincible fanfic #invincible x reader #mark grayson x reader #viltrumite mark x reader #mark grayson x you #mark grayson x y/n #invincible x you #Salty’s Silly Writing 🦦

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kurokawaia · 1 month ago

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HICKEY, PLEASE? 彡 Bakugou, Shoto, Deku

| MDNI - 18+ | WARNINGS :: innocent female reader and Pro Hero versions of Izuku, Bakugou, and Shoto. soft D/s dynamics, praise kink, possessive behavior, emotionally intense intimacy, first-time, mention of blood, and power imbalance due to experience and age. Reader is shy, inexperienced, and emotionally submissive.+ more? MINI ONESHOTS. total wc :: 2.8k+

SYNOPSIS. Asking bakugou, shoto, deku and shinsou to give you a hickey >.< | part 1 (aizawa, dabi, hawks)

BAKUGOU

After a long day patrolling and keeping the community safe, when Bakugou got home, what he didn't expect to see was you acting all weird. And it didn't stop for hours. If you were anything right now, it had to be jumpy, that would be the only way to describe it. He noticed instantly, it's hard not to notice when you are usually so sweet and easy going around him, so the sudden change had his mind reeling, not knowing if he's done something wrong.

You two went through eating dinner, relaxing on the couch, snuggling up with eachother and if there was one thing Bakugou noticed was how jumpy you were whenever he touched you. Now you sat across him on his bed, knees tucked up to your chest, stealing glances at him while he was taking his hoodie off. He does run on the hotter side.

Bakugou was on his phone briefly, most likely replying or looking at the group chat, or having a quick check of his emails, but it wasn't too long before he caught you staring. He was confused because you looked away like you had something to hide and got caught. He wondered if it was because he had taken his hoodie off, but that couldn't be the case because you've seen him shirtless many times.

"The hell's wrong with you?" he finally grunted, tossing his phone to the side, making a dull clank agasint the bedside table.

Your cheeks heat up, and you mentally curse. He was your boyfriend, and you can't even ask him something so simple, something that he has, in fact, even done before. You are weak when it comes to Katsuki, though. "Nothing! Don't worry about it, Kats', really," you replied, a gentle smile rising on your lips while you shook your head.

"You're a shit liar," he says with a small scoff before a smirk raised on his lips.

You let out an annoyed groan. You can't get anything past him. Your throat felt dry. You wanted to ask for it, but you couldn't even manage to form the words. How would you even ask Katsuki to give you a hickey? What if he thought the idea was stupid? Which isn't the case at all, as he has given you multiple before, but that was in the heat of the moment type of behaviour, asking for one specifically is a different thing in its entirety.

Bakugou slumps down onto the bed in front of you, specifically. He lies over your legs, propping his chin on a balanced elbow. How can you not confess when he's looking up at you like that? You can't even move either. You thread your arms over his shoulder, one of your hands playing with the hair at the base of his neck.

"C'mon, what you' hiding, princess?" Bakugou hummed, watching you carefully. "Entertain me."

"Well, I just wanted to ask for something," you start in an unbothered tone, looking away from him briefly, shrugging your shoulders. "But it doesn't matter anymore, it's dumb."

"Nothing you want is dumb, baby," he said, giving your bare thigh a little pinch, causing you to pout at him from the sudden action.

"What about the time I asked you to get me a duck?" I retort, removing my arms from around his shoulder, folding them below my chest. "You said that was dumb."

He rolls his eyes. "That was a dumb question. Where would we put it? We live in an apartment right now, baby. You were having duck fever because you saw a lady feed them pea water or whatever the fuck it was. "

"Yeah, but still," you mumble. A few moments passed, and you swore he could hear your heart beating. In a quieter voice, you continued, "I kinda wanted you to give me a hickey."

There was a heavy pause while Bakugou's eyes widened before he let out a laugh. "You embarrassed now? That's fucking hilarious."

Your cheeks heated up as your jaw dropped in shock, "I knew you would act like that!

"Just joking, baby," he replied, his laugh dying out as he reached for your palm, placing a slow kiss before pulling away. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood, or I would be fucking you deep right now. You want me to show everyone who you belong to?"

His words struck nothing but pure heat and butterflies within your body. "I do," you replied, your heart beating faster as Bakugou raised himself off your body.

Your heart was in your throat when he hooked a finger under your chin and forced you to look up at him. "Yeah, I thought so." His hands were already sliding around your waist, hauling you onto his lap roughly. You squeaked as he shoved your hair back, baring your neck.

"Hold still, baby," he muttered right against your skin, breath hot. "Gonna make it real fuckin' obvious."

"I wouldn't want anything else, Kats'," you replied in a teasing tone, causing him to smirk in response before he slowly went in for your neck. You let out a shaky sigh at the contact, your reaction only made him more desperate to mark you. He thought you were stupid for being so hesitant to ask him for something like this.

Once he had you straddling his lap, Bakugou didn't waste time. His big hands gripped your hips possessively, keeping you pinned as he leaned in, his mouth ghosting over your neck without touching yet.

"Tch," Bakugou muttered. "Listen to you. Gettin' worked up over nothin'..."

But you weren't imagining the way his breathing was getting heavier, too. Slowly, torturously slow, he let his lips brush the sensitive spot just below your ear, just barely touching you, sending a shiver skittering down your spine. You gasped softly, hands clutching at his shoulders.

"That good already? Shit, baby," he mumbled before a groan slipped past his lips at the feeling of your arousal soaking his sweats and your cunt subtly pressing hard against his hardening cock. Without much warning, he couldn't take it any longer with moving slow, that's not how he does things, not at all, and you know it better than anyone.

His lips make full contact with your neck, sucking deep and slow, teeth grazing your skin enough to make you whimper. His tongue soothed the spot after, only to suck again, rougher this time. You buried your face in his shoulder, overwhelmed. Fuck, this is exactly what you wanted, to have Bakugou worship you with his touch and kisses. Exactly what you want.

"Don't hide," he growled, tugging you back by the hair so you had to bare your throat to him again, a moan falling past your lips at the sudden action, your core getting more heated by the second. "I wanna hear you."

The wet sounds of him marking you filled the room, your soft little noises only spurring him on. When he finally pulled back, he stared at the dark bruise blooming on your neck and smirked.

"Look at that shit," he rasped with a smirk. "Perfect."

Then he kissed the bruise sweetly, making you melt into him all over again. Bakugou stared at the bruise he'd left on your neck like he was proud of it, his lips glistening and his eyes filled with need, need to consume you whole.

"Tch. You're lucky I've got control, baby," he muttered, brushing his thumb under your chin to tilt your face back up. "You don't even know what you're asking for... But you want it anyway, don't you? Want me to ruin you a little?"

You nodded shyly, face burning. That broke something in him. "Fuck. Alright, c'mere." He kissed you hard, devouring you, tugging you fully into his lap with a grunt. His hands slid under your thighs, up your shirt, tracing over soft skin. You gasped into his mouth, squirming.

"You gonna be good f'me?" he growled against your lips, tugging your lower one between his teeth. "Let me take my time with you?"

You nodded, dazed. "Words."

"Yes," you whispered. "I'll be good, Katsuki."

"Yeah? Let's test that."

SHOTO

Shoto didn't miss a thing about you, especially when you acted a little strange. He may be dense, but he isn't that dense. Tonight, you hovered close, so close he could feel the warmth of your body without you actually touching him.

You weren't as talkative, which was odd because usually you would be yapping his ear off, not that he minded, he loves hearing your voice. Every time he turned his head, you seemed to be watching him and then darting your gaze away, guilty.

He tilted his head slightly. "Is something wrong?" he asked softly.

You jumped a little, startled. "No, no! Nothing's wrong!" you squeaked.

He watched you in silence for a moment longer before setting down his tea and patting the empty spot beside him on the bed. You hesitated, then shyly sat down, your hands bunching nervously in your lap. Why are you even nervous, what of? Shoto never judges you, in fact you're probably the one who judges him in that silly teasing way.

Shoto didn't push you to answer right away, he knew it was something that was bothering you, so he isn't going to force it out of you. After what felt like an eternity, you managed to finally get out, "Can I ask you something...? It's kinda dumb, though."

He tilts his head slightly, confused. He thought he had made it clear time and time again that it didn't matter what you asked him, or what you say, he isn't going to make fun of you (that badly). He turned toward you fully, giving you his complete attention. "You can ask me anything."

"I was wondering if you could... um... Fuck, this is embarrassing," you swallowed, it's really hard to say this out loud. Shoto was intrigued by what you had to say, what could you possibly be embarrassed about? "Could you... Give me a hickey?"

Shoto blinked once, then twice, a soft laugh fell past his lips before they made a gentle smile. "Embarrassed about that? You don't have to be, you just need to ask, you know that I'll give you anything," he murmurs. "Is that what you really want?"

"Yeah," you replied slowly, despite Shoto telling you you shouldn't be embarrassed, you couldn't help but be so. Your usual confidence has gone right out the window. His hand came up, cupping the side of your neck so gently you shivered under his touch. His palm was cold, his left hand, and it made you gasp softly.

"You trust me to do that?" he questions, slowly leaning in closer. Shoto's thumb traced the sensitive skin where he planned to leave his mark.

"Yes," you breathed. "You've done it before, and it feels really good."

"Good," he whispered. Then his lips pressed to your neck, soft at first, almost reverent, before slowly, slowly he applied more pressure, teasing the skin until you whimpered softly in his arms. This is exactly what you wanted. Not harshly, but deep enough that you felt it all the way down to your toes. His warm tongue soothed between sucks, coaxing the blood to the surface.

"You’re mine," he whispered against your throat, and you melted completely into him.

You clung to his sleeves, overwhelmed by how good it felt, not just the physical sensation but the intimacy of it, the way Shoto held you, touched you, wanted you. You love him so much that it makes your brain go into shambles, he causes you not to think straight.

"You look so pretty, sweetheart," he whispered against your neck. You whimpered, melting into his arms as he left a perfect mark right where your collarbone dipped. When he finally pulled away, his cheeks were pink, and his breathing was slightly uneven. "You’re beautiful," he whispered again, kissing the new bruise.

Shoto pulled back from your throat, breathing heavily, and you don't miss the unmistaklabe flush coating his cheeks, he's so beautiful. You blinked up at him, flustered, and covered the spot he’d marked with your hand instinctively.

He gently pulled it away. “Don’t hide it,” he said. “It's what you wanted, isn't it?"

Your heart skipped. His hand found your waist, signalling you to stand, and he guided you back until your spine met the mattress. “I want you to feel good,” he murmured, kneeling over you. “But I want to go slow… I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

“You already do,” you admitted breathlessly. “But I like it…”

His lips parted, and he gave a shaky laugh. “You're going to destroy me.” His hands, warm now, slid up your thighs under your skirt.

“Tell me if anything feels too much,” he whispered. “And I’ll stop. But I need to… I need to see all of you.”

MIDORIYA

Midoriya came home from patrol past midnight, his hero suit rumpled and his hair damp from a light rain. You’d waited up for him, wrapped in one of his hoodies and sitting on the couch, trying to pretend you hadn’t been imagining his hands on your skin for hours.

You and the girls caught up today, Momo, Jirou, Mina, Ochako, and Tsuyu, and during that catch up, Mina was pestering Jirou about how her and Denki are going and that lead to her revealing some... stuff about them two, intimate stuff and it made your heart pound for hours because all you could think about what Midoriya doing that stuff to you.

He saw you and smiled instantly, though his eyes were heavy with exhaustion.

“You waited up?” he said, slipping off his boots. “You didn’t have to, baby. I would’ve crawled in quietly.”

“I know,” you said, fidgeting. "I wanted to wait for you... I missed you.”

His expression softened even more. “Come here. You’re the sweetest,” he murmured. “I missed you too... So much.”

You padded into his arms, letting him fold you into his chest. “Long day?” you mumbled into his shirt.

“The longest,” His voice was hoarse. “But this makes it worth it.”

You hesitated. Your fingers curled into the front of his uniform. There was something you wanted, but you couldn’t get the words out. Not directly, at least, you were too nervous. So you just tilted your head against his chest… and quietly, you unconsciously were playing the the collar of your shirt, your fingers grazing agasint the skin beneath it, baring just a sliver of your collarbone.

It took him a second. But then you felt it, the way he froze, just slightly. His hand splayed against your back. He pulled away enough to see your face. He looked concerned. “Uh… is everything okay?” he asked quietly.

You swallowed. “I just…” Your hands gripped his shirt, nervous. “I wanted to… ask something. But it’s dumb. You don’t have to.”

“Nothing you want from me is dumb,” he said. “Promise.”

You glanced away. “I… I’ve never had a hickey before. And I was kinda wondering if maybe you could, give me one? I mean, only if you want to! I just... thought about it. A lot. Today. For a while actually.”

You were mortified. But when you glanced back up at him, he was red. Flushed from his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

“I-” he laughed breathlessly, hand flying to the back of his neck. “Wow, um. Yeah. Yeah, I can. I mean, I’d love to. If you want me to. Only if you’re sure. Because I’ve thought about it too. A lot, actually. More than I should, probably-”

He cut himself off, clearing his throat.

“Come here.” He led you to the couch again, gently coaxing you into his lap like you were the most fragile thing in the world. One arm wrapped around your waist, the other cradled the side of your face. “You’re sure?” he asked again. “Because I-I don’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. You can say no at any time.”

He cupped your cheek, kissed your lips tenderly, and then gently lowered you onto the couch, hovering over you with so much care, it made your heart flutter.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please.”

He smiled at your sweetness. Then he bent down and kissed the side of your neck. Once. Twice. You gasped as his tongue traced your skin, warm and wet, and then, you felt it and it made your lower abdomen curl in pleasure. “Izuku-”

His teeth sank in just enough to sting. Not painful, but enough to make your thighs clench around nothing. You whimpered, thighs instinctively pressing together. He froze. Pulled back. “Did I hurt you? Oh God-”

“No,” you gasped. “It- felt really good.”

His breath hitched, shit he was about to loose himself. “Okay. Good. That’s.. really good," he swallowed. He leaned back in. This time, his lips trailed lower, hands beginning to roam, carefully, not wanting to overwhelm you. “I know you’re shy,” he whispered, voice barely above a breath, “but you don’t even realise what you do to me, do you?”

“Izuku…”

“You’re so soft,” he murmured. “So sweet. I think about you when I’m supposed to be focused. I want to take care of you so bad it hurts sometimes.”

You shivered as his fingers ghosted up under your hoodie, the sensation causing you to clasp your hands tighter against his shirt as he continued to leave a mark along your neck. "Izuku, please..." you begged in a breathy exhale, causing him to momentarily slow down. "I need you to take care of me, please."

How is he supposed to control himself around you now?

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

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iixch · 4 months ago

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☆ iixch production

He’s family! He’s a dog.

synopsis: I just really love Titan (everyone’s favorite Great Dane!) and Simon’s dynamic, so here’s more of it!

warning: cursing

more Titan shenanigans: Pt.1 - Pt.2

Titan was usually a dick to Simon. He still was a dick to him, but less of one as of late, and Simon couldn’t tell why but- thank god almighty! You know how tiring it is to be knocked behind your knees, get your ankles nibbled on, with constant scratching and barking? Hell. It’s hell.

The only thing that sedated Titan was you, and because you and Simon have taken the next step in your relationship and you’ve moved in- Titan has been over the moon, because you spoil him tooth achingly rotten.

“Get the damn mutt down my bed.” Simon growls when he comes into his bedroom- he’s tired. exhausted from days work and just wants to sleep when he sees the devils hell hound on his side of the bed.

“But he wants cuddles….” You say cuddling into Titan side.

“He also wants to occasionally eat shit.” He huffs as he walks over to his side of the bed and tries to push the Great Dane down. Titan doesn’t budge.

“Baby you gotta ask him, nicely.”

“You’ve lost your goddamn mind, I am not asking him anything.” He tries again, Titan just smiles.

“Si, ask him.”

“Y/n, baby, no.”

You sigh at his stubbornness and decide to put aside your hope of him asking. “Titan, can you please lay to the foot of the bed?” You ask him motioning to the spot. And as if he spoke English the dog shifts down to the end of the bed.

“What has the world come to? I have to ask the mutt permission to lay in my own bed.” He mutters as he scoots under the sheets.

——

Simon started to notice the way you treated Titan, like he was a person or something, and it drove him crazy.

“One piece for me,” You whisper before taking a bite of bacon. It was noon and you and Simon… and Titan, were having a lazy Saturday. “One piece for you,” You give Titan a strip of bacon. He sat under the table head peaking between your thighs as you secretly fed him.

Simon’s the twitches as he knows your feeding hells hound. “Y/n, stop feeding it.” He says as he eats his eggs.

“First off, it is a he,” You say pretend you haven’t been dealing under the table, “and i’m not feeding him.”

“I can feel his tail slapping my legs with every piece you give him.” He says unimpressed. “He has dog food.”

“Just a little spoilage. He’s all muscle, he’s not fattening up anytime soon.” You say defending your cause.

Simon groans.

——-

Your lazy Saturday day consisted of cuddles, conversations and snacking. You’ve been in pjs all day. Simon was currently in the kitchen popping popcorn on the stove when he peers to the living room to see you.

“Y/n, that’s too far.” Simon says suddenly.

“What?” You ask taken back.

“You’re letting him rest his head on your tits!”

“I let you rest your head on my tits.”

“That is not the same.”

“I can make the argument that you’ve been down bad like a do-”

He shoots you a glare and you can’t help but laugh out loud.

——-

You both decided that you both needed to get some vitamin D, so you two were currently in the crisp Autumn air, arms linked and Simon holds Titan leash.

“How long have you had Titan?” You ask Simon as your head rest against his forearm, his arm protectively around your waist.

“Master Evil? I’ve had him since he was a pup. He was better than, back then he wasn’t a hellion. It’s been five years since I got him.”

“Yeah? You guys have been together for a while.”

“Eh, I guess after five years you gotta.” He thinks, “There was this one time, before I had him trained, I was out, and he ran out the back gate and when I got back it was so late and I couldn’t find him. Scared the shit out of me. Was out on the streets like a damn fool, random ass shoes on my feet as I find and chase him.”

You laugh and watch as Simon glances at Titan with melancholy and memories.

“He’s part of the family, huh?”

“Y/n please-”

“He is! You love him, despite all your complaints.”

“I don’t love him. I tolerate him.”

Titan suddenly stops walking and Simon runs into him, grunting as he trips.

“Never mind, take it back. He’s a bitch.”

“But he’s ours.”

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carlthecloaked · 3 months ago

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Wrong Number, Right Person

tried writing something after a while :3| 1.3k words | no cw |

|chapter 2|

Steve was pissed.

This date was not working out. At all.

He thought he was going out with this sweet guy from California. At least, that’s what his Tinder profile had made it seem like. But clearly, he had been very wrong.

Where would he even start?

First of all, the guy wouldn’t shut up about his ex.

Like, she sounded great and all, but maybe don’t talk about her the entire time we’re on a date?

Secondly, he wasn’t even listening to what Steve was saying. Half the time, he was scrolling through Instagram, looking at his ex's profile. Laughing at whatever post he was looking at, or he was texting someone else.

Third—and perhaps the worst part—the guy had the personality of a wet sock. Zero energy. No conversation skills. Just dull. Clearly not the charming, funny guy he’d seemed to be over text.

Steve sighed internally. Guess that was his fault for believing his Tinder profile was real.

And then, as if the date wasn’t already bad enough—

“So, are we going to your place or mine? "

Steve barely stopped himself from gaping. He forced a polite smile instead, setting down his drink.

“Yeah, I don’t think this is working out,” he said smoothly, placing his half of the bill on the table. “I have to go.”

The guy blinked, as if he hadn’t just bombed the entire date.

“But wait—”

Steve walked fast out of the cafe, he had to get out of there quickly.

“Ugh, that was the worst. I have to go tell Robin.”

While walking to the subway, he winced as he opened his backup phone. It wasn't as good as his currently broken phone. He totally didn't drop it in the toilet. Nope, that never happened.

He sighed, scrolling through his messages. He still hadn’t updated his contacts, so every number looked unfamiliar. Normally, he’d recognize Robin’s name instantly, but now? It was just random numbers.

He just figured he would text the most recent number, It'll probably be fine.

Steve: WORST date ever. like worst ever. robs i swear to god i wish i could turn back time and never swiped right on him at all. if you ever see me texting him again, throw a microwave at me

Unknown Number: any personal preference or do i just chuck it at you

Steve: chuck it

Steve: robbie i swear it was SO bad

Unknown Number: oh i didn't realize you'd actually think i was your friend

Unknown Number: uh yeah so this is not robbie

Oh. Steve blinked at his phone.

Huh.

That was… unexpected. But not bad, necessarily. Just—Huh.

He stared at the message for a second longer before shaking his head, exhaling through his nose. This was fine. Totally fine.

Steve: oh god

Steve: i'm so sorry wrong number

Unknown Number: it's fine lol

Unknown Number: but how bad was it though, like on a scale of “awkward as hell” to “can the ground swallow me whole?”

Steve hesitated.

He shouldn’t keep talking. He should just apologize again and move on.

But… what else was he doing today?

Steve: definitely “can the ground swallow me whole?” territory

Unknown Number: okay now i'm definitely invested. spill the tea

Steve: dude. he kept on going on and on about his ex, i swear it went on for 30 minutes. THIRTY. MINUTES.

Unknown Number: 🚩🚩🚩 IMMEDIATE red flag, redder than the color red

Steve: RIGHT??? and when he finally stopped he just kept scrolling on his phone

Steve: he was stalking her insta too 😭

Unknown Number: are you fr???

Steve: i wish i was lying but nope

Steve: then when i tried talking about literally anything else other than his ex he’d just respond with “yeah” or “whatever”

Unknown Number: what does that even mean??????

Steve: i have literally no idea

Steve: he even had the NERVE to ask if we would go to his place or mine

Unknown Number: the AUDACITY. the sheer unhinged delusion. did he think he was charming?????

Steve: LMAO stop i can't💀

Unknown Number: i bet he thought you 'd swoon bat your eyelashes and say “oh my god, yes! let's go to another place where you can pretend i'm not there!”

Steve lips curled at the stranger’s response before replying back

Steve: honestly i wouldn't be surprised if he thought that i should be grateful for his presence

Unknown Number: i can't believe you suffered through that

Unknown Number: no wait, you didn't suffer. you endured and you survived. for that you deserve an award. a dramatic opera performance

Steve: i hate how funny you are

Steve grins at his phone.

Unknown Number: you can repay me by continued conversation ;)

Steve: okay but you have to say who you are though

Steve: please don't tell me this is my professor🙏

Unknown Number: lol no definitely not your professor

Unknown Number: but i kinda want to keep it secret now, adds to my mysterious aura

Steve: no hints? :(

Unknown Number: i have hair

Steve: wow that really narrows it down. i totally know who you are.

Unknown Number: good luck finding it out ;)

Steve tilted his head, amused.

There was a pause.

Steve stared at his phone for a second, drumming his fingers against the back of it. He wasn’t sure why, but something about this felt… different. Not bad, just—unexpected.

He should probably just let it go. It wasn’t like it mattered who this guy was, right?

Still.

Steve: so are you gonna give me a real hint or do i just have to suffer

Unknown Number: hmm. suffer sounds fun

Steve let out a small, incredulous laugh, shaking his head. Great. Just his luck to end up texting someone who enjoyed messing with him.

And, okay. Maybe he didn’t mind that much.

The subway car jolted slightly as it began to slow, Steve barely looked up from his phone, used to the way the train moved as it went into the station. The train came to a stop, the doors opening with a mechanical chime, letting in the sound of city noise and passengers.

He stood up getting out and walking to his and Robin’s apartment nearby, glancing at his phone occasionally to check if the stranger texted again.

Steve barely had the door open before Robin’s voice rang out from the couch.

“Finally! What took you so long? Did the date go well?”

Steve groaned, kicking off his shoes and collapsing onto the couch next to her.

“You have no idea. I swear to God, worst date ever.”

Robin gasped dramatically, “Worse than the girl who ordered an expensive meal and made you pay?”

“Way worse”

“Way worse than the one who left you at the bar for three hours?”

“Robin.”

“Okay, okay tell me everything.”

Steve launched into the whole story, how the guy wouldn’t stop talking about his ex, stalking his ex’s instagram, the dry-ass responses and the sheer audacity of asking if they were going to his place or their shared apartment.

“That’s tragic Steve, how are you so unlucky at this?”

“I have no idea man, I guess I just attract weird people.”

“Why didn’t you text me?”

Steve suddenly sat up, remembering. “Oh, speaking of.”

Robin narrowed her eyes.

“So, uh I may or may not have accidentally texted a stranger about it.”

Robin grinned in amusement. “What?”

“I thought it was you!” Steve said defensively. “I haven’t updated my contacts on this phone yet, and I just picked the most recent number in the list.”

Robin stared. “Wait. Hold on. You had a whole conversation with a stranger instead of asking who they were like a normal person?”

Steve shrugged. “They were funny.”

Robin gasped again, dramatically. “Oh my god. You like them.”

“What? No. I dont even know who they are!”

“But you want to”

Steve opened his mouth to reply, then closed it.

Robin grinned, throwing a pillow at him. “You absolute idiot. We’re figuring this out right now.

Steve caught the pillow. “Fine. But if this turns into some embarrassing rom-com nonsense I’m blaming you.”

“Oh it’s already a rom-com, Stevie. You just don’t know it yet.”

Steve sighed, but smiled anyway.

Maybe he did want to know.

#steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #modern au #my fic #next chapter will be eddies pov hehe #college au? technically #its not the focus but they are in college i guess #cloaked's fics

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godjustkys · 7 months ago

Text

THEME: it's just hate sex with dean..

CHARACTER: male reader x dean winchester

NOTE: as promised, dean winchester one shot. also!! requests are open.

WARNING: breeding kink,, clothed sex,, dirty talk,, degradation,, slight dacryphilia,, hair pulling,, short and not proof-read :(

“..hhhfuck—” dean breathed out lowly, grasping onto the table's edge for dear life. his back was arched slightly, forehead pressed against the wooden surface itself.

dean was bent over a table, and you were fucking him from behind. your hands holding his hips firmly, thrusting in and out at a steady pace. sure, it was stable, but it wasn't fast enough for dean. he wanted you to be rougher. “Don't be a bitch, dean.” you cooed gently, pushing one hand up dean's spine, the action more sensual than anything. “let me hear you.” in response, the other just gritted his teeth, letting out a small frustrated groan. how could he let this happen? he hated you, he hated every single bone of your body.

“you- fuck like a virgin.” dean mumbled out, his tone bitter. “this your first time? you experimenting, huh?” he quipped, lifting his head up and turning it to the side, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. You let out an amused scoff in response, suddenly pushing your hips forward, the action harsh and quick. it made dean stumble, knees buckling for a moment, his grip on the edge tightening. he turned his head away immediately clenching his jaw.

“don't try to taunt me, dean. you're the one taking my cock like a damn slut right now. i can feel you clenching around me,” you spoke, leaning forward, your chest just above his back. “shh-shut the fuck up, you son of a bitch—” dean responded with a strained voice, his face twitching in annoyance. or maybe from the fact that he was holding back so many sounds. he pretended like he didn't like what you said, but god, he only got harder. his abdomen tensed too. fuck. “listen to yourself right now..” you muttered, your lips right next to his ear. “the little gasps? yeah, you love this,” your tone took a more confident edge.

dean hadn't even realized that he was gasping, letting out soft breaths that soon evolved to pants. “Mmhhm—” he let out an agitated groan that turned into a humourless chuckle. “you- keep telling yourself that-” he choked out. “oh, I don't need to. you think I would've been able to get you into this position if you didn't want it? aren't you a big, strong hunter?” you teased, moving one hand to the back of his neck. soon enough, you gripped his hair, pulling his head back. “so, tell me,” you urged him, pressing a kiss to his throat. “tell me how much you want this. how much you want my cock, how good you feel right now.”

dean kept quiet, his breathing laboured and heavy. his eyes fluttered shut as you continued kissing his throat, eyebrows stitched together. “go to hell.” he spoke as he tried to squirm out of your grip. “no, no dean,” you pressed gentle kisses against his skin again, making your way from his throat to the nape of his neck, letting go of his messy hair. “not what i asked for,” the moment you said the word 'asked' you thrusted in deeper, as if enunciating your point, making dean squirm even more. “but I'll let it slide.” you breathed out, eyes boring into the back of his head.

“shhh..shit. fuck fuck fuck-” dean groaned out, his eyes screwed shut. “you're a bastard-” he said before letting out a mewl, of all things. you let out a small chuckle, letting your pace increase - you couldn't torture dean for long, you were starting to feel bad with all his jittery squirming. “mhm? what else?” you inquired softly, so innocently, as if you weren't pounding him from the back. dean could take this, of course he could. But then, both of your hands moved back to dean's hips, grip firm, as you pulled him against you. essentially, making his ass meet your pelvis.

“hhn!” he gritted out, his fingers curling up around the edge of the table. “d- don't you manhandle me.” he protested weakly, his thighs tensing and hips stuttering. “that's not manhandling, dean. d'you want me to, though?” you asked gently, keeping your pace steady. of course, no response from the man under you. he'd be lying through his teeth if he said he wasn't curious as to what manhandling felt like, but he didn't have it in him to ask for that. let alone from you, someone he loathed. he's chastising himself for even letting this happen. his pride - wounded.

as dean continued his silent treatment of sorts, you decided for him. why the fuck not? gotta have some fun in a way, right? you pulled out, only momentarily, as you flipped dean over to his back with ease, earning a small, barely even audible yelp from the hunter. you pushed your way back in with slight resistance, dean's abdomen tensing as you did, his hands scrambling to grasp at something. well shit, his hands couldn't reach the table's edge anymore. and reaching for the edge above him would be uncomfortable. you noted his actions, realising immediately that he didn't want to touch you.

“damn, not even gonna put your hands on me?” you asked with a slightly offended tone, shifting on your feet to find a better, more comfortable angle. “c'mon..” you groaned out, one hand gripping dean's still clothed thigh, the other moving up to grip his jaw. “you want to, right? fuck your ego, dean. just do it.” you urged, your face so close to his. his vision was slightly unfocused, his toes curling just a bit. the thought was so tempting. his mind was starting to get lost in the pleasure you were providing, his skin tingling under your touch. “ain't happening.” he managed weakly, his face a.. a scowl? seriously?

“what a bitch,” you muttered in disbelief. “i've already got you where I wanted to, what's the point of giving me attitude, hm?” you pressed, the sound of your (unbuckled) belt buckle getting progressively louder due to your thrusts getting deeper. the slick sound of your cock going in and out of dean's hole progressing in volume, too. dean almost bit his tongue while trying to contain his noises. he wasn't going to give it to you. “baby, you've gotta be more compliant than that..” you cooed gently, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips that dean didn't return. he wanted to. fuck you were so hot. soft groans escaped his throat, his lips pressed to a thin line as his hands gripped at literally nothing.

“how 'bout we make a deal, hm?” you suggested suddenly, your thrusts slowing down but not stopping. that grabbed dean's interest. “you stop holding back.. and I won't mention this, ever again.” he shot you a skeptical look. you? not talking about this? what a joke. “i promise.” you added, your tone almost pleading. “i just gotta know how good I make you feel. that's enough for me.” you breathed out, thumb rubbing soothing circles into the skin of his thigh. “i'll kill you- if- if you don't keep that stupid promise.” dean threatened, albeit with a shaky voice. he was far too easy to deal with.

finally, after what seemed an eternity, one of dean's hands found their way to your shoulder, the other reaching to hold onto your waist - or more so your shirt. due to his newfound compliance, you could give it your all without him trying to hold back. you pushed your cock all the way in, because you hadn't yet. safe to say that the man you were currently fucking the living daylight out of didn't know you weren't bottoming out. “Ah!- motherfuckerrrr-- mmhh—” he whimpered out in a broken voice, his hand moving from your shoulder to the side of your neck. his face was scrunched up, eyes shut tightly.

what heavenly sounds. you let a smile creep up onto your face as you kissed him, passionately, this time dean reciprocating the kiss even if he was a bit late. he let out deep grunts every time you thrusted in, your mouth just devouring the damned sounds. you didn't waste a second, pushing your tongue into his mouth and swirling it against his. dean's breath stuttered, almost feeling overwhelmed, his thighs aching beyond belief. when you pulled away from the kiss to catch your breath, dean spoke up. “are you fucking trying to suck out my soul?” he seethed, panting heavily.

“somethin' like that, yeah.” you breathed out, your eyes locked onto his neck as your hand that was on his jaw just ran over his torso. eventually, it ended up at the hem of his shirt. you simply pushed the shirt up to his collarbone, dean's facial expression shifting to a more confused one. the moment your mouth landed on his nipple, he forced himself to hold in a girlish shriek. he wasn't used to his nipples being played with. both of the latter's hands gripped at your hair, in an attempt to ground himself but also pull you away if needed. “wh- what the fuck, man?” dean got out, his voice strained, maybe a pitch higher.

the sensation of you sucking on his nipple and pounding into him ruthlessly made him let out continuous moans, his voice breaking more with each other. eventually, he let out a sob, his fingers tightening in your hair, the stinging pain making you groan against dean's skin. you could feel his thighs trembling against your pelvis. you didn't stop though, as dean made no protest. but what you took notice of was his whiny moan of your name. it made your gaze shift to his face. god, it made you wish you had a camera just to take a photo and hang it on your wall. his eyes welled up with tears, just barely, his mouth agape, drool on the corners of his lips, all pretty, just for you. you trailed up kisses from his chest to his face, the action more gentle than you anticipated but oh well. “fuck, you're such a slut.” you mumbled against his cheek, your eyes closed as you got lost on the bliss that were dean's sounds, his hopeless squirming and trembling. “takin' me so well, like you were made for this.” you continued. “were you?” you inquired, your tone too sweet compared to your words.

a fucking whimper was what you got in response, his hips shamelessly rocking against yours, as if seeking friction. he wasn't getting enough? “you tryna get off, huh?” you leaned back up, gazing down at him. “ugh, I wanna breed you.” you rasped out, too lost in your own fantasies. “just imagine it, me filling you up, to the brim. with my cum. mine.” dean's face contorted an almost concerned facial expression. the worst thing was was that he didn't even hate what you said, he wasn't against it. he might've actually liked it. he pulled you down as his hands remained in your hair, still, his mouth latching onto your neck as he sucked hickeys onto your skin. you hummed out a sound in response, twitching inside dean. he only continued making sounds against your skin. he seemed desperate to have some sense of control.

dean kept his head buried into your shoulder, as the numerous and various moans, whines and whimpers escaped his lips. he was trying so hard to catch his breath, his thighs tensing around your waist. “who knew such a deep voiced hunter would make such girlish moans?” you teased mindlessly, your only focus now to just breed the fuck outta him. it was at this point that dean didn't even bother responding, frantically holding you close, his hands trembling. oh god you were too much. not that he'd admit that. the more you continued thrusting into him, the more he cried out. yes, cried. sure, tears weren't rolling down his face, but they were there, you knew they were. you could recognise it, the way his voice got high pitched and so eager.

eventually, the overwhelming heat that was pooling in your lower stomach was getting even stronger, and you were close. not even warning dean, you gave harsh thrusts, the other's body twitching helplessly in response as he gasped. you came inside with a groan, your hands holding dean's waist so severel that it might've even left bruises. dean let out a sharp hiss before it turned into a mewl, once again, and he couldn't help but get even more turned on by the liquid that was inside of him. he came, untouched, his arms wrapping around your shoulders as his blunt nails dug into your shirt. he was sweating, his head lowered.

“this ain't 'nough.” you mumbled weakly, starting to move again. goddamn it, dean was in for a night.

#male reader #fanfic #fanfiction #top male reader #dom male reader #one shot #dean winchester #supernatural #dean winchester supernatural #dean winchester x you #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #dean Winchester x male reader #smut #spn smut

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neoheros · 16 days ago

Text

“morning samu!”

the bells that hang by onigiri miya’s front door ring loudly as you enter the building, the sound of your voice accompanied with a chipper smile on your face as the early morning begins.

osamu barely looks up from the counter at your arrival, not needing to see you to know that it is you, and even if he is too busy fiddling with the register, he still smiles knowing that you’re here.

not that it would be anything special if you were, you were here practically everyday at this point, it might as well be part of osamu’s morning routine to welcome you in.

not that he minds — he’d never — but not that he’d tell you that, anyway.

“good morning.” he says to you, the smile on his face obvious now as you can hear it in his voice, but he still doesn’t look up from the register, too immersed in the work to tear himself away.

“seat yourself, will ya? bit busy here at the moment.”

you shrug off your coat from your shoulders as you hear him, nodding to yourself as you pick the table you like the most, and you call out, teasing, “alright but if you ask me to serve myself too, i’ll be expecting a paycheck from you.”

you slightly hear him chuckle a bit at that, too busy to respond, but you understand anyway considering the incoming morning rush.

knowing osamu, your closest friend for years, he must be knee deep in question marks as he tries to commandeer both the cashier and the kitchen by himself, too stubborn to hire anyone else, and way too confident to ask for any bit of help.

you’ll save the scoldings you have in mind for him later.

now, you’re preoccupied.

you pull the chair on your table out for your guest this morning, a small gesture of your hand to get him to seat across from you as you make yourself comfortable, and once all that’s settled, you hand him one of the menus to choose from.

the menu isn’t complicated at all — mainly the reason you took him here — and you’re sort-of proud of yourself for bringing him here in the first place.

after all, what better first date than the restaurant you already go to every single day?

your date gives you a smile, “so, you come here often?”

from the counter afar, there’s a sound of the register suddenly closing in on itself that can be heard loudly, a loud “clang!” echoing throughout the entire building.

osamu blinks, his attention suddenly torn away from the register in front of him, confusion settling in his face as his eyebrows furrow together, his languid smile dropping slowly and he looks up — finally.

from where he stands, the first person he sees is you, you’re laughing and smiling and you’re all dressed so nicely today that it almost makes him smile — but then he sees you’re talking to someone else, someone you brought here, someone across from you, and that doesn’t make him smile at all.

“yeah, it’s my favorite restaurant.” he hears you reply, the smile in your voice evident.

and as much as osamu just loves to hear how much you like his establishment, he’d rather you say it to him and not to anyone else.

there’s a bitter taste in his mouth. he feels like he just got the wind punched out of him as he continues to stare.

did you seriously bring a guy to his restaurant for a date?

“what can i get ya this mornin’?” there’s an obvious frown sitting on osamu’s face as he stands near your table, a pad of paper in his palm as his other hand holds a pen lazily.

it took him a lot of energy to force himself away from the counter and actually walk over to you and your … date, but he figured the more he ignored you, the more likely you were gonna come after him for not … well … doing his job.

“jeez. reign it in with the joy, please.” you tease, your morning spirits undeterred by his newfound persona of he-who-hates-all-things.

osamu sighs, dramatically, and he straightens up slightly to look at you more professionally now, “i’ve got the new flavors in this morning, they’re new and experimental so you get the chance— alright, what the hell is that?”

you look down to where his pointing, an exasperated look on his face as he gestures at the very bright object you brought with you today that was just distracting enough to bring him out of his spiel, and you smile even wider— proud.

“my shoes!” you nod with excitement, grabbing them from the paperbag on the floor as you take them out to show him.

“those are shoes?” his eyebrows furrow together tightly.

“well, i broke them, that��s why they look so clanky and the steel stuff ended up hanging outside the sole part, so i was planning on fixing it today during my break time at work.”

osamu looks at you, deadpanned, “they look like they could kill somebody.”

and you scoff, “so dramatic today.”

you sneak a peek over at the other side of the table to check on your date, and your smile remains when you see him still pre-occupied with the menu, browsing his options as he gives you a small smile while he listens to the conversation.

back to osamu now, he still looks frustrated at — well, you’re not really sure at what — and there’s a deep expression that settles on his face as he looks at you like you’ve just stolen his pen.

a second passes.

“hand them over.” he suddenly tells you, a big sigh coming from him as his shoulders fall with defeat.

you turn to him, “what?”

“hand over the shoes.”

“samu, i know they look bad, but that doesn’t mean you can take them from me!”

osamu breathes in very loudly as he stares at you, his frown impossibly getting deeper the more he stays here it seems, and with another swallow of possibly his last straw, he puts the pad down.

“give me the shoes so i can fix them, you idiot.” he tells you, his tone as quiet as he can make it, and he swears, if you had not been one of his closest friends, you’d been out of your seat five minutes ago.

you cross your arms over your chest, “you know how to fix shoes?”

and he scoffs, “i don’t, but i figure my chances are better than yours.”

your expression finally breaks into a small smile, defeated, yes, but you did get out of fixing your shoes yourself, which is a win in its own case, and a scenario only possible with osamu by your side.

“you win.” you throw your hands in the air, and show him a wide grin as you hand over the shoes, “thank you very much.”

osamu takes the shoes from you and puts it at the empty table behind him, begrudged, but amused, not like he wouldn’t do anything for you anyways.

your date leans over to you slowly — an action that makes osamu want to roll his eyes all the way to the back of his head.

he gives you a smile, “you get good service here.”

and you reply back, “i know the owner.”

osamu ignores the wink you give him, and he gives you an unamused look as you grin. he shakes his head to himself and grabs the pad of paper once again before clearing his throat.

“order?”

“i’ll have two of my usual orders, and then one of each of the new flavors to go.” you tell him, proud at not having to look at the menu anymore to know what you like.

you do come here every morning after all.

osamu gives you a short nod, listing down your request, and begrudgingly, he turns to the other person at the table, “and you?”

“i’m just not sure.” your date tells him, humming to himself as he picks up the menu again. “give me a second.”

the gray haired man gives you a look; almost 10 minutes with that menu and he still hasn’t decided?

you give him an apologetic look, “oh, then, i guess hold off on mine too.”

osamu shakes his head, sighing, “i might run out of the new ones.”

and your date looks up from the menu to give you a wanton smile, “go ahead, order, i’ll be fine.”

you shake your head, polite, “no, it’s okay, i’ll wait for you. take your time.”

osamu clears his throat. adamant. “i’m almost out and i can’t make more.”

you shoot him a look. “then set some aside for me.”

and he squints his eyes. “it’s first come, first serve.”

there’s a stark frown on your face now too. your eyebrows tightly knit as you shoot the man in front of you a hard glare.

you have no idea why he’s making this morning so hard on you for no reason at all, but you’re about to say something to his remark if it weren’t for the sudden ringing on the phone that interrupted the conversation.

“i’m sorry, i might have to go.” your date intervenes suddenly, the ringing of his phone going off as he stands up and grabs his things from the table.

you look at him expectantly, “you do?”

“yes, something came up,” he tells you, apologetic and giving you a sad smile. he leans down anyway to come squeeze your hand quickly, and he says, “i’ll call you?”

you give him a small nod, “sure.”

not that you can do anything else about it, you say your goodbyes, and suddenly, not even twenty minutes in to your first date with him, he’s off and leaving.

the bells on the door ring loudly as the door closes with a slam.

your head falls on the table once he’s gone.

“well.” you grumble. “that was a bust.”

osamu puts a hand on his hip as he watches you, “ya seriously cannot be hung up like this on the world’s slowest reader.”

you lift your head up slightly to roll your eyes at him, watching him with squinted eyes as he walks away and disappears into the kitchen.

obviously, you weren’t hung up on this stupid date. you didn’t want to go on this stupid date anyway!

dating sucks. and it sucks even more when it’s forced on you last minute by a work friend who you’re definitely not talking to outside of the work place anymore.

you grumble again at the thought.

great, and you were having such a good morning too.

you let your head fall back on the table.

a minute passes in your sulking mess before you hear the sound of a plate being pushed across the table breaks you from your world of wallowing.

“here.”

osamu looks at you from the side, his gaze much softer now as he keeps his hand on his hip, and he watches as your confused look when you see him falls on the playe in front of you.

your usual order, and the new ones to go.

you look up at him, “but i thought you didn’t ring my order in?”

and osamu, defeated, rolls his eyes slightly, but you don’t miss the way his lips curl upwards even just a tiny bit.

you come in here every single day, every single morning, and order the same exact thing. rain or shine, he can also expect to greet you in as you come in those doors and greet him with that big smile you never fail to give him.

he can’t help it, it’s part of his routine now too.

atsumu keeps pestering him on hiring somebody to man the front desk so he can lessen his work load, but that would mean what? give up the chance to see you come in everyday? give up the way you say his name when you say good morning? give up your smile and your laugh and the way you tease and mock and tarry?

you’re the best part of his mornings working here, even when you’re with somebody else, you’re still the person he looks most forward to seeing every single day.

he rolls his eyes but you see him smile anyway.

“i already set these aside before you came in anyway.”

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theetherealbloom · 1 year ago

Text

I LOVE YOU, I'M SORRY

Summary: Your soulmate’s birthday is written on your arm, and it just happened to be the day the world ended.

Pairing: Jackson!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Soulmate AU, Apocalypse, ANGST, Fluff, Infected, Violence, Scratching, Age-Gap (the reader is in her 20s) Romance, Unrequited, Longing, Yearning, Secrets, Injury, Blood, Jealousy, Secret Glances, Metaphors, Character Death/s, Raiders, Ambush, Hospital, Stress, Hurt-To-Comfort,

Word Count: 7k

A/N: I 1000% came up with this one night while scrolling through prompts and AUs I could do for Joel. I saw the Soulmate AU and I was like “oh, yeah,” *evil laugh* and then I heard the snippet for I love you, I’m Sorry and I was like, “yep, perfect, time to go through pain :D”

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: i love you, i’m sorry by gracie abrams

| Main Masterlist |

September 26, 1967.

The date emblazoned on your wrist felt like a cruel joke, a bitter reminder of a world that had crumbled around you. The small pulse of the glow on your wrist thrummed, a haunting echo of the past. September 26 was outbreak day. The day the end of the world had come crashing down, leaving chaos and devastation in its wake. The inked numbers throbbed on your skin, a constant reminder that your soulmate was out there, somewhere in this apocalyptic wasteland.

You traced the numbers on your wrist, the ink seeming darker today, wondering if you’d ever meet the person who was meant for you. What kind of person could they be? Were they strong, gentle, kind, or hardened by the harsh world?

Hiding the mark from Joel for almost a decade took more than just care; it took an absolute miracle. You met Joel, Tess, and Tommy on your way to the Boston QZ. When you saw Joel’s wrist and the date there, you almost stopped breathing. Your birthdate on his skin was an unexpected blow. The ink on your wrist seemed to burn, yearning to connect with Joel. But his mark didn’t seem to react the same way.

When Joel and Tess started sleeping together, the walls between your apartments were paper-thin which seemed to amplify every intimate sound. You often found yourself wandering the hallways late at night, evading FEDRA officers, sitting on the rooftop, looking up at the empty night sky, stars twinkling, the moon bright. You wished for something good in a world gone bad.

You always wore long sleeves, even in unbearable heat. If you wore a short-sleeved shirt, you never took off your jacket, always coming up with some insane excuse about how cozy it was. It had become second nature, a routine you hardly thought about anymore.

As you kept your head down and worked, the grime and sweat accumulates on your skin. In exchange for your labor, you were given ration cards to obtain basic necessities.

"If it's so hot, why don't you just take off the damn jacket?" Joel gruffly asks, his irritation evident in his tone.

You stay silent and shrug, avoiding eye contact as you try to walk away to the next station, hoping to distance yourself from him. But he grabs your wrist, causing you to yank it away in surprise. "Joel, what the hell?"

Joel's tone is sharp and accusatory, causing you to instinctively flinch. "You're being awfully quiet," he scoffs.

You meet his eyes, trying to hide the turmoil inside. "What?"

"Something's off with you. What aren't you telling me?" Joel steps closer, invading your personal space, and you instinctively take a step back.

Panic sets in as you desperately search for a way out. You can't tell him the truth, so you grit your teeth and force out a lie. "I'm just tired."

"You're lying." Joel's words cut through you like a knife, making your heart race and palms sweat. The intensity of his gaze makes it clear that he won't let this go easily.

You try to remain composed, forcing a small smile. "I'm just tired from working all day."

Joel narrows his eyes, clearly not buying your excuse. "Bullshit," he says bluntly.

You bite your lip, feeling the weight of the lie in the pit of your stomach. "I promise, it's nothing."

Joel takes a step closer, making you back up against the wall. Your heart races as you feel trapped under his intense stare. "I know when something's bothering you," he says softly, his tone filled with concern.

You look down at your feet, unable to meet his gaze any longer. You've been hiding this secret for so long that the thought of telling anyone, especially Joel, terrifies you.

"Please," Joel pleads, his hand reaching out to gently touch your arm. "Just talk to me."

"I have to go," you urgently declare, heart pounding as you turn and bolt away, ignoring Joel's desperate calls for you to stop.

Your heart races as you run through the dark, narrow alleys, trying to put as much distance between you and Joel as possible. The fear and adrenaline pumping through your veins drive you forward, but at the same time, your mind is racing with thoughts of guilt for leaving Joel behind.

"Why did I have to lie?" you think to yourself. "Why couldn't I just tell him the truth?"

But deep down, you know why. You know that if you were to tell anyone about the secret burdening you, it could cost both of your lives. And as much as it pains you to not tell Joel, there is no other choice.

The memories hit you like a tidal wave, pulling you back to that moment in time. But this time, it feels like you're watching from a distance, like a bystander in your own body.

"You can convince them. You always do." The words echo through your mind as Tess begs you and Joel for help. Tears stream down her face as she pleads, "You have to get her there. Keep her safe. Make things right." Joel shakes his head stubbornly, but Tess doesn't give up. "Please, Joel. Please say yes."

Everything feels surreal as you remember the infected pounding at the door, their screams like a constant reminder of what's at stake. And then Tess is gone, sacrificing herself with the rest of the infected to save the others.

Tess, your friend died that day.

But then everything shifts and you're in a different place, a house belonging to Bill and Frank. Ellie is reading a letter aloud, and you and Joel are there listening. "I used to hate the world," Ellie says, "but I was wrong. When I met my soulmate, there was one person worth saving. That’s why men like you and me are here. We have a job to do and God help any motherfuckers who stand in our way. I leave you all of my weapons and equipment. Use them to keep…”

You remember Joel storming out of the house with the letter, his grief and pain palpable in every movement he makes. It's a bitter taste in both of your mouths, but it's also a reminder of why you keep fighting – because there are people worth protecting and worth saving.

Joel may not even realize it, but you've been waiting for him your entire life. And the same goes for Joel.

The scene changes once more; the deafening sound of gunshots pierces your ears and suddenly you're back in the hospital. You're behind Joel, gripping a rifle tightly as you navigate through the chaos and bodies scattered throughout the halls.

Suddenly, you startle awake. Your heart races in your chest, and sweat trickles down your skin as you struggle to catch your breath.

You’re not out there. You’re in Jackson. You’re safe.

You briefly close your eyes, trying to shake off the lingering feelings of fear and loss from the dream. It had been two years since that fateful day in the hospital, and you were now living in Jackson with Joel and Ellie.

You gasped for breath and clutched your chest, trying to steady yourself with one hand on the softness of the sheets. You clambered out of bed and made your way to the bathroom, washing your hands and then your face. The cool water felt refreshing against your skin as you wiped it with a towel, trying to calm your nerves.

Taking a good look at yourself in the mirror, you saw the exhaustion written all over your face. The restlessness was evident in the dark circles under your eyes, and your hair was in a state of disarray.

"I look like I've been through hell," you muttered to yourself, sighing heavily.

You decided to take a shower, hoping it would help numb the pain. As the water cascaded over you, you let yourself sink into your thoughts, not really focusing on anything except the sound of water hitting your skin. Your bleary vision noticed the small cracks in the tiles on the wall.

Once you dried off and got dressed for the day, you headed downstairs to your small kitchen. The space had seen better days—cabinet doors hung slightly askew, and the pantry door refused to close all the way no matter how hard you tried.

You sighed, pushing the pantry door shut one more time before giving up and grabbing a mug from the chipped shelf. You poured yourself a cup of coffee, the bitter aroma filling the air as you took a tentative sip, savoring the warmth.

Later that morning, you stepped out of your little house in Jackson, pausing to take in the crisp air. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a soft golden light over the town. You noticed the creaky and loose steps of your porch under your feet, each step emitting a groan of protest. The railings wobbled as you gripped them for balance, making a mental note to add them to your growing list of things that needed fixing.

It was just about daybreak, the sun slowly peeking over the horizon, casting a golden glow. You stuffed your hands into the pockets of your jeans, the cozy sweater you wore providing some comfort as you made your way to the stables.

You were part of the barn support staff on rotation and consistently helped out in the greenhouse. Sometimes, you were out on patrol, but today was a barn day.

As you cleaned the barn and took care of the horses, you unconsciously rolled up your sleeves, figuring no one else would be up this early. You were alone in the stables, or so you thought.

Lifting a hand to wipe the sweat from your brow, you sighed. Suddenly, you heard the sound of something dropping and a familiar voice exclaiming, "Holy shit!"

You whipped your head around to the source of the sound and saw Ellie standing there, her eyes wide as she stared directly at your wrist.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath, hastily pulling your sleeve down.

Ellie took a step closer, her curiosity piqued. "Is that... a soulmate mark?"

You avoided her gaze, feeling exposed. "It's nothing, Ellie. Just... don't worry about it."

"Nothing?!" She looked incredulous. "You’ve been hiding it all this time. Why didn't you tell me?"

You sighed, the weight of your secret feeling heavier than ever. "It's complicated, Ellie. Joel... Joel doesn't know."

Ellie’s eyes widened even more. "Joel? As in... Joel?"

You nodded, unable to find the right words. The truth was out now, and there was no going back.

Ellie moved into your space, her curiosity getting the better of her. Without warning, she grabbed your wrist, yanking it towards her. Her eyes zeroed in on the birthdate etched into your skin, her face a mix of shock and realization.

"September 26, 1967," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gaze snapped up to meet yours, eyes wide. "That's Joel's birthday."

You tried to pull your wrist back, but Ellie held on tight, her grip firm and unyielding. "Ellie, please," you started, your voice shaky.

"Dude," she cut you off, her tone urgent and insistent. "You need to fucking tell him."

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. "Ellie, it's not that simple," you began, but she shook her head, not letting you finish.

"Not that simple?" she repeated, incredulous. "You've got his birthday on your wrist. You're soulmates! How much more complicated can it be?"

Your shoulders slumped as you finally managed to free your wrist from her grip. You rubbed the tender skin, feeling exposed and vulnerable. "You don't understand," you said softly. "Joel... he's been through so much. And so have I. Telling him now, after all these years... it might just make things worse."

Ellie's expression softened, but she didn't back down. "You think keeping it a secret is any better? He deserves to know. You both do."

You turned away, unable to meet her eyes. "Joel... he's moved on, he doesn’t want anything to do with relationships, and I don’t want to disrupt that."

Ellie snorted, crossing her arms. "Moved on? Joel’s not exactly the moving on type. He carries everything with him, all the time. You think he doesn't feel something for you?"

You glanced back at her, tears welling up in your eyes. "And what if he doesn't? What if he sees this and... and it means nothing to him?"

Ellie sighed, stepping closer and placing a hand on your shoulder. "You'll never know if you don't try. And trust me, he’s stronger than you think. You both are."

Her words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, you just stood there, lost in thought. Finally, you nodded, a small, tentative movement. "I'll think about it," you whispered.

Ellie squeezed your shoulder gently before letting go. "Good. Because secrets have a way of coming out, one way or another. And it's better if it comes from you."

As she turned to leave, you stared down at the date on your wrist, the ink seeming to pulse with a life of its own.

Maybe Ellie was right. Maybe it was time to stop hiding.

You sat alone on the bench in the food hall, picking at your meal and lost in your thoughts when a familiar drawl pulled you back to reality.

"Hey, darlin’."

The sound of Joel’s voice made your heart skip a beat, and a sudden warmth spread through your body. You nearly choked on your food, glancing up to see him settling next to you, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Hi, Joel,” you sputtered, trying to regain your composure.

Joel chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Mind if I join you?”

You shook your head, swallowing hard. “No, not at all.”

He leaned back, his shoulder brushing against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through you. “How’s your day been?”

You shrugged, trying to appear casual. “Busy, as always. Barn duties and all that.”

Joel nodded, his gaze lingering on your face. “Yeah, I hear you’ve been workin’ hard. Always see you runnin’ around, takin’ care of things.”

A soft blush crept up your cheeks under his scrutiny. “Just trying to keep busy, you know? What about you?”

“Same old,” he replied, his voice low and soothing. “Patrols, repairs, keepin’ an eye on Ellie. She’s a handful.”

You laughed, the sound easing some of the tension. “She definitely keeps us on our toes.”

Joel’s eyes softened as he watched you, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away. The bustling noise of the food hall became a distant hum, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble.

“You look tired,” he said gently, concern evident in his voice. “Everything alright?”

You hesitated, the weight of your secret pressing down on you. “Just… a lot on my mind lately.”

Joel reached out, his hand resting lightly on your arm. The touch was brief but sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes searched yours, concern evident. “You sure you’re alright?”

Your breath hitched at the back of your throat, but you forced a smile. “Mmm... yeah. Just going through a to-do list in my mind right now.”

Joel’s brow furrowed slightly, his gaze never leaving your face. “Anythin’ that needs fixin’, darlin’?”

You shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “Just a few kitchen cabinets... the hinges squeak, and the pantry door doesn’t close all the way. Also a couple of loose steps and a wobbly railing too.

He nodded, his lips curling into a small smile. “Well, why don’t I take a look? Might be an easy fix.”

Your heart fluttered at the offer, a mix of gratitude and the thrill of being near him. “You don’t have to, Joel. I know you’re busy.”

Joel chuckled softly, his hand lingering on your arm for a moment longer before he let go. “I’ve always got time for you. Besides, can’t have you fightin’ with those cabinets every day.”

You laughed, the tension easing slightly. “Alright, if you insist.”

Joel’s eyes twinkled with a warm light. “I’ll swing by tomorrow mornin’, if that’s alright with you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of spending more time with him. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’d appreciate the help.”

He gave a slow, easy smile that made your stomach flutter. “Great. I’ll bring my tools and we’ll get this place sorted.”

The way he said “we” filled you with a sense of comfort and belonging. “Thanks, Joel. It really means a lot.”

Joel stepped closer, his hand brushing against your arm in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. “Anytime, darlin’. You know I’m here for you.”

You nodded, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I know.”

His gaze held yours for a moment longer, the air thick with unspoken words and the electric tension between you. Finally, he took a step back, breaking the spell.

“I should get goin’,” he said, his voice a bit huskier than usual. “Gotta talk to Tommy ‘bout somethin’.”

“Right, of course,” you replied, feeling a pang of disappointment but also a thrill of anticipation for tomorrow.

Joel lingered by the table, a hand on your shoulder. “Take care, okay?”

“You too, Joel,” you said softly.

He nodded and turned to leave, but not before giving you one last, lingering look. You watched him walk away, your heart pounding and your mind racing with thoughts of what tomorrow might bring.

The next morning, you were up at dawn, nerves and excitement thrumming through you as you tidied up the kitchen. Each movement was deliberate, an attempt to keep your mind occupied. But no matter how much you tried to focus, you couldn’t help but glance at the clock every few minutes, your heart racing each time the hands inched closer to Joel’s promised arrival.

As you finished your second cup of coffee, the knock on the door startled you, sending a jolt through your already frazzled nerves. You took a deep breath to steady yourself and opened the door to find Joel standing there, a toolbox in one hand and a warm, familiar smile on his face.

“Good mornin’,” he greeted, stepping inside, his presence filling the room.

“Morning, Joel,” you replied, the rush of warmth at seeing him making your voice tremble slightly.

He set the toolbox down and looked around the kitchen with a critical eye. “Alright, let’s see what we’re dealin’ with here.”

As Joel began inspecting the cabinets and pantry door, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. Every subtle flex of his muscles under his shirt drew your attention, and you found it hard to look away.

“Found the problem,” he said, pulling you from your thoughts. “Just needs a little tightening and some oil.”

You nodded, trying to focus on his words rather than the magnetic pull of his proximity. “I’m glad it’s an easy fix.”

Joel smiled, his eyes locking with yours, sending a spark of electricity through you. “Told you it wouldn’t be a problem.”

As he worked, you found yourself drawn to him, moving closer under the pretense of handing him tools or holding a flashlight. Each accidental brush of your hands sent a jolt through you, the air between you charged with unspoken desire. You felt your pulse quicken every time his fingers grazed yours.

“There,” Joel said finally, standing up and testing the now-silent hinges. “Good as new.”

You smiled, genuinely grateful and a little breathless from being so close to him. “Thank you, Joel. You’re a lifesaver.”

He chuckled, wiping his hands on a rag. “Just doin’ what I can.”

You both stood there for a moment, the kitchen suddenly feeling too small and too big all at once. The silence between you was heavy with everything you weren’t saying, a tension that seemed to thicken the air.

“Joel,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “I really appreciate this. More than you know.”

He looked at you, his expression softening in a way that made your heart ache. “I’m glad I could help. And I meant what I said yesterday—you don’t have to do everything alone.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you took a tentative step closer, the distance between you feeling like an unbearable chasm. “It’s hard to ask for help sometimes. But knowing you’re here... it makes a difference.”

Joel reached out, his fingers lightly grazing your arm, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’ll always be here for you. Don’t ever doubt that.”

The intensity in his eyes made your breath catch. You felt drawn to him, the unspoken connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment. Without thinking, you closed the remaining distance between you, your heart pounding in your chest.

His breath hitched as you moved closer, the air between you charged with a heady mix of anticipation and yearning. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle between holding back and giving in. The warmth of his body so close to yours was intoxicating, and you felt your resolve weakening with each passing second.

“Joel,” you whispered, your voice barely audible but filled with all the longing you’d kept hidden for so long.

He swallowed hard, his gaze never leaving yours. “I—”

Just as the air between you thickened with unspoken words, a sudden, sharp knock on the door interrupted the moment. You both turned to see a young woman standing there, her eyes lighting up when she saw Joel.

“Hey, Joel!” she called out, her tone annoyingly bright. “I heard you were here and thought I’d bring over some coffee. Figured you could use a break.”

Joel’s jaw tightened, and you could feel the tension radiating off him. “Uh, thanks, Vanessa,” he replied, his voice strained. “But we’re kinda in the middle of something.”

Vanessa’s eyes flicked to you, her gaze turning cold. “Oh, I see. Well, maybe I could help?”

Before you could step away, Joel’s arm snaked around your waist, pulling you close. The unexpected gesture sent a shiver through you, and you looked up at him, your heart pounding.

“We’re busy, Vanessa,” Joel said firmly, his hand resting possessively on your hip. “Thanks for the offer, but we’ve got it covered.”

Vanessa’s eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed in obvious jealousy. “Right. Well, if you change your mind...” She trailed off, her eyes lingering on you with a mixture of disdain and envy before she finally turned and walked away.

As soon as she was out of earshot, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Joel’s grip on your waist loosened, but he didn’t let go. His eyes met yours, the intensity in them making your pulse race.

“Sorry about that,” he murmured, his voice low. “Didn’t mean to make things awkward.”

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. “It’s okay. I appreciate the backup.”

Joel chuckled softly, his thumb brushing against your side in a way that sent tingles down your spine. “Guess we should get back to work, huh?”

You nodded, reluctantly stepping back, though his touch lingered in your mind. “Yeah, the step and railing on the porch still need fixing.”

Together, you moved outside, the tension from earlier still simmering between you. As Joel inspected the loose step, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. The way his hands moved with such confidence and skill, the way his brow furrowed in concentration—it all captivated you.

“Can you hold this steady for me?” he asked, his voice pulling you from your thoughts.

You nodded, stepping closer to help. Your hands brushed against his as you held the wood in place, and the contact sent a jolt through you. The proximity, the shared task, the quiet intimacy of the moment—it all felt like a dance, each movement charged with unspoken feelings.

“Almost got it,” Joel murmured, his breath warm against your skin. You could feel the heat radiating off him, and it took all your willpower not to lean into him.

Finally, he tightened the last screw and tested the step, making sure it was secure. “There. That should do it.”

You smiled, genuinely grateful and more than a little breathless. “Thank you, Joel. You’re a lifesaver.”

He looked at you, his eyes softening. “Just doin’ what I can.”

As you both stood there on the porch, the morning sun casting a golden glow around you, the world seemed to shrink until it was just the two of you. Everything you wanted to say but didn't wash over you in the awkward stillness, and the feelings you shared were nearly visible.

The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows over the landscape as you and your patrol partner, Mark, scouted the perimeter. He was easy-going, always ready with a joke or a reassuring word. You found his presence comforting, a steady rock amidst the chaos.

“Think we’ll find anything today?” you asked, keeping your voice low.

Mark grinned, his eyes scanning the horizon. “Nah, it’s been quiet for a while now. Let’s hope it stays that way.”

Just as the words left his mouth, a shot rang out. The next few moments were a blur of chaos and violence. Raiders, hidden in the underbrush, launched their attack. Mark managed to shoot one off you, his quick reflexes saving your life. But then, he was hit, and you watched in horror as he crumpled to the ground.

“Mark!” you screamed, dropping to your knees beside him. Blood poured from a wound in his chest, and his breaths came in ragged gasps. You pressed your hands against the wound, desperately trying to stem the flow of blood. “Stay with me, Mark. Please, stay with me.”

But his eyes glazed over, the light fading. You choked back a sob, fury and grief surging through you as the raiders closed in. You fought with every ounce of strength you had, slashing and stabbing, your vision blurred by tears and the pouring rain that had begun to fall. Blood and dirt smeared your face, and pain lanced through your body from multiple wounds.

The storm roared with fury, whipping the trees and lashing the ground with torrents of rain. You stumbled through the churning chaos, your clothes drenched and clinging to your skin, your muscles burning from the effort of pushing forward. Your vision blurred by the onslaught, you fought to keep moving, each step a battle against the ferocious elements. In that moment, all that mattered was survival - staying alive until the tempest passed.

It had been hours since Joel last saw them. His graying hair was in danger of being pulled out in frustration. You and Mark were supposed to be back by now. The patrol route you both took was supposed to be a shorter one.

Joel paced back and forth in the settlement, struggling to contain his anger. “Why the hell can’t I go out there, Tommy? She’s my partner, my—” He cut himself off, frustration and fear etched into his features.

Tommy placed a hand on his shoulder, his voice firm. “You’re too close to this, Joel. You need to stay here. I’ll find her.”

Hours dragged by, each minute an eternity. Joel’s rage simmered, his helplessness gnawing at him. He punched the wall, his knuckles splitting, but the pain was nothing compared to the fear of losing you.

Tommy had taken a small team out to search for you and Mark, but there was still no word. The storm raged on, making it even harder to find any trace of you.

Joel’s mind raced with possibilities – had you and Mark been ambushed? Taken by the raiders? Injured and unable to make it back? His heart clenched at the thought of you hurt or worse.

He cursed himself for not going out with you both, for letting his emotions cloud his judgement. He knew better than anyone that in this world, you couldn’t afford to let your guard down. But he had let himself become complacent, too focused on protecting you rather than seeing things clearly.

Bile rises in Joel's throat, the taste of fear and worry leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He swallows hard, trying to push the feeling down as he anxiously waits for any news.

The bitter taste of regret and fear lingered on Joel’s tongue, each thought of what could happen to you making his stomach turn.

The metallic taste of blood was thick on Joel's tongue as he bit down on his lip, trying to hold back his emotions. The rancid taste of fear and worry lingered in his mouth, coating his throat and making it hard to swallow.

Meanwhile, Tommy pushed through the storm, his eyes straining to pierce the darkness. The wind howled around him, carrying with it the distant echoes of thunder. He called out your name, his voice barely audible above the roar of the tempest. His heart pounded with a mixture of fear and determination, each step sinking into the mud as he trudged forward.

The rain came down in sheets, making it nearly impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. Lightning flashed, illuminating the twisted branches and slick ground for brief moments. He stumbled over fallen logs and through thick underbrush, the storm making every movement a struggle.

Tommy's eyes darted around, searching desperately. He felt a gnawing dread in the pit of his stomach, a fear that he was too late. Then, in the distance, he saw a figure lying still. His breath caught in his throat as he hurried over, praying that it wasn't you.

As he got closer, he recognized the bodies of the raiders, their lifeless forms sprawled across the muddy ground. The sight was gruesome, the aftermath of a brutal fight. His heart sank when he saw Mark, his friend and comrade, lying motionless with a fatal wound. He forced himself to look away, his focus now solely on finding you.

Finally, his eyes landed on you, crumpled and barely breathing. His heart pounded in his chest as he knelt beside you. Blood soaked your clothes, mingling with the dirt and rain, creating a grim tapestry that told the story of your fierce struggle.

“Hey, hey, it’s gonna be okay,” Tommy murmured, his voice trembling with urgency and concern. He gently lifted your head, cradling you in his arms. You stirred slightly, your eyelids fluttering open to reveal dazed, pain-filled eyes.

“Joel?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the storm. The confusion and pain in your gaze made Tommy’s heart clench.

Tommy’s eyes widened as he saw the mark on your wrist, illuminated by a flash of lightning. It was the same date he had seen on Joel’s wrist—the same mark. Realization hit him like a freight train, the pieces falling into place with a sudden clarity. “It’s Tommy,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve got you. Just hold on.”

But you had already slipped back into unconsciousness, your body limp in his arms. Tommy’s heart raced as he gently but urgently lifted you, securing you on his horse. He mounted behind you, holding you close to keep you steady, and spurred the horse into a gallop.

The ride back was a blur of rain and darkness, each second stretching into an eternity. The storm seemed to rage even harder, the wind whipping through the trees and the rain stinging like needles. Tommy’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, fear for your life mingling with the shocking revelation of your connection to Joel.

By the time Tommy reached the settlement, his clothes were soaked through, clinging to his skin like a second, frigid layer. Every muscle in his body ached from the grueling ride and the weight of your unconscious form. The rain had not let up, and his vision was blurred by the relentless downpour. But he didn't stop, carrying you swiftly yet carefully towards the infirmary, each step a struggle against exhaustion and worry.

Joel was just by the large gate of Jackson, pacing anxiously. The moment he saw Tommy approaching with your limp body, his heart seemed to stop. His face, already drawn with worry, twisted into an expression of sheer desperation.

“Is she okay?” Joel asked frantically, his voice cracking. His eyes were wide, darting between Tommy and your pale face for any sign of hope.

“She’s alive,” Tommy said, his voice steady but laced with urgency. He handed you over to the medics who were rushing to meet them. Joel instinctively moved to follow, but Tommy grabbed his arm, his grip firm and unyielding.

“Joel, wait. Look at her wrist,” Tommy urged, his voice low but insistent.

Joel’s eyes followed Tommy's gaze, landing on the mark on your wrist. Recognition hit him like a punch to the gut, the date etched into your skin unmistakable. It was the same as his. Realization dawned with a mixture of awe and dread. “Fuck,” he breathed, the weight of it crashing over him. The one person he couldn’t afford to lose was you, and now he knew why.

The medics were quick, their movements efficient as they assessed your injuries and began to prepare you for treatment. They lifted you onto a stretcher, intent on rushing you inside where they could better tend to your wounds. Joel moved to follow, his protective instincts kicking in, but the medics tried to hold him back.

“Sir, you need to let us do our job,” one of them said, a young woman with a firm but gentle voice.

“No,” Joel growled, his eyes blazing with determination and fear. “I ain’t leavin’ her side.”

Tommy stepped in, trying to reason with him. “Joel, you gotta let the doctors work.”

Joel’s fists clenched at his sides, his whole body trembling with the effort to contain his emotions. “I can’t… I can’t lose her, Tommy,” he choked out, his voice raw with pain and anger.

“I know, but you stayin’ in there won’t help her. You’ll only be in the way,” Tommy said, his tone gentle but firm. He placed a reassuring hand on Joel’s shoulder, trying to ground him. “You’ve gotta trust them to do their job. Let them help her.”

Joel’s jaw tightened, his eyes locked on the door to the infirmary where they had taken you. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to be by your side, to make sure you were safe. But he knew Tommy was right. With a heavy, reluctant nod, he allowed himself to be led away, his heart aching with every step.

The minutes stretched into an eternity as they waited. Joel paced back and forth, his mind racing with worry. He could still see the image of you, broken and bloodied, every time he closed his eyes. The mark on your wrist haunted him, a constant reminder of the bond that tied you together. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he couldn't bear to lose you.

Tommy stood by, watching his brother with a mixture of sympathy and concern. He knew how much you meant to Joel, and the revelation of the soulmate mark only intensified that bond. He wished there was something more he could do, some way to ease Joel’s pain.

Finally, a medic emerged from the infirmary, her expression tired but relieved. “She’s stable,” she announced, and Joel felt a weight lift off his shoulders. “She’s got a long road to recovery, but she’s a fighter.”

Joel nodded, his eyes filled with gratitude and determination. “Thank you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. He would stay by your side, no matter what. The bond you shared was too precious to ever let go.

Days blurred into a haze of sterile white walls and the rhythmic beeping of machines. You drifted in and out of consciousness, each time greeted by the comforting sounds of Joel and Ellie. Joel's low, soothing voice often filled the room, whether he was talking to you or humming a soft tune. Ellie would sit by your bed, recounting stories with her usual animated flair, her voice a bright spot in the darkness.

One evening, as the storm outside mirrored the chaos within, you stirred slightly. The weight of Joel's hand on your wrist was a grounding force, his presence unwavering. He looked exhausted, his eyes heavy with worry, but he never left your side.

In one of your more lucid moments, you caught snippets of Joel's soft singing, the melody wrapping around you like a warm blanket. His voice was a balm, a tether to the world you were trying so hard to rejoin. He would often lean down to press gentle kisses to your forehead, his touch both a promise and a plea for you to come back to him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you awoke fully. Your throat was dry, and every muscle ached, but you were aware. The weight on your wrist brought your gaze to Joel. He was slumped in a chair beside your bed, his head resting on the edge, fast asleep. He looked worn out, dark circles under his eyes and a shadow of stubble on his jaw.

“You’re awake,” he murmured, his eyes fluttering open as if sensing your gaze.

“I...” Your voice came out as a croak, and you winced.

“Here, drink up,” Joel said, quickly pouring a glass of water and holding it to your lips. You drank greedily, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat.

After a few sips of water, you managed to find your voice again. “How long have I been out?” you asked, your throat feeling slightly raw from disuse.

“Almost a week,” Joel replied, his eyes never leaving yours.

“A week?” you repeated in shock. It felt like only a few hours had passed.

Joel nodded, his hand gently caressing your cheek. “You were pretty out of it for a while there.”

You felt a pang of guilt for causing so much worry and trouble for everyone. “I’m sorry,” you said softly.

“Don’t be sorry,” Joel said firmly, his eyes filled with intensity. “Just focus on getting better.”

“I will,” you promised, grateful for his unwavering support.

The relief on Joel’s face was palpable, but as he set the glass aside, a flicker of anger flashed in his eyes. “Were you ever going to tell me?” His voice was quiet, but the intensity of his gaze was almost too much to bear.

You looked away, shame burning your cheeks. “Trust me, I know. It's always about me.”

Joel's jaw clenched. “I just… I didn’t think you could ever want me.” Your voice broke, the years of hiding and pretending catching up to you.

Joel’s expression softened, and he took a step closer, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek. “You’ve always been more than I deserve,” he murmured. “I just wish you’d told me.”

Tears filled your eyes, and you struggled to breathe. “I love you…” you choked out, the words finally escaping your lips after years of being held back. “I’m sorry.”

Joel pulled you into his arms, holding you close as you sobbed. “I love you too,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “We’ll get through this. Together.”

In the midst of life's storms, a quiet calm settled around you both, like discovering an oasis in the desert. Amidst chaos and pain, you found your soulmate, and love emerged as the unwavering light guiding you through the darkest nights.

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parfaitblogs · 9 months ago

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(totally not based on my day) but a simple request for spencer helping reader out with a bunch of chores bc she's overwhelmed with life and she decides to thank him with like the quote "best head of his life" and he's like "its okay you dont have to do that" and she's responds "but i am anyways"

it will come back ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer reid helps you when you're (very) overwhelmed, and you might need to return the favour. pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: comfort & smut (18+ mdni) tags: oral (m receiving). praise. established relationship. reader's overwhelmed overstimulated overworked... very enthusiastic head giver!reader. use of honey and angel. they love each other a lot. i love them a lot. i don’t think there’s d/s dynamics but if there are it’s soft dom spencer (nobody’s shocked). word count: 3.1k a/n: thank u sooo much for reading my brain ily i need to give spencer reid head asap. new format/layout for requests sort of its the same as my normal post layout... do we like... i sure freaking hope so. as always lmk if u liked this or even if u didn't but preferably if u did!!

You were exhausted. For three weeks straight, you had been working nonstop, with a wondrous total of eight hours in between shifts. You were hardly sleeping, you had hardly had a social life, hell, you never even had time to enjoy the simple pleasures of an everything shower. You felt groggy, and cramped, and everyday felt like an awful repeat of the last. A nightmare that never ended.

Never mind the fact that you hadn't seen your boyfriend.

Always home too late to be with him in the evenings, and up too early to get coffee with him before your days started. Spencer was so patient with you, regardless. He knew it would end eventually, and he would get his girlfriend back. It was just for the month, was what you would text each other whenever the other began feeling particularly lonely. He didn't even like texting, but the time for a simple phone call wasn't available to you anymore.

And your apartment. Every time you stepped into it you swore a new dirty dish materialised in your sink, or a new pile of clothes sat themselves in your bedroom floor. Which was odd, because you had rotated between the same two outfits for the last eighteen days — your work uniform, or your pyjamas.

You were overwhelmed with it all. Even as your hectic work life came to an end, and you were waking up to the sunlight pouring into your room, instead of an alarm clock while the moon was still up. You were acutely aware of the mess of your apartment, and just the thought of it all left you lying motionless in your bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Tears stung your vision as you felt the seconds tick into minutes, and nothing happened. Attempting to will yourself to get up, and yet you simply couldn't. Exhausted beyond belief, with limbs sinking into the mattress and melding to the sheets.

You faintly heard the click of your front door lock, and if you had any more motivation in you, you'd probably get up to double check it was the only other person who had a key to your apartment, and not a burglar. Thankfully, you didn't have to, for Spencer was calling out your name, gently.

Too exhausted to even reply and alert him of where you were, you lay still until he had found you in your bedroom, his bad dropping by the doorway, feet shuffling against the rug.

"Good afternoon," he said, finding a seat on the edge of your bed, hand resting atop your thigh, gentle circles being rubbed into the skin.

"Is it already afternoon?" you asked him, voice quiet.

"Yeah. How long have you been awake in bed?"

"I don't know," you answered, voice awfully small as you felt the thick weight of frustration with yourself blanket over you. "I need to get up. The apartment's a mess."

"It's allowed to be," he said. "You've been doing sixteen hour days."

"Yeah, but I'm not today. I have the day off."

"Your first day off in weeks. I'd be concerned if you'd spent it productively."

You stared at him, unsure if the irritation that settled in your bones was because of his insistence that you not doing a thing was okay, or your exhaustion. Logically, it would be the latter. You did know that, deep down.

Upon seeing your eyes delve into something a little more desperate, he sighed, hand sliding up to your own, gently tugging you up into a seated position. His eyebrows knitted together at your exhausted look, and you could see his brain ticking behind his eyes.

"Do you want to split the tasks?" he finally asked.

"You don't have to," you shrugged your shoulders. "It's my mess."

"Honey, you're already overwhelmed, and all you've done is wake up," he answered, thumb drawing circles on the top of your hand that he still seemed to have clasped within his own. "Let me help."

"It's really gross."

"I've seen mutilated dead bodies."

"I'd argue my kitchen sink is worse."

"Oh would you?" his eyebrows shot up, lips twitching in amusement, that you found solace in, distracting you slightly from your overstimulated mind. "Do you want to have a shower?"

"Yes," you nodded your head, brain ticking over all the personal hygiene tasks you had been neglecting over the past few weeks.

"How about you go shower, I'll start cleaning up, and you come join me when you're feeling better?"

Despite your aversion to anybody but yourself tackling the mess of your apartment, you knew better than to deny Spencer any further — he had set his mind on helping you.

Sighing, you nodded your head in defeat. He had coaxed you up off the bed, gotten you to the bathroom, even found you a fresh set of clothes to wear, and waited with you for the water to warm up. It was really only once he was absolutely sure you had gotten into the shower, did he leave you be, and disappeared from the bathroom.

Eventually, the apartment had been cleaned, with efforts from the both of you getting it to where it now was.

You were a lot less exhausted, and your brain was a lot less fried now that you didn't have a million tasks catalogued within it to get done.

You were lying in your freshly made bed — courtesy of Spencer. Your head on his chest, fidgeting with one of his hands as he used the other to wave around as he rambled about something you were no longer following. It had started as a simple explanation for why you had been so overwhelmed in the first place. Which you had asked as a rhetoric, but didn't have the heart to stop him when he began explaining.

"You're not listening, are you?" he asked, free hand poking your side and emitting an involuntary laugh from you at the feeling.

"I am, I am! I'm just not following anymore."

"Sorry."

"It's okay," you replied, turning and poking your head up to be level with his. "I like hearing you speak, anyways. Doesn't matter if I don't understand."

He only hummed as a response, and the two of you stared at each other for a beat, before you were breaking out into a smile.

"Hi," you chirped.

"Hello," he answered, perhaps a little too amused by your sudden energy. "Would you like something?"

"A kiss?"

"After all that labour I just put in for you?" he mused, but he was already lifting his head to brush his lips against yours, and was most certainly not pulling away when you eagerly connected them properly.

You pulled back after a few moments, searching his face. "Do you want something for all that labour?"

His hand trailed up your spine, fingertips triggering a shiver to run up your back. "What do you have in mind?"

"I could give you the best head of your life."

He was clearly not expecting that as an offer, perhaps because you never had offered such a thing before. It wasn't even something you had talked about, which was bizarre (in your mind), considering he was quite enthusiastic about using his mouth on you.

"You don't need to do that," he shook his head, but with how close your faces were, you could see the instant dilation in his pupils.

"What if I want to?"

"Then that's very nice of you, but my point still stands," he replied.

"Spencer, let me do something in return," your voice was nothing short of a whine, and if he was any less turned on, maybe it wouldn't have made his firm footed denial falter. Maybe you knew that.

"You could do anything but that."

"So a handjob?"

"Or that."

"You're such an awful liar," you huffed. "I can see your pupils dilating. I know you're turned on by the thought of it."

"It could just be because I'm looking at you," he answered, voice hoarse, no doubt from the arousal he was attempting to deny was there. "Romantic attraction triggers the same response in our hormones."

"But it's not."

He fell silent for a few moments, before he allowed his resolve to slip, shaking his head in agreement with you. "No. It's not."

"See! It's okay if you want it. I'm quite literally offering myself to you," you spouted.

His eyes fluttered shut, and he exhaled through his nose, words coming out through almost gritted teeth. "That's not a sentence you should be saying."

"Why not?"

His only response was to say your name chidingly, and when he reopened his eyes, he was met with the shit-eating grin on your face.

"Brat," he mumbled, lips seeking yours once again.

"Who gives really good head," you hummed against his mouth. "And would really love to show you."

"If you're insisting—"

"Which I am," you quickly interjected, staring back at him as yet another amused smile stretched across his lips. Then, he was nodding his head, and you were quite cheerfully kissing him all over again.

It wasn't that you kissed him with much fever at all — in fact, you were melting into his lips with a gentle hum. It was simply that he was kissing you back with a desperation you should be accustomed to. You weren't.

Every kiss you received from him always felt like he was chipping away at your soul, claiming a piece of it. Maybe he was.

You mewled when his teeth nipped at your lower lip, and he was quick to take the opportunity of slipping his tongue into your mouth. Though, alerted by his sudden control over the situation between you two, you reluctantly pulled your face away from his before it could go much further.

"Excuse me," he breathed out, scoldingly, only to be met with your hundredth grin of the day as you descended down his body. He'd take it — you smiling, albeit cockily, was much more rewarding than the concerned look you had been sporting for the majority of the afternoon.

"I don't do this very often," you told him as you lifted your gaze to his, absentmindedly tugging his pants down his legs.

"I hope not. You've never done it for me, and we've been together for quite a while."

"You know what I mean," you grumbled, and he was forced to poke his tongue into the inside of his cheek to keep the smile off his face.

"Is this comfortable for you?" he then asked, having noticed your constant adjustments of your positioning between his legs. From nerves or comfortability, he didn't know.

"Um. I guess so," you replied. "I've never done it lying down."

"We can do it however you prefer to do it, angel."

"Oh. Okay. Cool," you mumbled, sitting up straight and grabbing his hands within your own, tugging him over towards the edge of the bed.

You sank to your knees on the rug, tapping his knees with your hands to part them so you could situate yourself comfortably between them.

You were a vision if he'd ever seen one, and you weren't even doing anything. Perhaps you had noticed the effect you had on him, or maybe you were just largely enthusiastic about doing something for him, and only him.

Your tongue darted out to lick your lips, eyes flickering up to meet his face, and if this was the last sight he saw before he died, he would have no complaints.

"Have you ever gotten head before?" you mumbled, eyes fixated on him as your hands trailed up the sides of his thighs, resting at the waistband of his boxers.

"Yes."

"Okay," you whispered, quietly, tapping his hips so he could lift them, and you rolled his boxers down his skin.

"Okay?" he parroted.

"Okay," you confirmed with a nod of your head. "I just wanted to know if this is going to be completely new for you or not."

As you spoke, your fingertips dragged along his inner thighs, lips following soon after, kissing up the skin.

"I don't think that's going to matter, honey," he answered, voice breathless.

You smiled, not needing to ask what he meant. You lifted your head back up, studying his face. He gave you a nod, a silent confirmation to allow you to go further, and you took a beat to compose yourself. It's not like he would be mad at you if it sucked, but you had had a far too awful day to not do something good.

You hadn't done this in a while, it was true. So your hesitance came more from your brain figuring out what it actually needed to do, than your insecurities (they were there too).

Insecurities that melted away within an instant, for Spencer's thighs tensed beneath your hands that were now holding them apart the second your lips made contact with his cock, and through your lashes you could see his head tipping back.

Your cheeks warmed at how easy it was to get him to respond, and you wondered if the satisfaction settled in your chest was anything similar to how he felt when he did this to you.

You started hesitant. Gentle kitten licks at his tip that probably shouldn't have been garnering such a large reaction from him. But it was, and you had to preoccupy your mouth to keep the smug smile off of it.

Wrapping your lips around the head, he lets out the breathiest moan you think you've ever heard come from him, and your mind goes hazy. Newfound blind confidence wills you to take more of him in your mouth, and it's a quiet 'Fuck' that compels you even further.

In hindsight, he knew he'd enjoy it. It was you after all. He knew from the world shattering arousal that the simple sight of you on your knees was. He had, in a few short seconds, mentally prepared to enjoy this.

But not this much, and certainly not this quickly.

"I've been too selfless," he muttered as you lifted your head back up, tongue licking a stripe up the underside of him as you did. When you met his gaze in question, he added, "I mean never asking you for this. I should've."

You hummed as a response (it was all you really could do), and the gentle vibrations shot heat throughout his body. A shuddering moan rocked through his body, and if not for your quick response time in pushing his hips down, they would've knocked against your face when he bucked them up.

You hollowed your cheeks, lowering your head back down, and emitting the loveliest of moans from Spencer, whose hand found its way to your hair. Upon the lack of your protests, he made a loose ponytail with his fist, gently tugging on it upwards so you could lift your head.

You flattened your tongue on your ascend, successfully making his already weak grip on your hair go slack, within only seconds of him having grabbed it. Swirling your tongue around the tip of his cock, his hips bucked up again, and you flinched.

"Jesus—fuck, sorry, honey," he rasped, though his guilt was quick to dissipate as he saw your thumbs up against his thigh. Your movements weren't hesitant, anymore. Just slow. Tortuously slow. "Can I..." he trailed off, seemingly becoming unsure of what it was he was asking of you within seconds, but the retightening of his hand in your hair gave you all you needed to know.

You nodded your head the best you could, and he mumbled a quiet 'thank you', allowing you to set a base pace, before taking over.

"So good. Jesus Christ, angel. Where did you learn this? Don't answer that. Don't tell me. Shit."

His rambling was sharp sentences, that didn't really sound like they belonged together, and certainly didn't sound like they should be coming out of his mouth. They weren't the most articulately structured phrases he's ever come up with. A thought that comforted you, because you were doing that to him.

"Fuck," he breathed out, once more, and you came to the mental conclusion you've never heard him swear so much in his life. The thought made your stomach flip.

Fingers dug into your scalp, though not too harshly to hurt. In fact, you were letting out a quiet moan of your own at the feeling, hips wiggling. Even in his state, Spencer noticed, and he smiled.

"You—ah—okay, angel?" he asked you, and you relished in the fact that he couldn't get out sentences without moaning.

Your response was yet another hum, and he was bucking his hips. Again.

You knew he was close for a multitude of reasons; the fact that he had quickened his gentle-turned-firm guidance of your head, his fingers tugging on your hair a little harsher than before, and the ever so lovely, "Jesus Christ—please—oh," leaving his lips, breathlessly.

It was a few more moments of that, before the fingers in your hair went impossibly tight, and the muscles in his thighs locked beneath your hands.

The fact you had never discussed doing this, meant neither of you knew the other's stance on what to do. Thankfully, Spencer was rendered so frenzied that he couldn't do anything.

It was a sickeningly lovely sight; you pulling back and swallowing, some of his come painting your bottom lip. His fingers twitched, before they dropped back to the mattress on either side of his body, his chest heaving just as much as your own.

Lightheaded, you slowly brought yourself back up to your feet, and Spencer's arms were quick to wrap around the backs of your thighs, pulling you into him.

"Best head of your life?" you asked, lowering your lips to brush against his.

"By a mile," he replied.

"Just one mile?"

"Maybe two."

Shooting him a glare, you huffed, and he laughed. "You're never getting head again, then."

He nipped your lower lip. "Okay."

"I'm putting my foot down," you retorted, disliking his lack of belief in your words. "Never again."

"I believe that."

"You should."

"Oh, I do," he hummed, sarcasm in his words making you frown. "Are your knees okay?"

If his goal was to distract you, he succeeded, for your eyes were instantly dropping to your knees, indents from the threads of the rug evident.

"They're okay," you confirmed, squirming as his thumbs rubbed circles into the skin on your thighs.

"Tell me if they're not," he instructed, and you nodded. He stood up, hands sliding up to your waist. "Shower?"

"Shower," you confirmed with a nod, despite the fact that you had showered only a few hours prior. "Can we watch a movie after?"

"Yes."

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