#i read an article and it made me angry

[allnewastromarta]

I'm either very stupid or very smart. After reading apocaliptic predictions about AI from people working on AI, I really want to see a computer turning evil without human input that made it evil.

[navybluetriangles]

https://michaelhobbes.substack.com/p/the-bleak-spectacle-of-the-amber

EXTREMELY rare w from the uk media

[urdtarah]

so apparently a news station picked up a story about a woman's doctor who ignored her appendicitis and told her it was just anxiety, and oof I'm triggered lmao

[sillimancer]

The THIN IS LIFE, FAT IS MORALLY WRONG Guide to 10 Foods Nutrition Experts Think Are EVIL and if you EAT THEM You Are a TERRORIST Who Deserves to Be SHOT

Food commonly associated with poor people

Food commonly associated with fat people

Staple crop in the global South

A common food desert/food pantry item

Common seasoning and literal building block of the human body

Common seasoning in the global East

Poor people food

Poor people food

Modernized version of an old-timey poor people food

The one food that brings you joy in an otherwise isolating and hateful world

[saerotonins]

biggest scandals they have faced

ft. actor!nanami kento, fushiguro toji x wife!reader (separated) 

content warnings: fluff, light angst, jjk actor au, celebrity issues, cheating allegations, divorce allegations, none of them are true, misogyny, mentions of infertility, just cruel stuff based on the issues i see online, slightly suggestive (making out), toji and wife call each other "ma" and "pa", mentions/hinting of sex, internet trolls, horrible people online, pls don't read if these issues are triggering to you, shitty article names lol

wc: 2052

note: this got too long, will do other parts for the other actors instead <33 happy holidays, everyone!

NANAMI KENTO:

Jujutsu Kaisen Star Nanami Kento Facing Trouble in Paradise: Leads to Divorce

to say he was irritated when he saw the headlines from the tabloids was an understatement, he is beyond livid. but the comments just made everything worse.

user_1: wow aren't they married for years already? maybe his wife can't conceive any babies? LOL

user_2: must be, or maybe nanami's just realized his wife is just using him for his actor money 

user_3: the wife doesn't know to make a sandwich i fear 

user_4: maybe he got tired of his wife's ugly face, no wonder he hides it from the internet hahaha

kento doesn't give a fuck if people were dragging his name left and right but god forbid it involves you, his loving wife who has been nothing but utterly supportive of his career. for someone who stuck by his side for years, it angers him that people immediately assume that you were the problem. he knows the news isn't true, he literally just cuddled with you last night, so to say that you were getting a divorce almost makes him laugh if it weren't how stupid this situation is. 

when his manager informed him about the situation, he immediately cancelled every schedule that he has for today, he will call the lawyers to settle this later but for now, his main focus is you. 

you are someone who is used to the privacy of your own space which is why you opted to keep your face off his socials and remain anonymous to the eyes of his fans. kento hates it that your peace is getting disturbed due to his stardom, so he is willing to drop everything just to go home to you and comfort you. no one knows who you really are but the way it made people talk like they do, makes him angry. no way his wife is going to be disrespected like this.

the moment kento opens the door the your shared home, he's panting, sweat evident in his forehead and worry present in his eyes as he looks at you across the living room, sitting on the couch with your phone in your hands. 

"shit," he thought, he knows you already saw the news, and worse the comments. he can tell just by your body language. your eyes sunken in sadness and your lips form a frown. he doesn't see it but he knows your heart is breaking too.

"honey," kento breathes out as he walks towards you. he knows you heard him, but you stay in your position, disbelief flooding your senses. suddenly, you came back to reality when you feel kento's warm embrace, his large and quick hands getting rid of your phone before placing it on your head and immediately feeling his chest against your head.

his breathing his ragged, unstable deep breaths as he tells you, "it's gonna be okay," and a thousand apologies to go with it. you nod instead, finding yourself difficult to talk. you opt to rub onto his arm, a silent reply to his comforting and kento seems to understand your gesture. he then kisses the crown of your head as he pulls you tighter in his embrace.

"am i holding you back, kento?" you asked, your voice quite muffled as you speak through his button down blouse.

"oh god, darling you will never hold me back, if anything, you keep me moving. don't listen to them, alright? i'm happy and contented to where we are right now, don't worry about it." he lets go of the embrace and cups your face with both of his hands. he looks at you with loving eyes as he brushes your lower lip with his thumb. you close your eyes as he leaned closer, then you finally felt his lips against yours. he gives a peck, another, and then a third one before he crashes his lips onto you for the last time as he takes his time to explore your mouth.

kento knows a lot of ways to apologize, and this is one of them. he is gentle, but his love is loud as he allows his tongue clash against yours, the wet squelch filling up the room as he allows himself to be drunk with your lips.

when kento lets go, his breathing is heavy but satisfied. "i'll take care of everything from then on, okay?" he says as he caresses your face and a smile creeps to his face when you lean towards his touch with a nod. "will you be releasing a statement?" you ask.

"yeah, i'll contact our lawyer about it and then we'll see what we can do." his answer earned a curt nod from you. kento noticed pursed your lips, obviously thinking about something.

"are you still bothered by the comments?"

"no, i mean, i'm a bit upset about how people were talking about me online but i'm just curious as to where all this came from." 

"hmm, yeah, we'll take care of that too, for now, just rest your pretty mind and always remember that i will never leave you. that okay?" his gentle voice makes your heart feel full, and that's you know that your husband will always be at your beck and call. "yeah." you answered as you give his lips a quick peck, "i love you," you added.

"i love you too."

not a even a day later, the JJK LABEL had released a statement and an article regarding the fake news that had surfaced.

Nanami Kento Slams Fake Divorce Article: "Don't project your problems in your love life through me and my wife."

"the article itself and the comments are horrible and people are stupid enough to believe something that came from a tabloid known to release fake news. maybe this just tells about how gullible and stupid people are for believing groundless rumors and not my relationship." the artist stated.

"to everyone involved in the release of this article, we will see you on court and i hope you have any evidence about your claim. to the people who threw disgusting comments about my wife, please worry how alone you are instead of snooping around our relationship." he adds.

that day, kento's fanbase rejoice as the tabloids finally got their karma when it was reported that their company was finally shut down.

FUSHIGURO TOJI:

it was a normal day in the fushiguro household until megumi bursts in through the door with a loud and resounding—

"dad, what the fuck?" 

"megumi, language, please!" you warned him.

your word goes through megumi's ears and went to his dad who is currently lounging in the living room reading his script. he paid his son's words no mind and gave him a raised eyebrow, urging him to continue.

"your name is all over tabloids because of a forum post. look," megumi says as he faces his phone screen to toji's face. to say that he's horrified to what he just saw is an understatement. so, with a worry mind, you go behind toji's lounging chair and read what's on the screen.

Acting Veteran 'T' Caught in An Affair! 

At the night of Tuesday, Actor 'T' is caught leaving a hotel with a seemingly younger woman clinging on his arms. The two are being lovey-dovey in their Shibuya rendezvous. Actor 'T' is currently married with a child which makes everything even more scandalous. What would actor 'T'’s wife and child think about this? Seems like the man really took a liking towards sneaking away with younger women.

Actor 'T'’s identity will be released by [MM/DD/YY] so stay tuned! For now, let us know your thoughts below.

user_1: actor veteran and the code is T? must be toji then?

user_2: this is definitely toji lmfao he looks like someone who would fool a younger woman

user_3: his wife must be so rusty now so he's running to the younglings LOL

user_4: respect for having the balls to cheat on his wife after this long, ik his ass is itching

user_5: @user_4 LMFAO should've done it sooner! bet he doesn't want to pay child support so he's staying 😂

user_6: NOOOO the GOAT got caught damn we were rooting for u 👑

"what the fuck?" both you and toji's voice were erupting in the whole room. out of shock? anger? rage? megumi is not sure but there is one thing he's sure of, both of you are being scary right now and the red in both of you and husband's eyes are almost showing due to the high range of emotions you were both feeling right now.

despite knowing that toji is utterly in love with you and he was actually with you that day, it scares him that his father is facing this kind of scandal. people are horrible out there trying to ruin his father's career that he worked hard on and this is the proof.

toji might be used to having false rumors spread about him all over the years he is in the acting industry, but what he can't take is people talking shit about his wife and thinking less about her. the comments that he just read just woke up the rage inside of him.

"mom?" megumi had called you since it's been minutes when you had gone quiet. the sight before him broke his heart. 

your eyes are trying not to let your tears fall, but the comments are too hurtful to ignore, too cruel to set aside. even though you know that it's covered with a codename (barely), you exactly know it's your husband that they are talking about. you're hurt about the comments but you're most scared of your husband's career coming to a screeching halt.

you suddenly feel your husband hug you so tight and you let it all out. his shirt might get damped but toji doesn't care, comforting his wife comes first. he then tells megumi, "call our lawyer, tell him what we just saw, they'll know what to do," megumi frantically nods and gets out of the house to do what toji had said.

"come on, ma, let's go and get some rest." toji had urged you to go with him.

"pa, this is so ridiculous, i know you know how to deal with these but this is just too much, they're targeting our family now." the sadness in your voice and the tears that flow through face break toji's heart. you don't deserve this. these assholes needed to be taught a lesson, and he knows he won't be nice about it. "i'll take care of this, 'kay? i love you and megs so much, angel."

toji's voice somehow calmed your senses and you let yourself cry in his arms until you're left with no tears. "i'm sorry, i'm too old to cry like this." you said as you try to wipe the remnants of your tears from your face.

"no one's too old to cry, darling," toji coos, glad that you're finally able to calm down, and caresses the back of your head. then, a sly smirk forms on his lips, "you know what else we're not too old for?" 

genuinely curious, you look up to him, "what?" you asked. 

toji leaned down and whispered, "another child, think we can give megumi a sibling?" and gave you a mischievous look.

"toji!" you exclaimed as you smack his chest, flustered of his words. 

"gross, get a room, and is now really the time for this?" you suddenly let go of yourself from toji's grasp the moment you heard megumi back in the living room. toji chuckled, "i got it all covered, both of you rest up and i will deal with all of this." toji walked towards where megumi is standing and gives his head a gentle pat, "no one's gonna ruin us, alright?" 

the conviction in toji's voice made it clear to both of you and megumi that he already has a plan in mind, and you trust him enough to believe him. he has never let the both of you down, after all.

the next day, news break out the the person who posted the rumor on the online forum is caught with other criminal charges aside from the defamation he just attempted to do. the horrible comments also seem to magically disappear.

Fushiguro Toji Busts Down Anonymous User, Other Criminal Charges Involved

"I hope this serves as a lesson to everyone else. I'm not backing down until everyone gets what they deserve for ruining the names of the people I care about. I will not let go until every single horrible person who rises their tongue against my family is punished." Toji stated.

"Be careful what you read and comment online, please don't forget that the people you talk about are not just subjects, but real human beings." The veteran actor added.

the fake news spreader should have really known not to deal with a veteran who is powerful enough to protect the people he cherishes.

edit: i just noticed that i wasn't able to add the ending to toji's part 😭 my apologies, i fixed it now!

[hellouniversehowareyou]

Yea, they rly do NOT want you to vote over there in the USA, why are they making you to register to vote, why don't they just deliver the ballots to every citizen and let you vote with your ID or passport like in a civilized country??

Oh look, it seems like there's a Republican-led movement to purge voter rolls in the lead-up to the election! It's almost as if your vote matters and they don't want you to vote! Anyway, I whipped up a quick map (based on this) that shows when the voter registration deadline is in each state. There are a few deadlines coming up in the next week or so.

If you live in a state that regularly purges voter rolls for infrequent voters (the orange ones in the first map), or if you moved recently, it's good to check if you're still registered to vote.

Vote.org makes it super easy to check your registration: https://www.vote.org/am-i-registered-to-vote/

Just put in your address and DOB and they'll tell you whether you're registered. (And they give you a quick link to register online if it turns out that you're not! Only the 9 states in white on my map don't have online registration, and for those they provide instructions on how to do it via mail or in person.)

So yeah, give yourself peace of mind -- do a quick check. :)

[sweetiecutie]

Pairing: König x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, periods sex, blood play but not really(?), softie König

A/n: very self-indulgent. My periods are as tough as ever and there’s no one to comfort me, so I guess I’ll have to do it myself🥲

König didn’t really know much about periods. Well, of course he knew what menstruation is and that every woman has it once a month, but that was pretty much it. So when you started dating poor guy saw how things really were in female world.

He noticed how moody you would become a week prior your periods, how snappy you’d react to his harmless teasing. König noted your craving for sweets as well, and how angry and sad you’d be over a few pimples that appeared so unwelcomed on your precious face. And König felt truly sorry for you - it was clear as day that you were a hormonal mess, and there wasn’t anything he could do to help you, no matter how much he wanted to.

And then your periods finally came. König watched you get up suddenly from your spot on the couch, rushing straight to the bathroom. He was a bit confused - you were all snuggled up together, watching a movie you picked - did something happen? He knocked on the bathroom door softly, asking if everything was good - a few moments later you opened the door, sour expression on your face as you scrunch up the wrap from the pad. “Yeah, my periods started” you mumbled begrudgingly, your lips pulled in a small pout.

König who just couldn’t bear seeing his precious baby in pain, did everything in his power to comfort you. He wrapped his warm strong arms around your frail form, cuddling you into his chest. His fingers grazed gently the soft skin of your tummy where it ached, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, scattering small kisses wherever he could reach.

König did his research on how to ease menstrual pains. Painkillers, massage, yoga. But what particularly caught his attention - almost every article he’d read said that orgasm is a great way to get rid of cramps - not only healthy but pleasurable as well. So of course he suggested you just that.

König was so sad to see you this fearful and hesitant - “Baby, it’ll make a huge mess. Everything will be covered in blood and I don’t want you to get yourself dirty and-“ you rambled on, his eyes growing wide with every word you said. “Y/n, what are you even talking about?” He interrupted you softly, huge hands coming to cup your cheeks and he looks into your eyes deeply.

“Do you really think a bit of blood will stop me from fucking my amazing sexy girl? If you don’t want this - it’s okay, but please don’t think that I’m disgusted by you bleeding” he said it so earnestly, kissing both of your cheeks reassuringly. König hated the idea of you being self-conscious about absolutely natural processes in your body. So when you nodded shyly, slightly spreading your legs for him to settle in between them, König couldn’t contain a wide grin, even while kissing you passionately.

So with a thick towel under your hips, König got to work - lapping away at your poor pussy, smearing a mixture of your blood, slick and his own saliva all over his cheeks, gazing up at you drunkenly, moaning into your folds at the taste and smell of you. His fingers gently pumped in and out of your sopping cunt, marveling at the wetness blood provided, how easily three of his thick digits slipped into your sensitive cunny.

And only after making you cum on his mouth two times, König decided to fully indulge you, getting his heavy cock out of his boxers. With gentle move of his hips he sunk right into your velvety warmth, penetration as easy as ever due to blood lubrication. He went as gentle as ever, noting how overly sensitive you were - way more than usual. König made sure to not go too deep, to not disturb your poor uterus even more.

König was so sweet, rubbing your clit non-stop, wringing orgasm after orgasm out of your soft beautiful body. He scattered kisses all over your neck and chest, careful to not graze your sore from hormones nipples. And only when you couldn’t take no more - a trembling sweaty mess in his loving arms, babbling and whimpering deliriously, he allowed himself to finally cum on your twitching tummy.

König fucked you so good it took you several minutes to regain consciousness - with bleary eyes you looked up to him, your breath hitching slightly. Here was your boyfriend sitting next to you, grinning from ear to ear; lower half of his face was completely covered in dried blood, his hands and lower stomach glistening with dark red. That would definitely look terrifying if you didn’t know what exactly he was just doing.

“So how are your cramps?” He asked, his white teeth contrasting with brownish-red on his cheeks and lips. You closed your eyes in exhaustion, sinking deeper into soft pillows.

“Gone” you said, making König’s smile brighten impossibly more.

And yes, he’d definitely joke about being a vamp from this day on🙄

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Give writers some love, we live off feedback<3

[verstappenf1lecccc]

All the Miles Between Us

Fernando Alonso x Wife!Reader -

A Life in Five Decades

hi babes this is my favourite work I’ve done I am absolutely sorry for the heartbreak hehe!!!

Youth (Ages 22–30)

Barcelona, 2005

You were scribbling notes in a corner of the paddock, trying to finish your article on tire degradation, when a shadow fell over your notebook.

“Do tires always get that much attention?” a Spanish accent teased.

You looked up, annoyed. “Only when the car’s too fast to blame anything else.”

Fernando grinned, lowering his sunglasses. “Ah. So you’re one of those journalists.”

“I’m not a journalist,” you replied. “Just an intern. So don’t waste your charm on me.”

“Too late,” he said, already leaning against the railing like he had all day. “What’s your name?”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to need something to call you when I win on Sunday.”

You rolled your eyes but smirked. “We’ll see.”

He did win that Sunday. And when he stood on the top step of the podium, champagne in hand, he winked right at your press box.

The next morning, there was a single flower taped to your locker.

It was worth it. – Fernando

⸻

Paris, 2006

It wasn’t fast. You kept it slow. Careful.

You didn’t want to be another name in a long list of weekend flings. And to his credit, Fernando never once treated you like one.

He wrote to you. Real letters. Called when he could, texted when he couldn’t. You still remember one from Istanbul:

Today the car felt like shit but your voice felt like home. I miss you more than I miss sleep. Love you already, I think. Don’t tell me I said that.

⸻

Oviedo, 2007 – The First Fight

The first time you shouted at him was in the kitchen of his family’s house.

“You never stop,” you snapped, slamming a drawer shut. “You don’t eat, you don’t rest, and when you’re not on track you’re still thinking about it!”

“It’s my job!” he fired back. “It’s what I was born to do!”

“And what about us?” Your voice cracked. “Were you born to destroy this, too?”

Silence. Long and awful.

Then, softly, “Do you think I don’t love you?”

“I think you love racing more.”

He walked out that night.

Came back the next morning with a bruised heart and a bouquet of gardenias.

He knelt at your door. “I didn’t sleep. I can’t sleep if we’re not okay.”

You let him in. You always would.

⸻

The Proposal – Oviedo, 2009

It was winter. Snow dusted the rooftops. You’d spent the day trying to assemble Ikea furniture while he read instructions out loud in a horrible British accent.

“I swear I’ll propose before I figure this out,” he grumbled, upside down under a bookshelf.

“God help us both,” you muttered, laughing.

That night, you were in pajamas, wine in hand, fire crackling in the hearth. He looked over at you, completely unguarded.

“You want to marry me?” he asked suddenly, softly.

You blinked. “Is that a serious question?”

He got up, walked over, and slipped his grandmother’s gold chain into your palm. “This is all I have on me. But I swear I’ll give you everything else. Please. Say yes.”

You were already crying when you whispered, “Always, Fernando.”

⸻

The Wedding – Asturias, 2010

The ceremony was on a hill, the wind catching your veil like it had a life of its own. Fernando looked at you like he’d never seen the sun before.

Your vows were whispered but felt louder than any engine.

“I promise to never let you go to sleep angry,” you said.

“And I promise to make you laugh when you least want to,” he added.

You both cried during the first dance. He held your waist like you were made of something ancient and holy.

“You’re too good for me,” he murmured.

“No. I’m just the one who stayed.”

That night, you lay tangled in white sheets, his fingers tracing the lines on your collarbone.

“I’ll spend every day proving I deserve this,” he whispered. “Even the hard ones.”

⸻

The Miscarriage – Rome, 2011

You were nine weeks in. You hadn’t told him yet. You were going to surprise him in person bought a tiny onesie that said papa’s lucky charm and everything.

Then the cramps started. The blood came. And you knew.

You didn’t cry at first. Just stared at the ceiling while the world turned inside out.

When he called from the hotel, you said, “You should come home.”

He knew.

He arrived the next morning, eyes red from the flight, his jacket still smelling like rain.

You collapsed in his arms.

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” you sobbed. “And now it’s just gone.”

Fernando sank to his knees in front of you, pressing his forehead to your stomach.

“I already loved them,” he whispered. “Even if I never got to meet them.”

That night, he built a fire and held you close, rubbing your back while you shook with silent grief.

“We’ll try again,” he whispered. “When you’re ready. And even if it never happens, we’ll still have us. Always.”

You cried yourself to sleep with your hand over his heart.

⸻

Monaco Crash – 2013

You were watching live, laughing at a silly commentator’s remark when his car veered, slammed the barrier.

Your scream startled everyone in the room.

The headset fell from your ears. Your body moved before your brain could.

You were at the medical center before they could stop you, face pale and hands trembling.

He saw you through the glass, smiled weakly. “You’re more dramatic than the crash, mi vida.”

You shoved the curtain aside, tears in your eyes. “I thought you were dead, Fernando!”

He pulled you close, wincing. “Takes more than a wall to take me away from you.”

“Don’t joke,” you choked out.

“I’m not. I saw your face when they pulled me out… and all I thought was, ‘thank God, I’m still hers.’”

⸻

Final Moments of Youth – Austria, 2015

You were on a hiking trail, breathless from the altitude and the laughter. He had his arm around your shoulders, cheeks flushed.

“I think this is it,” he said, stopping to stare at the valley below.

“What?”

“The moment I stop chasing speed. I’m tired and for the first time, I think I want a slower life.”

You looked up at him, heart softening.

“You sure?”

He nodded. “I’ve been fast long enough. I want to learn how to be still with you.”

You kissed him. He kissed you back like he was anchoring himself to the ground.

⸻

The Middle Years (Ages 30–50)

⸻

Oviedo, 2016 — Slow Living Begins

Your house on the hill became a sanctuary. No roaring engines. No flights every weekend. Just wildflowers and books stacked in uneven towers.

Fernando gardened badly. You teased him relentlessly about the crooked tomato vines and his “tragically overwatered basil.”

“You’re just jealous my plants love me more,” he said with dirt on his cheeks, offering you a squashed-looking tomato like it was a diamond.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty,” you smirked.

He grinned. “So you do think I’m pretty.”

You rolled your eyes. “I married you, didn’t I?”

Evenings became your favorite time. You’d sit on the porch with mugs of tea, listening to the wind and letting your legs touch under the table.

“You know,” he said one night, his voice low, “this is the happiest I’ve ever been. No trophies. No pressure. Just you.”

You rested your head on his shoulder. “Then you finally understand what I’ve been trying to give you all these years.”

⸻

Barcelona, 2017 — The First Baby

The second time you got pregnant, you were terrified.

Fernando kissed your stomach every night like a prayer. “You’re not alone this time,” he whispered.

He went with you to every appointment. Held your hand when you cried during the heartbeat scan.

At twenty-three weeks, you woke him up at 3 a.m. in a panic.

“I had a dream the baby didn’t make it,” you whispered, voice shaking. “I felt so empty, Nando, I couldn’t breathe-”

He sat up immediately, pulling you into his lap.

“Feel this?” he said, placing your hand over your belly. “That’s life, cariño. And this…” He pressed your palm to his chest. “That’s love. I swear on both we’re going to be okay.”

Your daughter, Lucía, was born on a foggy autumn morning in October.

He cried so hard when he first held her you thought he might drop her.

“She’s got your nose,” he sobbed.

“And your stubborn brow,” you said, brushing her downy hair. “We’re doomed.”

⸻

Marbella, 2020 — The Second Baby & Pandemic Isolation

Your second child, Mateo, came during the quiet panic of the pandemic.

You gave birth wearing a mask. Fernando wasn’t allowed in the room for the first hour.

When he finally held him, he whispered, “You came into chaos and still brought peace.”

Those months were strange. Locked indoors with two small children, restless hands, and headlines full of dread.

One day you snapped, tears streaking your face after three straight nights without sleep.

“I don’t even know who I am anymore!” you yelled, cradling a crying Mateo while Lucía smeared crayon across the walls.

Fernando took the baby gently, whispered, “You’re the strongest person I know.”

“I’m falling apart.”

“So fall,” he said. “I’ll catch you.”

⸻

Oviedo, 2022 — The Cancer Scare

You found the lump in the shower. Firm. Small. But undeniably there.

You didn’t tell Fernando for a week. He was already overwhelmed his mother’s health was declining, the world still uncertain.

When you finally sat him down, you said it fast “I found something in my breast. I have a scan tomorrow.”

The way the color drained from his face nearly broke you.

He reached for you instantly, thumb trembling as he stroked your cheek. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I didn’t want you to panic until I knew.”

“But you were already panicking,” he said softly. “Weren’t you?”

You nodded.

He pulled you into his chest and held you for so long you lost track of time. The night felt like a never-ending breath you couldn’t release.

At the hospital, his grip never left yours. The waiting room. The ultrasound. The biopsy. Each click of the machine felt like thunder.

When the doctor finally said it was benign a fibroadenoma, not cancer Fernando laughed and cried at the same time. His head bowed in relief, tears soaking into your shirt.

That night, he held your scarred breast in his hands and kissed it.

“This body… it’s given me everything,” he whispered. “You. Our children. Our life. I’ll never take a single piece of it for granted again.”

You wept into the crook of his neck. The way he looked at you never changed. Not through aging. Not through scars. Not through fear.

Only deeper. Only fuller. Only more.

⸻

Asturias, 2023 — Losing Your Father

He died suddenly. A heart attack in his sleep.

Fernando drove you six hours overnight so you could say goodbye at dawn.

At the funeral, you didn’t speak for three days.

He cooked for you, sat beside you without pushing, held your hand even when you wouldn’t meet his eyes.

On the third night, you finally spoke.

“I didn’t even say ‘I love you’ the last time we spoke. I told him I was too busy to call.”

Fernando pulled you close, your grief soaking into his shirt.

“You were busy. Loving me. Raising our kids. Being the person he was so proud of.”

You sobbed into his chest, the pain blooming like wildfire.

He stayed up with you all night, listening to stories about your dad. Never said a word. Just listened.

⸻

Oviedo, 2028 — The Anniversary

Lucía was fourteen. Mateo was eleven. Your house was loud with hormones and burnt toast.

You’d forgotten it was your anniversary until you came home and found the entire garden lit with string lights, your favorite dinner steaming on the table.

Fernando stood in a button-up shirt that didn’t match his pants, holding a wrinkled card.

“I panicked. The kids helped. Lucía picked the flowers. Mateo made dessert so eat at your own risk.”

You laughed until you cried.

Over dinner, you held his hand and whispered, “You’re still my favorite thing in the world.”

He kissed your knuckles. “I’ve had so many lives… but the only one I ever wanted was the one where I’m yours.”

⸻

The End (Ages 50–70)

⸻

Oviedo, 2040 — The Quiet Years

The house grew quieter with each passing year. Lucía left for university first,political science, all fire and fight like her father. Mateo followed soon after, gentler, more like you, always calling just to hear your voice.

You and Fernando got used to cooking for two. Walking the same forest path behind the house each morning. Picking out tomatoes at the market like it was a grand adventure. Reading in bed with your feet tangled together under the blanket.

“This is the good part,” you whispered one morning, watching the sun spill golden over his lined face. “No rush. No races. Just you.”

Fernando chuckled. “I liked winning. But this—” He reached to brush your hair back. “This is better.”

⸻

Barcelona, 2046 — The Diagnosis

It started with fatigue.

You thought it was just age. Then the headaches came. The weight loss. The vision blurs.

They found the tumor in June. Glioblastoma. Terminal.

You were fifty-nine.

You waited until you knew for sure before you told Fernando. You practiced the words in the mirror a hundred times. Still, nothing prepared you for the way he crumpled in the hospital hallway, clutching the edge of a plastic chair like it might save him.

“No,” he said. “No, no, no don’t say it. We still have time. We always have time.”

You held his face and made him look at you. “We have time to love, Nando. But not forever. And that’s okay.”

“It’s not,” he sobbed, voice breaking. “It’s not okay.”

You kissed him. “We were never promised forever. But we earned every second.”

⸻

Oviedo, 2047 — Preparing for Goodbye

The house changed again.

He moved the bed to the sunroom so you could see the trees sway while you rested. He played your favorite records on quiet mornings Piano Concerto No. 2, Springsteen, Fleetwood Mac. You talked about everything and nothing.

You asked him to write to you again. Like he did when you were twenty.

He filled six notebooks.

“I never knew how much I still had to say to you,” he whispered one day, holding your hand like it was made of porcelain. “Even now.”

You cried together, often. But you also laughed about how bad his cooking still was, how Lucía inherited your temper, how Mateo cried at commercials.

You made him promise something, one night when the pain was bad.

“When it’s time… I want one last dance,” you said, voice raw but soft. “Just you and me. Like before.”

“Of course,” he whispered, pressing his lips to your knuckles. “Name the song, mi amor.”

You smiled. “Infinity Jaymes Young.”

His voice caught. “That’s our song.”

“It always was.”

⸻

October, 2048 — The Final Dance

You knew it was time. The doctors said days, maybe a week. You didn’t want machines. You just wanted your family.

Lucía and Mateo flew in. They curled beside you in bed like they were little again. Fernando never left your side. Not once.

On a soft October evening, with the windows open and golden light pouring in, he helped you out of bed. Your body trembled. He held you up.

And then he played the song.

“Baby this love I’ll never let it die…”

You danced.

Slow. Barely moving. His arms around you. Your head on his shoulder. Your breath shallow.

“You gave me the best life,” you whispered against his neck. “I wouldn’t trade a second.”

He cried freely, holding you tighter. “I’m not ready. I’ll never be ready.”

You smiled, even through the tears. “I’ll wait for you. Wherever the next place is, I’ll be there.”

“Promise?”

You kissed his lips. “I promise.”

⸻

A Week Later

You passed away in your sleep, in the home you built together.

Fernando stayed beside you until the sun rose. He kissed your forehead and whispered the last words you ever said to him: “I’ll wait for you.”

⸻

Years Later — After You Were Gone

He kept your books on the shelf.

Still made tea for two, sometimes forgetting.

Still wrote you letters even when there was no one to read them.

Your children came often. Brought your grandkids. Told stories you’d once told them.

Lucía once asked him, “Do you still miss her, after all these years?”

He smiled, eyes soft with memory. “Every day. But I know she’s just ahead of me. Not gone. Just waiting.”

⸻

The Reunion

There’s a dream Fernando has often.

He’s young again. You’re waiting for him beneath a streetlamp in Florence, wearing the dress you wore the night you told him you loved him for the first time.

Music floats in from an open café window. He reaches for your hand.

“Dance with me?” he asks.

You smile.

“Always.”

And you do.

Dancing with him forever

[mushramoo]

I been talking to a lot of ppl w cats lately (I volunteer at an animal shelter) and I didn’t know this needed to be said but

PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DO NOT DECLAW YOUR CAT.

Declawing sounds very normal to people who aren’t educated on it so let me show you what it actually is.

As you might notice from the diagram, the claw is attached to a small bone at the very end of a cat’s paw. They are fused to this bone, which on a human hand would be where your last knuckle is (the one right before your nail). When someone gets a cat declawed, they aren’t just removing the claw.

The entire last digit of the cat’s paw is removed. (See below)

This severely impedes the cat’s ability to balance itself, is extremely painful for them, and can make the cat extremely aggressive because it no longer has one of its main defense mechanisms! It can also cause many other medical issues down the line including infection, necrosis, and some cats are never able to walk correctly again. Most cats that have this done never fully recover from the procedure and are in constant chronic pain.

It is extremely inhumane and is illegal in only two states at the time I’m writing this!!!! (Maryland and New York) Cats should only have this procedure if it is a life or death situation, never just because someone finds a cat being a cat inconvenient for them. Don’t get a cat if you don’t want to be scratched or have some ruined furniture. If you want more information on this topic, I’d recommend Jackson Galaxy’s YouTube video on it, and to read up on some articles I will link in the comments.

I know I don’t usually post about these types of things, but it’s made me extremely angry to hear people mention getting their cats declawed so flippantly as if it doesn’t ruin the cat’s life, and always for an asinine reason like “they scratched my couch” or “they scratch my kids” THOSE ARE YOUR RESPONSIBILITIES AS A CAT OWNER. Treat your kids and peers to treat animals with respect, or don’t get a cat.

[mintyys-blog]

INTERVIEW —shiesty! mark grayson x reader

WARNINGS: lying, manipulation, blood, death/murder, kidnapping, injury.

Y/N’s life had become a constant balancing act. She was trying to make it as a writer, but lately, it felt like every step forward was met with two steps back. She had started out with so much passion for her job—interviewing superheroes, uncovering their stories, getting a glimpse into the lives behind the masks. But now? It felt more like a treadmill that kept running faster and faster, with no way to stop.

Her editor, Lucie, had made sure of that.

Lucie wasn’t just a hard-ass; she was a nightmare. She had expectations that bordered on unreasonable, especially with the pressure Y/N felt from her lack of interviews with the big names—Invincible, Atom Eve, anyone with a real reputation. The article pitches that Y/N had sent in lately were safe, solid, but Lucie wanted more. She wanted headlines, she wanted the heroes that mattered, and she didn’t care how Y/N got them.

“I don’t give a damn about your excuses,” Lucie had snapped in their last meeting. “You need to land something big, and if you don’t, I’ll be forced to reconsider your place here. Either you step it up or step out.”

Y/N had swallowed her fear, nodding along even though her stomach churned. The words “step out” felt like a death sentence to her career. But how could she land something big when every time she tried, it ended in failure?

She had tried with Atom Eve, a hero she admired and respected. She had tracked her down after a battle in the city, where Eve was handling some rogue villains. Y/N had waited patiently for a moment, hoping to catch Eve after the fight, but the moment never came. When Eve finally emerged from the wreckage, her clothes torn and her face lined with exhaustion, Y/N had tried to approach her.

“Excuse me, Atom Eve? I’m Y/N, I’m a writer—can I ask you a few questions?”

Eve had stopped in her tracks, her eyes flicking to the wreckage she had just left behind. The last thing she needed was a reporter poking her for a story. Her face was hardened, her brow furrowed as she assessed Y/N, and then she shook her head.

“Not now,” Eve had said firmly. “I’m busy.”

Y/N hadn’t pressed her. The fear of interrupting a hero in the middle of a battle, of putting her in a vulnerable situation where her focus was broken, made her hesitate. Atom Eve wasn’t a hero to mess with when she was angry or distracted—Y/N knew that firsthand. So she had backed off, feeling small, as Eve disappeared into the smoke of the ruined city.

The interviews with the smaller heroes had been equally disappointing. Sure, they had stories—stories of small victories and long nights of patrol—but they didn’t capture the public’s attention like Invincible or Atom Eve did. No one wanted to read about the less popular, less mainstream heroes. They wanted the legends. The ones who could save entire cities with a single punch.

And Lucie didn’t care about those lesser-known heroes. She wanted the big names, and she made that crystal clear during their meetings. Y/N had gotten tired of trying to pitch stories that weren’t going anywhere. She tried to argue, tried to explain that the smaller heroes had incredible stories, too, but Lucie only rolled her eyes.

“Give me something people care about, Y/N, or I’ll find someone who will,” Lucie had said, her voice dripping with disdain.

The sting of the words had been sharp, like a slap to her already fragile confidence.

So, Y/N had tried harder. She pushed herself to get the interview, but each attempt had felt like a failure. She was getting desperate. The weight of Lucie’s pressure had become suffocating.

That was why, when Y/N found herself sitting outside Lucie’s office one cold afternoon, she felt the knot in her stomach tighten. She knew this conversation wasn’t going to be pleasant. She could already feel the sharpness of Lucie’s words cutting through the air like a blade.

Lucie’s door swung open, and Y/N was gestured in with a curt wave. Lucie’s office was sterile, nothing but sharp edges and cold, impersonal decor. She barely glanced up as Y/N took a seat.

“So, Y/N,” Lucie began, her voice flat, “tell me about these ‘interviews’ you’ve been doing. And make it quick. I’m not in the mood for excuses today.”

Y/N took a deep breath. “I’ve been trying to get an interview with Invincible, Atom Eve, any of the bigger names, but they’re always gone before I can approach them. Or they’re too busy fighting—”

Lucie interrupted her, leaning forward with an air of irritation. “I don’t want to hear about your excuses. I want results. You were supposed to get me an interview with someone—anyone with a real name, someone the readers care about. You’ve done nothing but waste my time.”

Y/N flinched, her hands gripping the edge of the chair, but she refused to break. “I’ve been trying. I really have. But—”

“No buts!” Lucie snapped. “You’re not here to tell me why it’s hard. You’re here to give me what I need. And if you can’t do that, I’ll have to consider other options. I’ve got enough writers who can handle simple interviews. Do you want to be one of them?”

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She had to keep herself from crumbling, but it was hard. Every fiber of her being screamed that she couldn’t fail. Not now. Not when her career was on the line.

“I can do it,” Y/N said, her voice shaky but determined. “I just need more time. I’ll get the interview. I promise.”

Lucie didn’t say anything for a moment, her icy gaze pinning Y/N in place. Then, with a dismissive flick of her wrist, she stood up. “You better. I’m not going to keep giving you chances. I’ll expect a big name on my desk by the end of the week. Do I make myself clear?”

Y/N nodded, standing to leave, her heart pounding. The pressure was crushing. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep pretending that everything was fine. But one thing was certain—if she didn’t land an interview soon, she would be out of a job.

Y/N couldn’t shake the image of Atom Eve from her mind. She had always admired her—not just for her powers but for her kindness and her strength. Atom Eve was the type of hero who could tear down a building with a single punch, but she would always help someone up afterward, her compassion glowing through the chaos of battle. That kind of strength was rare, the kind that came from a place of genuine care for people, not just the need to save them.

Y/N had always hoped to capture that side of her in an interview—Eve’s humanity, her vulnerability, the real person behind the hero. But instead, she had only gotten a brief moment, one where Eve had been too caught up in her own struggles to even consider a conversation. Y/N had been too afraid to push, to ask more when she saw how exhausted and frustrated Eve looked. Maybe if she had been more confident, more demanding, Eve might have given her a chance.

But as soon as that thought entered her mind, Y/N shook her head. No, that wasn’t right. Eve had every right to refuse. She had just fought for hours, risking her life to protect the city, and here Y/N was, feeling sorry for herself, wishing for something that wasn’t her place to ask. Eve didn’t owe her anything, least of all an interview.

“God, I’m such an idiot,” Y/N muttered, kicking at a loose pebble on the sidewalk. She couldn’t help but curse herself for being selfish. She had to stop thinking about her own career and start thinking about the people she was supposed to be writing about—the heroes who were out there making real sacrifices. They didn’t have time for her selfish needs.

I need to clear my head, she thought, rubbing her temples. Walking down the street, she tried to shake the fog in her mind, but it lingered like a weight on her chest. She needed a distraction—something to get her out of her own head.

The city streets were bustling as usual, the noise of the city carrying in the cool evening air. But then, a strange shift happened. A ripple ran through the crowd, a sudden wave of panic. People started running, looking over their shoulders, their faces twisted with fear. The air thickened with tension.

Y/N’s heart started racing as she watched the crowd scatter, their hurried footsteps echoing through the streets. She didn’t know what was going on, but her curiosity got the best of her. She ran towards the direction everyone was fleeing from, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever had caused the commotion.

“Excuse me! What’s going on?” she called out to a group of panicked people. They barely even acknowledged her, their faces filled with terror.

One man shoved past her, grunting as he glanced at her. “Get out of here! Don’t get involved!”

Y/N tried again, but another person shoved her aside. “You should run too,” a woman yelled at her as she pushed Y/N aside, not waiting for a response.

Her heart skipped a beat. Something was seriously wrong. Whatever had caused this panic, it wasn’t just a random disturbance—it was something dangerous.

With her mind racing, she pushed forward, determined to figure out what was happening, but the crowd kept pushing her back. Her instincts screamed at her to be careful, but her curiosity drove her forward, just wanting to know more. The crowd’s panic was contagious.

Suddenly, she heard a roar in the distance—a guttural, terrifying sound that made her freeze in her tracks. It wasn’t human. It wasn’t even close.

Her pulse quickened as she looked around, trying to get a clearer sense of where the noise was coming from. The streets seemed to be emptying, and the terror on everyone’s face was more than enough to tell her that this wasn’t something she wanted to get involved with.

But as the noise grew louder, her thoughts flickered to the heroes. Where were they? Why weren’t they here?

And then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a shadow—tall, dark, and looming. The figure moved swiftly, but it wasn’t a person. It was something else, something far more menacing, and it was headed right toward her.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She turned to run, but her legs felt like lead. The ground beneath her seemed to tremble with each step of the approaching threat.

A voice, cold and mocking, echoed from the alley where the shadow had appeared. “You really shouldn’t be out here, sweetheart. Things are about to get… messy.”

Her heart raced as she finally turned to run, the sound of footsteps getting closer, but she couldn’t help but wonder—who was that?

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as the figure moved closer, the looming shadow taking shape before her. Her heart was pounding, adrenaline surging through her veins. The fear that had been gripping her body seemed to dissipate for a brief moment, replaced by a mix of disbelief and sudden recognition.

Underneath his mask was a skeptical look on his face as he observed her approach. His head tilted slightly as he muttered under his breath, “What the fuck? Is she stupid or something? Why isn’t she Invincible turned, a skeptical look on his face as he observed her approach. His head tilted slightly as he muttered under his breath, “people in this universe have no survival instincts.”

Her eyes widened. “Invisible! Oh my gosh, it’s you!”

She couldn’t believe her luck. Despite the veil over his face and the slightly altered yellow and blue suit, Y/N was certain—this was him. The Invincible she had just interviewed earlier. She couldn’t tell if it was the same one from her world or some twisted version, but she had no time to question it. The last few minutes of panic had left her with a strange sense of urgency, and there was no way she was going to let this opportunity slip through her fingers.

Her grin grew wider as she took a step toward him. Despite his menacing appearance and the air of danger surrounding him, she couldn’t help herself—she was a writer, after all, and he was the big story she’d been chasing for so long.

“You’re Invincible, right?” Y/N called out, trying to steady her voice, though she could hear the excitement creeping through. “I—uh—I know this is probably the wrong time, but I was hoping I could—”

She was cut off by the sound of his rough, mocking laugh, the veil obscuring any real expression but not the tone of his voice. “What the fuck do you want, woman?” he said, his voice dripping with an unsettling mixture of amusement and irritation.

Y/N swallowed hard, trying to push past the nerves flooding her system. She had to seize this chance. “I’m Y/N, a writer,” she said quickly, almost breathless. “I know it’s dangerous, but you’re exactly what I need right now. Can I interview you? Just a few questions—please! My career’s on the line, and I promise, it won’t take long!”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence between them, the tension thick in the air. Y/N watched him closely, noting the way he stood, his posture casual but alert, like he was ready for anything. He seemed to weigh her words for a moment, his eyes narrowing behind the veil.

Finally, with a dismissive flick of his hand, he spoke. “Fine. Why the fuck not?”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, and she quickly pulled out her phone, fumbling slightly as she started the recording. She had to fight to keep her excitement under control, knowing this was a rare opportunity. She glanced up at him, smiling despite the nervous fluttering in her chest.

“Thank you so much!” she said, her voice steadying now that she knew he was agreeing to the interview. “It’s Y/N, and I’m here with Invincible, the—uh—the amazing hero.” She paused, realizing her words felt too formal given the situation, but she powered through anyway. “I just have a few quick questions, if that’s okay?”

He didn’t respond immediately, only staring at her through the veil, as though he was trying to figure out if she was a threat or just another annoying human who had wandered into his path. Finally, he grunted. “Get on with it.”

Y/N almost laughed at how easily she had managed to convince him, though she knew better than to think it would be that simple. With a deep breath, she launched into her questions, trying to keep the interview focused while navigating the weird tension of the moment. His answers were blunt, curt, and often laced with profanity—far from the polished responses she had expected from the Invincible she had seen in the media.

Still, every word he spoke felt like a gem, even if he was being evasive or outright mocking. She could tell that he wasn’t exactly thrilled to be there, but it was clear he was humoring her for now.

As she finished asking her questions, she couldn’t help but feel a slight sense of triumph. The weight that had been hanging over her for days seemed to lift just a little bit. This was it—this was the big break she needed.

“Thank you for your time, Invincible,” she said, smiling brightly. “My boss is going to be thrilled with this! You just saved my entire career— you don’t know how much this means to me.” She laughed, her nerves slowly settling as she wrapped up the interview.

Before she could stop herself, she stepped forward impulsively and threw her arms around him in a quick, spontaneous hug. It was awkward, but she didn’t care—she was so relieved, so grateful.

The hug caught him off guard, his body stiffening under her touch. Y/N quickly pulled away, mortified. “Oh, uh—sorry! I just… I’m just so happy, thank you again!”

Without waiting for a response, she backed away, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I—I’ll let you go now. Thank you so much!” She turned and began to hurry away, still unable to believe that she had just done what she did, let alone get an interview with one of the world’s most notorious heroes.

Shiesty Mark, still concealed in the shadows, watched her retreat with a slow, sinister smirk spreading beneath his veil. The woman’s excitement was almost… adorable. He hadn’t expected her to be so eager, so naive. But it made things even more interesting.

“Stupid woman,” he muttered under his breath, watching her disappear into the distance. His smirk grew. “She was cute, though. Maybe I’ll let her live.” He then crossed his arms, thinking about how she hugged him, “fuck it, I’m keeping her, she owes me after all.”

With that, he turned and disappeared back into the darkness, the city once again left in uneasy silence.

Y/N’s heart was still racing as she dug through her bag for her phone, eager to call Lucie and share the good news. She had done it. She had managed to get the interview she so desperately needed, and the video was already in her phone, ready to send. As she dialed Lucie’s number, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief finally washing over her, like the weight on her shoulders was starting to lift.

The phone rang for a few seconds before Lucie picked up, her voice as sharp and impatient as always.

“Y/N, this better be good,” Lucie snapped, her tone betraying no hint of warmth.

Y/N couldn’t contain her excitement. “Lucie, I did it! I got the interview with Invincible! And I’ve got the video to prove it!” She sent the link almost immediately, her hands shaking slightly from the adrenaline. “This is going to save my career, Lucie! You’re going to love it!”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, far too long for comfort. The silence stretched out until Y/N frowned, holding her phone closer to her ear.

“Lucie? You there?” she asked, a little uncertain.

Then Lucie’s voice came back, but it was different. It was tight, panicked even. “Y/N… listen to me, you need to get out of there. Now.”

Y/N blinked in confusion. “What are you talking about? I just—”

“That’s not Invincible,” Lucie interrupted sharply, her voice rising in urgency. “Haven’t you heard? Earlier today, there were eighteen different versions of him tearing apart the world. Eighteen! They’re all variants, and that guy—” Lucie’s voice dropped lower, tinged with fear, “he is one of them. He’s dangerous. You need to run. Get somewhere safe.”

Y/N’s blood went cold. “What? No… but… he looked like Invincible. He even sounded like him, just a little more… I don’t know, rough. But he—”

“No, no, no.” Lucie’s voice cracked, a rare slip of panic that sent a chill down Y/N’s spine. “That’s not him. There’s been reports of these variants all over the place. They’re unstable, violent—psychotic—and they’re wreaking havoc. He is one of them, and you’re talking to him like nothing’s wrong?”

Y/N’s thoughts raced, her mind struggling to make sense of it. She had stood right there, talking to him, thinking he was just… Invincible, just a little less polished. She hadn’t seen any sign of violence, hadn’t heard any of the chaos Lucie was describing. But then again, there had been something off about him, hadn’t there? The way he’d mocked her, how dismissive and hostile he’d been for no reason, how his laugh had sent a shiver down her spine.

But… Eighteen versions?

“Lucie, I don’t—” Y/N’s voice faltered as she stepped back, glancing nervously around. The streets were eerily quiet now, the earlier panic still lingering in the air like a bad memory. “Are you sure? He didn’t seem… I mean, he wasn’t attacking anyone—”

Lucie cut her off again, her voice sharp. “Y/N, you don’t understand. These variants are unstable. They’re unpredictable and dangerous. If you’ve already interacted with him, you need to get out of there. Now. Do you hear me? Run.”

Y/N’s pulse pounded in her ears. Her mind raced as she looked back toward the dark alley where she had seen the man. The fear in Lucie’s voice made her heart drop into her stomach. She had no idea what kind of danger she might’ve just walked into. What if he really wasn’t Invincible? What if everything she had done—everything she had believed—had been a mistake?

“Lucie…” Y/N whispered, her voice trembling. “What do I do?”

“Get to safety. Now. Don’t trust anyone—especially not him. I’ll try to find out more, but you need to get somewhere hidden, fast.” There was a crackling noise as Lucie seemed to shuffle papers, but her voice never wavered in its urgency. “We’re already working on it. You’re in danger. You’ve got no time. Just—please, get out of there.”

Y/N took a shaky breath, her eyes scanning the street again. The rush of panic was threatening to overwhelm her. What the hell had she gotten herself into?

“I—I’m going,” she muttered, the weight of the situation finally sinking in. Her fingers trembled as she hung up, her chest tight with anxiety. She had to get out. She had to leave, and fast.

She turned, her feet already moving before her mind could catch up, as if her body had decided for her. Every step felt like it could be her last—was he still out there, watching her? She didn’t want to look back, didn’t want to risk seeing those dark eyes peering through the veil, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

As she moved faster down the street, her mind kept replaying the conversation with Lucie, the realization settling heavily in her gut. This wasn’t the Invincible she knew. This was someone—something—else entirely. And he was dangerous.

The phone line suddenly cut out, the static filling her ear before the call abruptly ended. Y/N stared at her phone, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the weight of Lucie’s words pressed in on her. She felt a chill creep up her spine, her hands shaking as she stuffed the phone back into her pocket.

She took a step back, her senses heightened. That’s when she noticed it—the power lines were down. The streetlights flickered erratically, casting eerie shadows on the deserted sidewalks. The air felt thick, heavy, as though something in the very atmosphere had shifted. She had been so focused on her conversation with Lucie, so intent on trying to make sense of it all, that she hadn’t even noticed the sounds of chaos growing louder, closer.

Now, it was undeniable. The distant rumble of destruction—crashing buildings, the sounds of concrete splintering, metal groaning as it bent and twisted—was unmistakable. The screech of tires, the high-pitched wail of sirens, the terrifying echoes of screams reverberated through the streets. She could hear the chaos rising like a tidal wave, swelling in intensity.

The panic hit her like a punch to the gut.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, her eyes wide as she spun around, looking for an escape. She had to get out—she had to get out now. Her heart pounded in her chest, her pulse racing with adrenaline as her mind scrambled to process everything she was seeing. How had she not noticed earlier?

The destruction seemed to follow her, like some relentless, insidious force closing in on her with each passing second. She could feel the ground tremble beneath her feet, the vibrations reverberating up through her legs as though the city itself was fighting to stay intact. Every instinct in her screamed to run, to get away before she was caught in the crossfire of whatever was happening.

Without another thought, she turned and bolted down the street, her breaths sharp and uneven as she pushed herself to move faster. Her only goal now was survival. She needed to get to her car. If she could just make it to her car, she could drive—she could drive as far away from this nightmare as possible, put miles between herself and whatever hell was tearing through the city.

Her feet pounded against the pavement, her body moving almost on instinct as she sprinted through the streets. She glanced over her shoulder, half-expecting to see him—the man she had mistaken for Invincible—emerging from the shadows, but there was nothing. Just more devastation, more chaos. The sound of destruction and screams seemed to get louder, closer, until it felt like it was right behind her.

She turned a corner, her breath ragged, and her eyes locked onto her car up ahead. It was parked on the curb, right where she had left it earlier in the day. Relief flooded through her for a split second, and she sprinted toward it, her hands trembling as she fumbled for her keys.

But before she could even reach the door, a loud, crashing sound shook the ground beneath her feet, and the entire street seemed to vibrate with the impact. She whipped her head around, her heart leaping into her throat as she saw the smoke and debris rising from a building a few blocks away. The dust and rubble in the air made it hard to see, but she could hear the sound of something massive, something unnatural—just beyond the cloud.

Her eyes widened, and she froze for a moment, unable to tear her gaze away from the wreckage. She couldn’t outrun this—she couldn’t outrun whatever nightmare had just descended on the city.

Her car. She had to get to her car.

With panic clawing at her chest, Y/N pushed the thought of the destruction behind her, shoving her keys into the car door and slamming herself into the driver’s seat. The engine roared to life, but her hands shook so violently she could barely grip the wheel. She threw the car into gear, peeling out of the parking space, her eyes frantically scanning the streets for any sign of danger.

But as she sped down the road, the feeling that she was being followed—that something was tracking her—lingered at the back of her mind, gnawing at her. She could still hear the rumble of the chaos in the distance, but it felt like the destruction was always one step behind, closing in as if it were following her every move.

Every turn she made seemed to lead her deeper into the chaos. She had to get out. The city had become a warzone, and she was stuck right in the middle of it.

Her hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, her breath coming in short bursts as she pushed the gas pedal to the floor, determined to escape whatever nightmare had been unleashed. The city was crumbling, and no matter how fast she drove, it seemed as though she couldn’t escape the destruction that was tearing it apart.

And then, through the rearview mirror, she caught a glimpse of something she couldn’t ignore. A dark figure, moving swiftly and silently—closer to her car, but not far enough for her to feel safe. Her pulse spiked again. No, no, no— this was just getting worse. She had to make it out. She just had to.

Her heart hammered in her chest as she stared at the figure in the rearview mirror. It was there—just for a moment, flickering between the shadows, too quick to get a clear look. But Y/N’s gut twisted in terror as the realization hit her: she wasn’t imagining it. The figure was following her.

Her foot slammed harder onto the gas pedal, the car surging forward, but the feeling that something was closing in on her didn’t fade. The sound of destruction grew louder, the rumble of crumbling buildings and the distant crack of glass shattering echoing through the streets like a relentless storm.

Every corner she took, every turn she made, the figure was always just behind her. It didn’t matter how fast she drove—no matter how far she pushed her car, she felt like the destruction was just inches away from consuming her.

“Please, just let me get out,” Y/N muttered under her breath, her voice shaky. She gripped the wheel tighter, her knuckles turning white. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck as she sped through the streets, desperately trying to put distance between herself and whatever nightmare she had gotten caught in.

But the feeling only grew stronger. That sense that she wasn’t alone, that something was hunting her. She could feel it, hear it, like a dark presence looming just behind her.

A screech of tires tore through the air, and before she could even react, the car jolted forward, swerving violently. Y/N slammed on the brakes, her heart leaping into her throat as the car skidded to a stop just inches from the side of a building. The sudden halt left her breathless, her hands still gripped on the wheel, fingers trembling with adrenaline.

She glanced around frantically, her mind racing. There was nowhere to go. No clear path out. She had driven through every street she could think of, and yet, the sound of destruction only seemed to grow louder.

Where could she go? And then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him.

The figure was standing at the end of the street, partially obscured by the shadows, but she could make out the distinctive yellow and blue suit. His form was tall, ominous, his posture almost casual, as though waiting for her to come to him. The veil obscured his face, but Y/N could sense his presence like a looming storm cloud. He was following her. He was waiting.

Her stomach flipped as dread washed over her. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be the same Invincible. This wasn’t him.

Y/N’s instincts screamed at her to drive, to leave, to get as far away as possible. But she couldn’t tear her gaze away from him, the way he just stood there, unbothered by the chaos raging around them, like he was enjoying it.

Her breath hitched as the realization settled in—he was dangerous. He wasn’t the hero she thought he was. He was something else entirely.

Before she could think it through, she shifted the car into reverse and hit the gas, trying to get away, but the tires only screeched in protest. She heard the unmistakable sound of something heavy crashing against the pavement, and her eyes flicked to the rearview mirror once more. He had moved. And fast too.

The shadow in the distance was now closer, right behind her. In one fluid motion, he was there, standing in the middle of the street, blocking her path. He moved fast, unnervingly fast—so much faster than any human should.

Her hands gripped the wheel so hard it hurt. Her breathing was shallow, frantic. The air in the car felt stifling, like it was closing in on her.

“Not so fast,” came his voice—low, mocking, and far too calm for the situation. It sent an icy chill down her spine. She froze for a moment, unsure of what to do. Should she try to outrun him? Should she stop? The more she thought about it, the more the weight of the situation crushed down on her.

“Don’t bother trying to run,” he said, his tone dripping with amusement. “You’re not going anywhere.” Her pulse raced. What the hell does he want?

“You’re just a little writer, aren’t you?” he taunted, taking a slow step forward. The confidence in his voice made her blood run cold. “You thought you could just get an interview with me, huh?”

His words didn’t make sense. They did, but they didn’t. She hadn’t asked for this, hadn’t even wanted to be involved in whatever the hell was happening. She just needed to get away. She needed to escape.

But it was clear now—there was no escaping him. Y/N’s mind spun. How could she get out of this? How could she survive whatever twisted game this man was playing?

“Please,” she whispered, her voice trembling despite her best effort to stay calm. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t want any part of this. Just let me go.”

The figure cocked his head, as if considering her words. Then, without warning, he laughed—a low, sinister chuckle that sent a shudder through her entire body. “Oh, sweetheart, you are a part of this now.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as her eyes darted to the side, trying to come up with some kind of escape plan. But before she could make a move, the figure stepped forward again, moving with unsettling speed, and before she could even process what was happening, he was at her car door, one hand resting against the window, his eyes glowing through the veil.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, his voice laced with something darker, something far more terrifying.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. Her mind raced, her body frozen in panic. The city around her was a warzone, the destruction all-consuming, and she was trapped—right in the middle of it.

Y/N’s breath came in short, desperate gasps, her hands still gripping the steering wheel, too terrified to move. The man—no, not Invincible—towered outside her car, his figure almost engulfing the space between them, his presence suffocating. Her heart was hammering in her chest as she realized just how powerless she was in that moment.

He leaned down slightly, his face hidden beneath the veil, but she could feel the weight of his gaze on her, like he was looking straight through her. The laughter from before echoed in her mind, cold and mocking.

“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice was so calm, so controlled, like he was savoring her fear.

Her mind raced, a thousand thoughts crashing together in a blur. She couldn’t think straight. Escape was all that mattered, but the very idea of trying to drive away seemed hopeless now. He was too close. She was too close to the edge of something terrible, something she didn’t understand.

“I—I don’t know who you are,” Y/N stammered, her voice shaking with a mixture of fear and confusion. She tried to gather her courage, forcing herself to speak through the tightness in her throat. “But please, I don’t want any part of whatever this is. Just… just let me go. I won’t tell anyone. I’ll stay quiet. I swear.”

His dark laughter echoed again, and it made her skin crawl.

“Sweetheart, it’s too late for that,” he said, each word dripping with cruel amusement. “You’ve already seen too much. Heard too much.” He glanced at her with an almost disappointed expression, and her stomach churned. “I can’t let you run off. You wouldn’t understand what’s going on, even if I told you. But don’t worry, you’ll find out soon enough. You’ll see the big picture, in time.”

Y/N’s mind was reeling, trying to understand what he meant by that, but before she could process it, he straightened up, his figure blocking the faint light of the streetlamps overhead. There was something terrifyingly calm about him, something far worse than if he had been acting out of rage.

“No…” she whispered, barely able to voice the thought. “You’re one of those… those variants.” She barely recognized the words coming out of her own mouth, but they were all she could focus on. “You’re not Invincible. You’re not him.”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he tilted his head to the side, considering her, almost like he was amused by her realization. His eyes glinted beneath the veil, and for a moment, Y/N saw something dark, something unstable, flicker in them—like a storm was building just beneath the surface.

“Not him?” he repeated with a slow, mocking smile. “Oh, I’m much more than him. But if you need to believe I’m him, I’ll let you. After all, Invincible doesn’t matter anymore.”

Her blood ran cold at the casual finality in his tone. The realization hit her with full force. This wasn’t just some mistake, some misunderstanding. This was a threat. A real one. He wasn’t pretending to be Invincible. He wasn’t trying to act like a hero. This man—this monster—wasn’t any kind of hero at all.

“I don’t… I don’t want to be a part of this,” she whispered, barely able to choke the words out. She could feel her heart racing against her ribcage, her pulse hammering in her throat. “I just want to go home. Please.”

His gaze softened, but the look was far too calculated, too empty. “Home?” He repeated the word like it didn’t mean anything to him. “You think you’re going home after this? This city’s already fallen apart, sweetheart. There’s no ‘home’ left for you.”

The way he said it made her stomach lurch. His words weren’t just empty threats—they carried the weight of some terrible truth. The destruction was already swallowing the city, piece by piece. Everything she knew, everything she thought was safe, was being destroyed. And she was in the middle of it, caught between his presence and the chaos he had brought.

She wanted to scream, to demand that he let her go, but the words died in her throat. She could feel it—the crushing reality of her situation. No matter what she said, it wouldn’t change a thing. She was completely at his mercy.

Before she could even respond, the air around her seemed to grow colder, the sound of the distant destruction still echoing in the background. He stepped closer to the car door, his movements slow, deliberate, and she felt a surge of panic course through her. She couldn’t stay here. She couldn’t.

Suddenly, the car jolted. The metal frame of the door creaked in protest as if something was pushing against it. Y/N’s breath hitched as she watched in horror, her body frozen in place, as his gloved hand rested on the car’s roof. His fingers curled slightly, and the metal beneath them seemed to bend, like he was testing it, testing her.

“Don’t try to run,” he said softly, his tone now much more sinister. “You’ll never make it. You’re mine now, little writer.”

The finality in his words hit her like a punch to the gut, and before she could even process it, the car suddenly lurched forward, lifting off the ground slightly, as if he was controlling it. The car doors shuddered and groaned under the pressure of his unseen power.

Y/N’s mind raced, panic flooding her as she realized the extent of the danger she was in. The way he controlled everything, how he manipulated his surroundings—he wasn’t just some variant of Invincible. He was something much worse. And she had no idea how to stop him.

Her hands trembled, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. She had to find a way out, but with every passing second, it seemed more and more hopeless. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. She was trapped, and the man outside her car, the one who had once been a hero—now nothing more than a twisted, sadistic version of him—was the one holding all the cards.

Her only hope now was to survive long enough to figure out how to escape. And even that seemed impossible.

Y/N’s heart raced as she tried to process what was happening, but it was too fast. Before she could even make a move, the car door was ripped from its hinges with terrifying ease. The metal screeched in protest, twisting and bending like paper. A jolt of fear shot through her as she looked up—there he was, standing just outside, towering over her with that cruel, mocking smile beneath his veil. His hand shot forward, and with one swift motion, he grabbed her by the wrist.

“Wha—what are you doing?!” Y/N gasped, struggling to free herself from his vice-like grip. Her thoughts raced, but there was no escaping him. His strength was overwhelming.

Without warning, he yanked her from the car, lifting her off the seat as if she weighed nothing. Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat as she felt her feet leave the ground. Her eyes widened in terror as the ground below her seemed to shrink, and before she could react, she was soaring through the air—flying—held effortlessly in his grasp.

“Let me go!” she cried, panic flooding her chest as the wind whipped against her face. The city sprawled beneath her, its towering buildings reduced to small, distant shapes. She could see the chaos below—flames licking at the edges of destroyed buildings, people running in every direction, screaming. But there was no time to focus on that. Not with him holding her like this, like some powerless ragdoll.

“Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart,” he said, his voice a low murmur that sent a chill through her spine. “I’m not letting you go yet. You’re too much fun.”

She twisted in his grip, trying to break free, but he held her too tightly. Her legs flailed uselessly in the air, and the rush of wind around them made it hard to think clearly.

“What… do you want from me?!” Y/N gasped, her voice strained as the sky blurred past her, the terrifying height making her dizzy. “Why are you doing this?”

His eyes, hidden beneath his veil, seemed to gleam with amusement. “Oh, it’s not about wanting something from you, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “You’re a part of the show now. And I’m the one running it.”

Her stomach twisted. The realization hit her like a blow to the chest—this wasn’t just about her. He wasn’t after something as simple as revenge or answers. No, this was a game for him. A twisted, sadistic game.

“Why are you doing this?” Y/N repeated, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation. “I didn’t ask for any of this! I just wanted to do my job.”

His grip tightened, and she winced as her wrist burned with the pressure. “Your job?” He laughed, the sound cutting through the wind. “You think that matters now? You’re just a little writer, trying to make a name for yourself. No one gives a shit about you anymore, sweetheart. It’s all about survival now.”

Y/N’s breath hitched as he soared higher into the sky, the city below her nothing more than a blur. Her mind raced, the fear of falling from this impossible height choking her. But as terrifying as the fall was, it wasn’t the height that really terrified her—it was the way he spoke. The way he knew how powerless she was.

There was no escaping. No running. No one to help.

“Please,” she begged, her voice barely a whisper, her pulse erratic. “I don’t want to die.”

The moment those words left her mouth, his grip loosened slightly, and for a moment, she thought she might be free—but it wasn’t freedom he was offering. He moved her effortlessly, spinning her around in his hold until her feet were facing the ground.

“Die?” he mused, almost as if considering the word. “You’ll wish for that by the time I’m done with you.”

Before she could react, he flung her higher into the air, sending her stomach lurching with the sudden motion. She gasped, eyes wide with terror as the ground seemed to drop away beneath her. Her body was weightless, the sky spinning around her, and the wind howling in her ears. She couldn’t stop the panic rising within her, the vertigo that gripped her chest.

But then—just as quickly as it had started—his grip tightened again, and he caught her, holding her securely against his chest. Her breath was ragged as she tried to gather herself, her mind a blur.

The city below was now barely visible. The chaos, the destruction—it seemed so far away. She was at the mercy of this twisted version of Invincible, and the weight of that realization threatened to crush her.

He slowly lowered them, descending back toward the earth, and she felt the ground approaching with terrifying speed. She clenched her eyes shut, unable to look at it.

“Please… don’t…” she whispered, her heart racing as the ground rushed up to meet them.

But his voice came again, cold and mocking. “It’s too late for that. You’ve already made your choice. You’re going to see how this ends.”

With one final, merciless descent, he landed with a force that sent a shockwave through the ground. The world around them trembled, but he stood still, as though the earth itself bowed to him. He released her from his grip, dropping her roughly to the pavement. Y/N stumbled, her knees buckling as she hit the ground hard, pain shooting up her legs.

She gasped, hands scraping against the asphalt as she struggled to push herself up. She looked around in a daze, the devastation all around her—buildings on fire, smoke rising into the sky, the screams of people distant but still loud in her ears. She had no idea where she was anymore, no idea what had just happened.

“You’re lucky,” he said, his voice cutting through her confusion. “I could’ve let you fall. But I’m feeling generous today.”

Y/N’s heart slammed against her ribs. She wasn’t sure if she was thankful or terrified. All she knew was that her world had shattered, and the man—no, the monster—before her was the reason for it. And he wasn’t finished yet.

This wasn’t over. It had only just begun.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat when she heard the familiar sound of a booming voice, followed by a powerful gust of wind that seemed to part the chaos in the air. She looked up in disbelief, her wide eyes locking onto the figures now descending from the sky.

First, she saw Atom Eve, the vibrant, red-haired superhero who had always been her favorite. Despite the chaos, there was something reassuring about seeing her. Eve’s presence was commanding, her usual suit a blend of pink and white, and her face—concerned yet resolute.

Next, there was Invincible—the real Invincible—his familiar blue and black suit gleaming against the dimming skyline. The mask over his face was just the same, but the confidence radiating off him was unmistakable. Her heart swelled with a mixture of hope and confusion. Finally, help had arrived.

But what caught her off guard, more than anything, was Shiesty Mark’s reaction. He wasn’t fazed. Not at all.

Instead, he tightened his grip on her waist, pulling her closer to his chest as he whispered harshly into her ear.

“Stay the fuck behind me. Got it?”

Y/N froze, her breath hitching in her throat, but the weight of his hand at her waist told her she had no choice but to comply. She nodded slowly, feeling the tension in her chest build as she backed away from him, her eyes never leaving the scene unfolding in front of her.

Shiesty Mark didn’t even glance her way, his full attention on Invincible and Atom Eve.

Eve’s gaze landed on Y/N, and for a brief moment, there was a flicker of recognition. But the urgency of the situation kept her focused. She barely spared a second to look at Y/N as she spoke to Invincible.

“It’s a civilian! I’ll take her to safety,” Atom Eve said, her voice firm. She turned to Y/N, gesturing for her to move. “Come on, we need to get out of here!”

But Y/N was too stunned to react immediately. She just stood there, staring, as Invincible nodded, his eyes locked onto Shiesty Mark, assessing him with a focused intensity. The tension between the two was palpable, like the calm before a storm.

“Can you handle this douchebag?” Eve asked, her gaze narrowing in disgust at the man holding Y/N.

Invincible’s jaw clenched, his expression hardening as he stepped forward. “I’ll handle him. You just make sure she’s safe.”

Y/N’s stomach churned as she watched the interaction. She had no idea what was happening—why this version of Invincible seemed so… distant, so cold, but she knew one thing for sure: Shiesty Mark was not someone she could escape on her own. Not yet.

The grip on her waist tightened again, and Shiesty Mark stepped forward, his voice laced with venom as he spoke to Invincible.

“Don’t waste your time, hero. She’s with me now. And you both better get used to it.”

The ground beneath them seemed to shake as the air around them crackled with the tension of impending violence. Y/N could feel her heart racing, but she forced herself to focus on what Eve had said. She had to get to safety, and Atom Eve was her only chance.

Before she could even make the decision to follow Eve, Shiesty Mark’s voice broke through the air again, low and dangerous.

“Don’t even think about running.”

Y/N turned her head slightly, still trapped in his grip. Her instincts told her to run, to make a break for it, but she knew it was pointless. If she made a move, he would stop her in a heartbeat.

Eve, seeing the struggle in Y/N’s eyes, didn’t hesitate. With a flick of her hand, the air around them seemed to shift, and a protective forcefield began to materialize around Y/N, almost like a shimmering wall of energy.

“You’re not taking her anywhere,” Eve snapped, her voice fierce as her eyes glinted with the determination to protect.

Shiesty Mark looked momentarily distracted, but his smirk never wavered. “We’ll see about that,” he muttered under his breath, his eyes flickering to Invincible.

Invincible didn’t flinch. His eyes locked onto Shiesty Mark with a fierce, unwavering gaze. “You made a mistake coming here,” Invincible growled, his fists clenched.

The air between them hummed with power, and Y/N felt a strange mixture of relief and terror. She was safe—for now. But there was no denying the conflict that was about to erupt between the two superheroes and the twisted, menacing version of Invincible that was Shiesty Mark.

Eve didn’t wait another second. She extended a hand to Y/N, pulling her away from the chaos.

“Let’s move,” Eve said softly, yet firmly, her eyes never leaving the scene behind them.

Y/N didn’t resist. She nodded, stepping cautiously toward Eve’s side, but her eyes were still glued to the battle that was unfolding. Shiesty Mark might have a sickening confidence, but Invincible was still the hero she knew—even if this version was darker, more dangerous. She hoped, in the depths of her soul, that he could stop Shiesty Mark before everything collapsed.

As the sounds of the fight intensified, Y/N’s mind whirled, overwhelmed by everything happening around her. She had been caught up in something she never could have imagined, something far bigger than herself.

But for now, she followed Eve, trusting that the real hero—the real Invincible—would win this fight.

But within a second, Atom Eve was sent flying, a man who resembled Invincible punched her in the face. He was wearing a suit, similar to Omni Man— dressed in red and white.

Y/N’s hands trembled as she covered her mouth, her eyes darting between the chaos unfolding in front of her. She had never seen anything like this—not in person. The raw power, the way buildings shook with every impact, the sheer destruction that followed in their wake.

Her heart ached as she watched Atom Eve struggle to her feet, her body covered in dust and scratches, but her determination never wavering. Y/N wanted to run to her, to help, but what could she even do? She was just a writer—just a civilian.

Her breath hitched when Omni Mark turned his gaze on her again, his piercing, calculating eyes scanning her as if she were nothing more than an anomaly in the battlefield.

“A civilian, still alive?” he mused, tilting his head slightly. “I’m surprised.”

Y/N’s pulse pounded in her ears. There was something in his voice—casual, dismissive, like her existence in this fight was nothing more than an oversight. Like he was debating whether she should still be breathing.

Before she could react, he moved, his body cutting through the air in an instant. Y/N barely had time to let out a gasp before a blur of motion intercepted him.

“Hey!” Shiesty Mark’s voice rang out, raw with something she hadn’t expected—anger. Pure, furious anger. “Don’t fucking touch her—I’ll kill you if you do.”

Omni Mark came to a sudden stop in midair, arms still crossed, his expression entirely unimpressed. His red-and-white suit gleamed under the burning city lights as he looked at Shiesty Mark with nothing but boredom.

“Swearing doesn’t make you cool,” Omni Mark deadpanned. The tension between them barely had time to build before— CRACK.

Invincible’s fist connected squarely with Shiesty Mark’s face, sending him flying through the remains of a nearby building. The impact sent debris crashing to the ground, dust and concrete filling the air.

Y/N flinched, her arms instinctively wrapping around herself as she took a shaky step back. “You look like you could use some help,” Omni Mark said, floating closer to Invincible.

“Fuck off!”

The voice came from the wreckage, raw and venomous. Shiesty Mark pulled himself out of the rubble, wiping a trail of blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. His yellow goggles glinted dangerously as he lifted a middle finger toward Omni Mark. “I got this,” he growled, cracking his knuckles.

Y/N’s breathing was uneven as she watched Eve push herself back onto her feet, her stance wavering but her resolve unshaken. The fight wasn’t over—not even close. But all Y/N could do was watch.

She clenched her hands into fists, pressing them against her lips to stifle the whimper threatening to escape. This wasn’t just some headline. This wasn’t just another superhero interview. This was war. And she was trapped right in the middle of it.

Y/N stood frozen among the wreckage, her body trembling as she watched the battle unfold in front of her. Dust and debris filled the air, making it hard to breathe, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away—not from the brutal onslaught, not from the way they were losing.

Invincible and Eve were losing.

Eve had fought as hard as she could, her hands glowing with pink energy as she desperately tried to hold back both Omni Mark and Shiesty Mark. She had always been Y/N’s favorite—strong, kind, determined. But now, she looked so small in the face of their power.

Omni Mark was relentless, a force of destruction in his red and white suit. He moved with an efficiency that was almost mechanical, calculated. Eve barely had time to react before he closed the distance between them.

CRACK!

A sickening snap rang through the air as he grabbed Eve’s leg and twisted. Y/N’s stomach lurched.

Eve’s scream pierced through the chaos, raw and agonized as her leg bent at an unnatural angle. She collapsed onto the rubble, panting, but Omni Mark wasn’t done. Not even close.

With no hesitation, he slammed his fist into her chest, sending her rocketing into the ground with such force that a crater formed beneath her. The earth cracked, dust pluming into the sky as her body went limp.

Y/N felt like she was going to be sick. “Eve, no!!!” she cried, her voice breaking. But there was no response. Eve didn’t move.

Invincible was there in an instant, dropping to his knees beside her, his hands trembling as he cradled her body. His face twisted in anguish, blood dripping from a cut on his brow as he stared down at her.

Y/N didn’t know if she was unconscious. She didn’t know if she was alive. The world around her felt distant, muffled—like she wasn’t even in her own body anymore.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Heroes weren’t supposed to lose. Omni Mark dusted off his knuckles, rolling his shoulders like he had barely exerted himself. His gaze settled back on Invincible, his expression unreadable.

“Now what, Mark?” he asked, voice calm, composed. “You can’t save her and fight us both.”

Beside him, Shiesty Mark snickered, blood smeared across his jaw from where Invincible had landed a solid punch earlier. He adjusted his veil, yellow goggles glinting in the firelight.

“Yeah, dude, you’re fucked!” he cackled.

Y/N’s breath came in short, ragged gasps. This was it. It was over.

But before another blow could land, a portal suddenly ripped open behind them.

Metallic figures—robotic, almost human-shaped but wrong—poured out, their mechanical limbs whirring as they pounced on the two variants. Invincible’s head snapped up, his eyes widening. Eve. This was their chance.

With one final glance at the battle unfolding before him, he gritted his teeth and pressed the teleportation device on his wrist. In an instant, he and Eve vanished, whisked away before the variants could finish them off. The robots didn’t last long.

Omni Mark and Shiesty Mark tore through them like paper, ripping limbs off, crushing skulls beneath their fists, oil and metal spraying like blood. It was carnage, effortless and brutal. But the heroes were gone. Shiesty Mark groaned, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

“Oh, fuck sakes!” he spat, kicking a severed robotic head across the rubble. “That was my fight!”

Omni Mark merely exhaled through his nose, seemingly unbothered. He wiped his hands clean on his suit, gaze flickering to the empty space where Invincible and Eve had been.

Then, as if remembering something, his sharp eyes turned toward Y/N, still standing amidst the ruins.

Her stomach dropped. She took a step back, her breath hitching. Omni Mark raised a brow. But before she could react, before she could run, a blur of motion was in front of her.

Y/N barely had time to scream before Shiesty Mark scooped her up, his arms locking around her like a vice as he lifted her effortlessly into the sky.

“At least I still have you,” he murmured, his voice smug, satisfied.

Y/N thrashed against him, panic surging through her veins. “L-Let me go!” she gasped, shoving against his chest, but it was useless. He didn’t even budge.

From below, Omni Mark watched them, arms crossed over his chest. His expression barely shifted, but there was something amused in his gaze.

“Taking a souvenir?” he asked, tone dry. Shiesty Mark only grinned behind his veil, tightening his grip on Y/N as she struggled.

“Something like that,” he said smoothly.

Y/N’s heart pounded as she realized— To them, she was nothing. Nothing but a trophy. Nothing but a prize. And as Shiesty Mark took off into the sky, carrying her with him, she knew one thing for certain— She wasn’t going to be saved.

The wind howled around them as Shiesty Mark carried Y/N higher, the ruined city shrinking beneath them. Fires still raged, smoke coiling into the sky like grasping fingers. The destruction stretched for miles, the skyline littered with collapsed buildings, overturned cars, and bloodstained streets.

Y/N’s body was stiff in his arms, her hands gripping the fabric of his suit in terror. Her mind was screaming at her to fight, to struggle—but what was the point? He was too strong. She had seen what he could do, what he had done.

And now, she was at his mercy. “Where—where are you taking me?” she forced out, her voice barely above a whisper.

Shiesty Mark chuckled, the sound vibrating against her as he adjusted his hold on her waist.

“Damn, you’re polite for someone who’s scared shitless,” he mused. She swallowed hard, trying to keep her breathing steady. “Please… just let me go. I won’t tell anyone anything—I swear. You don’t need me.”

“Oh, I don’t,” he admitted, tilting his head. “But I want to keep you.” Her blood ran cold. Keep?

Like she was his now? Her breath quickened. “I’m not—I’m not a thing. You can’t just—”

“Yeah, yeah,” he interrupted, rolling his eyes behind his goggles. “You’re a person, you have rights, blah, blah, blah. Look around you, sweetheart—” He suddenly dropped several feet, sending her stomach lurching before he caught himself again.

“This isn’t your world anymore. The heroes lost. That means we get to do whatever the fuck we want.”

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep from hyperventilating. The heroes lost. She had seen it herself.

Eve—her idol, the strongest woman she knew—was gone. Invincible had barely escaped with her body. The city was in ruins. And now, she was being taken.

She clenched her fists. “You don’t even know me,” she snapped, forcing herself to glare up at him despite the fear clawing at her chest. He smirked behind his veil, amused. “Nah. But I like your attitude.”

He flew faster, the city disappearing behind them. The ruined skyline gave way to a wasteland of destruction, the outskirts of civilization scorched and unrecognizable. Y/N swallowed back a sob. Nobody was coming for her.

There was no one left to save her. And as Shiesty Mark carried her toward whatever fate awaited, she realized— She was completely, hopelessly, alone.

The night air was cold against her skin, but Shiesty Mark’s body was warm—too warm. His grip on her waist was firm, possessive, as he carried her across the ruined landscape. Every mile they traveled, her hope dwindled further. There was no escaping this. No escaping him.

She forced herself to meet his gaze, or what little she could see of it behind those eerie yellow goggles. “Where are you taking me?” she demanded, her voice firmer than she felt.

Shiesty Mark only grinned behind his veil. “Somewhere quiet,” he murmured. “Just us.”

She shuddered at his tone. He spoke like they were lovers, like this was normal. “You don’t even know me,” she hissed, her fingers digging into his suit.

He laughed, the sound deep and mocking. “I don’t need to know you,” he said. “You’re mine now. That’s all that matters.” Her stomach twisted.

Before she could protest, he shifted his hold, tilting her slightly so that her body was pressed flush against his. The heat of him seeped through his suit, suffocating. He was solid, immovable, his grip unbreakable.

Then, slowly, he lifted his veil. Just enough to reveal his mouth. Her breath caught. His lips crashed against hers.

She froze, her body locking up as he took from her—greedy, firm, claiming. His hand pressed into the small of her back, pulling her impossibly closer, like he wanted to mold her against him.

A muffled whimper escaped her throat, her hands pushing weakly against his chest, but he didn’t budge. He was in control. She was his. The realization sent ice down her spine.

Finally, he pulled back, licking his lips like he had just tasted something sweet. “Mmm,” he hummed, satisfied. “You taste real nice.”

She was trembling, her breaths uneven, her heart slamming against her ribs. His smirk widened, and he leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered— “Get used to it.” Terror gripped her chest. He wasn’t letting her go. Ever.

[daeniradraconis]

Hi love, saw that you were taking some requests! If you feel comfortable would you be able to do something were the reader has an ed and one of the Hughes brothers helps her through it. I have been in recovery for almost 5 months now and it has been very challenging yet extremely rewarding to see my body get back to being healthy. Thank you!

Hi love,

First of all, thank you so much for requesting this. I just want to say how incredibly proud I am of you—five months in recovery is amazing, and I’m so happy to hear you’re feeling better. That’s such a huge accomplishment!

I chose Jack for this story, and I hope you’ll like it. I kept it short but made sure the ending is extra sweet. Sending you lots of love! 💗 For more fun: masterlist

---

Jack’s Recipe for Love

The road trip had been exhausting. Jack’s body ached, his mind was fuzzy from long hours on buses and planes, and all he wanted was to get back home to you. He couldn’t wait to see your face, to just relax in the comfort of your place. But when he walked into the apartment, he immediately noticed something was off.

The house was quieter than usual. No music or laughter filled the air. The lights were dim, and the TV was playing softly in the background—muted. As Jack dropped his bag and kicked off his shoes, something caught his eye: your laptop was open on your desk.

He frowned and walked over to it, his curiosity getting the better of him. On the screen, he saw a search engine filled with articles and support forums about eating disorders. His stomach dropped, his pulse quickened. His heart pounded in his chest as he closed the laptop.

No.

He didn’t want to believe it, but the signs had been there for weeks—maybe longer. The weight loss, the way you had withdrawn, the quiet days when you seemed so exhausted but wouldn’t talk about why. Jack had always chalked it up to stress or maybe a bad cold. But now? Now he knew. It was worse than he could’ve ever imagined.

His hands shook as he stood there for a moment, processing. He couldn’t stay still. He had to find you. He had to talk to you.

Jack’s eyes scanned the apartment, searching. He walked down the hallway toward the bathroom, where he could hear the faint sound of retching. His heart stopped in his chest.

No, no, no.

He flung open the door without thinking. There you were, kneeling in front of the toilet, your body trembling with the aftermath of what you’d been hiding for so long. You looked up at him, startled, your eyes wide with guilt and fear.

“Jack…” Your voice was weak, breaking with shame.

Jack stood frozen for a second, shock hitting him like a cold wave. His mind scrambled, trying to process what he had just walked into, what he had just confirmed.

“I—I saw the laptop,” he said, his voice sharp. He was trying to keep his composure, but anger was bubbling up, sharp and painful. “I saw what you were reading. About eating disorders. About… this.” His voice cracked as his gaze fell to you, the reality sinking in. “And you didn’t think you could tell me? You didn’t think I’d notice? I’m your boyfriend, Y/N! I’m supposed to be the one you turn to when you’re struggling. I should’ve been the one you came to.”

His chest heaved with frustration, and for a moment, all he could feel was that raw anger, that feeling of being shut out. Jack had seen the signs, but the fact that you’d kept it a secret—didn’t trust him enough to open up about it—hit him harder than he could have imagined.

You flinched, pulling your arms around yourself like you were trying to protect your fragile heart from his words. “I—I didn’t want you to think less of me. I didn’t want you to get mad—”

“Mad?” Jack’s voice was louder now, his words tumbling out in a burst of emotion. “I’m not mad at you, I’m mad that you didn’t trust me. That you felt like you had to go through this alone. I’m angry because I care about you so much, and I didn’t know it was this bad.” His fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tight with frustration. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why keep this from me? I could’ve helped you! We could’ve figured this out together.”

You couldn’t look at him, your head bowed in shame. The tears came quickly, stinging your eyes, your chest tight with guilt. You wanted to explain, but the words wouldn’t come. The fear of being a burden, of feeling weak—it had consumed you for so long that now you didn’t know how to fix it, how to make it right.

Jack’s breath came fast as he took a step back, running his hand through his hair, trying to calm himself. His emotions were too much, too overwhelming. He was hurt, confused, angry—and yet, underneath it all, he was scared. Scared that you weren’t okay. Scared that this might be something you couldn’t fix.

For a long moment, the two of you sat in silence, the weight of everything heavy between you. Jack took a deep breath, his voice quieter now, a soft tremor still running through it. “Y/N… I’m not angry with you. I just—” He ran a hand over his face, trying to collect himself. “I just want to help you. I don’t want you to keep this from me anymore.”

You swallowed hard, the tears still falling. “I was scared… scared you’d think I was weak. Or that you’d leave. I didn’t want to lose you.”

Jack’s face softened at your words, the anger dissipating as his heart broke for you. He stepped closer, gently cupping your face, his thumb wiping away the tears that fell freely. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. I’m not leaving you.” His voice was thick with emotion. “You don’t have to fight this alone anymore. But you need help. You need to get help.”

You trembled in his arms, the weight of his words sinking in. You had always tried to carry this burden alone, thinking you could handle it on your own, but now, you felt the truth hit you—you couldn’t. You didn’t want to anymore.

“I don’t know where to start, Jack,” you whispered, the exhaustion in your voice unmistakable.

Jack pulled you into his chest, his arms holding you tighter than ever. “We’ll figure it out,” he promised, his voice full of conviction. “Together. You’re not alone in this. You don’t have to be.”

The anger had faded, but the fear still lingered in the pit of his stomach. Jack didn’t know how long it would take for you to heal, but he would be right there, supporting you every step of the way. He wasn’t going to let you fight this alone.

“I’ll always be here for you, Y/N,” he whispered. “But you’ve got to let me in. You’ve got to let me help.”

You nodded against his chest, your body shaking with a mixture of relief and fear. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe, with Jack by your side, you could start to heal.

---

It had been a few months since Jack had found out about your struggles, and while things were still a work in progress, he was showing up for you every step of the way. You’d made so much progress together, with him always by your side to make sure you were eating properly, resting, and feeling loved. But tonight, things were different.

Jack had decided to take his bulking diet seriously. Or at least, that’s what he said. He was eating enough protein to feed a small army, taking cooking classes, and had stocked the kitchen with every kind of supplement and spice known to man. There was just one problem: Jack was terrible at cooking.

Tonight, Nico Hischier, your close friend and Jack’s teammate—and captain of the New Jersey Devils—was coming over to hang out. He had no idea what he was walking into.

When you opened the door, Nico greeted you with his usual relaxed smile. “Hey, good to see you,” he said, stepping inside and shrugging off his jacket. “Jack said he’s making dinner tonight?”

You grinned, holding back a laugh. “Oh, yeah. And not just any dinner. He’s apparently a full-on chef now.”

Nico shot you a skeptical look as he toed off his shoes. “There’s no way. Jack’s cooking skills are like... scrambled eggs and burnt toast.”

You giggled, looping your arm through his as you guided him toward the kitchen. “I’m telling you, prepare to be shocked.”

As soon as you entered, you were hit with the warm, rich smell of garlic and herbs. Jack was standing at the stove, confidently stirring something in a pan. The sight alone was almost unbelievable. There were no messes, no frantic scrambling—just a focused Jack Hughes, actually cooking.

Nico came to a halt beside you. His eyebrows shot up. “No way.”

Jack turned his head, flashing a proud grin. “What’s up, Nico? I told you I was cooking.”

Nico pointed at him. “No, no, no. There’s no way you made this.” He sniffed the air. “This smells good.”

Jack smirked. “I take offense to your doubt. I’m serious about bulking up. Can’t be eating junk food all the time. And I told you about the cooking classes.”

You leaned against the counter, folding your arms with an amused smile. "I’ve had to endure weeks of him sending Quinn and Luke pictures of his protein pancakes. He was so proud.”

Jack puffed out his chest. “They needed to see I was a natural talent.”

You and Nico exchanged a knowing look, both silently agreeing not to burst his bubble.

Shaking your head fondly, you rubbed Jack’s bare arm and murmured, “I’m gonna grab a sweater. It’s chilly.”

Jack glanced at you briefly, his focus still half on the food. “Want me to grab you one?”

You shook your head. “Nah, I got it.”

With that, you turned and walked toward the bedroom, leaving Nico behind in the kitchen with Jack.

As you pulled your sweater over your head and started making your way back, you heard Nico’s voice from the kitchen.

“So it’s not about bulking at all?” he asked, his tone laced with curiosity.

You slowed your steps, your brows furrowing.

Jack let out a sigh. “No. I mean, yeah, I need to eat right, but that’s not why I started all this.”

Your heart thumped as you stopped just outside the kitchen, hidden from view.

“I did it for her,” Jack admitted, his voice softer now. “I figured... if I could get better at cooking, I could take care of her. She’s been struggling with eating, and I just wanted to make sure she didn’t have to stress about it. I thought if I made it look like I was just focused on my own diet, she wouldn’t realize I was actually doing it for her.”

You felt your throat tighten.

Jack exhaled, his voice laced with something deep—love, care, maybe even a little frustration at how much he wanted to help. “She hates asking for help. And I get it. But I want to be there for her. If cooking means I can make things even a little bit easier for her, then I’ll do it. I’d do anything for her.”

There was a beat of silence before Nico let out a low whistle. “Damn, Jack.” Then, after a pause, he added, “That’s actually... really sweet, man.”

Jack huffed out a small laugh. “Yeah, well. Don’t tell her that. She’ll make fun of me.”

That was all you needed to hear.

Without thinking, you rushed into the kitchen, straight toward Jack.

He barely had time to react before you launched yourself into his arms, wrapping yourself around him tightly. “Whoa—” Jack stumbled back slightly, catching you with ease. “What’s this for?”

You buried your face in his shoulder, squeezing him. “I love you,” you whispered.

Jack stilled for a moment before his arms tightened around you. His voice was softer now, laced with warmth. “You heard all that, huh?”

Nico, now leaning against the counter with an amused expression, popped a piece of chicken into his mouth. “Oh yeah, she heard everything.”

Jack groaned playfully. “Great. So much for keeping my tough guy image.”

You pulled back just enough to cup his face in your hands. “You don’t have to pretend with me,” you murmured, brushing your thumb along his cheek.

Jack’s blue eyes softened as he smiled, leaning down to nudge his nose against yours. “You know I’d do anything for you, right?”

You nodded, your eyes misty. “Yeah. I do.”

He kissed you then—soft and slow, like he had all the time in the world. His hands slid over your back, holding you close, as if reassuring himself that you were right there with him.

“Alright, alright,” Nico groaned dramatically. “This is cute and all, but I’m starving. Can we eat before I die?”

You and Jack both laughed as he pulled you closer, pressing another quick kiss to your forehead before turning back to the stove.

Jack grinned, stirring the pan. “Fine. But just so you know, Nico, I expect glowing reviews of my cooking skills.”

Nico smirked. “We’ll see, Hughes. If I survive, I’ll let you know.”

You smiled, wrapping your arms around Jack from behind, resting your cheek against his back as he finished cooking. You felt safe. Loved.

[darkwicks]

calling them by their real name instead of their pet name

FEATURING Cypher, Phoenix, Sova, Yoru (separate) | gender-neutral reader; fluff, established relationship; pet names used: babe, baby, honey, my love; no beta we die like Cypher in cinematics | wc: 300-500 each

AO3. masterlist. request rules. | reblogs and comments are always appreciated!!

“My love, can you get me a drink, please?”

“I don’t know, Amir, can I?”

The way he slowly turns around to look at you is comical. The fact that his mask already looks like a surprised expression didn’t help you, either. You quickly drop the amusement on your features, raising an eyebrow and staring blankly at him instead. Without looking at the remote, he pauses the programme on the television as he stares at you, flabbergasted.

“Did I forget something?”

You purse your lips. “What do you mean?”

“You called me Amir.”

“That’s your name.” You feign confusion. “What’s wrong with it?”

He gets up from the couch and makes his way toward you with urgency. You’re holding back a laugh as he holds your hands in his, trying to read your expression and figure you out. You didn’t think it would actually work on him. Calling him babe had been a slip of the tongue, but ever since it happened, he’s been adamant you call him that instead of Cypher. Considering you’re both often at work, that nickname is reserved for behind closed doors, within the walls of your own home.

“Are you angry at me?”

You can’t hold it in anymore—you burst into giggles, the sound filling the otherwise quiet room. Realising what you’re playing, he lets out a relieved sigh and warily takes a seat. Your little stunt had made him weak in the knees. You didn’t think it would actually work.

“I’m sorry. It was a joke,” you manage to say through your laughter. “I just wanted to see how you’d react.”

He slouches over. “You could have killed me.”

“It’s okay, Cypher.”

“No,” he retorts. “Not Amir. Not Cypher.”

“But that’s your name.” You can practically see the frown on his face when he looks up at you. “Why can’t I call you that?”

“It’s not good for my heart.”

“Okay, okay,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him closer. His arms come to loop around your waist as he buries his face in your chest. “Is this better, honey?”

“Much better.”

Pet names had come naturally for you and Phoenix. He can’t go a sentence or two without saying love or babe. He’s affectionate with you, physically and verbally, and after watching a clip of it online, you wanted to know what he’d do if you said his name instead. 

You’re relaxing on the bed as he lays his head on your lap, sinking into the softness of your thighs. You’re still engrossed in the article you’re reading on your tablet. It’s far more interesting than you’d initially given it credit for. It’s not related to the upcoming deadlines by any means, but you’re so close to going insane after nagging your group mates several times the past week. Phoenix staying over for the weekend is the perfect opportunity for you to ease your worries. 

You’ve decided to test out the theory today, feeling particularly mischievous this afternoon. He fiddles with your fingers, staring up at the ceiling in complete boredom. You initially planned for it to be a lazy day today, having had an exhausting week, but as always, your beloved Jamie can never sit still.

“I’m just sayin’, we should go do something,” he complains and takes the tablet off your hands, tossing it to a random corner of the mattress. “You’ve been studying all week. You’re neglecting me, your boyfriend. Let’s go out and do something. Anything.”

“Sure, Jamie,” you reply offhandedly. “I’m done here anyway.”

“Great, I—Jamie?” he says incredulously, shooting you an offended look. “That’s not my name.”

“But it is your name.”

“No, I’m babe or baby. I don’t know who Jamie is.”

You glance down at him, lips curling into an amused smile. “That would be you, Jamie.”

“See? You’re doing it again!” He huffs, his brows furrowed together as he stares at you in disbelief. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing! I’m just talking to you like I always do,” you say, holding in a laugh. “You’re the one who’s acting weird.”

“Call me properly.”

“Jamie.”

“No!” he groans. “It’s babe!”

You finally let the laughter free, your shoulders shaking with mirth as you throw your head back. After calming down, you look back at him, beyond entertained by the pure displeasure on his face.

“God, fine, you big baby.”

“That’s still not it.”

You let out an exaggerated sigh and pretend to be annoyed, playfully rolling your eyes. “Okay, babe, let’s go out.”

“That’s more like it,” he grumbles. “Calling me Jamie. You’re so rude. I thought you loved me.”

Needless to say, you got exactly what you wanted.

Drowsiness still lingers in your system as you drag your slipper-clad feet across the wooden floor. There’s something about winter that just leaves you so fatigued all the time. You’re more used to the summer heat, feeling the sun’s rays warming your skin and sipping cold drinks. Here, there’s nothing but snow, and as much as you love Sasha, how he can willingly stay in this kind of weather is beyond you.

As if he could sense your plight, he wraps a hand around your waist and slides a warm drink your way. An idea goes off in your head. Sleepiness be damned—you need to tease this man now. Composing yourself, you take the mug and offer him a warm, appreciative smile. 

“Thank you, Alexander.”

He freezes, a frown overtaking his features. “Have I done something wrong?”

The genuine confusion and distress in his tone makes it increasingly difficult to keep up your charade. He’s no stranger to your mischief; you tease him more times than he can count. Someone has to keep him on his toes, after all. Who else is perfect for the job, if not you? Still on a kick, you pretend nothing occurred, taking a sip of the drink and looking at him curiously.

“What?”

“You called me Alexander.” He stands in front of you, lips pursed in concern. His voice is soft, guilty over something that he didn’t do. “You never do that.”

You shrug casually. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Talk to me,” he says pleadingly, reaching out to cradle the side of your face. “What did I do?”

What was meant to be a silly joke winds up making you feel guilty. You only wanted to see how he’d react. The thought of actually upsetting him weighs heavy on your shoulders so you decide to give up the act, wanting to spare his feelings. Toying with someone as earnest as him was a terrible idea. 

“I was just kidding,” you chuckle awkwardly. “I’m not mad at you. I’m sorry.”

He breathes a sigh of relief. “Really?”

“Really.” You gently clasp your hand on top of his and nod, giving him a reassuring smile. “I owe you some good loving now, don’t I?”

He returns the gesture, although there’s a hint of exasperation in his. “Yes. You do.”

You spend the rest of the morning glued to his side. He stays closer to you, talks to you more carefully. It takes several kisses for him to finally relax and be able to put his mind at rest. You’ll play around in a less worrying way next time.

You love getting on Yoru’s nerves.

You know it. He knows it. Everyone knows it. Even before you got together, you teased him a lot, revelling in his irritation. It’s all in good fun. You don’t always mess with him—contrary to popular belief, Ryo Kiritani is indeed capable of sulking—but the impulse to be a brat with him is constantly there. Your penchant for getting a rise out of him is just hard to ignore.

The market is as vibrant as ever, full of locals and tourists alike as people happily chatter in the cheery atmosphere. Bags of snacks and souvenirs hang from your wrists as you take another sip of your drink, satisfying your earlier craving for something sweet.

A mischievous smile crawls to your lips. You turn to him with enthusiasm, eyes practically twinkling in joy as you lean in closer, holding in the chuckles threatening to leave you.

“Ryo, let’s go to the photo booth.”

He stops scrolling on his phone, meeting your gaze with a look of annoyance and disbelief. “What did you call me?”

“Ryo,” you say, acting confused as to why he was asking something so obvious. “You know, your name.”

He sighs heavily and brings his hand up to your face before squishing your cheeks together, making you squeak. He clicks his tongue, frowning at the way you found a way to push his buttons so easily. You lightly swat his hand in response, unable to stop the way your laughter just pours out of your lips. Whatever he’d been looking at on his phone is long forgotten—you have his full attention now.

“Let go!”

“No.”

You’re wholly delighted.

“Ryo, let go.”

He scowls. “Don’t call me that.”

“Don’t call you what?” you giggle. “What else am I supposed to say?”

“Brat,” he hisses. There’s no actual vitriol in his words, just the typical affectionate exasperation. “You know.”

“No, I don’t.” Your smile grows even wider as his fingers dig into your cheeks, his frustration growing more evident with each passing second. Though very humoured by the situation, you finally relent. You’ve tested him enough. “Babe, I’m just kidding.”

Yoru narrows his eyes at you before letting go. He mutters something under his breath, presumably a complaint, and flicks you on the forehead, ignoring the show of pain you put on. It didn’t hurt. He never makes it hurt. You just like getting a reaction out of him. He’s endlessly so endearing and entertaining—it’s not your fault you want to see more of it!

“I’m breaking up with you.”

“You love me.”

He huffs. “Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately? You take that back right now!”

“It’s payback. You called me by the wrong name.”

“Babe!”

[jwnzlvr]

just take it

pairing : boxer!nishimura riki x reporter!fem reader

summary : you asks stupid questions, you get very interesting answers! or, riki gets sick of your shit and he definitely lets you know.

wc : 2.4k

warnings : SMUT (mdni), noncon/dubcon themes, p in v, pwp (very light plot tbh), unprotected sex (don’t do that folks!), light edging and overstim, choking, light slapping, squirting, fingering, (slight) degradation, not proofread!, DON’T LIKE, DON’T READ (i will be promptly blocking anyone who doesn’t like and does read.)

notes : everyone say thank you ash (@gyaruoriki go read her fics !) for the idea love ur big sexy brain mmmm !!! i wrote this at midnight while thinking abt this cute guy i saw at work who had just come out of the gym wearing bandages MHMM scrumptious. anyways, yall enjoy <3

seeing riki high off his adrenaline, eyes filled with pure determination and rage did something to you. you’d heard from other sources that riki was competitive and winning his matches was always something important for him. however, you never really understood just how strong this competitiveness was until you saw him in the ring.

sweat mixed with blood dripped down his face. the bruises on his torso were indicators of how well this round was going. not good at all. according to riki, this was all YOUR fault. every time that you were a part of the audience of a match always ended in him losing. it’s been loss after loss for him lately.

‘how important could that stupid article be for her to ruin my fucking matches?’ riki would ask himself. definitely not important enough to cause him yet another loss tonight. his opponent managed to catch him off guard, throwing a punch straight to his gut. the impact made riki fold over, his hand on his stomach and a bit of blood being coughed up.

“fuck this…” he mumbled as he tried to get back up but his body decided to give out on him completely. you watched in disappointment as riki fell to the floor of the ring. the referee counted to ten, officially making riki the loser of this round and the match.

white noise filled riki’s ears and only one thing was on his mind: you. you, the one who seems to be like bad luck to him. you, the one who can’t seem to shut the fuck up. you, who always asks the worst questions at the worst times. like now. because for some reason, you thought it’d be real smart to follow him into the locker room and ask an angry, upset riki “so, how do you feel about this being your fourth loss this season?”

the simple sound of your voice made him want to punch you in the face. or stick his dick into it. he wasn’t too sure yet.

riki stared at you in disbelief. he scoffed before turning to look at anything else but you. “are you serious right now?” he asked, his fatigue dripping into his voice. “well, it’s an actual question i need to make.” you retorted, notepad and pen in your lap.

“it’s an actual question? okay. i’m pissed off. i never lose but it seems ever since you started showing up here, you just ruined shit for me. what are you even writing about on that stupid fucking notepad? are your articles even important? what do you even write about?” his frustration was absolutely evident. you thought for a second before answering him. “illegal boxing. underground boxing. and no, it’s not my fault you’ve been losing. that’s very much your problem. i’m just doing my job. it’s really not my fault you can’t handle a simple loss.”

your words set something off inside of riki. something beyond anger, beyond wanting to rock your shit. something dark. you’d really fucked up by now.

‘fuck it.’ he thought to himself before he grabbed you by the arm. “what are you-“ “shut the fuck up.” he cut you off as he threw you to the floor, immediately caging you between him and the cement under you. you couldn’t even react from how fast everything had happened. one second you were on a chair and the other you were on the floor with riki’s breath against your lips.

being in this position made riki realize how attractive you really were. sure, he hated your guts but he admitted from the start that you were hot. he knew eventually he’d try to get you alone to fuck you but he didn’t think it would be right now. or that it’d be under these circumstances.

you shook under him, you didn’t know from what. fear? shock? one look into his eyes told you everything you needed to know of his intentions with you. they held an eerie darkness to them. it shook you to your core. riki didn’t give you more time to think but hiking up your skirt, revealing your plush thighs to him. he grinned at the sight of your stockings and your panties. how cute.

“fuck, you have no idea how long i’ve been wanting to do this to you… coming into my space just to ruin shit. just made me wanna fuck that stupid smile off your face. want me to do that? actually, who cares what you want. i think i deserve at least this as a reward for you ruining my winning streak.” he smirked as he ripped your stockings off of you along with your panties.

you whimpered at how aggressive he was being. your hands immediately tried to wrap around his forearms. it seemed you forgot riki was probably ten times stronger than you, and he showed this by promptly releasing your grip on him and using one hand to push both your arms above you.

“really? do you actually think you can get me off of you?” riki’s grin widened. you felt a shock of fear down your spine. he was having fun. he was about to do something disgusting, yet he was having fun.

you couldn’t even move around as he was on top of you, his weight holding you down. “what do you want?” your voice came out in a tremble. riki only looked you up and down before answering.

“revenge. and a little fun.”

revenge? for making him lose? this was a new level of petty for you. and the way he was getting his revenge was definitely not your favorite. riki used his hands to pry apart your thighs, immediately getting a negative response from you. you didn’t even get to say anything to him before he reached his hand back up and slapped you across the face.

“don’t fucking complain. just take it.”

his thigh was slotted in between yours, putting some pressure on you with it. you tried your best to not show an expression of pleasure to him. you couldn’t let him know you enjoyed the slight pressure on you. your clit twitched at the feeling of his shorts against you.

he slotted his hand in between where his thigh was and your heat. his fingers traced around for a bit before finding your clit. he smirked as he rolled it between his fingers. he had fun watching you try to not whine at the feeling of him playing around with you.

he gave a dark chuckle at the sight before him. “i know you’re enjoying this, baby. i can feel you getting wet.” and he was right, your pussy beginning to get damp. you refused to give into his actions thought. “fuck you!” you yelled, trying to move but only making it worse for yourself.

riki decided he had enough of your brattiness and pinched your clit as punishment. you yelped at the bit of pain followed by some pleasure. your pleasure was promptly taken away when riki gave another pinch, this time hard enough to make you almost tear up.

“fuck me? gladly.” he gave a fake smile as he took his thigh back from between you. his hand immediately made its way back to between your thighs. you didn’t even get to do or say anything before two of his long fingers slipped inside of you. you couldn’t bite back that moan, letting riki know that felt good to you.

no. no, it shouldn’t feel good. but with each curl of riki’s fingers you felt your defense falling some more. his thumb grazed over your clit occasionally, making you clench on his fingers. riki knew you were starting to enjoy it and it was evident on how his fingers started to thrust in and out of you with more force than you’ve felt.

he watched as you whined, trying to deny it felt good but your body couldn’t lie. you were gushing on him and you knew it. you felt your high getting close. your hips moved on his fingers automatically as you got closer and closer.

you could taste your orgasm coming, just a few more thrusts from riki and you’d come undone. unfortunately for you, riki decided to torture you a bit. he slipped his fingers out of you just as you were about to cum. you let out a pathetic whine at the loss of contact, riki only grinning before sticking his fingers in his mouth to taste you. he hummed at your taste.

“what’s wrong? i thought you didn’t want me to touch you?” his voice dripped of fake sympathy. now he was acting like he gave a damn what you wanted. you shook your head. your head was so hazy, you didn’t even know what you wanted anymore. all you knew is you needed to cum. no matter what.

you whined at his words. “i changed my mind…” you wanted to cry at how he edged you. “just let me cum, please.” you almost begged him. that was more than enough for riki. he finally properly lifted your skirt, getting a good look at you. he then pushed his shorts and boxers down, revealing his hard cock. precum dripped from it, making your pussy clench.

he saw as your hole clenched and grinned ever so bigger. he let his middle finger graze over your wet hole. “you like looking at my dick, baby? want it in you?” he teasingly asked. you could only nod at him. you needed him in you. riki sighed exaggeratedly at your reaction. “well, i guess i can’t leave you hanging… if you’re good for me, i’ll even cum in you. you want that?”

you felt yourself drool at the idea of being stuffed with cum. it was crazy how you went from wanting riki off of you to making him cum inside you. you felt insatiable. “yes, cum in me. want you all in me!” you cried.

he silently gave his cock a few strokes before sliding into you. your jaw dropped at the feeling of you being stretched on his dick. it was so thick with a good length, it felt perfect. he went slowly as to let you feel every inch of him. after what felt like an eternity, you felt his hips press against you.

he let out a low groan at how tight and warm you were. “god, this pussy feels so good. you like having my cock in you, hm?” he moaned at the feeling of you clenching around him. there’s his answer. you let out whimpers at the feeling of him being so deep. his tip was hitting straight into your spot, the slightest movement making you want to scream in pleasure.

his hips began to slowly thrust in and out of you. the drag of his cock in your walls made you see stars and you couldn’t help but grind on him. he felt satisfaction at seeing you be a hot mess for him. “yeah, you like that…” his thrusts gradually got a bit faster, a continuous fap fap fap being heard across the locker room.

“nghh riki…” you whined as his cock was digging into you. it was heaven on earth for you. riki finally let go of your arms after a while. you moved them to wrap around his neck, your hands tugging on his hair. a low groan escaped his throat at your actions. his now free hand made its way to your neck, wrapping around it and giving a small squeeze.

you gasped at his hand around your neck. “you’re such a good girl for me, ya know? can just fuck you whenever i want and how i like. so good…” he praised as his thrusts got harsher. and for the first time that night, he leaned in to give you a kiss. it was so messy, teeth clashing and tongues dancing but it was perfect.

his hand squeezed your throat a bit tighter, making you feel woozy. his other hand went to squeeze your left tit, satisfied at how soft it felt even when you still had your shirt and bra on. the lack of oxygen made you needier and more desperate to cum. riki knew this when you began to clench around him.

“fuck, gonna cum? cum whenever you want, i said i couldn’t leave you hanging.” he gave you a hazy smile. his brain was completely fogged up. he couldn’t formulate a thought other than fucking you. he was just as out of it as you.

you felt your pleasure from before building up, trying to give riki a warning. “cu- ‘m cumming!” your words sounded choked but he knew exactly what you were trying to say. he didn’t give you a verbal response. he only gave your throat the hardest squeeze he could without hurting you. “cum for me, baby.”

that was enough for you to release all over him, your release hitting his thighs. he kept fucking you as you came, watching in awe as you squirted all over him. he finally let go of your throat and let you catch your breath as you came down from your high.

“did i fuck you that good? such a dirty girl f’ me.” he groaned as he felt himself get close to his release. he ignored your cries of overstimulation as he kept fucking you. “since you were so good, you get my cum. are you happy, baby?” he asked.

you gave him an eager nod, trying to ignore how overstimulated you were for him. “so happy, want you to cum in me. please, riki!” you moaned loudly. that was enough for riki to start painting your walls white. his head was thrown back as he released into you. you enjoyed the feeling of riki cumming in you, moaning softly at the sensation. you clenched around him to try and milk him for everything he had.

you laid on the floor with riki flopping next to you, both of you guys’s chests heaving. you were trying to catch your breath but it felt almost impossible. riki finally turned to look at you.

“you make me lose again and i’ll only be meaner to you.” he warned.

you took it as a challenge to distract him in his next match.

[solifloris]

to be loved is to be seen ; 871 words of pure complete caleb fluff for my personal comfort because i can't get this man out of my head (wow roxie posting fluff? girl what happened to you)

to be loved is to be seen.

a long day passed; he's there at the door. you can smell something simmering from the kitchen, the scent of comfort filling the room and maybe getting to your head a little... it's your favorite dish. you'd know that smell anywhere. and you've always liked it best when he cooks it...

he knows that.

to be loved is to be seen.

and he's pulling you in by the waist, not quite a hug, but rather a little bit of a once-over as he leans back to take a good look at you.

there's a pause.

the look in his eyes is gentle; fond. his head tilts, and there's something unsaid, unspoken, in the air between you...

you know the words on his lips before he says them.

"look at you, all pretty like that."

it's quiet, with a little bit of a chuckle.

"welcome back, pipsqueak."

typical caleb.

and this time there's a kiss on the tip of your nose, before he reaches a hand up to fix your hair— there's a piece of snow settled into it, and he knows that you don't like that. he'd brush it out for you, leave your hair neatly.

just the way you prefer it to be.

to be loved is to be seen.

and he knows more than you think.

you're an open book to him; maybe it's scary, and maybe it's a little unnerving, but—

maybe it's nice.

no words need to be shared.

he's happy to keep his arm around you, happy to wrap you up in blankets as you snuggle together on the couch and your favorite movie is playing softly on the screen in front of you. it's snowing outside, but you barely notice it; barely care. he keeps you warm from the cold. it's cozy. your head rests on his shoulder, and he hums quietly into your hair—and it's nice.

"it's been a long day," you murmur.

you blow your hair out from your face, and he fixes it right then for you. neat; the way you like it to be.

"oh, yeah? i could tell," he says. he chuckles—a little bit of a nudge in the form of a joke.

but he smiles.

"tell me about it, pipsqueak. i wanna listen."

to be loved is to be seen.

and maybe you scoff at him, but maybe you speak as he inclines. and maybe the movie's drowned out in the background, maybe all that you care about is the soft rumble of his chest when he laughs at the stupidest joke you've ever made in your life...

because deflect with humor, right? you've always done that. and he laughs, because you want him to laugh. and he reaches up to flick at your forehead. because he knows.

"you can be serious about it if you wanna, y'know," he shakes his head. "don't always gotta put on a strong front, 'specially not with me. so hit me. i'll take you seriously."

i'll take you seriously.

a safe space.

and they're simple words, because maybe you're not used to expressing yourself—

but he knows that.

he's used to it.

and he'll push you, a little, and you trust him to.

he knows that, too.

to be loved is to be seen.

and caleb knows a lot of things—what gets you angry, what gets you sad... the things you do to distract yourself, the things you like to eat. what makes you happy. when you're happy. your favorite show, your favorite song... that one article of clothing you'd always wear if you could, that book you keep on your shelf because the cover looks nice, but you haven't gotten around to reading it yet.

and he knows when you're tired.

he knows when all you need is for him to be there beside you, he knows when you've got something to say but you don't know how to say it.

he knows when you're pretending, too. when you want someone to breakthrough that little shell of yours, and say the words you want desperately to hear...

he knows.

because he sees you.

he sees you more than anyone else has, more than anyone else does. and not just with his eyes—with his heart. he knows you. he's engraved every little thing about you into the depths of his soul and he wouldn't have it any other way, not when he can hold you like this.

not when he knows how to.

not when he knows you want it to be this way.

and it's why he has his fingers running gently through your hair, peppering soft, tiny little kisses all over your face and relishing in the giggles that fall from your lips...

to be loved is to be seen.

"i love you, pipsqueak."

a soft murmur, a kiss into your hair.

"i love you a whole lot."

he knows you needed to hear that today, too.

and he means it.

because maybe there's no one else who could love you the way that he does; so whole, so loving, so pure, so... real.

you know that, too.

to be loved is to be seen.

and he sees you, and you see him.

to you, there's no greater love than that.

an : you know, real talk......... i really am truly sorry that the nuance of the caleb/mc relationship can't be translated into more western cultures that aren't used to this, i do believe it's kind of a shame 😭 because you have to understand that it's such a beautiful thing to be seen.... and i really feel that caleb encapsulates that especially given the nature of their relationship :( just. there's something so beautiful and comforting and warm about it and i had to get this out of my system before i go to bed 😭 MERRY CHRISTMAS EVE 😭

taglist : @darlingdummycassandra @milkandstarlight @thoupenguinman @valyvinny @rafayelsheart @jellyroom2 @chemiru @ywnzn @pepprrmint @angel-jupiter @cordidy @raiyuxa @xai-mery @radiantbrilliance @pikachuzhc @interstellar-inn @pixelcafe-network @hunters-association ++ also obligatorily tagging @unluckywisher (love u)

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[raininyourblackeyes]

Okay so turns out that his problem is that he found out my brother got a 7 in a class he had a 10 in so now he's raging about his kids being average when he did so much to make sure we turned out geniuses

"None of you are listeting to me! You all have your own opinions and ideas! 😡😡😡" -My dad just now out of the blue

[sweetbutpsychobutsweet]

Mine

Chapter 14

Thorin Oakenshield x AFAB!Reader

Summary: You and Thorin disagree over your recent choices, and it seems this argument can only be settled one way...

Warnings: no use of y/n, angst, 18+, NSFW, minors do not interact, Pin V sex, fingering

Author's Note: Thank you all so much for your patience. I know this took a lot longer to post than I thought. The smuttier chapters always take me longer to write because I know those are the ones we all read the most😂 I promise it will be worth the wait and there will be plenty more to follow!♥

Word count: 3913

You shout his name in protest, kicking and struggling in his grasp. But his seething rage seems to have only made him stronger. He doesn’t even flinch when you beat your fists against the broad muscles of his back. And every effort you make to kick him in the face is easily dodged as he carries you up the stairs.

Bertram is following right behind him.

“Put my dancer down this instant!” he demands, struggling to keep up with Thorin’s angry strides.

“This is why I told you not to let him find out!” you shout from over his shoulder.

"You put her up to this?!” a yelp escapes you as Thorin whirls around at the top of the stairs, still dangling you over his shoulder. You can feel the growl reverberating against where your thighs are pinned to his chest.

“It was her idea,” you hear Bertram scoff. “Did you really think accommodating so many of you at once would come cheap? I was prepared to throw you out on your asses until she offered an encore performance to sweeten the deal.”

“Encore?!” Thorin’s grip tightens around your legs and you’re suddenly very grateful that you can’t see his face right now.

“An encore that has yet to be completed thanks to you. So either she goes back out there and puts on one heck of a performance or you and the rest of your companions will need to find accommodations elsewhere tonight.”

“From what I saw, she’s already given you more than enough of a ‘performance’ for one night. You and I can come to another arrangement in the morning but she will not be stepping foot on that stage again as long as I live.”

“That might not be as long as you think if you don’t put me down this instant, Thorin!”

He ignores your protests as he continues down the hallway, kicking open the door and depositing you back on your feet in the middle of the room.

You immediately rip his cloak off of you, balling it up and tossing it back at him. But it just falls to the floor in a pile as he turns his back to you. Opening your pack he starts to pull out various articles of clothing, tossing them over his shoulder to you.

“Get dressed,” he grunts. Shirts, pants, chemises, and skirts sail through the air but you merely bat them all away in defiance. It’s almost like he expected you to refuse when he looks over his shoulder at you. When he runs out of your clothes to toss at you, he simply starts to toss some of his own instead.

“Lack of clothing isn’t the problem here,” you remind him.

“Then what is?” he snaps, kicking discarded piles of clothing out of the way as he stalks closer to you. “Temporary insanity? Lack of attention?”

“Yes, Thorin,” you scoff, taking a step closer to him until the two of you are practically chest to chest. “I was so desperate for your attention that I decided to take my clothes off in front of a crowd of strangers.”

“You’d dance half naked for strangers but Mahal forbid people find out we have any kind of intimate relationship.”

“Are you still upset about that?!” you roll your eyes. “Not everything I do is about you, Thorin. It’s like Bertram said: he wanted to charge us far more gold than even Smaug has right now. We have a history, so I offered to do him a favor in exchange for lodging.”

“A history?” he scoffs.

“Yes, a history,” you snap. “I told you I used to be a tavern dancer to pay my way across middle earth. This tavern happened to be a frequent stop for me. Now quit deflecting!”

“I’m not the one deflecting, lass.”

“Then what do you call it when someone is pretending to be upset about information they already knew, in order to avoid talking about the real reason they’re angry?”

“What, pray tell, is the real reason I’m upset with you?”

You take a step closer to him, tipping your head back until the two of you are practically nose to nose. “I fixed things and it kills you. You can’t stand the fact that I was able to solve a problem for you. Mahal forbid the great Thorin Oakenshield show any signs of weakness, let alone allow a woman to solve a problem for him.”

“Now who’s deflecting?” he smirks and you let out an angry huff, crossing your arms over your scantily clad chest.

Thorin’s gaze dips down to where your breasts are pressed together above the shelf of your arms. He takes in the sight of your provocative attire for the first time in this new setting. Very little is left to the imagination in your current state. You have to resist the urge to shudder at the chill his gaze sends down your spine as he studies every inch of your exposed skin. His jaw clenches and you know he’s remembering just how many people were recently looking at the exact same ensemble.

He brings a hand to your chin, tipping your head back so you have no choice but to look directly at his scowling face. “No one gets to see you like this ever again, understood?” he growls and the corners of your mouth quirk up.

“Let me guess, except for you? That’s quite selfish of you Thorin.”

“I don’t care,” his grip tightens on your jaw, pulling you closer to him until your lips are just a breath away from each other. “You’re mine.” He devours you hungrily, pulling your bodies closer together. Your hands slide up his chest, clawing at the fabric separating the two of you.

“Mine,” he repeats with a low growl, abruptly releasing his grip on your face and taking a step back. Before you can protest, he is tossing you over his shoulder yet again. You let out a gasp as he tightens his grip around your bare thighs.

Trudging through the piles of discarded clothes on the floor, Thorin crosses the room to toss you down on the bed. You go to push yourself up onto your forearms but he is already climbing up your body to tower over you. Your lungs are heavy with the intoxicating scent of him as he pulls your mouth back to his. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him even closer to you, wanting his entire body weight to crash down on you until there isn’t any air left inside of you.

You shudder in delight when he breaks from your lips to kiss a path along your neck to nip at the shell of your ear. “Mine,” he says again, rising above you to fully admire your form trapped beneath him.

“Mine to touch,” his hands brush along your collarbone, traveling farther down your chest to trace the swell of your breasts. He bunches up the strip of fabric covering your top, lifting it to expose you fully. You think he’s just going to untie it, but instead, he tears the thin strip of fabric in two.

“Mine to admire,” he continues, ignoring the way your jaw has dropped at the loss of your only performance attire. Thorin doesn’t seem like he’s planning on letting you go anywhere in an outfit of that kind ever again, so perhaps it was part of his plan all along.

You narrow your eyes up at him in defiance, but he only smirks down at you. Watching the anger leave your eyes the moment his warm hands cup your breasts. Your jaw drops open again, but this time to release a moan as he squeezes and massages the flesh between his fingers.

“Mine to enjoy,” he declares keeping his eyes locked on yours as he lowers his face down to one of your breasts. Continuing to massage the other he gently sucks and bites at your now sensitive buds.

They’ve begun to darken and perk up ever since they were given his attention and he wastes no time worshiping the two mounds of flesh before him.

Wrapping your legs around his midsection you pull him closer to you, arching your back off the bed as you start to grind your core up against the hardness you feel trying to escape from his trousers.

Thorin gently scrapes his teeth against the tender flesh in his mouth and you groan at the sensation. Impatiently, you begin to tug at the edge of his shirt, desperate to have access to just as much of his skin as he does of yours.

Relenting to your unspoken wishes, he sits back upright above you slipping the material overhead. Your fingers connect with the warm skin exposed to you, tracing the muscles and ridges with your fingertips. You start to chart a path farther down his abdomen towards where you’re aching for him. You stop when your fingers brush against the rough material of the bandage you wrapped around his midsection. You were so caught up in your desire you completely forgot that he’s still seriously injured. Your hands go still, hesitantly hovering over the wound.

Maybe this isn’t the time. Despite how badly you want Thorin to fuck you into the mattress right now, you can’t risk doing any further damage. Especially with the rest of the journey still ahead of you. You’re so lost in thought you don’t notice Thorin’s hooked a finger under your jaw until he’s tipping your head up to look at him. “I’m fine,” he assures you but you still scrunch your nose up in thought.

“We should wait until you’re feeling better, as your physician I-”

He lets out a laugh, bringing his face down closer to yours. “You’re not a physician, lass,”

“I didn’t say I was a physician, I said I was your physician. I tended to the wound, I think that makes me responsible for its-”

He cuts you off again, this time with a gentle brush of his lips against yours. “You’re a truly maddening woman,” he whispers into your mouth, “and I won’t feel better until I’ve sufficiently had my way with you.”

“I suppose that could be considered an alternative form of treatment,” you mumble, all concerns disappearing from your mind as he brings your mouth back to his.

Your fingers tangle into his hair, gripping the strands to pull him closer to you until all of your senses are overwhelmed with him. The way he smells, the way he tastes, the way the warmth radiating off of his skin makes all the blood rush to your cheeks.

The rough pads of his fingertips trace delicate lines down your stomach, disappearing underneath the remaining piece of clothing covering your aching core. His fingers circle your clit with a touch so featherlight it elicits a needy whine from your lips.

“Please,” you whisper hoarsely against his lips. You’ve both been denied this pleasure so many times today alone. If your poor dripping cunt doesn’t receive some attention soon, you fear you might melt into a puddle beneath him.

Your fingers give a firm yank to his locks again, and with a warning growl, he plunges two fingers deep inside you. Your back arches off the bed, pressing your bare breasts against his chest as your mouth opens with a silent scream. Your eyes see nothing but stars and yet you can sense that self righteous smirk on Thorin’s face as he starts pumping his fingers inside you with a steady pace, stroking your inner walls in that one thrilling spot that makes your toes curl as you writhe and whimper beneath him.

“I know you don’t like to listen, darling,” he whispers above you, “but here is one order I know you will follow,” blinking, your eyes start to focus again on Thorin’s face looking down at you with a wicked smile. His eyes are filled with a darkness that makes your core clench around his fingers as he quickens his pace, bringing his thumb to trace circles on your swollen bud.

“Come for me,” he commands. And you do, without a second thought. Yanking a hand free you clamp your palm over your mouth to cover the cry of pleasure that escapes you. He doesn’t let up on his ministrations, even when your other hand tightens at his scalp so fiercely it’s a miracle you haven’t yanked a fist full of hair out yet.

With a heavy sigh, your body finally goes limp beneath him.

Chuckling, Thorin gently removes his hand from your spent cunt, bringing his soaked fingers to his lips hungrily. Your jaw drops at the sight, never breaking eye contact as he cleans every drop of your juices from his skin.

It looks so appetizing when he does it, you can’t help but stick your tongue out, batting your eyelashes up at him in the hopes that he’ll share. With a knowing smile, he is slipping his soaked fingers into your mouth for you to suck on. His eyes go wide in excitement, not only from the seal your lips have created around his fingers but also because your own fingers have slipped into his trousers. You wrap them firmly around his hardened cock, stroking as much of it as you can reach.

With his fingers in your mouth and his cock in your hand you look up at him with a pleading look in your eyes.

“So needy,” he chides with a click of his tongue. “You want more already?” you nod enthusiastically from around his fingers.

He brings his lips to your temple with a gentle kiss. “How could I deny such a beautiful creature?” reluctantly pulling his soaked fingers from your mouth, he reaches for his ever tightening trousers to finally free his member for your use.

Bringing your fingers down to your soaked bottoms, you slip them down your legs as far as you can. Kicking his trousers free, Thorin pulls the soaked fabric the rest of the way down your ankles discarding them somewhere in the mess behind you.

“Spread your legs for me, lass,” he commands, towering over you as he strokes his throbbing member in his hand. Blinking in shock, you open your legs wide for him, less from the command more from the sight of the cock before you.

You were far from a virgin at this point in your life. You’d met many different people throughout your travels and as a result you’ve had multiple lovers over the years. But try as you might to rack your brain you can’t think of a single cock you’ve seen that’s nearly as magnificent as Thorin’s.

It’s long and girthy, just looking at the strong member makes your cunt clench in anticipation.

“Fuck me Thorin,” you look up at him pleading, suddenly desperate to have it inside you, “please.”

“Mahal,” Thorin scoffs, “I don’t recall ever hearing you ask for something so nicely.”

Bringing a hand to your exposed thigh he starts to brush the tip of his cock against your weeping entrance, gathering all the wetness he can as he lets out a chuckle at the desperate whines escaping you in anticipation.

Finally lining himself up with your entrance, he brings his free hand to the mattress beside your face, caging you beneath him. He looks down at your face one final time, searching for any sign that you aren’t as desperate for this as he is.

“Fuck me,” you ask again, wrapping your arms around his neck. “And don’t be gentle.” You whisper into his ear.

That’s all the encouragement he needs, with a grunt he slams into you so quickly it knocks the breath out of your lungs. You nails scrape against his back as they scramble to find purchase while Thorin begins pounding his hips into you at a breakneck speed.

Honoring your request, he is not the least bit gentle with you. Your cries of pleasure are quickly drowned out by the sounds of slapping skin as he relentlessly thrusts into you so hard the bed begins to tremble beneath the two of you.

Let it break. You think to yourself. Nothing could pull either of you out of this cloud of lust that envelopes you. If it shatters beneath you, you’re certain Thorin will just continue pounding into you on top of the rubble.

“So tight,” he growls, “so warm. Feels just like heaven, I knew it would.”

You bite your bottom lip at the thought of Thorin fantasizing about this very moment. You can so clearly see him with his cock in his hand, imagining it was your cunt clenching around him just as it is now.

Untangling your arms from around his neck, Thorin reaches for your wrists, pinning them to the pillow above your head. “Don’t move them,” he commands with a sharp snap of his hips that makes you yelp.

Continuing a steady pace, he reaches for your legs behind him. Pressing one of your knees into your chest, he tosses the other over his shoulder. Gently kissing the exposed flesh of your calf he resumes his pace in this new position.

Throwing your head back you release a guttural moan, clenching your hands into fists above your head. With each thrust, Thorin hits deeper and deeper places inside yourself that seemed to have been previously left unexplored.

Every time the tip of his cock brushes against your cervix it makes you cry out louder in ecstasy. You’re itching to bring your hands back down to cover your mouth and suppress the noises the rest of the tavern will surely have heard by now.

“Keep them there,” Thorin reminds you, watching intently as you struggle to obey him. “I want them to hear.” He growls. “I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

He removes your leg from his shoulder to press it down against your chest like the other, folding you in half and pinning you into the mattress by the backs of your thighs.

“Say it,” he commands, leaning over you as he somehow increases his speed even more.

You groan beneath him, you know exactly what he wants from you but you can barely string together a coherent thought right now, let alone a sentence.

“Say it,” he says again, bringing a hand to your jaw to force your eyes to look directly into his.

“I’m yours, Thorin” you whimper beneath him and he crashes his lips into yours.

“Louder, lass,” his pace becomes more frantic and you can tell that he’s getting close.

Looking directly into his dazzling blue eyes you cry out: “I’m all yours.”

In just the nick of time, he pulls out of you with a shaky moan, spilling his seed all over your stomach.

The room is filled with the sounds of you both panting breathlessly. The air is heavy with the scent of sex and sweat. Your limbs feel so weak you can do nothing but lay on the bed in a post-orgasmic puddle, your eyelids starting to droop closed. You feel the mattress shift as Thorin rises from between your legs. You peel an eye open just in time to see him cross the room, still completely naked, to grab a wet rag.

He catches you watching him as he turns back to you, a gentle smile on his face as he returns to your side.

You can’t recall the last time you saw him look so… relaxed. His familiar scowl is nowhere to be seen as he gently wipes the cloth across your stomach and between your legs, a look of utter bliss on his face as he watches you watch him with a soft smile.

Once he’s wiped you clean he starts to rummage through the mess of clothing still littering the floor. You can spot dozens of your blouses and chemises from where you lay on the bed, but Thorin still grabs one of his own shirts from the pile.

“Sit up for me, a moment,” he asks gently. You push your aching limbs upright as best you can, Thorin’s hand hovering at your back to help you upright.

He slips his clean shirt over your head, helping to navigate your arms through the sleeves.

“Good girl,” he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead as you lay back down.

Once you’re settled back into a horizontal position he grabs for another set of clothing. You watch silently as he pulls on his shirt and pants from earlier. He reaches for his boots next and your brow furrows.

Is he leaving? Now that he’s gotten what he wanted from you and made a mess of the room. Is he just going to walk out that door and find another place to sleep for the night?

Thorin spots your look of confusion as he pulls his other boot on. “Don’t fret lass,” he assures you, “I’ll be right back.”

He gently slips out the door and you listen to the heavy sounds of his footsteps retreating down the hall. Your eyelids are still heavy, and you’re fighting sleep that threatens to overtake you. Only a few minutes pass until you hear him returning.

Shifting in the bed you push yourself up onto your forearms with a yawn as he reenters the room. You can smell the stew before he even opens the door and it instantly makes your mouth water.

“You missed dinner,” he reminds you, passing the warm dish into your waiting hands. “I had a previous engagement,” you reply with a mouth full of broth.

“Don’t remind me,” he growls as he kicks his boots back off, locking the door behind him.

“I’d say it worked out pretty well for the both of us,” you shrug. Thorin doesn’t say anything as he crosses the room to you, pulling the blankets out from underneath your bottom to tuck you into the bed fully.

By the time he’s wrapped you up underneath the covers and climbed in beside you, you’ve already inhaled the entire bowl. He laughs as you set it down on the bedside table with a hiccup. You sink deeper into the covers beside him and he reaches his hand up to your face, wiping a dribble from the corner of your mouth.

“Tomorrow we continue our journey,” he informs you and you nod in understanding. “In that case I certainly hope I’ll be able to walk in the morning.”

He laughs and pulls you into his chest. “I’d carry you,” he murmurs, burying his face in your hair. “I’ll carry you all the way home if I have to.”

You hum in contentment as you let yourself burrow deeper into his chest. Ignoring the stab of guilt in your chest when he says the word ‘home’.

It may have been your home in the past but it can’t be any longer. You wonder if you should tell him that you don’t plan to stay in Erebor long enough to call it home again. But then he begins to trace patterns with his fingertips over your lower back and you feel your eyes start to flutter closed.

Not now, you tell yourself. Not tonight.

Because you’re realizing that there is nowhere else in Middle Earth you’d rather be right now, than wrapped up in Thorin’s warm embrace. And you don’t dare do anything to spoil this perfect moment.

Next

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