#how about- and hear me out on this- we let people believe what they want to and only try to change their beliefs if it harms people

[mysterymachine67]

HOPE TO GOD THAT THIS TIME FRAME IS STILL THAT FEW HOURS THAT YOUR REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!

pretty please can you write dean x top male reader.. but i want reader to be the most cocky hunter asshole known to man,, like rude, no empathy/sympathy, NOT LIKEABLE at all. LEGIT NOTHING IS GOOD ABOUT READER except his looks, of course. bobby asked reader to help dean with a hunt and with so much bribery, reader agreed. pls sex like in the bathroom of a bar or sex in an abandoned house,, JUST something with a shit ton of degradation and insults. 😈 oh and make reader very rough, I mean VERY.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x M!reader

NSFW. Minors DNI.

HERE YOU GO 🙌🏼. I hope you enjoy this, and it fits your request. Also I’m not to sure if there’s enough degradation 😭 Sorry!

You’re a dick, an asshole, a brutally honest person, someone who doesn’t give a shit about someone else’s feelings, and many other things under those categories. If someone needed to be told the truth, they’d come to you. Even if it meant getting their feeling hurt. You were a well known hunter. If someone were to bring up you in a conversation, or your name was heard, nine times out of ten someone will scoff or scowl. People hated working with you, but you were a damn good hunter so most didn’t have much of a choice. So when Bobby called, asking you to help the Winchesters with a hunt, of course you were gonna be a hard-ass.

“They just need you this one time. Yeah, I know I’ve said that before but this one’s bad. They’ve been on it for a week. They never take that long on a hunt,” Bobby explained. Hoping you’d just quit with the act and accept it already.

“I couldn’t care less of what they need. What good does it for me? Absolutely nothing,” you paused, actually considering whether going or not. “Find somebody else.” You finished, hanging up the phone.

“Damnit,” Bobby cursed. But he wasn’t about to give up. It was Bobby for fucks sake.

Your phone rang again. You let out an irritated sigh, shooting your phone a look. C’mon, this was the least you could. So after a few seconds of letting it ring, you finally picked it up. Answering it, and putting it up to your ear. “What?” You snapped.

“Could you please just help them out? Hell, I’ll even buy you whatever drink you want after. They just need help, no matter how hard they refuse to admit it.” Bobby pleaded.

“Fucking— you know what? Fine. Where are they?” You finally, finally agreed. Bobby whispered a quiet ‘Oh, thank God’ when you responded.

“They’re in Erie, Pennsylvania. Hunting down something they’ve never heard of. They called me for help but I ain’t got nothin’ but a steaming pile of shit.”

“Alright, give ‘em a call for me would you? I’ll be on my way.” You grumbled, beginning to get up and pack the things that needed to be packed. Once one of you hung up the phone you shoved it back into your pocket.

—

The drive there was calm, and relaxing. Something you needed. Nobody talking your ear off, being annoying, or anything of that sort. Peace and fucking quiet. That was until you arrived at the motel they were staying at. The moment you knocked on the door and Dean opened it he shut it. Right in your face. And best believe that pissed you off.

“Oh, hell no,” Dean exclaimed. “Nuh uh. Nope. Not doing it. He can fucking leave.”

“Dean, it’s only for a few days. I don’t like him either but we need the help.” Sam said, attempting to calm his irritated older brother. Dean, knowing he won’t win this argument, decided he was going for a drive. Also going to complain to Bobby, because what the fuck?

“Whatever. You can deal with his shit on your own.” He said, walking toward the door that you were currently talking shit behind. The moment he opened it he pushed past you. Hearing him say ‘move’ in the process. You surprisingly didn’t say anything. Deciding to be mature and walk into the motel room.

“Sorry about him. This hunt hasn’t been the best—“ Sam started.

“Yeah, I know. Otherwise I wouldn’t fucking be here.”

You caught Sam off guard. Over the course of time you saw them last he forgot how you were. “Listen man, I understand you’re upset but don’t take that out on me.”

Kicking the door shut behind you, you grumbled stuff under your breath; clearly not caring. Meanwhile, Dean was pretty far from the motel. Arguing with Bobby over the phone while music played faintly.

“Dean, please you need him for this hunt.”

“He’s a huge asshole! We can handle this hunt ourselves. It’s nothing we haven’t done before!” Dean nearly shouted.

“Bullshit! You’ve been stuck on this for a week. You should be thanking me that I called him. Now, get your ass back to those books!” Bobby quipped, pressing the button to stop the call. Still irritated, Dean decided to stay out for a little longer. Calming and preparing himself to deal with you for more than twenty-four hours. When he returned you and Sam had been looking at lore books for the longest time. Your eyes began to hurt. Though the sound of the door opening and shutting brought your attention back to reality. “About fucking time. We could’ve used your help.” You scolded. All Dean did was shoot Sam a look. Sam shook his head, hoping that Dean took it as him suggesting for him to brush it off. He did. Rolling his eyes and sitting at the end of the bed.

“What do we got?”

Then the both of you began to explain what you’ve came up with in the past two hours Dean had been gone.

—

You guys pretty much stayed up all night. Getting only about two hours of sleep. You ended up bunking with them, staying on the couch. Of course not without hearing Dean’s complaints. You were in the bathroom, currently. Changing your clothes and getting ready for the day. Just as you unbuckled your belt, and began pushing down your jeans the door opened. It was Dean. “Oh, shit. Sorry.” He said, quickly. But couldn’t help himself with catching a quick glimpse of your body.

You caught it. Of course you did. “You gonna take another look or are you gonna close the door?” You pointed out. “I wasn’t looking at you, you’re crazy.” Dean said, shutting the door rather harshly. You laughed to yourself, then continued to change. “Whatever you say.”

Once all of you were ready to leave and go find out more things, you all walked out the door. You noticed Sam and Dean got closer together while walking toward Dean’s car. Dean was whispering something to him. “I don’t want him in my car.”

“It won’t be the first, and it definitely won’t be the last. You’ll be fine.” Sam replied. You couldn’t care about what they were saying. It was probably about you. No, definitely about you.

You guys drove around all damn day. It was late and you guys didn’t get jack shit. Well, you found out a few more useful things, of course. But Sam pointed out a pattern last minute and you guys had to turn around to this random house. It was pretty much in the middle of nowhere, but there were a few houses around it. Not that it made it any better. Sam, deciding that you and Dean need to get on better terms, put you two as partners to check out one singular house. While he went off to check out a different one across the street. The moment he walked away you swung your arm around Dean’s shoulder.

“Just me and you. Alone. So dreamy, isn’t it?” You teased. “Get off me.” He grunted while shrugging you off. Then you trailed after him into the house. Mind you, these houses are abandoned. By the looks of it no one has lived in them for years. So maybe you’d finally catch whatever you guys have been hunting. Once inside Dean spoke up. “You take down here, I’ll go upstairs.” You agreed, there was no reason to argue.

You found nothing downstairs. So you decided to go upstairs to Dean, see if he needs any help with anything. Just as you started to walk up the worn stairs you heard a loud thud followed by a grunt. Your feet started to move faster. You won’t admit it but you nearly tripped up the stairs. Once you got to the room Dean was in, you brought out your gun. Not knowing if the thing he was fighting would even reaction to the bullet, or if it’d even affect it. Turns out it did do something. It vanished into thin air, leaving you and a nearly out of breath Dean. “What the fuck was that?”

“I’m not sure, but whatever it was seemed to be affected by the gun,” he paused to take in a breath. “That’s a plus.” At lunch, you guys found out whatever this thing was can be stopped by a sigil. And you soon found out that Dean attempted to draw one.

Dean had drawn a sigil, yes, but it wasn’t working for some reason. “I don’t know why it didn’t work. The book said it would!” He exclaimed. So you took a look at it. Almost immediately noticing how he messed up a line. “Well if you’d fucking do it right,” you grumbled, fixing it. Dean had drawn these things for his whole life, and now he’s messing up? How does that make sense? Well, he’s just now come to realize that whenever you help them out with a hunt he always fucks up on something. Whether it’s something little or big. One time, he fucked up a ritual, another he forgot holy water. There are many other times. Dean cursed under his breath before fully speaking up.

“Stop being a dick, alright? Seriously. It’s annoying.” Dean said, watching as you fixed the sigil. “Well we wouldn’t be here if you didn’t mess up. We could’ve told Sam that you got rid of it, then went home,” you paused, but had one more sentence ready to roll of off your tongue. “Always fuckin’ something up.”

“It’s not like I meant to! God, have some empathy.” Dean nearly shouted. You decided not to respond. Standing up once you were done and turning to face Dean. You got close, really close. And Dean just let you. Hell, all he was doing was staring at your features. Your eyes, your nose, your lips. Especially your lips. But he wouldn’t admit that. “I don’t give a shit what you meant to do. I care about getting this done and going fucking home.” You whispered, lips barely touching his.

Okay, he was starting to get a boner. But so what? You don’t know, at least he thinks you don’t know. But you do. Of course you do because your you. So you know what you do? You press your lips against his, harshly. Your hand going straight down to cup his dick, squeezing probably a little too hard. But Dean loved it. You pushed him back against a fully built wall. Not one where it was coming apart. Dean moaned into your mouth, hips pushing into your hand. When you pulled away to breathe you held his bottom lip in between your teeth. Then let go once you’ve stretched it back far enough, watching as it snapped back to place. You heard Dean groan in response.

“Fucking slut. You like getting yelled at? Like getting called out for the shit you’ve done, huh?”

All Dean did was whine and fuck his hips into your hand. You couldn’t lie, your dick was starting to leak from how Dean was reacting. You wanted to do something about it, no, had to. So you pushed your lips against his again. The hand that was one his crotch undid his belt and pants, then you used both hands to push down his pants and boxers all in one swift motion. The feel of the cold air on his throbbing, twitching cock made him wince. You didn’t care. Moving to undo your own pants yourself.

Your cocked bobbed once it was free. “Fuck, baby, you see what you do to me?”

Dean swallowed. “You gonna fuck me good? Make me feel what you did to me even days after?”

“Course.” You replied, knowing that you’ll keep that promise you just made. Before Dean could respond, you spit in your hand then proceeded to reach down and grip his cock. Your spit and his pre worked well together, creating nearly the perfect lube. Dean cursed under his breath—letting out a broken moan and making his head go back. With his head going back you saw it as an opening to go for his neck, so that’s what you did. Pressing opened mouth kisses, and soon sucking hickeys. Which was a complete bad idea because you guys were not supposed to be fucking, instead hunting. In the heat of the moment Dean didn’t seem to care, but you know once he realizes he’ll flip, and you’ll be in deep shit. But that’s a future problem.

His hands quickly scrambled to your shoulders when your pointer finger and thumb squeezed his tip. You don’t know why you did it, perhaps just for the fun of it. Dean refused to let you hear anymore noises from him. So, he turned to biting his lip instead. Though that did very little once you took his legs, propped them up on your hips, and spit on your fingers.

“Oh, fuck..” Dean whispered.

“What? Can’t take some dick? I’d assume you could, y’know? With all those people you’d fuck,” you paused, and without any warning shoved a finger into his hole. “I wouldn’t be surprised if one of those girls wanted to reverse the roles. Ya catch my drift?” A teasing smile playing on your face. All Dean did was groan and wince.

You didn’t care, only using him for your own pleasure. Did he know that? Maybe. Maybe not. His reaction only made you want to add the second a lot quicker, but you decided to wait a few seconds. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he quickly blinked them away. While your finger worked you went back to his neck. Pressing kisses, biting and sucking hickeys. When you added the second? Oh, he about made sure Sam could hear him from across the street. Moaning and groaning so damn loud.

“Shut up. I mean, unless you wanna get caught, then I can make that happen,” you leaned in closer to his ear. “Besides, you’re just going to be showing your brother what kind of a slut you really are.”

And to that Dean let out a drawn out groan. “Fuck you,” he spat.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Me talking down on you. Who knew that the big, bad Dean Winchester likes being degraded.” You continued to annoy him because why not? Something that you picked up when you have sex with someone is that although you can be an asshole during it, it turns out to be the best sex they’ve ever had. For you it was just another reason to be cocky.

You soon add the third, not caring if he was ready for it or not. Or maybe it was because you forgot? Oh well. Either way he’s got three fingers up his ass, and he seemed to be enjoying it. But the grip that he’s holding on your shoulders was tight. Not that you really minded it. Once he was nice and prepped you spit into your hand again. Making sure it was enough to lube your cock up, but even if it wasn’t your pre helped. Making your hand glide up and down your dick. Then, you aligned your tip with his hole, and started pushing in agonizingly slow.

“Fuckfuckfuck..” is all that you heard in your ear. You stopped about half way, not to give Dean a moment but because he felt so fucking tight even though you’ve prepped him. Your hand went to his cock—beginning to stroke him. Meanwhile you soon began to push your hips forward, pushing your cock deeper till you bottomed out. The added pleasure causing Dean to let out a broken moan. He chased after your lips. Feeling a sense of an overwhelming need to feel you closer to him. The kiss was rough, heated. The both of you loved every minute of it. Teeth clanking together, breaking away to breathe for a quick moment before pushing your lips together again, the harsh pull of someone’s bottom lip while the other pulled away. When you pulled away to look at Dean, his lips were swollen and even more pink than before. Not that it mattered, just something you noticed.

Also, throughout the whole time you two were kissing, Dean had gotten drawn closer to cumming. The mix feeling of your cock driving in and out of him, and the glide of your hand in his cock all made it much easier. To which he soon came with a moan that died down to a whimper. His cock twitching and throbbing within your hold as white spurts of cum got onto his shirt. Which is another problem you two need to fix before regrouping with Sam. You could practically feel him pulsating in your hand. He nearly panted into your mouth with how close you two were. Your thrusts didn’t let up and neither did your hand. Even when he started to warn you about the overwhelming sensation he was beginning to feel.

“Okay— I..uhm!” It was obvious Dean started to speak, but once your cock hit his prostate it turned into a hum. With Dean getting more squirmy, it made it difficult to keep him up in your grip. “Uh, uh. I haven’t even came yet. You’re gonna have to wait.” You reminded. Your thrusts got more faster and rough with you nearing your orgasm. That bullet must’ve really affected whatever that was, because you two have been going at it for quite some time. Hopefully Sam moved onto a different house by now, and not questioning where you two were.

“Who,” you say, following up with a thrust to match when you spoke. “Knew that Dean, a complete ladies man, can take some cock? Your like a bitch in heat. Every time I hunt with you guys, you’re always going away to fuck some whore while Sam’s doin’ all the work.” With one, two more thrusts and your cock abusing his prostate, the both of you came at the same time. You letting out a groan and Dean letting out a whimper. The feeling of your cum painting his walls made him clench, which caused you to let out a grunt. The two of you were panting, breathing heavily. You still had some stamina. Dean on the other hand you weren’t to sure of.

But to you, it wouldn’t be fair if he got to cum twice, and you only got to cum once. So you moved the both of you to a sturdy looking table. Hopefully it didn’t collapse with the added weight of Dean. Anyway, you set him down on it. He was on his back and his legs automatically wrapped back around your waist. But you wanted to switch up, grabbing his legs and hooking them over both your shoulders. You gave no warning—slowly beginning to push your cock into him again before starting to speed up. Dean let out a groan, closed his eyes and put his head back. His eyebrows drawn up slightly. You wouldn’t admit it but it was beautiful. Reducing a man that was stubborn and feared by most, to a squirmy, panting, and whimpering mess. It was like you earned a trophy.

“What? You thought we were done?” You scoffed. Tightening your grip on his thighs to the point where he’d probably bruise. Not a problem for you but a problem for him. “We— oh, God.” Dean breathed out. He swallowed before finishing his sentence. “We have to get back. What if something happened to Sam. What if-“

“None of that. Sam can handle himself.” You attempted to reassure. Which probably did not work but hey, you tried. Your hands trailed down his thighs to his sides. Which caused you to move your body down on top of his, of course you made sure to keep his legs on your shoulders. It helped push your cock deeper into him. And oh, the face he made nearly made you cum on the spot. Your lips brushed over his jawline, pressing kisses all the way down to his neck. Which already had marks in which you made not to long ago. You decided to give him one more, or maybe two. One by his collarbone and one on his inner thigh.

You should probably be thinking of ways to help him hide the very few marks on his neck and down, but instead you can’t help but think of how much of a whore he is, and how good he feels around you. It was like he was made for you. Dean’s jaw hung open but no sound came out. His hands gripped the edge of the table, he wouldn’t be surprised if he were to get a splinter. He tried to keep his mind off of the fact that he was currently getting fucked so, so good and his brother was probably working his ass off, but it was difficult. The feeling of guilt slowly started to seep into his body. But when you hit the spot within him, and soon spilled into him once more, it took his mind off of the thought. Dean arched his back and clenched his jaw; not daring to let out any noise for you. Even though he’d been doing it for nearly the whole time you’ve been having sex. You stayed buried in him till the both of you got your breathing under control.

You pulled out with a soft moan. Dean looked like he was about to fall asleep. So you playfully slapped his face a few times. Surprisingly the only thing he did was make a face. “Up.” You said. Soon enough after a few seconds he pulled himself up, the table creaking. How were you gonna clean this up? Who knew. But you two would figure it out. For the dried cum in his shirt you suggested he button up his jacket until you guys got back. Other than that you two found a way to clean everything.

—

The two of you walked out of the house. The earlier activities causing Dean to walk with a very clear limp. With the thing you guys faced it must’ve moved on, but once you met up with Sam again he explained that he got rid of it.

“What’s up with you?” Sam asked Dean, a look of confusion displayed on his face.

“He tripped.” You answered for him. Earning a small ‘huh’ and a look up and down at Dean from Sam. Then all of you walked toward the car. Ready for a shower, sleep, and maybe even a celebration at a nearby bar.

—

About an hour later once all of you took showers and changed clothes, you brought up how you all earned a nice drink and some food. In response to that, you all got in the car and drove to a nearby bar. Dean was the first to order food, then Sam, then you. While you all waited Sam started a conversation.

“So..why’d you guys take so long in the house? I cleared mine in like fifteen minutes, and I’m only one person.” He scoffed.

“Uhm, difficulties,” Dean answered, though it sounded more like a question rather than statement.

“We were pretty taken back when we got attacked by it. It caught us off guard, so we took some time to get back on our feet.” You lied. And it was quite concerning how good you lie, but it was a nice feature to have. Sam hummed in response, deciding it was a pretty good reason. “Well, I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” You announced, getting up from your seat.

The moment you started to unzip your pants the door opened. You didn’t turn around to look, focusing on emptying your bladder. But then hands went to your hips. It caught you off guard and you were ready to start throwing punches, but once a familiar voice whispered into your ear, you relaxed a bit.

“Did you come back for more? Can’t get enough of me, can you?” You teased. Letting out a small laugh.

“Shut up,” Dean paused. “Just need to…release some pressure.” You zipped back up your pants, clearly not being able to piss in peace. But you knew you’d probably be unzipping them sooner or later again. With a shake of your head you pushed him into a stall. Locking it then shoving him against it. You pressed your lips against his. Your hands ran down his chest all the way to his belt. Unbuckling it and breaking away from the kiss.

“Gotta make this quick,” you reminded. The minute you got his cock free and started to jerk him off he let out a sigh, and let his head go back against the stall door. His hips instinctively pushing up into your hand. “Can’t even keep it in your pants for a few hours. I thought you were better than this, Dean.” The mix of your tone and the way his name rolled off of your tongue he couldn’t help but whine. Your dick started to get hard in your pants, unfortunately you didn’t want to do anything with it. Just a quick handjob for a guy who can’t help himself. He got close, quick. Just as he let out a moan you heard the door to the bathroom open. Quickly moving your free hand to his mouth. Luckily the guy did his business quickly, but for Dean it felt like forever. Even though your hand was still moving up and down his throbbing cock. Speaking of which, the familiar feeling made itself known in Dean. The moment the person left you moved your hand, and Dean let out a small whine. He chased after his orgasm. Thrusting his hips up involuntarily to feel more. More noises spilled from his lips; a lot frequent and louder.

Just a few more jerks of your hand and—

You pulled back.

“Oh— what the hell?” He groaned. His cock throbbed and jumped, begging for release and attention. But you simply gave him a kiss, moved him out of the way and walked out of the bathroom. Returning to your seat at the table with Sam and leaving Dean with a hard-on. All you could say or think was that it wasn’t your problem.

“Everything all good?” Sam asked.

“Perfect.” You answered.

[universe-friday]

EXCERPT #76:

[Quiet sobs]

Hello… Old sport, are you listening?

It… It was… Za… Solus… They’re…

[Shaky, deep breath] Okay. I’m okay.

Old sport, I’ve not told you all of the horrors I’ve seen in Universe City.

I know I’ve shared my encounters with various different creatures that inhabit the City’s streets, but… I never told you about the skies.

I’ve had an interesting past. That shouldn’t surprise you much… But maybe this will.

I hope you never thought Thalia was my first love… No, no, there were many before.

They came from all different walks of life… Different backgrounds, genders, species…

There was Zahar. He was a… new experience for me at the time. He let me learn so much about outside of the City.

He never let me join him on his adventures.

But I enjoyed learning about his culture, meeting his friends, his family… They were such a unique group of people, each seemingly having their own ability and talent they train for their whole life. Zahar was really good at impressions.

The reason we broke up really was entirely my fault. He found out I only started dating him to see if he would help me escape the City… After a while, I realised he would never, yet, at that point, I loved him.

You see, old sport, you should never date an alien for the wrong reasons.

The whirring, excruciating noise you must’ve been hearing over the radio, old sport, it was the tractor beam of Zahar’s ship.

It didn’t take me too long afterwards to realise exactly who and what was happening. He fixed the sinkholes, he was messing up the City’s atmosphere, knowing I’d be the one to notice. Except, I wasn’t the only one… Solus noticed too.

I got so ahead of myself… But that noise… The whirring… I can’t believe I didn’t realise I had heard it before…

I went to call out to Zahar and confront him, but… I looked in front of me… And he had this radio… Sitting on a desk with a microphone…

It was hard to take your eyes off the tank behind it… The green liquid affected with red… Sol- [sob] They… Lifeless. Limp.

I couldn’t hold myself back.

I don’t know what I did. I don’t know how I did it.

One moment, I was searching for Zahar in the control room. The next, I was scrambling for a instruction manual.

I wanted to fly out of the City. For good. Finally.

But… My hands were shaking and I… I…

There’s a crater where a sinkhole used to be.

One of the furthest away ones, thankfully.

Everything was destroyed, the… The ship was rubble. I don’t know how I survived.

But Solu… That tank was the only thing preserved.

I took one last look. It didn’t look like them.

They weren’t angry… nor putting on a tough face… nor even… sad.

They looked peaceful. Content.

After all, they got out… They escaped Universe City.

That’s all any of us really want… Isn’t it?

[...]

[sugurouge]

🏓 today i am here to ask you about calcharo 🌝 however i am asking you to dump your lore because i want to know all of it (i played wuwa for 2 weeks and have no idea where to start with more specific questions)

aeris . . . what if i say this ask makes me incredibly happy because all i might implode with my calcharo thoughts !! there's a decent bit of lore already, so please, buckle up

we begin our dynamic as something exclusively transactional. being an oracle, i offer insights nobody else can provide. he first comes to me seeking information—missions, enemy movements, predictions on what the future holds. he doesn’t believe in fate, doesn’t trust people, and certainly doesn’t put his money on cryptic wisdom. but i tell him what he needs to hear: straight to the point, unemotional, always one step ahead. what infuriates him is how correct i always am >:D

while at first he came to me in disbelief (someone else recommended me to him) he grows to truly appreciate my info and how it can prevent unnecessary loss on his side

one visit turns into another, then another... time passes and calcharo keeps coming back. at first, it's always only for missions

since i never pry into anyone's business (i've learnt a long time ago that i don't want to know people's answers and their secrets) he sort of enjoys my company and how reliable i am. on top of that do i offer him some banging tea and cookies instead of questions and pressure

we don't talk about personal things, not directly. but between the lines of our conversations there is a quiet understanding. a careful, fragile trust, perhaps

i have already seen the things that haunt him, so i never force him to talk, yet i do allow him to stop by when he feels like escaping. a place where he is not needed but simply allowed to be

calcharo's walls are built from years of betrayal and loss, so while he can be kind to strangers, he doesn't let people in because he knows how easily they can disappear. though i kind of prove that i could be a constant. a fixed point in his world

neither of us realise when we start falling for another. but suddenly we are on another's minds. suddenly i'm worried about him during his missions, suddenly he yearns for my tea and presence. his feet take him to me without purpose, simply because he doesn't want to be anywhere else :>

he tries to fight it at first, doesn't want to truly let someone new in and puts distance between us, uses sharp words meant to push me away just to see if i would stay. but i'm not really that emotional of a person and i see through him a little too effortlessly and let him run off, let him hide. i have lived years on my own, i won't succumb because of a scared man no matter if i like him ... and slowly, like a scared cat, he comes around again

our eventual relationship is never about grand gestures. there is no dramatic confession. it’s in the little things like truly paying attention to another's words and gestures. how i always leave a space for him, even if he never says he'll return for example. we are not a verbal couple, we prove it through actions. the first time he lets his guard down is when he shows up, injured and exhausted, and allows me to tend to his wounds. the fact that he actively seeked me out instead of staying with his ghost hounds is quite a telling gesture. it's also rather exhilarating to be looking after him and to be able to touch him skdak 😏

neither of us ever fully confesses. we won't say "i love you" until way into our relationship... instead there is just the morning after his sudden visit when we wake up in another's arms and his eyes convey all the gratefulness his mouth won't speak ahhhh

in that understanding, we find something neither of us expected—a bond that does not break. we both learn to open up, to trust, to desire, to be greedy with another and he's KDJSAKLdak HES VERY GOOD AT BEING POSSESSIVE ILL TELL YOU THAT

through my bond with calcharo, i find myself less of an outsider / observer and more dragged into the conflicts of the world. do i like it? not very much :s

[keelt9]

Chapter 7

Masterlist

This is pretty much like her childhood, staying up late at night with her parents at the entrance observing the bright sparkling stars as they swing in the rocking chair.

Now with Monet covered in his big sweater, a pre Christmas gift from her father under them.

“Is a nice guy?” Mr. Rotherham asks, grabbing his daughter's hand.

Y/N giggles seeing under them. “Dad, you know him, Monet is such a good boy.”

“Come on honey, don’t play the fool with your father.” He searches for something in his pocket.

When he found it, he gave it to her, the cute drawing of a bengal with a tiny heart next to it. 

“At least you had a tiger in your house. I highly doubt this is for an animal.” She laughs, letting her head rest on his father's shoulder.

“Dad…” 

Mr. Rotherham can picture his wife standing in the window hearing them encouraging her husband to keep talking with their daughter.

“Listen darling, I want you to know you can talk with me, I know, I'm not the best at talking about things, but you can tell me anything and…” He scoffs at kissing his daughter's hand. “Probably I'll have the worst advice in the world but, at least you know what you don't do.” 

Y/N laughs and breathes in. “Mom was amazing with the talking thing.”

Her father nods. “Still I appreciate the effort dad, but believe me there is not so much to talk about, in summary, I like him, he likes me too but…”

She takes her time seeing the stars. “But I guess it’s not the right time or maybe we aren’t the right people?”

“Y/N…”

She sees her father. “Could you trust a possibility? With the high chances a lot of thighs would go wrong.”

Mr. Rotherham wished he had the words she needed to hear, because his wife for sure would have it.

Y/N chuckles observing her father and all his neurons trying to find an answer. “Want a reason for rejecting him, right now.”

“Please, that would be so helpful.” Y/N sees Monet hiding his face in his bed. 

“Don't take in count Monet and he for sure prefers to see the dogs far away from his face.” Mr. Rotherham opens his mouth in disbelief.

“A cat boy huh?” Y/N nods. “Wise decisions darling, wise ones.”

Y/N laughs hugging her father, as Monet barks in his dreams. 

It's been 2 days since Joe's birthday and he seems in a bad mood, even if he tries to fake it.

The season is almost over and their chances to get the playoffs stopped depends on them, and he hates being in that spot.

His mind is so cloudy for those thoughts that makes him open the door after it has been knocked, without even caring who is at the other side.

Not until a small candle in the middle of a pumpkin pie lights his face.

“Happy post-birthday!” Y/N is wearing a hairband with the letters <Happy birthday> as his sight goes down Monet has a small cap.

“What?” He giggles seeing such a scene.

“Make a wish, right baby?” The word baby makes Joe's heart stop but when he raises his eyes, notice that word, of course, is directed to Monet who barks right away.

Joe smirks, he knows he needs to work for that word

After blowing the candle, Y/N was taken out of guard, he grabbed her by the arm to pull her for a hug, keeping her pressed to his chest, letting all the clouds in his mind fade away, feeling calm.

She sobs his back, feeling how his muscles relax.

“Hard weeks?” Y/N asked, grabbing tight the pumpkin pie as Monet kept moving his tail side to side.

“I’m glad you're here.” Monet barks. “Both of you.” 

Y/N smiles splitting apart seeing the dark under circles eyes from Joe eyes, strangely make the blue of his eyes turn more grey.

“And I'm a little offended.” She tilted his head. “A pumpkin pie that size?”

Joe points to the small pie. “Really?”

Y/N laughs head backwards. “I'm sorry, this was the only size, besides, you’re the one who keeps us standing in the front door in a col…”

Joe smirks, dragging her inside of the house as he calls Monet to get inside too; so happy  be with her one more time.

With later an improvised dinner, they sit with Monet in front of the big windows, seeing the sky going darker and darker every second.

“Oh before I forgot.” Y/N stands taking her key cars, but not her coat; after all it's just a quick stop to her car.

Joe sees Monet sitting tipping his paws ready for any indication that his owner gives to him.

“Oh, it's freezing!” Y/N goes inside with a small square between her cold hands.

Joe giggles putting a blanket over her shoulders. “Here! It's a present from both of us.”

Her excitement is visible so he decides to tease her opening carefully, slowly a small canva takes form; when he finally sees it, a big “Whoa!” Comes immediately.

It's the painting of him sitting with his pink hoodie and his black beanie, in the bench with a clear sky and the sunlight peeking through the branches with the green leaves, at the corner the paw in black and white of Monet.

“What do you think?” Y/N waits with curious eyes observing Joe's smile growing bigger.

Joe touches the canva feeling the edge of the brush-stroke from every change of color, the exact details from the bench and you could miss it if you don't have attention but a small football ball next to him.

“You're amazing!” By instinct, due to containing emotions or just because he knows it's the perfect moment, he gives her a quick pack in her cheek. 

Y/N covers her eyes feeling her face could easily burn if you touch it. “I tried to finish earlier but two weeks ago there were a lot of details missing, I wanted to be almost perfect.”

“Almost?” Joe raises the canva. “It's perfect! I love it.”

Seeing Joe so mesmerized by something she did is a moment she wants to treasure forever, her soft smile on his lips and his bright eyes is such a scene for her.

However her heart palpitation brings her back to the heart, one more second staring at him and she swears she will spill her feelings for him. "I must go." 

Y/N stands taking the blanket over her shoulders. "I have a lot to unpack and some things of work that I must check."

Joe turns his eyes to her and stands too.

"See you tomorrow." Y/N choke her head calling Monet.

"Monet only." Monet sits moving his head to his owner and Joe.

Joe let down his shoulders. "Sorry Joe, probably I'll have endless mails, I need to send some sketches, without counting the ones that are already concrete..." 

Monet laid his head on Joe's leg, making him scratch softly on his head. As tricky as it sounds, if he took a quick glimpse at her, he could notice the way Y/N is looking at them.

"Friday?" Joe said, lift his sight.

Y/N nods walking to grab her coat. "Like always."

As she said, Monet came running the next morning, with a visible freezing Savannah following him.

"Hey buddy." Monet waits for the sing so he can stand on two legs and kisses on the top of his head. "Hi Sav."

Savannah takes the football ball from the bag. "Burrow."

"Is she already working?" Joe asked, taking the ball, pressing it between his hands.

The park has Christmas lights all over the place, giving to the sunrise a special spark every morning, with the sunlights perking over the trees, the place is magical.

Savannah smiles, putting her hands in her pockets. 

"I believe I see my best friend somewhere behind the tower's papers and a few electronic things.” Joe laughs before throwing the ball. 

The fact Monet is so happy to see him even if they just spend time playing makes her curious about how this could start.

“So, Joe, how did you meet this cute little boy?” Joe lifts his eyebrows seeing the size of Monet, far from little.

“Well…” Joe chuckles. “He hates me and I was afraid of him. The first time we saw each other he came and sat there.” 

He points to the small bump of the hill where the breeze hits and the sunlight keeps you warm, unless it’s summer, if you stand there you could get a sunburn. 

“I kept my distance every time he arrived and he just walked next to the bench, sniffs in my direction and walks to lay on the hill; ignoring me all the time.” Savannah laughs, that’s exactly what Y/N does every time she meets someone and tries to approach her.

Observing the person, fakes a smile and processes to ignore it all the time, until she finds something to talk about.

“Then…” She mentions as sees Monet tapping his paws, Joe hasn’t thrown the ball all this time, he smirks and throws it. 

“One day, the sun disturbed him, so he lay next to the bench; he was a puppy and I couldn't avoid smiling. I sat next to him, he saw my hand with the cast and sniffed it carefully.” Monet walks back with the ball in his snout. “He lays his head on my lap next to my hand.” Savannah smiles. “I guess that 's all begins…”

“It makes sense.” Savahaan nods. “It’s hard to know who trained him better, you or Y/N.” 

Joe goes down for a stroke Monet spotted fur, observing the pink bandanna around his neck, his present for his first birthday.

“I guess she's doing an extraordinary job.” Savannah mentions admiring the connection between those two.

“Yeah, she’s extraordinary.” Joe said with a soft tone and sheepy eyes, not referring at all to the job of Y/N with Monet. 

Savannah wants to scream at that moment because that confirms that whatever he said that night drunk probably has more than a glimpse of truth.

“I’m here!” Nora said, taking her backpack as she entered the Y/N house. “Here.” Carrying a paper bag.

Y/N takes her glasses; the three towers of paper now are two. “Hi.” She narrowed her eyes when she gave the paper bag. “Your sister said don’t buy anything.”

Nora raises her hands. “I didn’t. I found the delivery guy in the entrance about to knock.”

If for delivery boy she refers to Joe taking her to the house after Nora suggests he bought something for Y/N eat, due she tends to skip the meals when she does that amount of work, yes, he was a delivery boy.

“I didn’t order anything.” Nora shakes her head picking up the files around Y/N. 

“I don’t know.” She put it next to Y/N. “Hey, I have homework. I’ll be in the living room, ok?” 

Y/N nods. “Sav will be here in 20 with Monet and the food.”

“Got it!” 

Nora stands next to the frame door trying to hear something as Y/N opens the paper bag. 

A smoothie and healthy snacks, at the bottom of the bag a pink note that makes her scoff. 

 >Drink it! It helps you to stay awake without the need of a coffee.” 

The attempt of a drawing of an ice cube in the corner, when she lifts the cup to take a sip she notices another note.

 > I MEAN IT!

This time a laugh escapes from her, making Nora high five mentally.

Y/N texts Joe when she drinks all the smoothie, the empty cup with a simple text. 

 >It was delicious, thank you.

In his half sleep state Joe let a soft chuckle escape from him, one last time before going to sleep.

“It tastes like red.” Joe giggles as Monet lay on their feets. 

“That’s not even a flavor” Y/N rolls her eyes at him, feeling the sunlights warm them.

Last night a small sleet fell all over the city, without even them having to ask if they would go or not to the park. Both of them, well wrapped up, appeared in the morning in the park sitting and sharing a blanket. 

“Well, it has what? Strawberries, raspberries, and what red beet?” She said covering Monet with the blanket even though he has a sweater.

“Oh, such a good palate.” Joe jokes with her. “Still you forgot blueberries”

She scoffs. “That’s not red, I’m not counting that.” 

“It has a little bit of red.” Y/N shakes her head, taking her phone to prove him wrong but Joe sees her screen.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Y/N looked at her phone but it’s too late. 

“It's not a donut.” She tries to focus the attention on another topic, knowing it’s useless. 

Joe clicks his tongue. “Ha, ha, ha, you saw it, I know.” So she gives up when she sees his eyes hiding like every time he purely smiles. 

“Are you kidding me?” She takes a huge amount of courage and prying things doesn’t turn awkward. “See…. You're my happy lock screen.” 

The photo of Ja’Marr splattering the donut in his face is her lockscreen, one of Joe small presents of his birthday.

“Don’t feel bad but there is a better point of view.” Joe leans, letting his face be just centimeters of hers, she didn't notice, until she was about to turn around to complain for not having it when her words stuck on her throat seeing Joe that close. 

She had him like this, close, just this time it feels different; his eyes are shiny blue like always but they looking at her with a soft spark, the red tip of his nose makes her bite a little bit her lip, along the fact he had that side smile on his face and his beanie makes her heart flutter.

For Joe isn’t too different, she’s had her red cheeks, her eyes wide open in surprise but unable to move from his face making him nervous but impossible to contain the smile and her button lip bitten, just a little bit is dead to him.

If he would dare, he would just need to lean towards and kiss her; she was just a few centimeters of distance. She wouldn't step back, she would accept it and follow him...

If they had one more second…

Monet came out of the blanket sniffing around making Y/N finally take her distance taking a deep breath calming her breath and her heart.

Monet walks around the bench making Y/N stands trying to get herself together one more time, but it takes more time than usual. 

Joe won’t let it pass that chance, he simply can’t.

“Y/N, can w…” His words stuck in his throat when Monet barks jumping around Y/N in a clear sign of joy.

A squirrel comes running down a tree; fun fact, Monet is a fan of the squirrels; he rarely sees one in the city but in Y/N fathers house, he can see them daily.

“Did I ever tell you Monet loves squirrels?” Y/N laughs seeing Monet's front legs stretch and his but up in the sky, he wants to play with the squirrel. “Sorry baby, these are fancy ones.” 

The squirrel sees Monet and runs back in the tree, making Monet whining standing in the tree. 

“Let’s go baby.” Y/N takes the leash of her bag skim Joe chest with her arm. “It’s time for Joe to go training, right?”

Joe nods, the time has passed. <Damn it squirrels.> He cursed in his mind.

“Take some rest Joe, I know you love being locked in the office but, just take a rest.” Y/N smiles with press lips.

Monet waits in front of Joe as he patted his head, making him giggle. “Take care of her, ok? She’s getting more cuts in those fingers.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes feeling the 3 band aids Joe put on her a few minutes ago. “Yes, sir.” 

Joe laughs seeing Y/N walks with their matching black bandanna; Monet around his neck, she over her head.

Joe follows her until she gets lost in the few snowflakes falling from the sky, with a burning sensation over his chest where she skims with her arm.

With another win against Browns and without noticing Nora has planted a seed that is starting to grow.

For Y/N it could be just a simple act that she finds endearing but for Joe means a lot.

After a long day Y/N sent Joe a chubby drawing of him; it could be one moment in the sidelines, he on the field, after the game, in the press conference, but Y/N knows is the moment that left her more breathless.

Nora mentioned how amazing her chubby drawings are; small bodies, big heads with cute expressions. Y/N did one for Nora one day while she was doing homework biting her pencil as she tried to balance a chemical thing.

Nora loves it and she just mentioned randomly, how amazing it is and she probably could have tried with another model, pointing Y/N’s cell phone with the lock screen light on.

Win on the pocket and a lot of big men in the locker room, Joe must use his hoodie to hide the big smile and the blushing face when Y/N sent him the sketch of him being lifted by Mims, both of them with cute expressions and small bodies.

Trey raises his eyebrows when he turns around to find Joe hiding in his hoodie.

“Joe, everything is fine?” Joe confirms with his thumb, yes. “Sure?”

Ja’Marr helps his friend. “My man is red with joy.”

Joe slid in the seat before peeking one more time at the image on his phone, giggling as he closed his eyes.

In Cincinnati, Nora and Savannah are high five silently as they observe Monet laying on the carpet but his head straight, choking to the left seeing Y/N biting her lip with a pen between her fingers and a tablet in her lap making zoom to what she just drew.

“Is she in love?” Nora whispers to her sister.

Savannah breathes in taking the out for serving the lunch, taking the napkin and sliding it to Nora.

A simple pinky heart in the corner. “And she colored it with a raspberry.” Nora smirks.

[theprismaticvoid]

This might not be as smutty as you wanted but it's where my mind went, I hope you still enjoy it anyway.

(Might crosspost this to AO3 if I can think of a title, just to make sure it doesn't get wizard blasted by the automod)

"…"

"…"

Gudako and Mash stared blankly at the sign hanging above the door.

They didn't know how they'd gotten here. Their last memories were… hazy. They were just hanging out in Gudako's room, then they passed out and woke up here.

Above the door hung a sign, saying "You can't leave until you have sex ☆"in a fancy font, in purple glittery ink.

Gudako sighed. "God damn it. BB." she said, facepalming. This had her scent all over it. She turned to Mash. "Well… Shall we?"

"Y-Yes, of course." Mash was blushing a little. "Do you want to… you know, um…" She trailed off.

She leaned in, giving Mash a kiss on the neck. "Hehe, you know I love going down on you. I'd be more than happy to~"

With a nod, Mash started taking off her tights.

____________

Outside the room, BB giggled to herself. This was so, so perfect! Finally, she'd get those two to admit their unresolved feelings - and in the process, she'd get to bully and tease them. The very idea of those two blushing and squirming and trying to find any alternative means out put a huge grin on her face. Her temporary senpai was so easy to bully!

Trying her best to control her laughter, BB leaned in, pressing her ear to the door, straining to hear them.

…

…

She didn't hear any distress. Or squirming. Or them banging on the doors, begging for someone to let them go.

That was odd. She'd heard a little bit of talking earlier. They had to be awake, right? Were they just sitting there or something?

BB activated the security camera in the room and looked at what they were doing. Her jaw dropped; the two of them were already naked? Gudako was kissing her on the neck? Her hands were slowly drifting down Mash's back, getting dangerously close to her butt?! The two of them didn't seem humiliated by this at all!

____________

Gudako's tender embrace was interrupted when the supposedly-unopenable door to the room slid open and BB stormed in.

"Senpai, what the hell?!" she screamed.

"Oh. Hi, BB." Gudako said, dryly. "I'm just getting us out of this nasty, devious trap that some unseen evil being put us in. Just give me a few and I'll be right with you."

BB ignored her. "Why aren't you embarrassed?! You're supposed to be embarrassed! And blushing! And… And, I don't know, upset about this!" She puffed her cheeks out in annoyance.

"…Why?" Mash asked. "I… I mean, I am now, but… Why should I have been embarrassed when it was just us?"

"Why? Why?! WHY?!" BB screamed, fists clenched, stamping her feet. "Because you two have unrequired feelings! Because you've obviously been crushing on each other for years now! Because you're both hiding in fortified, lead-lined closets and don't want to admit you're lesbians!"

Gudako stared her straight in the eye. "BB. I don't know how to break this to you, but Mash and I have been dating for years now."

"…" BB was stunned. "…What… How… B-But… You two…" An embarrassed blush spread across her face. "How did you keep it a secret for so long?! From me, even! From ME! I know EVERYTHING that happens in Chaldea!"

"…Have you not noticed how we kiss in public all the time?" Mash asked. "We haven't been shy about it. At all. We share meals. I sit on her lap at movie nights. We make out in front of other people. Habetrot has been sending me bride dress designs for months, not-subtly implying we should just go ahead and get married. And she's far from the only person to have insinuated that..."

Gudako chuckled. "It sounds like you haven't been paying attention, BB~" she teased, before turning her attention back to Mash. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we were in the middle of something, so-"

"NO! NO, NO, NO! I refuse to believe this!" BB continued to scream, stomping even harder. "There's no WAY! You two are just… making fun of me! This is all some big stupid joke! You're all-"

Gudako held out her hand at BB, her command seals activating. "By my command: Either shut up or go away. We're busy."

In an instant, BB's tantrum was stopped in its tracks. She kept trying to scream at them, but no words would come out.

"That's better. Now… Where were we~?" Gudako teased, before leaning down towards Mash's crotch.

Defeated, BB took a seat in the chair in the corner of the room - a cuck chair she'd included for one of her previous bullying sessions on another couple. Never in her life did she think SHE'D be the one sitting in it…

…Yet, for reasons she couldn't explain, she didn't want to take the other option the command seal had given her.

BB sat in the chair, watching as Gudako began eating out Mash, arms crossed over her chest, pouting and fuming.

Mash and Gudako get trapped in a room that they can only escape by having sex, the entire thing orchestrated by someone (writer's choice who) to get the two of them to finally confess and have sex with wait why are they already out. What do you mean you had sex already. WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU'VE BEEN FUCKING FOR MONTHS HOW DID I NOT KNOW THAT YOU WERE

Good for them

[dykedvonte]

One of my mutuals opinions is the "bro code" thing, that Curly is one of those guys who wouldn't care about the victim because the perpetrator is his friend and I'm really banging my head on the wall like that other anon. I've only played through the game once but Curly's behaviour/reactions etc read completely different from the "bro code" thing and I have to wonder if my mutual and I even played the same game.. like the constant digs at him from Jimmy, his body language in his face reveal and so on like you mentioned in your post. While this game is a little different obviously, it kind of reminded of a point in Alice Madness Returns that makes it very clear that Alice's pain blinded her to the abuse of the other children and her failure to act earlier because of it. Curly is guilty of a similar inaction but it doesn't change the fact he was a victim of Jimmy too. I don't think I can look at it any other way because both of these games have really stuck with me.

I genuinely think it really is the idea that people want a simple easy to blame problem and the idea that the only relatable victims of abuse are those that "surpass" it or do a lot to help others. When it comes to victims, especially those that don't fit the typical demographics, who either accidently perpetuate it, enable it or aren't ideal in some way shape or form, people jump to ignore what they went through as it's easier than dealing with those conflicting sentiments.

The bro-code conversation in Mouthwashing stems from a concept I generally dislike that there had to be something about Curly that made him meet or keep being friends with someone like Jimmy. I think people genuinely underestimate how many like decent and good people just know an asshole or are friends with someone who is really bad outside of their view/established dynamics. The game makes it clear none of the inaction against Jimmy is because of a lack of care, it is a lack of understanding from the privaleged postions they have as men to not have to worry about what Anya does/went through and the type of extremes men like Jimmy will go through to cover it up. They are all too preoccupied in their own strifes.

Another thing I see being oversaturated the idea that you have to be a freak, misanthrope or have a disorder to do the thing Jimmy does. The game is an escalation, it's a spiral that I don't see people comment on that Jimmy was not likely having the mood swings and episodes of rage/frustration we were seeing in the game. This is after they all start experiencing the worst moments in their lives that he got THAT openly bad. Of course, this is just my interpretation but much like in real life, people that go to extremes like that usually live mundane lives. It's a pressure cooker affect to where the stress made them pop. It's self inflicted but still the case.

I really think people need to be more willing to acknowledge that not everything needs to be an extreme or in black and white or easy to understand. It doesn't need to be happy or have an answer or solution, especially in the cases where the abused sadly helps perpetuate what they experience. It's not he should've known better from experience or shouldn't he have known what could've happened because victims tend to not like to think in matters of the worst. Not to mention, especially in cases of abuse where it feels so personally directed that you don't expect to happen to someone else.

[alastyr-not-alastair]

Hhhungryyyyyyyyyyy

[snekdood]

the way anti theists treat religious/spiritual people as if we're mentally ill feels the exact same as when conservatives treat trans people as mentally ill

[no-idea-for-a-cool-name]

Putting aside that I personally think the ruler of the north has to be either Bran or Jon, I think you're completely mischaracterizing Arya. Basically all you arguments are plainly untrue.

Sorry in advance for the length but I really need to adress everything you're saying on this post. Feel free to not read it but I need to vent and I have time to waste.

Her whole arc and purpose as a character is about being a warrior

False. If her arc was about being a warrior you would think GRRM would've made her develop the skills of a warrior, yet he hasn't. Her martial training was extremely short and the actual skills GRRM is making her develop are mostly intellectual. She's learning to be observant, to analyze situations, to use manipulation, to read people, to speak multiple lenguages, she's not learning how to be a warrior at all.

about freedom, and about rejecting traditional roles like nobility, marriage, and ruling. That’s just not who she is.

Exactly! She's all about the feedom to reject traditional roles. Now the part ehere you lie is when listing ruling as a traditional role for a woman. It simply isn't, women are not expected to rule, so if Arya were to become queen or have a powerful position in nobility, she would absolutely be challenging traditional roles and using her freedom.

Arya isn’t patient or interested in politics or mind games. That doesn’t mean she’s not smart or that she can’t play the game. She absolutely can. But she’s just not interested in it.

And since when is this book about characters doing only what they like to do? If she has the capacity and feels she has the responsibility, she would absolutely do it. It's a common misconception about Arya that she would escape responsibilities but she actually has a tendency to feel responsible for things even when she shouldn't. Like how she took the responsibility for her pack's safety and risked her life multiple times to save other people.

She’s more of a "let’s settle it with a sword" kind of girl

False, she has no chance to defeat anyone with a sword and she knows this. Obviously she has her moments of impulsivity and stupidity just like every single character, but in serious situations, she knows when to act and when to keep her head down:

“A broken lip taught Arya to hold her tongue.”

"On the road Arya had felt like a sheep, but Harrenbal turned her into a mouse. She was grey as a mouse in her scratchy wool shift, and like a mouse she kept to the crannies and crevices and dark holes of the castle, scurrying out of the way of the mighty."

"Arya hated being left behind like she was some stupid child, but at least Gendry had been kept back as well. She knew better than to try and argue. This was battle, and in battle you had to obey."

Arya fights for survival, for revenge, and for herself.

Revenge and survival are motives for Arya, true, but so are love, compassion and justice. Notice how almost every person of her list hurt other people, not her. Notice how during the walk to Harrenhall she hated herself for not being able to save other people. Notice how she risked her life multiple times to save others. Her character does have a lot of darkness but she also has a lot of light.

She never wanted power, titles, or responsibility.

False. We literally have asking Ned this:

"Can I be a king's councillor and build castles and become the High Septon?"

What she doesn't like are the traditional noble roles forced on women, but she does have interest in roles that involve power.

We also see her taking advantage of her position as a noble:

"I'm not a boy," she spat at them. "I'm Arya Stark of Winterfell, and if you lay a hand on me my lord father will have both your heads on spikes. If you don't believe me, fetch Jory Cassel or Vayon Poole from the Tower of the Hand." She put her hands on her hips. "Now are you going to open the gate, or do you need a clout on the ear to help your hearing?"

-

If the Mummers catch us, I'll tell them that I'm Ned Stark's daughter and sister to the King in the North. I'll command them to take me to my brother, and to do no harm to Hot Pie and Gendry. 

Not to mention that basically her entire story is about going back home which is the same as her trying to go back to her life as a noble.

The argument that Arya is tied to Northern politics because people fight for her or because of the "Weasel Soup" moment really misses the point. Yes, she was part of those moments, but they weren’t about her stepping into a leadership role—they were about her surviving and helping the people around her. She didn’t do it with some grand vision of ruling the North. She did it because she had to.

You're right that the weasel soup is not an example of Arya making a political move with some grand vision behind, but in my opinion, the point of it is not to show Arya being a super politician and leader, but to show that she had the charisma and intelliigence to maybe one day hhave those roles.

NONE of the Stark kids except Jon made any clearly strategic political move, so either you think that Jon should rule the north (which reading the comments you made doesn't seem to be the case) or you're applying some major double standards in order to dismiss Arya and support you personal wish.

As for Nymeria leading a wolf pack that attacks Freys and Boltons—that’s not Arya playing politics. That’s a reflection of her subconscious, her rage. It’s poetic, sure,

Once again you're purposely missing the point. No one says Nymeria killing Stark enemies is a shroud political move from Arya, what we´re saying is that considering the direwolves reflect their owner, it seems very telling that Arya's wolf happens to be named after a female ruler and is the leader of a wolf army. Adding that Arya perfectly fits Varys speech about the ideal ruler and that she has a lot of intellect and charisma, the option of her becoming some sort of leader seems very likely. I can't say it's foreshadow as of now, but it definitely feels like a very strong foreshadow.

but it’s not Arya making strategic moves like Sansa does.

I'm sorry but what strategic move has Sansa done?

and yes, arya admired her father, but not as a ruler. She never once expressed a desire to follow in his footsteps as Lord of Winterfell.

Yes she did:

Her father used to say that a lord needed to eat with his men, if he hoped to keep them. "Know the men who follow you," she heard him tell Robb once, "and let them know you. Don't ask your men to die for a stranger." At Winterfell, he always had an extra seat set at his own table, and every day a different man would be asked to join him. One night it would be Vayon Poole, and the talk would be coppers and bread stores and servants. The next time it would be Mikken, and her father would listen to him go on about armor and swords and how hot a forge should be and the best way to temper steel. Another day it might be Hullen with his endless horse talk, or Septon Chayle from the library, or Jory, or Ser Rodrik, or even Old Nan with her stories.

Arya had loved nothing better than to sit at her father's table and listen to them talk. She had loved listening to the men on the benches too; to freeriders tough as leather, courtly knights and bold young squires, grizzled old men-at-arms. She used to throw snowballs at them and help them steal pies from the kitchen. Their wives gave her scones and she invented names for their babies and played monsters-and-maidens and hide-the-treasure and come-into-my-castle with their children. Fat Tom used to call her "Arya Underfoot," because he said that was where she always was. She'd liked that a lot better than "Arya Horseface."

-

He has a lord's face, that's all, she told herself. She remembered hearing her lady mother tell Father to put on his lord's face and go deal with some matter. Father had laughed at that. She could not imagine Lord Tywin ever laughing at anything.

-

I should kill them myself. Whenever her father had condemned a man to death, he did the deed himself with Ice, his greatsword. "If you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look him in the face and hear his last words," she'd heard him tell Robb and Jon once.

Granted, she's not explicitly saying "I want to be lord of Winterfell like my father, but look at those quotes from a literary perpective, Why did GRRM bothered to add them? Why does Arya remember so much about Ned's rulership style even when she's not meant to rule and is not the one he was giving those lessons to? I feel like GRRM would not add stuff like that just to waste page space.

She loved him for his justice, not his politics. The argument that she was "always interested in ruling" is just headcanon. She observed him, yes, but that doesn’t mean she wanted his role.

I agree with you that Arya has not shown a desire to rule, but that's no reason to dismiss her. Once again, if that was the case, you would agree with me that only Bran and Jon are the options to rule Winterfell since they're the only Stark siblings to express a desire to do so, but since it seems like you're advocating for Sansa who not once has expressed any desire to rule, I have no option but to, again, assume that you're just being hypocritical and using double standards to fit your personal wish.

If anything, the times she did lead a group (like in A Clash of Kings) only showed how much she struggled with it. She doesn’t want that burden. The problem isn’t that I "don’t want her to care about it"—it’s that she doesn’t care about it.

False. She does struggle with the burden, but it's evident she naturally takes it. That she doesn't care about it is false, she evidently cares if she's willing to make herself responsible for other people's safety despite having zero obligation to do so.

Arya is happiest when she’s on the road, with Needle, or with Nymeria, not when she’s in a castle ruling over people.

False. So very false. Arya's happiest memories are about her time at Winterfell. She did enjoy some travels but always with Winterfell as her home. Her whole story is about her desperately trying to put an end to her travels and going back home, and her happiest time since her life went to hell was her time as Cat, a time when she had a relatively stable life, with a stable job and food and a roof. And even the she was ready to ditch the whole thing as soon as she saw a chance to go back to her family:

And the singer should be on the Wall. When Dareon had first appeared at the Happy Port, Arya had almost asked if he would take her with him back to Eastwatch, until she heard him telling Bethany that he was never going back.

And that’s okay. She’s not meant to be Queen in the North, because that would go against everything she’s been built up to be.

False. As I've stated a few times before, having a position of authority, queen or some other noble role, would fit perfectly with a female character designed taking after feminists who fought for women to have equal opportunities as men. Arya obtaining a role that is normally forbidden to women seem like what her character is designed for.

Sansa being Queen in the North has far more buildup than Arya ever ruling anything.

How so? She has never expressed any desire to rule (no, being a queen corsort is not the same as being a ruler). She's never had any big responsibility. She's never shown leadership over powerful people. She still can't understand a lot of thing around her and can't even face ugly truths. She's learning about politics but she hasn't made any political move yet. And she's learning about reading people and being observant but so is Arya.

I'm not saying Sansa can't end up as queen or in a position of power, but what exactly makes you think she's so much more like than her siblings to become the ruler of the north? Preferably, I would prefer you used arguments that didn't rely on double standards.

Arya’s entire arc is about rejecting nobility and traditional power structures, while Sansa’s is about learning how to navigate them.

False. As I've said quite a few times already, Arya has never rejected nobility or traditional power. What she rejected was the role forced on women.

Even the way they survive is different—Arya through direct action and violence,

False. Arya survived as long as she did mostly because of her being extremely observant, adaptable, and easily underestimated.

It was the scariest thing she'd ever done. She wanted to run and hide, but she made herself walk across the yard, slowly, putting one foot in front of the other as if she had all the time in the world and no reason to be afraid of anyone. She thought she could feel their eyes, like bugs crawling on her skin under her clothes. Arya never looked up. If she saw them watching, all her courage would desert her, she knew, and she would drop the bundle of clothes and run and cry like a baby, and then they would have her. She kept her gaze on the ground. By the time she reached the shadow of the royal sept on the far side of the yard, Arya was cold with sweat, but no one had raised the hue and cry.

-

Two of the guardsmen were dicing together while the third walked rounds, his hand on the pommel of his sword. Ashamed to let them see her crying like a baby, she stopped to rub at her eyes. Her eyes her eyes her eyes, why did …

Look with your eyes, she heard Syrio whisper.

Arya looked. She knew all of her father's men. The three in the grey cloaks were strangers. "You," the one walking rounds called out. "What do you want here, boy?" The other two looked up from their dice.

These are only a few examples of her surviving because of her intellect.

Sansa through political maneuvering. Sansa is already acting as a politician in later books/show,

How is Sansa acting as a politician?

and she has the strongest claim among the Stark siblings.

False. Bran is the one with the strongest claim. If we talk about what the characters know, Sansa might be the one with the biggest claim in Littlefingers point of view, but if we ask regular northeners they would say Arya has the strongest claim, And Stannis would say Jon does, And Manderly would say Rickon does. Saying Sansa has the strongest claim is factually wrong.

At the end of the day, dismissing Sansa completely while insisting Arya has foreshadowing just feels like selective reasoning rather than a solid argument.

You seriously don't realize that this is exactly what you are doing but swapping Arya and Sansa?

but the key difference is that Sansa wants it. As a child, she dreamed of being a queen,

No she doesn't. Show me one quote where Sansa expresses a desire to rule. Not to be a queen consort which was mostly related to the glamour, show me she genuinely wants to govern.

As she grows, she realizes the weight of responsibility,

Show me one quote when Sansa realizes what a huge responsibility ruling is and accepts it

but that doesn’t mean she won’t take it on. She will want to serve the North and protect it from a foreign ruler

because her entire arc is about returning home and realizing that’s where she belonged all along.

Just like the arcs of every single Stak kid. Again, double standards everywhere.

and since her marriage to tyrion was never consummated, it could be declared null and void under Westerosi law. Maybe Rickon won’t die like in the show, but Bran will likely remain the Three-Eyed Raven and won’t rule. And no, I didn’t dismiss Arya’s connections to the North—I just never saw them as foreshadowing her becoming queen, because that simply doesn’t fit her arc. Arya represents the smallfolk more than the nobility. She is not a ruler or a leader—she is a lone wolf, free, wild, and drawn to adventure. Keeping her in a castle, whether as Queen of Winterfell or worse as a lord’s wife, would take away what makes her Arya.

Sorry but this is still dismissing Arya. And dismissing all the other Stark kids. You're twisting canon story and characters in order to support your wish of Sansa as queen.

Arya loves her family—she’s always yearned for connection like you said—but that doesn’t mean she’s suited for ruling or that she wants it.

What would being "suited for ruling" be for you?

Loving your pack and wanting to govern are two completely different things.

Yet you want a character who has never said she wants to govern to become a governer. Make it make sense.

She admires her parents’ love, sure, but that doesn’t mean she wants to settle into a traditional role.

Just because she doesn't want to be a submiissive wife does not mean she would have a love life. I doubt GRRM wrote all the romantic build up between her and Gendry only to say romance doesn't matter to her at all.

And yes, I do think she’d fight a war and then leave for an adventure.

Evidence?

Nymeria is her role model

Nymeria doesn't roam though, she made one travel out of necessity and then settled in one place. And ruled it.

.Arya connects with the Faceless Men and the idea of shedding identities because she doesn’t want to be boxed in.

She doesn't connect to it at all, she's clearly staying with the FM because she feels she has no better place to go. I'm starting to think you didn't eve read her chapters.

Also, dismissing the show’s Arya as entirely separate from the books is wrong. While D&D mishandled her arc, Arya leaving to explore isn’t something they pulled out of nowhere—the books already set up her love for adventure and discovery.

If you claim this, the point me the textual evidence that supports Arya leaving to explore. Prove that it doesn't come out of nowhere.

Also, for Arya to become Queen in the North, that would mean Sansa, Bran, and Rickon all have to be out of the picture. She’s the youngest sibling, and by Westerosi standards, she has the weakest claim to the throne. Plus, I think people often see being a king or queen as the “happy ending” of a character arc, and that’s just so wrong. The happiest any character in ASOIAF can be is away from the game—away from the burden of ruling.

It's funny you say this when you're perfectly fine taking almost all the Starks out of the picture so that Sansa, a character with a weaker claim and who does not want to rule, can be queen. It's so disingenuous of you to pretend to care about anything other than you own wishful thinking.

I saw a post on TikTok saying Arya is the Stark sibling with the most foreshadowing in the books to become Queen in the North. And I completely disagree. Her whole arc and purpose as a character is about being a warrior, about freedom, and about rejecting traditional roles like nobility, marriage, and ruling. That’s just not who she is.

Unlike Nymeria—who Arya sees as a role model—Arya isn’t patient or interested in politics or mind games. That doesn’t mean she’s not smart or that she can’t play the game. She absolutely can. But she’s just not interested in it. She’s more of a "let’s settle it with a sword" kind of girl—and I love her for that. I wouldn’t change her for the world.

Also, for Arya to become Queen in the North, that would mean Sansa, Bran, and Rickon all have to be out of the picture. She’s the youngest sibling, and by Westerosi standards, she has the weakest claim to the throne. Plus, I think people often see being a king or queen as the “happy ending” of a character arc, and that’s just so wrong. The happiest any character in ASOIAF can be is away from the game—away from the burden of ruling.

[arcanemarion]

re: consequences and "It's been 20 minutes!"

It's unfortunate that this particular point seems to have been missed.

In much of that final episode, nearly everything that could have had even a hint of consequence was either waved off as basically "it's fine", ignored, or spent an awkwardly long time making sure that no lasting consequence had to be borne. It (combined with many other moments leading up to it) undermined the weight of what happened for many people.

Wanting a fluffy happy ending for everyone because the world is literally on fire is understandable; that doesn't mean that it's going to make for good storytelling.

At the end of C2 a lot of people were bitching about all the unwrapped threads because there was so much left yet to do, but there's virtually none of that left for anyone in C3. I have a hard time envisioning what direct consequences or effects BH are going to collectively face for what they did months after the fact. Honestly, 20 minutes after the actual event sure seems like that's when they would face flack for their decision the most, and all they really got was a couple of people being angry at them instead of treating them like heroes. So really, yeah, it all feels pretty toothless and inconsequential, but especially because none of them changed.

Some of the most powerful moments in the finale were the gods appearing to their followers to say goodbye, but none of BH had that because they have 0 connection to them. Subsequent world consequences for their decision will affect (or at least should) other people disproportionately to them, and that's where the more interesting stories will be.

I don't doubt Matt's ability to contrive something for them to do, but my interests in subsequent Exandrian content lies outside of anything to do with BH.

[light-wrath-paradise]

Family is clearly just prolonging my and my mother's misery by forcing me to text her on special occasions and send her gifts, which is giving her false hope that her only boxing bag might come back and endure whatever she decides to take out on it again.

[shiftthemoon]

reality shifting isn’t hard. you’ve been told it’s hard because everyone’s too scared to admit it’s not. they cling to their 800-step methods, their must-have crystals, their perfect conditions because they think that if they let go of that control, they’ll fail. but here’s the thing: the more you try to control the process, the more you convince yourself it’s out of your control. and that’s the problem. that’s why so many people feel stuck. shifting isn’t some big, far-fetched thing. it’s just you. it’s always been you.

we’re conditioned to think we’re powerless. think about it—school, work, society, all of it drills this idea into us that everything has to be proven, earned, validated. so, when you hear about shifting, your brain freaks out and says, wait, wait, this is too easy, this can’t be real. and then you spiral. you overcomplicate it. you make yourself think you need the “perfect” script, the “right” subliminal, or that you have to meditate for three hours while the stars align perfectly. like, no… you don’t. all of that? it’s fluff. it’s noise.

at its core, shifting is belief. just belief. no, really, let that sink in. you don’t need to “do” belief perfectly. it’s not something you master through sheer willpower. it’s something you already have. you’ve believed in things your whole life. you believed in gravity without needing proof. you believe your favorite songs are beautiful without needing to explain why. belief is natural. it’s effortless when you stop overthinking it. that’s the energy you need to bring to shifting—trust. trust that your mind knows what it’s doing, and that if you let it, it will take you there. every single extra thing you pile on? the overthinking, the doubt, the need for guarantees? that’s what’s slowing you down. not the “lack of progress,” not some mythical “block”—it’s you convincing yourself it’s harder than it is.

and let’s talk about social media for a second. oh my god, the shifting community on social media… i get it. it’s comforting to see other people on this journey. but let’s be honest—how much of that content is actually helping you? like, really? 90% of the time, scrolling through shifting advice isn’t inspiring; it’s overwhelming. everyone’s got their own opinions, their own “best methods,” their own rules. one person says scripting is a must, another says it’s a waste of time. one person swears by affirmations, another says visualization is the only way. and before you know it, you’re sitting there questioning everything you thought you knew, wondering if you’ll ever get it “right.” spoiler alert: you already know how to shift. you don’t need a thousand voices telling you what to do. in fact, the more you listen to them, the harder it becomes to hear yourself.

take a break. seriously. log off the apps. give yourself space to breathe and think. ask yourself: why do i want to shift? what’s stopping me? what feels right to me? no tiktok trend, youtube guide, or reddit post can answer those questions for you. only you can. and i know that sounds scary. we’ve been conditioned to think we need external validation for everything, but shifting is a deeply personal thing. you don’t need a step-by-step tutorial. you need to trust your instincts. that’s it.

and let me be clear: i’m not saying methods or subliminals are bad. they’re fine if they help you feel aligned. but they’re not what makes shifting happen. you are. methods are just tools. if you use them, great. if you don’t, that’s great too. because the truth is, shifting isn’t about doing things “right.” it’s about letting go of the idea that you need to.

so let me break it down for you. the only things you really need to shift are:

1. a desire. you have to want to go to your desired reality. no brainer, right?

2. belief. this is the big one. you have to trust it’s possible. no “what ifs,” no “but hows.” just trust.

3. persistence. if it doesn’t happen right away, that’s okay. don’t give up. if you’ve ever learned to ride a bike, you know that falling doesn’t mean you can’t do it—it just means you’re learning. shifting is the same.

that’s it. no fancy rituals, no endless research, no “perfect” conditions. the process is simple because it’s natural. you’ve probably done it before without even realizing it— the only reason it feels hard now is because you’ve convinced yourself it has to be.

stop making it harder than it needs to be. shifting isn’t this unattainable, mystical thing reserved for “chosen ones.” it’s something anyone can do. you can do it. your mom can do it. that anti-shifter lurking in every crevice of shiftblr could do it. you’ve always been capable. but you have to stop getting in your own way. stop doubting yourself. stop relying on others to tell you what’s possible. this is your journey. own it.

and above all, be patient. shifting is not a race. it’s not about how fast you can get there or how perfect your dr is. it’s about trust, intention, and focus. log off, tune into yourself, and let it happen. shifting has always been yours to claim. it’s not something you need permission for. it’s not something you need to earn. it’s just you, your mind, and your belief. always has been, always will be.

[trickbxbes]

ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜ’ʟʟ ꜱᴛᴀʏ

[ᴅᴀᴇ ʜᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

Summary: After the Mingle game, your friends win the vote and get to go home. You reunite with Dae-Ho on the outside and finally get to go on that date.

Warnings: Eventual smut, friends to lovers speedrun, fem reader, switch! Dae-Ho, handjobs, mutual blowjobs, fingering, p in v, safe sex, I don’t know what happens to them right after they vote to leave. Only what happens after,

Word Count: 3,769 words

You couldn’t believe it, was it too good to be true? 51 votes for X, 49 votes for O. Everyone around you on your side cheered, wept with joy and relief. The nightmare was over. And you wouldn’t go home empty handed either. 300 million was enough for you to clear your debt, finally start over.

And maybe, not alone.

You feel arms wrap around you tightly, shaking you like a Ragdoll. It was Dae-Ho. The two of you had formed a bond since being in here. The friendship was instant. His bright and bubbly personality pulling you in like a moth to a flame. Only, there was no pain. He looked out for you every step of the way. You were inseparable. The two of you even arranging a date of sorts once on the outside. You remember how he asked too, the boy was nervous, prepared to laugh the idea off painfully if rejected.

In disbelief, you slowly wrap your arms back around the man. Everything fell silent to your ears. Dae-Ho screams out with joy alongside his mentor, Jung-Bae, before looking at you again. He had the brightest of grins on his face. He cupped the sides of your face briefly, so happy, he could kiss you.

Could.

He lets go of your face after tenderly gazing into your eyes. You step forward and tightly hug him close, finally allowing everything to process. You were going home. You were safe.

Dae-Ho’s also overwhelmed with emotion, embracing you close. His hand gently pets the back of your hair, pressing his head against it. His heart was soaring with relief, and care, knowing you’d be okay.

“We did it…”

He murmured. You’re barely able to hear him through the cheers. “Yeah… we’re going home.” You chuckle weakly.

But the world wouldn’t grant you a moment of peace, no, not for a second.

“Please line up, you will be escorted out in an orderly fashion the same way you were brought in.”

It all came crashing down. You were leaving, now. You and Dae-Ho break apart quick at the realization. Guards were already pouring in. There’s so much you wanted to say, goodbyes you had to give! Team O did something helpful for once though, they bought you time as they started to argue against this.

“W-we’re leaving now…?!”

You see more guards taking control of the situation. People were being separated. You look to Dae-Ho, who was just as unsure and panicked. But then he visibly lightens up with realization.

“The korean barbecue place I told you about! Meet me there in two days! Noon!”

He tried to reach out to you, but the crowd began to push. You felt your anxiety beginning to slow at his request. You didn’t have his phone number, or his address, hell, you didn’t even know what area he lived in, but that was a start. You nod vigorously.

“O-Okay! I’ll see you there!”

A relived smile befalls Dae-Ho, knowing he at least got that out before he’s ushered away.

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Two days passed, and you were at the place to be. It was a tough, settling back. You swore you’d never see the light of day again. Waking up on a cold street while half naked wasn’t exactly a pleasurable experience. Neither was choking out a card in your mouth, but alas. But you got your shit sorted, and now you were here.

Only issue now was, you didn’t know what time to arrive! You wanted to play it safe and meet a little early, wearing your best. You didn’t exactly know how much effort to put into this. What do you wear to something like this? Was it a date? Or a meetup with a crush? Or, a meet with just a friend?

You wait, and wait. An hour passed, then two.

You looked like a madman from how much you kept looking about.

But then it hit you.

What if he doesn’t show?

What if he didnt feel the same?

What were you thinking? That a man you knew for three days would have such strong feelings for you? Maybe you got your hopes up. Maybe he was too busy for you. You frown to yourself, your breathing getting faster. From where you sat, you hugged yourself. You were a miserable sight.

But then, like an angel’s choir, you hear,

“(Y,n)!”

It was slightly distant. Your head snapped up at the all too familiar voice. Making their way through the bustling crowd, was Dae-Ho. His hair wasn’t tied in his usual top knot, but down, letting the fluff bounce freely. The once unforgiving sunlight was now shining on the man like a star, only making him glow. He maneuvers his way through the mass and pops out holding a bouquet of ruby red roses. He pants, standing in front of you with that nervous smile of his.

“I-I’m so sorry, were you waiting long? There’s two different ones here. The one I went to was all the way across— a-and I waited and waited before I realized you were probably here! And—“

You’re unable to stay away any longer. You stand up and wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him close. Dae/Ho stops his rambles, instead, tucking an arm around your waist and holding you close, his other arm holding the flowers. “A-are you okay?” He asks with concern. You smile ear to ear, chuckling.

“I’m just really happy to see you, Dae-Ho.”

Your response made the boy sigh in relief, happy he didn’t upset you.

“I am too, really. I couldn’t get you off my mind.”

You’d pull away, still smiling joyously. Finally, you address the flowers in his hands. “Oh my gosh…!” You take them, giddy as a kid on their birthday. Dae-Ho smiles brightly at your enjoyment.

“I hope they’re not damaged or anything… I kinda sprinted everywhere to make it here.”

He confesses. You don’t notice a single flaw, but you also don’t care to notice. “I love them.” You solidify your appreciation. Dae-Ho looks up at the restaurant sign and back to you, licking his lips a moment. “You ready to go inside?” He sticks his hand out for you to take. Your heart felt full, and you take his hand. Butterflies fluttering along in your stomach.

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The day didn’t end there. Dae-Ho took you out to see all the sights there were to see in his town. The two of you hand in hand, throughout the day, you didn’t drop your roses. From checking out different shops, interacting with street performers, and getting some sweet treats. Life hasn’t been so terrible since you both no longer had terrible debts to worry about. Even if it was blood money, and came with such terrible trauma, at least you wouldn’t have to go through it alone. You had someone to lean on through it.

Now, you two ended up at one of the hotels. You were sitting outside on one of the fountains, scrolling through your phone with laughter. “Aww, this one’s cute!” The two of you were admiring photos of today. You had taken a special liking to the man giving a cute peace sign over some deserts. Dae-Ho huffs, but couldn’t get his grin off his face.

“You don’t think I look dorky? I can take a more manly photo for you if you want.”

To prove his point, he’d flex his arm muscle. You giggle, patting his shoulder before you simply rest your hand there.

“I think you look perfect.”

Something about the way you said it, made Dae-Ho gulp subtly. His dark eyes gazing at you with awe. To calm his quick beating heart, he deflects off of him.

“I… wanna do this again, sometime.”

The ball was now in your court. Your heart skipped a beat. You look down a little bashfully.

“Y’know, I was kinda afraid for a while you didn’t… Y’know… That maybe it was just the heat of the moment from the games.”

Dae-Ho’s eyes widen. He lets out a dry chuckle, casting his eyes away. “Time went by differently for me there, I think. It honestly felt like I was there with you for a lot longer than it actually was.” He says truthfully. His exterior that was once shining, was now shy. You don’t say anything, allowing him to continue.

“Every second I spent with you, is all I wanted to do with my time.”

He looks back to you, his words carried a weight heavier than any boulder. You bring your hands to your lap, setting the roses aside. A crooked smile forms on your face as you shyly glance at your thighs.

“Well, it’s good to know I’m not crazy then… because I felt the same.”

When you look back to Dae-Ho, you see him gazing with an expression you’re unable to pinpoint. A mixture of adoration, and yearing. His pupils dart toward your lips, and then back to your eyes. He gulps again, unable to meet them for long. But you got the hint. You purse your lips, and gently cup his face. It regains his attention immediately. He’s close, you can feel the heat from his skin, his breath on your hand. He looks at your lips again, and leans in. You meet him halfway, and the two of you share a loving kiss. His lips molded with yours almost perfectly, like that’s where they were meant to be.

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The next thing either of you knew, you’re trading kisses as Dae-Ho tries unlocking the door to his apartment complex. Your kissing was passionate, forward. All of your want and need was transferred which each tongue exchange.

As soon as you’re both inside, the man shuts the door and you press him against it, not breaking the kiss for a sweat. He moans softly against your lips, his tone urging his desire forward. Your kiss grew sloppier, but consistent as you run your hasty hands under his shirt. Feeling his toned stomach, you press your body against him further. You drew another moan out of Dae-Ho, the male gasping and breaking the kiss so he could say,

“I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t e-expecting company so…ngh…”

You were barely listening, leaving pecks down his neck. Little nips to his skin lead to full love bites. “Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this since I watched you play gongi…” You leave a trail of hickeys on his once clean neck. Dae-Ho brings his finger to his lips, biting down to muffle his whimpers. “W-what do you mean?” He gasps as you release his skin with a ‘pop.’ You meet his eyes, lust shadowing yours.

“‘Wanted to feel those hands on me.”

You take his hands and place them on your hips. He meets your mouth again, his tongue intertwining with yours in a messy dance. His hands run up your sides and then down to your ass, finally finding a resting point to the back of your thighs. “Fuck…”

For once the male was happy to live in a studio. You push him onto the bed, letting him scramble to take off his shirt. You slowly slide down to the ground on your knees. He gazes at you with such kindness and appreciation. He wanted you to feel it, somehow. There was a sea of emotion he was withholding, but you saw lust was the strongest in the waves.

“(Y,n)…”

You look up to him with doe eyes, sending rushes of hunger through him. “Can I…?”

His breathing was uneven, trembling, he nods.

“P-please…” He pulls his pants down, allowing his cock to spring free. He was already half hard, and it only grew as you close your hand around it. You admire its length, its width, and most of all, you feel the way it throbbed for you as it grew in your hand. You gave it a few test pumps, making your man bite his lip to stifle a whimper. Once he was fully hardened, you sped up your pace. Dae-Ho whines out, ever the vocal one. But it’s not like you minded, in fact, you encouraged it.

“You’re being so good for me, Dae-Ho…”

Hearing your praise, the male lets out another moan, his eyes closing. You feel his member twitch in your hand. “Oh? You liked that didn’t you? Wanna be called a good boy?” As soon as the words left your mouth, Dae-Ho moans loudly. He looks down at you with half lidded eyes.

“Oh shit…”

You lower your mouth over his throbbing member, keeping your touch ever so soft. The man leans back, looking to the ceiling. “Oh fuck…!” He grips the bedsheets beside him. For a brief moment, he nearly grabs your hair, but he stops himself. Instead, he gently runs his fingers through your hair. The way he held back to be a gentleman, it only made you wetter. You use one hand to pump his base while you sucked on the rest. Your other hand slid down under your bottoms, rubbing your already wet cunt. When Dae-Ho notices, his face somehow flushes more. “A-are you…?” To answer, you hum an eager note on his cock, sending vibrations down it.

“Fuck~! Ah…I—“ He’s unable to really keep his train of thought on track as another low groan rumbles through him. “Oh my God—“ He just mindlessly babbled on as you took him deeper. He’d involuntarily jerk his hips upward, and you felt the tip reach the back of your throat. Your gag made Dae-Ho immediately check in, concerned. “I-I’m sorry! Are you— fuck!”

But you didn’t care much, speeding up your motions. You take him in even deeper, now deep throating him. It hurt a little, but you cared more about the sweet tune of Dae-Ho’s whines. It might be your new favorite song.

“(Y-Y,n)…! Keep going like that and I’m g-gonna…I’m…!”

He was close, you could feel it. And so you continued your usual motions before showing special attention to his tip, his most sensitive spot. Dae-Ho grit his teeth and cried out, his back arching as he came. His shadow looked glorious, the way it mirrored his position and his gasps. It was almost like a painting, a work of art.

White hot strings enter your mouth, and you swallow it all. You blink up at him, removing your lips and clicking your tongue. Dae-Ho’s expression was priceless, his vulnerability was shown, the walls were down. “(Y,n)…” He cups your face and pulls lightly, a silent gesture he wants you to rise. You do so gracefully and stop. Seeing as the man was basically naked for you, you thought you should return the favor. Dae-Ho watches you slowly strip, undoing your outfit completely. He shakily sighs,

“You’re so beautiful…”

Once bare, you meet him in a ravenous kiss. Your hands hold the sides of his jaw as he wraps his arm around your waist. He whimpers against your lips, rolling you over so you were on your back, not breaking the kiss for a second. Dae-Ho gently takes both of your hands and pin them above your head, one hand having a grip on your wrists. You lament, feeling more aroused in such a helpless position.

He pulls back, a string of saliva connecting you both. He admires you, your returned flushed face staring back at him lustfully. He leans back down, kissing down your neck. His touch was so sweet, feather light. Every kiss was gentle, as if you were delicate. He kissed down your body, stopping at your chest. His eyes meet yours again, asking for permission. You nod, gulping subtly. He’d continue, muttering,

“You deserve to be worshipped.”

He trails his tongue around your nipple and plants a peck on the top, before taking your breast into his mouth. Somehow, he knew the exact way to worship you. He sucked at the perfect intensity and rhythm. With his other hand, he massages your other breast. You loved the way he treated you.

“Dae-Ho…”

It sent waves of pleasure up your body. He started to work his way down, reaching your drenched pussy.

“God, you’re soaked…”

His tongue meets your dripping hole, running through your folds. You cry out, gripping his hair lightly. “Dae-Ho…! Fuck..” You feel his tongue swirl around your clit. The wet muscle circling as he sucked on the pearl. He started eating you out like he was damned starving. You massage his scalp, gripping every now and then. But then, you feel a wave of pleasure shoot through you as Dae-Ho inserts a finger. “Fuck…!” You whine, your eyes now shut. Sucking on your clit, he adds another, pushing them both in and curling his fingers. Your back arches as you’re shocked from too much stimulation.

“I-It’s too much…! D-Dae-Ho! Fuck. T-too m-much!”

“You can take it.”

His immediate response makes your orgasm race forward faster than you can blink. He continues pushing his fingers in an out of you, curling them each time and abusing your G spot. You cry out his name as you finish all over his face, unable to warn him in time. But he just laps up your juices like any other meal.

Dae-Ho looks back up at you with dreamy eyes. He’s met with your panting and flushed expression. You reach your hands out, trying to beckon him closer.

“Dae-Ho… j-just kiss me please!”

You didn’t have to tell him twice as he slams his lips on yours, crawling back atop your body. You grind against his now hard again cock, moaning against him. Soft hums and grunts come from his throat and vibrate on your skin. You pull back, needing to feel him inside of you for certainty. “D-do you have a condom?” Your question catches him off guard, but it’s a necessary one. Dae-Ho blinks and nods. “Yeah— one second.” He kisses your cheek, making you smile as he scrambles to grab one.

As soon as he rolled one on, he’s back on top of you, gazing into your eyes once more. You swear you could see an entire night sky in his dark orbs. “Dae-Ho…” You kiss him again, he more than happily reciprocates. He breathes in through his nose, breathing in you. He lines up his cock with your entrance, pulling back to cup your face.

“Do you want this?”

Consent is a beautiful and mandatory thing. He caresses your cheek with his thumb. You nod, resting your hand atop his with a kind smile.

“I want you, Dae-Ho.”

Dae-Ho leans in and kisses you softly. His lips softly trying to tell you, ‘I’ve got you.’

He slowly enters you, his hands now gripping your hips. You grimace, adjusting to his length. Dae-Ho intertwines his fingers with yours on the bedsheets, giving a reassuring squeeze. His eyes were clamped shut, soft shudders escaping him as he continued in. “Fuck… (Y,n)…”

He bottoms out, and you’re a whimpering mess. Dae-Ho, despite being in a similar position, slants over and kisses up your neck. His lips comforting you generously.

“That’s it… that’s my girl.”

There’s something about the way he says it that makes your heart flutter.

“Yeah… yeah, fuck, your girl.”

He starts to move slowly, his breathing shaky from ecstasy. He mewls in your ear, biting his lip at an attempt to keep quiet. But you weren’t going to let that slide. “…Wanna hear you… wanna hear how good you feel.” You order. Dae-Ho’s hips stutter before he speeds up his thrusts. He lets out a louder whimper, you match his vocals, gripping his shoulders.

“D-Dae!”

“(Y,n)…!”

He holds you closer to him, his thrusts getting faster and deeper. His body was warm. You could feel his muscles tensing with every push and movement.

“Tell me I’m yours,”

He starts, his voice dripping with need.

“Tell me you’ll stay.”

The vulnerability in his tone was enough to make you tear up. He was opening his heart out to you, leaving himself exposed. You wrap your arms around his back, covering his open wound with your own body. You cradle his head in your hand.

“I’ll stay, you’re mine, and I’m yours.”

Your words of affirmation carry in the air. Dae-Ho hugs you even tighter. “(Y,n)!” He goes at an incredible speed, pounding into you. You claw at his back, needing the support. “Dae-Ho!” You wail, overwhelmed with pleasure. The male moves from your neck to rest his forehead against his. You feel every bit of love he was pumping into you. It’s a different level of intimacy, truly seeing each other’s soul like this.

You feel that familiar knot forming in your stomach. “Dae-Ho~! I’m close!” You moan, moaning in rhythm with each thrust. Dae-Ho nods frantically. “M-me too! Fuck… fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…!” He’s unable to control his blabbering mouth. “Fuck. (Y,n)—you’re so good. So good. Need you… fuck…gonna—“

With that, you both come undone together, your moaning screams mixing together. Dae-Ho nearly collapses on top of you as he catches his breath, his face resting in your neck again. You pant, running your fingers through his hair as you both close your eyes.

He’d roll to his side, pulling out of you and disposing of the condom, tossing it into a trash can by his desk. He lays back down, resting on your collarbone. His arm snugly tucks around your waist.

“Did you mean it… what you said?”

Dae Ho’s question was so innocent, full of hope. He looked up at you expectantly. You feel yourself melt under his gaze, smiling softly and cupping his cheek.

“Of course I did. I’m yours.”

A satisfied smile forms on his face and he rests back down, closing his eyes with contentment. The two of you play together for the rest of the night. The last thing you’d hear before your slumber was a small mutter from your boy.

“I’m yours.”

[gothgoblinbabe]

The Art Of Make-believe Matrimony

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Summary: You can’t stand each other, so it’s a mystery to you and Logan why you’re sent out together on an assignment. To make it worse, you’d have to act much closer than you really were.

Warnings:  mutant!reader (no specific power mentioned, though), fem!reader, enemies to lovers, swearing,  fake dating (technically fake marriage), mentions of violence, a little bit of suggestive stuff, a little bit of fluff i guess, and mild alcohol consumption. I think that's all but if i missed any, please let me know! also this is def loosely inspired by the movies 'Mr. and Mrs. Smith' and '10 Things I Hate About You'

Word Count: 5K

part 2

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ .

You hate the way he dresses.

You hate his stupid hair.

You hate the pet names he calls you.

You hate his voice.

You hate his hazel eyes.

You hate his smile.

You hate Logan Howlett.

It was no secret and neither was the fact that he couldn’t stand you either. You bickered like a married couple, constantly fought till you bled when you were training and couldn’t go a day without one of you insulting the other. Truthfully, it was probably because you were too alike - fire versus fire - and knew exactly how to press each other's buttons.

That’s why you were both confused when you stood in Charles’ office - dumbfounded expression on your faces - as he told you that he assigned you to a mission together.

“Oh, no way,” you nearly laughed, thinking it was a joke.

“Yeah, not happening,” Logan agreed. It may have been the only thing you’ve ever agreed on.

“That’s unfortunate for both of you, as I am sending you anyway. You are the only capable people that aren’t already out on an assignment or teaching a class full time.”

“How do you expect us to do it without killing each other?” you raised your eyebrows.

“You are adults. I trust you will navigate that on your own.”

Logan scoffed beside you, his arms crossed over his chest.

You sighed, closing your eyes in frustration and biting the bullet, “what do we have to do?”

“There is a safe hidden in the home of a very wealthy socialite who’s been involved in orchestrating attacks on mutants - injecting them with a serum that replaces their mutation gene with that of a normal human,” Charles began to explain.

Your chest felt heavy. It always made you anxious and a little ill when you’d hear the stories of people who hated you so much that they’d go as far as to harm or violate you in some way, all in the name of trying to rid the earth of you completely or turn you into one of them.

“The only known sample of the serum is locked in that safe,” he continued, “and I will need you to retrieve it. You are to infiltrate a gathering being held in her home, obtain the contents of the safe and return promptly.”

“So, we’re…going to a party?” Logan asked with one eyebrow raised.

“A dinner party,” Charles replied, “and another thing - you must not attend as yourselves. You’ve been invited on the good word of another guest - someone we trust - but you’ve been invited as a married couple to avoid arousing suspicion.”

He must’ve been getting some sick enjoyment from this.

“Married couple,” you repeated, your eyes narrowed, “Us. You want us to pretend to be a couple.”

“What, do I have to like - touch her? I’m not doing that,” Logan piped up.

“Oh, i’m so disappointed,” you rolled your eyes, sarcasm clear in your voice, “Fuck off.”

“You fuck off.”

“No, you fuck off.”

“No, you.”

“I said it first!”

“Enough,” Charles interrupted, “you will be attending as Mr. and Mrs. Smith.”

“Huh,” Logan hummed, “that’s creative.”

“Its inconspicuous,” he replied.

“What are our first names, then?”

“You have creative liberty. I trust you will come up with something just as unremarkable.”

“How about Sid and Nancy?” you scoffed, chuckling a little in disbelief. 

“Does that mean I get to stab you?”

“You’d miss.”

Charles had his head in his hands.

“How about Jack and Jill?”

You both turned your heads to him when he spoke, pausing the back and forth between you that you were sure to continue later. You glanced at Logan and shrugged, indifferent to the names.

“That’ll work,” Logan mirrored your actions.

“Lovely. Tomorrow evening at five. I will have the address ready. In the meantime, here,” he opened his palm and placed two rings on the table, “these are your wedding bands.”

You huffed and took the smaller of the two, Logan picking up the plain silver band. Yours was simple - a false diamond in the middle and two smaller ones on each side.

“What, you couldn’t get me anything bigger?” you joked to Logan, holding up the ring. 

“Oh, you want somethin’ big?”

Your eyes went wide and you elbowed him in the arm, groaning in disgust, “Gross.”

—----------------

Five o’clock came fast, your nerves seemingly increasing the speed of time. You’d made a mess of your wardrobe looking for something to wear that was comfortable, but not too ‘you’. What would a rich person wear to a dinner party? How the hell were you supposed to know?

Some nice pants, a blouse and complimenting shoes would have to do - it was the only thing you had that looked relatively formal. Adding some jewelry made it just a little more convincing. 

You went down the stairs to meet Logan at the front door, dreading the coming hours. You turned the corner and finally saw him, leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets. He wore a white t-shirt tucked into his jeans, his boots, and he’d traded his usual leather jacket for a suit jacket. He actually cleaned up pretty nice, but you weren’t gonna tell him that.

He heard your footsteps and turned towards the sound. He could feel the sweat starting to form at the back of his neck. 

He’d never seen you in anything nice like that - you never really had any occasions to dress up for - and he hated how much he liked it. Your pants hugged you perfectly, your blouse was buttoned low and you even had on a little bit of makeup. 

“You don’t look too bad,” he managed to comment, opening the door for you.

“That’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” you realized aloud, the both of you heading towards Logan’s truck, “You look alright.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Smith.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Smith.”

He opened the car door for you, uncharacteristically gentlemen-like.

You shot him an odd look and got in anyway.

“I’m practicing,” He explained, shutting your door and walking around to slide into his seat, “can’t have anyone thinkin’ I’m a shit husband.”

“Good luck.”

“Uh-oh,” Logan had an amused expression, his eyes glued to the road as you began moving, “that’s not wife behavior, sunshine.”

“Bite Me.”

He clicked his tongue, “Feisty. Oh - I can use that when people ask about us! I’ll say it's one of your absolute worst qualities that any man would be repulsed by, but that our love is blind.”

You scoffed, “Great, and I’ll get to tell them you spend sixteen hours brushing your hair into cat ears and shed all over the bathroom like an animal.”

“See - now, that one seems a little personal.”

“It is.”

“Just pretend for a night that I’m the man of your dreams, okay?” he asked, “pretend I’m, uh - I don’t know, some celebrity guy you have a crush on.”

You were silent for a second, engrossed in thought, “you look nothing like Hugh Jackman.”

“Who? You know what - sure, pretend I'm him, alright? Just squint.”

Truthfully - and you’d rather be stabbed than admit it - Logan wasn’t far off from who you could picture yourself with. Strong, kind of handsome, good with kids. He was humble, most of the time. He was just terribly annoying and way too cocky.

It wasn’t long before he was shifting the truck into park and yanking the keys from the ignition. You let him open your door and walked beside him up the front steps.

“You ready, Jack?” you teased.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, Jill.”

He rang the doorbell and you stood awkwardly, eyes scanning your surroundings. The house was huge - probably only a bit smaller than the mansion - and modern, something probably built in the last ten years. The front lawn was impeccable, as were the marble statues strategically placed between foliage and flora. 

The door opened and you inhaled sharply, trying to prepare yourself to lie your ass off.

“Hello! You must be Mr. and Mrs. Smith! So lovely to meet you, please - come in,” a woman ushered you in, her neck and ears decorated in pearls. You recognized her immediately, Charles having shown you both a picture of the hostess beforehand. You politely greeted her and introduced yourselves, already scanning the room for an emergency exit in case things went sour.

“So,” she continued talking, leading you to sit in the living room with the other mingling guests,”tell me a little about yourselves! John wasn’t very descriptive when he mentioned you. What do you do for work?”

Whoever John was, you silently thanked him.

“Uh, well,” you began, nervously glancing at Logan, “I’m a bank teller.”

Plain, boring, inconspicuous, 

She then looked to Logan expectantly, awaiting his answer. 

“Cage fighter.”

Jesus Christ. You were glaring daggers into the side of his smiling face and he pretended not to notice.

“Really?” the woman in front of you inquired, a hand on her chest. You watched her eyes scan him up and down, landing on the pecs prominent through his shirt. You scoffed out of instinct, faking a cough to cover it up.

‘Oh, yeah. Undefeated MMA champ.”

You looked away to hide the scowl on your face when your eyes locked on the vodka bottle sitting on the table a few feet away with a collection of other booze. Bingo.

“Will you excuse me for just a moment?” you smiled politely and walked away before Logan could protest, leaving him to his own devices.

You twisted the top off the bottle and picked up a glass, filling it with Vodka and some soda that was left on the table.You almost walked away with it, planning to keep it in your hands until you felt your nerves subside, until you remembered you were supposed to be a wife. Wives brought their husbands drinks, right? Not doing so would look rude and rude might blow your cover. So, you reluctantly picked up another glass and filled it partially with whiskey, knowing it was something he’d drink. You happened to glance across to the kitchen and notice a neat little rack of spices and condiments on the counter. A bottle of soy sauce was front and center, like a message from the universe, and you giggled to yourself as you snatched the bottle and hid it up your sleeve - this could be a good night if you made it entertaining.

You returned to Logan with both glasses, handing him the one filled with significantly darker liquid. He looked a little surprised but accepted it anyway.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he said with narrowed eyes, a look that asked ‘what are you up to now?’

You simply nodded in acknowledgement, smiling at the hostess still standing in front of you.

“She’s a keeper,” he continued, holding the glass up to his mouth, “ always knows exactly what I like.”

You bit back a snicker as you watched him tilt the glass and finally take a sip.

His eyes went to yours immediately.  He pulled the glass from his lips, mouth still obviously full of whiskey and soy sauce. If looks could kill, you’d be long dead.

“Good, honey?” you smiled wide then, taking a sip of your own drink. 

“Mhm,” he hummed, clearly fighting a grimace. He swallowed and nearly gagged, coughing into his fist, “mhm, just a little strong.”

“Oh,” the hostess began, “Jack was just about to tell us how you met!”

A couple of guests had gathered in the same spot, all lingering in a semicircle. Logan was quite the charmer and it wasn’t a surprise that he already had a couple of women gawking at him, hanging on his every word as if any of it was true. 

“Was he?” your tone was shrill but you attempted to appear playful, lightly smacking him on the arm, “Oh, honey, you should really let me tell it.”

Whatever he was about to come up with, you hoped it was not in the same outlandish category as cage fighting. Before you could begin, though, he dismissively waved his hand in your direction.

“No, no - you’re a little forgetful, sweetheart,” his grin was mischievous as he turned to speak to the surrounding guests, “so, it all started with a tshirt competition at a bar where the girls had to - “

“Nope! Nope,” you interjected, doing your best to keep your tone light and shaking your head, “haha - that must have been another girl, honey!”

That earned a few chuckles from the guests around you and you took the opportunity while everyone's attention was on you to try and spin a tale of your own.

“So, we actually met a couple years ago,” you started, mulling over what true details to sprinkle in or if you should make it up entirely, “uh - in a library.”

It wasn’t entirely untrue. You’d been at the mansion for a couple days before you bumped into him in the library while gathering books to try and put together your first lesson plan. You had a cup of coffee in one hand and a stack of books in the other - admittedly stupid - but you’d always been careful. Except for that once. 

You had a book open in your arms, resting atop the stack you already gathered. You were walking and reading - again, admittedly not very smart - when you bumped into someone, spilling coffee on both of you and sending the stack of books to the floor with an audible thump. 

“Fuck, sorry -” you began to apologize, finally looking up to the strangers face. It was Logan, of course, though you didn’t know that at the time. You remember thinking he was handsome with his scruffy mutton chops and well groomed hair - until he opened his mouth.

“What the hell is wrong with you, kid?”

You knew it was partially your fault but were irked by his attitude.

“Dude, you weren’t paying attention either, obviously!” you snapped back, looking down at the beige stain now adorning your white button up.

“I’m not the one who carries coffee and a shit ton of books at the same time.”

“Whatever.”

That was your grand introduction, neither of you even exchanging names.

Logan remembered it about the same way you did, though the version he tells is a little different. He loved to tell people that when you bumped into him, it was because you were so lovestruck that you just walked right into him. The part he always left out, though, was the first thing he thought when he saw you. He’d scolded you before even looking up to see who you were and when he had, he wished he’d reacted a little differently. 

You were beautiful, even with coffee spilt all over yourself. You looked like a girl he’d only ever dreamed of, all the way down to the color of your hair and eyes. Unfortunately, he’d already been an asshole. So, from then on, that was basically your shtick - bickering over little things, calling each other names - all to the amusement of everyone around you. It wasn’t meant to be funny, but it was obvious to everyone else that the kind of teasing you did was only because you had feelings for one another - like two elementary school kids - and neither one of you seemed to know how to approach it. The mask would slip sometimes for either one of you - when he’d place a hand on your lower back, the times he’d managed to pin you to the mat during training - and you’d always find yourself staring at the ceiling that night, overthinking every interaction you’d had until the sun came up. He was never any better off, pacing in his room to try and decipher what the hell it was he actually felt for you.

Anyway, you decided to stick to the real story, minus the part where you insulted each other.

“We bumped into each other, literally, and I had coffee and a bunch of books in my arms. So, I drop the books, coffee spills everywhere - of course. Then I looked up at him, and..” you paused, the truth caught in a lump in your throat.

“And it was love at first sight,” Logan added, grinning down at you, “for both of us.”

His eyes were trained on yours and he continued to contribute to the story.

“The second I saw her, I fell in love.”

He was still looking at you. Why was he still looking at you like that? You were supposed to be husband and wife, right, but he was leaning into it far heavier than you expected. It felt like you were the only ones in the room.

A couple ‘aw’s were shared between guests and you smiled politely at the reminder that you were in fact not the only people in the room. As the conversation switched to another topic and someone else began to speak, you felt Logan’s hand at the back of your head, gently playing with your hair. Your face was pink - he was being too nice.

A short while later, you were sitting on the couch beside him, listening to someone’s drawn out story that you stopped paying attention to after six minutes.

“I’m gonna go take a piss,” Logan uttered unceremoniously and stood from the couch. He disappeared into the house and not even a minute later, another guy came to sit in his spot.

“Hey,” he put his arm around the back of the couch, his fingertips brushing your shoulder, “I don’t think we’ve met.”

You looked at the fingers grazing your shoulder and sat forward to shrug them off, “nope.”

He told you his name and you couldn’t have cared any less, deciding to actually tune back into the story being told rather than converse with him. He was alright looking, but his approach was far too off putting. 

“So, did you come alone?”

You rolled your eyes at his question, opening your mouth to answer before he cut you off.

“Cause It looks like it, and I can’t stand to see a pretty girl alone.”

You groaned in disgust, hoping if you were dry enough in your answers, he’d leave you be.

“mhm.”

It wasn’t really an answer to anything, just a noise of affirmation. You hoped he’d get the hint then, but of course, he didn’t. In what would probably be the stupidest thing he’d done that night, the guy moved his arm from the back of the couch so he could squeeze your thigh. Right as you were about to tell him to fuck off, you saw a hand grip his shoulder from behind. Logan was leaning over the sofa, bringing his face a little lower so he wouldn’t cause a scene, his dog tags hanging when he leaned forward. He had a death grip on the guy's shoulder while he used his other hand to steady himself against the sofa. 

“Hey, bub.”

The guy looked a little terrified, to say the least, but Logan didn’t let up there.

“Do you always go around hittin’ on people’s wives? Or is it just mine?”

His eyes were wide and he looked like he wanted to run but that wasn’t going to happen as long as he was in his grip. 

“I-I didn’t, uh, I didn’t know she - “ the guy sputtered, trying to nervously laugh it off.

“Mhm. Hey, tell you what - why don’t you leave my girl alone and maybe I’ll give you a five minute head start to get the fuck out of here.”

He let go of his shoulder and that was enough to drive him away, the guy scurrying to his feet and finding somewhere else to mingle.

You didn’t know why you found yourself smiling the moment he’d said ‘my girl’. You rid yourself of it with a shake of your head, reminding yourself you were there to do a job.

“Hey,” Logan leaned himself down even further so he could whisper, “I gotta show you something, c’mere.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him but got up to follow. He stopped in the hallway in front of the bathroom, looked around to see if anyone would notice you, and promptly dragged you in with him before closing and locking the door. He hit the light switch and you looked around.

“Do you always take girls to the bathroom on first dates?” you teased, crossing your arms.

“You’d have to go out with me to find out,” he remarked, “besides, it’s not like that. Look.”

You watched him get low to the ground to open the cupboard under the sink and you crouched with him, following his pointing finger to the wood paneling in the back. It looked like a fake back - a board that appeared to be the back of the cabinet but definitely had something behind it. There was a sliver of metal visible behind it when you shined your phone’s flashlight.

“I figured we should look everywhere, so while I was in here I was checking it out - saw that. You think that’s it?”

“Could be,” you answered honestly, “that, or it’s some sort of electrical box we’re about to rip out of the wall. It’s an odd hiding spot for a safe.”

“Not really. Think about it - where's the first place you’d look for a safe?”

“Bedroom or office, maybe.”

“Right, and where's one of the last places you’d check?” he gestured to the open cabinet.

“Under…the sink,” you realized aloud, looking between him and the wooden board. 

“Exactly,” he nodded, swiping the contents of the cabinet onto the floor to gain access, “here’s the thing, though - I’m too big to get in there.”

He could maybe stick his head in, but in order to duck under the pipes from the sink, he’d need to have shoulders that were much less broad.

You sighed, knowing what that meant.

“Alright, alright - move. This better be it.”

You reluctantly crawled under the sink and into the cabinet on your hands and knees. You yanked the wooden board with all your strength and it came free, revealing a metal safe.

“Got it! You were right, it’s the safe.”

Logan simply hummed in response, clearing his throat. You figured he’d be a little more enthusiastic. 

Truthfully, he was too busy staring at your ass in the nice pants you were wearing to pay attention. When he heard your voice, he shook his head, as if to rid himself of the thoughts he was having about you so he could think of a response. He’d always thought you were beautiful, but seeing you all dressed up drove him a little crazy.

“Yeah? Is it locked?”

You inspected the metal box, holding the absurdly large padlock hooked around the latch that opened the door.

“Uh-huh. Padlock - we’re gonna need the numbers.”

“No, we don’t. Bring it out.”

You did as you were told, crawling back out with the safe under your arm and placing it on the bathroom rug. It was a pretty small one - probably a little bigger than a basketball.

Logan picked it up and set it on the counter beside the sink. He unsheathed a claw and sliced through the metal latch that held the door closed in one swift motion.

“Well, yeah - that's one way to do it,” you shrugged.

“Easiest way to do it.”

He reached in and took out the small glass vial. He put it inside the pocket of his suit jacket.

“What if it falls out?” you asked.

“It won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Alright, kid,” he sighed, “what do you want me to do with it? ‘Cause i’m sure as hell not lettin’ you carry it.”

You rolled your eyes and looked him over.

“How about you wrap it in your jacket, like cushioning?”

“Fine.”

He reluctantly shrugged off his jacket, keeping the vial in the pocket but folding the jacket into a ball. You hastily replaced everything in the cabinet, safe included, and you followed Logan as he opened the door to step out - only to be met with another guest, her fist raised to knock.

“Oh! Dear,” she chuckled, clearly a little startled. She looked to the both of you, a grin appearing on her face, “Young love, what a gift. Don’t worry, I didn't see a thing!”

You shot her a confused look, chuckling nervously before you happened to catch a glance of your reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Your hair was mussed and your blouse was untucked on one side from having to bend up and down. Logan had taken off his suit jacket and you realized what it was she was implying.

“Oh, oh - we weren’t -”

“It’s alright, honey,” she responded as you stepped out, “like I said - my lips are sealed.”

She shot you both a wink, went into the bathroom and shut the door.

“She thought we were fucking in there,” you mumbled, eyes wide in embarrassment.

“Is that so bad?”

You snapped your head towards him, a confused look on your face, “what?”

Logan shrugged, “we're supposed to be husband and wife, aren't we?”

You shook your head in disbelief and decided to ignore him, both of you joining the other guests back in the living room. Dinner was finally ready and everyone took their seats in the dining room. There were a couple of things on the table you couldn’t even pronounce.

“Is that…meat? A vegetable?” you leaned over to logan, whispering behind your hand and nodding towards one of the dishes.

“Hell if I know,” he muttered, “I don’t think I wanna find out.”

You both piled on the few things onto your plates, poking at it with your forks.

“Do you wanna get a pizza after this?” you whispered.

“Definitely,” he replied, pushing around an unrecognizable sludge with his utensil.

“So, how long did you two say you’ve been together?” You both looked up, only to be met with the hostess’ stare. You had never mentioned how long you’d been ‘together’. Her smile was polite but her stare was piercing, as if she knew something she was not supposed to.

“About three years,” you replied, looking to him for back up.

“We got married a couple months in,” he added, grinning at you. Again, he had that look - like he wasn’t just pretending to be in love with you. 

“We were in this restaurant - this little place we go to all the time,” he kept talking, “and I just told her I thought she was beautiful, that I wanted to be with her for the rest of my life.”

“Really? I have to say,” she began, sipping from her glass,” for a young couple who got together so quickly, you two don’t seem very affectionate towards each other.”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

You shot Logan a panicked look, but he appeared unbothered.

“Ah,” he clicked his tongue,” it’s this rule she’s got about PDA. I’d be all over her if I could.”

You hated the way your face became hot. You couldn’t tell if he was leaning into it to be convincing or flirting just to make you flustered. You heard a muffled snicker from somewhere across the table and your eyes shifted to the source - it was the woman from earlier, the one who’d thought you and Logan were getting busy in the bathroom. 

“Can I at least get a kiss, babe?” Logan cooed, a smug look on his face.

“What are you doing?” you whispered, eyes wide.

“Being a husband,” he replied in a hush voice. 

It all happened within seconds. His hands cupped your face, warm and soft, and he leaned in to plant a kiss right on your lips. It was gentle and you melted into his touch, kissing him back. When he pulled away, you were still stunned, your lips parted in surprise. 

Logan kissed you.

His lips tasted like the remnants of cigar smoke. His touch was nearly intoxicating, like you were drunk off just the way he held you. You inhaled sharply and finally turned your face out of his grip, eyes glued to the table cloth. You had almost forgotten where you were - feeling like the room was spinning - and you let out a nervous laugh.

The topic of discussion moved on quickly and it seemed like any suspicion the hostess had about either of you had dissipated. You and Logan decided to say your goodbyes immediately after dinner, making some excuse about having to wake up early the next morning. When you stepped out and he shut the door behind him, you couldn’t hold your tongue any longer.

“What the hell was that?” you spat, eyebrows knitted. 

“What was what?”

He was completely nonchalant as he continued to walk next to you towards his truck. 

“You kissed me.”

“I did.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He stopped with you at the passenger side of the truck, standing in front of the door so you couldn’t get in.

“What if I wanted to?”

You swallowed hard. It was dead silent outside, save for the chirping of crickets.

“What?”

“I wanted to,” he admitted, chewing his bottom lip, “I wanted to kiss you.”

You didn't know what to say. He hated you, didn’t he?

“Logan, I - “

“You can’t tell me you didn’t feel anything in there, pretending to be together.”

His voice almost sounded strained, like he was pleading.

“You don’t even like me, you hate me,” you deflected, but he shook his head.

“That’s not true. I never hated you. I figured you’d hate me after I acted like an asshole when we met, so I went with it. I don’t hate you. I think you’re funny, I think you’re pretty - I just never really knew how to tell you that.”

When you only stared in response, he moved aside and opened your door with a defeated sigh. You were still speechless but you hesitantly slid into the seat anyway, letting him close the door. When he got into the driver's side and started the ignition, you couldn’t stop looking over at him.

“So, you like me,” you finally said aloud.

He kept his eyes glued to the road when he responded in a low voice, “why do you think I bother you so much?”

“You pick on me because you like me? Like a little kid?” you couldn’t help the amusement in your voice as your confused expression turned to a smile.

You saw him bite back a smile that mirrored yours, shaking his head.

“I guess you could say that.”

“Well, you’re not too bad, you know, and I guess you’re kind of handsome.”

“Oh, really?” 

“Mhm, but don’t make me take it back.”

The rest of the short ride home was spent in comfortable silence, both of you seemingly trying to figure out where you’d go from there. When Logan parked his truck and got out, he came around your side to open your door. You hopped out and he shut the door for you, but grabbed your hand before you started to walk away.

“Hey, c’mere for a second.”

You let him pull you a little closer, intertwining both your hands. The evening air was chilly and you could see his breath in the air when he spoke.

“Can I kiss you, for real this time?”

You could feel your heart beating fast and you nodded eagerly. The second you did, his lips were already on yours. His hands let go of yours to settle in your hair, threading the strands between his fingers. His touch felt warm in comparison to the cold air and you leaned further into him with your hands gripping his jacket to pull him close. When he pulled away, he rested his hands on your waist and planted another kiss on your forehead. 

“Maybe we could, uh, try again,” he cleared his throat, running his hands up and down your sides, “be nice to each other this time.”

Truthfully, you couldn’t hate Logan, even though you tried. 

You couldn’t hate his perfect hair.

You couldn’t hate his sweet voice.

You couldn’t hate his kind smile.

You couldn’t hate the way he dressed.

You just couldn’t hate Logan Howlett. 

So, you kissed him again, smiling against his lips and letting him hold you as close as possible, almost lifting you off the ground with his arms around you.

“We should probably go inside, huh?” you mumbled when you leaned back, lightly scratching the mutton chops on the side of his face in an affectionate manner. Those were another thing you’d pretended to hate - probably because you were embarrassed to admit you thought he pulled them off well.

“As you wish, Mrs. Smith.”

He held his hand out for you to take and you did, eyeing the ring on your finger.

“You know,” you held up your hand to show him the jewelry, “I think i’ll keep this.”

He grinned, bringing your knuckles to his lips and leaving a chaste kiss, “I think i'll keep mine, too.”

You were both still holding hands when you went inside, blushing like two little kids. You were so engrossed in one another that you didn’t notice Jean and Ororo in the hallway ahead of you as he leaned down to kiss you again. Now that he knew he could actually do it, he couldn’t help himself.

“I’ll take it your night went well,” Ororo giggled, Jean doing the same. You jumped a little in surprise, covering your pink face in mild embarrassment. 

“What changed? I thought you hated each other,” the latter of the two asked.

“Eh, he’s not so bad,” you teased, shrugging your shoulders.

‘’Turns out, we make a pretty good fake husband and wife,” he explained, “I guess we got a little too carried away with it.”

As the two of you walked hand in hand further down the hall, Ororo elbowed Jean lightly, leaning over to whisper behind her hand.

“You owe me twenty bucks.”

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆

A/N: If you've made it this far, thank you sm for reading!! I wasn't sure if I wanted to keep this as is or add smut so I'll leave it how it is and if enough people ask for it, I can make a part two <3 pls reblog and like if you enjoyed/want more and my inbox is always open :)

Edit: here is the link to part 2!

[backinmyphase]

You didn't even know how this happened and if you were in your right mind, you would be embarrassed to no end, but somehow you ended up laying in fratboy! Satoru's bed with him on top of you making out, and god who knew what would happen after a few drinks at one of his parties?

But even now you still were wondering why his kisses felt so passionate, why his hand on your waist held you so securely and steady and why were you imagining a faint blush on his cheeks?

What a few drinks do to you, huh?

"Fuck, you are so hot..." he was mumbling into your lips while his other hand explored your body. You felt yourself burning up at his words and after a small whine escaped your lips, he chuckled while creating a small gap between you two.

"Says you..." a poor attempt to flirt really, but it did draw a small laugh from him.

"Soooooo..." he started to lightly pull at your shirt and a bit of panic ignited through your body. "Is this okay?"

He stopped in his tracks and looked at you through his dazed eyes. Blue eyes. Really, really pretty eyes.

Fuck, why were people always judging other girls for spending the night with him? You would do it for the rest of your life if you could...

"Hey, if you don't want to, it's alright-" after your lack of response, the famous fratboy! Satoru really got nervous and looked at you with no of his usual confidence.

"No no, I want this but..." you cleared your throat while looking away. "Could you please turn off the light?"

He blinked at you two times. Then three times. His mouth slowly opening and closing again, making you feel smaller under his gaze and almost clutch onto your clothes. He then sat up while shaking his head. "Why?"

"Oh you know..." you followed him and sat up yourself, while letting out a nervous laugh. "Don't want you to be turned off."

...

That wasn't what Satoru wanted to hear, no never. He looked at you with so much confusion he genuinely thought you were joking at first. But when he saw your awkward smile he couldn't believe you really meant it.

"Me? Turned off? By you?"

"Oh I know how it is, sometimes the imagination is better than reality, I don't want to ruin the fun-" you let out another nervous laugh. You already ruined this didn't you?

"Me? Turned off? By you??" he groaned as he saw the genuine confusion on your face.

"I don't understand..." you muttered while he studied your face with a critical look.

"Listen to me sweetheart." he pulled you close again and you could just barely surpress the little sigh that was about to leave you.

"You're literally the most gorgeous woman I have ever laid my eyes on. And I won't be turned off by any part of you, okay?"

Now it was your turn to blink at him. And it was probably just the lightning, but he seemed even more red.

"You are telling that every girl." you accidentally muttered what was supposed to stay in the safe and deadly space of your head, but he heard it and now almost seemed to glare at you.

"Jesus we need to work on your self esteem." he started to hide his face in the crook of your neck, nibbling at the skin. "And I won't fuck you, if I can't admire you, just to be clear. I waited to long for this moment to not see you moaning my name."

Now you were really burning up, what the hell?

"Please, I just don't want this to be ruined by my not so great loc-"

"I waited to long, seeing you every day at campus, admiring you, listening to your sweet voice, to only get a dark room for my first time worshipping you."

"Gojo, stop it-" you felt like dying from his words, feeling him touching you everywhere wasn't helping you in any way. Even if you will dream of this.

"Satoru. You know the name." he groaned into the crook of your neck. "Sweetheart, I think we have to just cuddle for today."

It was stupid but your heart sank at his words because, fuck, you really did ruin it. "Is that so?"

"Yeah. I have to take you out at first so you get that I'm serious."

What a few drinks do to you, huh? If only you knew fratboy! Satoru wanted to ask you out since last year.

Listened to bed chem while writing this hehehe

[tokoyamisstuff]

Second Chance At Love Pt. 3

Variant! Invincible x gn! Reader

Warnings: angst, blood, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, not proofread A/N: don't worry, this is not over yet! and sorry to all the og Mark fans lmao

[A few minutes earlier, Pentagon Medical Ward]

"So you left my friend alone with this freak the whole time?!"

Cecil's thumb was hesitating on the trigger for the high-frequency device, not wanting to stain his relationship with the original Mark any further - but after witnessing what his variants were capable of, he's certainly not taking any chances.

"Calm. Down." he urges the young Viltrumite while trying to remain amenable at the same time. "We needed to take care of the active threats beforehand, and also...he seemed quite fond of your friend." That last part he regretted immediately after saying it aloud.

"You can't be serious!" Mark now screamed, dramatically throwing his hands in the air, thus making all nearby agents cower in fear. "It was you who told me that one of those psychos tried to lure my mom out to kill her! What else do you think this is? He made my friend believe he's me, to play some sort of wicked game!"

All that had happened those past few days...the death and destruction...Mark blamed himself for all of it, because at the bottom line everything was inevitably caused by his own lack of resolve.

And there he was, hiding away at Eve's sickbed like a stubborn child, cowardly refusing to take responsibility as earth's last hope, while others were risking their lives to correct his errors, hell, while his brother and mom were still out there!

Once again he let everyone down.

But Mark won't let any more people he cares about suffer because of his own shortcomings. This time he won't hold back...

...he'll kill this variant and make him pay for what he's done.

Picking up his mask from the counter, he bids his still comatose girlfriend one last look, very well aware how disappointed she'd be at his latest decisions. She'd want him to go. So he mutters a silent apology before rushing into the hallway, with Cecil following closely behind.

"Teleport me to them. And you better send as many backup reanimen as you can."

[Current time]

"Careful Mark. If our observations are correct, this one is way stronger than the others." The hero huffs in annoyance upon hearing Cecil's voice from his earpiece, watching his other self come out of the debris with not a hair out of place.

Well, most of the variants probably never faced any real threat or even slight disadvantage in their lives. There was simply no reason for them to train properly, since the powergap between Viltrumites and any other species was just so ridiculously high.

This version of Mark however spent his entire life preparing his vengeance on Omni-man for taking the one and only thing he truly cared about...

...and his hard work seemed to bear fruit, since a single counterattack of his was painful enough to temporarily stun the original. He seized the opportunity to pin his opponent down, landing one severe blow after another until both of them were completely covered in the original Mark's blood.

"NO!" you screamed at the top of your lungs, having thrown yourself onto the variant's back as you - brave yet very foolishly - tried to to get those two behemoths away from each other. And in the end, your struggle and pleas actually made the variant stop in his tracks. "Please...don't kill him."

For a split second you see the look of heartbreak and betrayal in the man's face, since seeing you still care so much for the original erased all hope he had started to harbor.

Your world's Mark has everything he ever wanted, and he doesn't even understand how lucky he is.

This is so fucking unfair, it's driving him insane.

The Viltrumite raises his bloodied knuckles to his temples, his jealousy spiraling into a violent, irrational urge to tear the original apart and take his place.

And yet he tries to keep it together for your sake as he couldn't bear to cause you any more sorrow. He glares you down with so much malice "That was self-defense" he scoffed through strained breaths, desperately trying to prevent himself from having a mental breakdown. "I wasn't actually going to-"

Now it was the original Mark's chance to turn the battle around, grabbing the variant by the throat as he crushed him against a mountain not far from the hill you were on.

While your former friend was completely disregarding you, rationality overthrown by his wrath, the other Invincible's eyes were practically glued to you in concern for your safety. At first he was holding back, letting the attacker use him as a punching bag in hopes it'd calm him down...

...but when he recognized the capsules transporting reanimen falling from the sky, he pounced on you with no forethought, shielding you from the impact with his own body.

"Shit, are you oka-" Another time he was torn away from you, with Mark yelling at him to keep his filthy hands off of you. And yet with every move, no matter what, the other Mark did a way better job to prevent any harm than the one who came to 'save' you from that very same man.

"Dude, that's exactly why we cannot fight here!" the variant reprimanded his counterpart while severing the head and limbs from several cyborgs. "Think about your partner's safety! We both only want what's best for them, right?"

"Huh?" The original Mark gave a puzzled look at that statement, the word 'partner' obviously made him think of Eve, but his eyes briefly flickered towards you. "What's that supposed to mea- ah, whatever."

In any other context you would've probably been so embarassed that you wished for the earth to swallow you whole - but this is neither about you, nor was it the time for this kind of talk. And luckily, Mark didn't overthink the variant's words but focused on the truth in them instead, swiftly throwing you over his shoulder to bring you away, so that they could continue their battle without endangering you.

"Let. Me. Go!" You repeatedly punch against Mark's back, horrified to see your newfound friend down below trying to stand his ground against the reanimen. "Tell them to stop! None of this is necessary!"

"Hey, it's me!" Mark tries to soothe you, convinced that you're just overwhelmed by today's events. "The real me, okay? Stop being so irrational!"

"Yeah, I know that, you blockhead!" you blurt out in anger, "And you're one to talk! You let your emotions dictate your actions, as always! I thought Invincible spares the bad guys and tries to talk it out?"

"...not anymore. We all saw today how that way of dealing with villains turns out." Letting you down so far away that you can't even see how the variant is holding up anymore, Mark is about to leave and finish the job when you manage to get a hold of his wrist. "Wait. Listen to me, that Mark is not entirely evil!"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" So not only did you know it was a variant, but now you're also defending him?! "The trauma messed with your head or something. Let Cecil's people pick you up and check on you."

"Seriously, Mark." He finally turned around to take a proper look at you, grinding his teeth as he recognized that naive, caring attitude of yours that always had a positive influence on him in the past. It made his heart swell with both admiration and envy...

...because why the hell were you advocating for a malicious version of himself, especially after throwing away your friendship over something he had no control over?!

"You know this guy one fucking day and suddenly you're on his side?" the hurt in his voice was so tremendous, you felt as if the guilt of it swallowed you whole. "You were supposed to be my friend, and he's the one who participated in making mine and many other's lives a living hell! So why?!"

"...it would be a waste to kill off a potential ally of this strenght, would it not?" Your reasoning got accentuated by the sound of metal and flesh clashing in the background, and you secretly hoped the variant was doing okay. "Maybe he can be rehabilitated."

"God, you sound like Cecil...but even he draws a line at some point. This guy is irredeemable!" Mark ran a hand through his hair, pacing around in circles to clear his head - and yet it was like your role in all this was the one drop that made the pot boil over. "He needs to be stopped! You've seen it yourself, he leveled several cities to the ground and killed a great amount of heroes! Shit, he's caused millions of deaths, do you have any idea what that means?!"

There was nothing to add to this. He was right, about absolutely everything. And yet...

"He-he needed to fullfill his part of the bargain, or Angstrom would've-" A loud bang echoed through the air as Mark's fists met the ground in frustration, effectively cutting you off. "Fuck, do you even hear yourself?! He always had a choice to join the fight on the right side instead of wasting his time chasing after yo-" There was a gleam of epiphany in his eyes that made you a little anxious whether he had picked up on the hints.

"Look, I'm not trying to justify his actions." You pry one of Mark's fists open, intertwining your fingers with his. "But we need him..."

"...we, or you?" That question caught you off guard, but when you wanted to stumble away but Mark pulled you right back. "What he talked about earlier...are we a couple in that other dimension?"

Sometimes you tend to forget that he isn't as dull as he comes across. Damn it.

"I-I-I....it's more complicated than that. I...died in his world." You shouldn't even be arguing about something so pointless right now, and you also don't want to burden him any further, but he keeps prying.

"So what, you want to become the moral support of a mass murderer?" Worded like this it does sound pretty awful. "I know you cut me out of your life, but I still care about you. No way I'm gonna let that happen. It's too dangerous."

Those feelings you harbored over the past decade were like a chain weighting heavy around your heart - but instead of communicating like an adult, you dwelled in self-pity and pushed your friend away. And as crazy as it sounds, over time you convinced yourself there's no way out of this, nothing else awaiting you...

...that was until you met the other Mark, however.

No better timing to free yourself than now, you thought, but Mark connected the dots faster than you were able to confess. "...why did you never say anything?"

"Oh c'mon, you've been doting on Eve since highschool." Mark was not the person to back out of a friendship like this, even if though he didn't reciprocate. If you had told him he'd certainly would've found a way to make this work, since he didn't want to lose you. And yet you didn't want to give the two of you the chance to overcome this, rather choosing to hurt him before you get hurt.

What a stupid, selfish teenager you were back then...

"Now it all makes sense" he speaks to himself, shyly glancing over to you again as he covers his blushing cheeks with his hands. "Fuck, I'm such an idiot..."

"Nonsense, I'm the ass for ruining our friendship over a silly crush." That was the understatement of the year - you were head over heels for this man.

He seems almost melancholic thinking back to all the moments he should've noticed what's going on. All this time wasted going no-contact when you could've worked things out instead...but it takes two to do that, and he's certainly not the one to blame.

Turning his head towards the noise of the ongoing fight, he shakes his head in disbelief. "This is so fucked up..."

"Tell me about it" you chuckle, playfully poking his side in an attempt to lighten the mood, and both of you give each other an appreciative smile. "But we shouldn't make rushed decisions in our current state, right?"

Mark lets out a shuddered sigh, realizing just what kind of hole your absence has tore in his life. But you'll manage to get back to how things were between you. This was a ray of hope cutting through the storm he's been caught into, ever since becoming a superhero.

"God, you have no idea how much I've missed you..."

There's no more time to waste, everything else has to wait until much later. Mark brings you back with him, a safe distance away from where the variant was still battling reanimen that just kept coming. Upon seeing Invincible he raises his guard again, but much to his surprise he's not attacked again, quite the opposite.

"Cecil, stop them!" your Mark exclaims into the comm as he jumps in between the crowd of cyborgs, giving a quick nod of acknowledgement to his other self. "He won't resist if we take him prisoner, right?"

"Sure..." the variant murmured, raising a brow in confusion. But indeed, the mechanical soldiers stop and he gets immobilized by Mark without fighting back. He looks up to you as if seeking your approval, and you quickly rush to their side, scolding Mark for being so harsh with his precautions.

"Are you hurt?" you whisper as the GDA agents transport you back to the Pentagon by helicopter, only the real Mark having flown ahead. You however refused to leave the variant's side, even though you've been strongly advised to go home, at least until the situation was less intense.

"This is nothing..." The Viltrumite huffs in amusement that you were worried about him of all people. He looks down to the shackles around his arms and legs that could never actually hold him, daring to crack a smile which you gladly mirrored. "But thanks that you stood up for me...even though I still don't understand why."

"Because I believe in you, so you better not disappoint me!" you chant, whearing a quiet whimper escape his throat when you put a reassuring hand on his knee. "Everything is gonna be alright, I'm sure of it. We're gonna figure it out...together, okay?"

A few hours later and you were still waiting in a hallway of the GDA, the feeling of suspense only worsened by all the pitying and disgusted looks some of the agents were shooting you. It was understandable, of course, since they probably saw you throwing yourself at the enemy live and in HD.

"I couldn't care less about whatever you two got going on" Cecil explains with his usual stoic manner, "but he refuses to talk and we don't have time for this."

You knew the opportunistic geeze was at least partly bluffing - he's most likely already planning on how to utilize Invincible's affection for you to control him.

Upon entering the prison cell you gasped at the gigantic apparatus containing him, all of his limbs encoated by a metal you didn't recognize in order to keep him from making any move. Honestly, it felt like no matter what they tried, he was only here because he wanted to be. If you told him to break out right now he'd most likely wreck this place in one milisecond.

The variant's defeated features brighten as he recognizes who was paying him a visit, but the initial excitement was soon pushed back by his newfound guilty conscience. He didn't expect to ever see you again, let alone you voluntarily entering the lion's den.

"I'll accept whatever punishment you deem necessary" he rasps, greatly worried at the possibility of them using you against your will. "Just leave them out of this."

Cecil nudged the bridge of his nose, groaning exaggeratedly. It sure isn't easy making objective decisions when you're that emotionally involved with the Grayson family - although he'd never admit the soft spot he had for them.

Not to mention, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity to get his hands on one of the two literal strongest men on the planet.

"Well for starters you'll help with rescue and rebuidling" he ultimatively decides, talking to the young man like one would scold an unruly child. "Consider this your last chance. And don't you dare taking a break until this whole planet has recovered from the aftermath of your crimes. I don't want to see you eating, sleeping or even breathing without any supervision. Got it?!"

"Yes, Sir..."

A single gesture of his hand enough to make his underlings free the Viltrumite from his confinements. "Give him a new costume so he doesn't scare the survivors...and insert an ultrasonic implant, just to be sure."

Mark rubbed his sore wrists, baffled with this decision. He had expected nothing less than torture, that they'd experiment until they'd find a way to execute him...but this? Ridiculous. Hardly a punishment.

Not that he's complaining, though.

At long last, you were facing each other again, those brief hours of separation feeling like an eternity apart. Crazy to think you barely even know this man - well, the fact that he was so much like the original Mark may have messed with your perception of time...

...or you were simply going crazy as well, who knows. Anyways, it did not feel wrong. If anything you've never been this happy in years.

The Viltrumite seems conflicted, his muscles occasionally twitching out of the desire to be close to you, to touch and hold you and never let go again. But then he detects the tears of relief in your eyes, misinterpreting them negatively and backing off even further.

Right...he doesn't deserve to be anywhere near you.

"You didn't need to...you shouldn't be here." He faces the ground in shame, blinking back tears of his own as he speaks. "Not after what I did."

"Damn it, Mark..." you half-yell, half-whine as you run straight towards him, wrapping your arms around his torso as if to press all of his broken parts back together. "Just...shut up. I'm capable of making my own decisions, whether you like them or not."

What a strange one you were. He wasn't even sure if his dimension's version of you had been that amazing of a person.

"Can't argue with that..." His hands tentatively finding purchase on your sides, and you instantly feel him melt at the feel of your body against his. "But it seems like we won't be able to meet each other for a while..."

"I can wait..." you shrug, beaming up at him with an almost playful tone. "...as long as you promise to take me on another date, would you? Without robots and death-matching yourself next time, if possible."

Mark smiled.

He did so many times ever since you met of course, but it always seemed like he was mimicking genuine human interaction, as if he was forcing himself to put on a facade in order to make you comfortable.

But this one, right here, right now...it was real, and so, so beautiful.

Hopefully you see more of it in the future.

"Oh, I think after you've seen how far I'd go for you, it's safe to say I can't deny you any wish..."

[Next Part]